EXCERPT

Chapter 4
A Rose by Any Other Name
The moon chose that moment to emerge from the clouds and illuminate an angel surely sent from God to save this book. Nay, an angel never looked as beatific as the radiant vision making her way down the aisle towards me.
An angel is an unfair comparison. An angel would weep, for no angel could steal breath the way this woman stole mine. And angels don’t have breasts nearly as nice. I don’t think there are silicon artists in heaven.
What the he– was that!?!
That was edit #2.
I had to give up my vacant seat to a character I’ll refer to, for now, as “girl.”
We haven’t settled on a name for “girl” yet, and my original intro for “girl” was:
Okay, so I saw this hot girl coming down the aisle toward me. But she was right behind this buffet nightmare, a guy who got every penny he ever paid for an “all you can eat” buffet. I’m too kind to resort to fat jokes, but if he could wash every crevice that needed daily washing I would be genuinely surprised. And I bet there are parts of his anatomy that have seen neither soap nor sunlight in years.
And he was eyeing me like the last piece of pizza on the Titanic.
I make me laugh, the last slice of pizza on the Titanic? Even I don’t know what the he– that means, and I’m sure that might be the worst metaphor in the history of word putting together.
So the guy needing a serious Weight Watchers intervention was shaking the entire bus as he made his way towards me, and I couldn’t insert a digit up my nose because I was smiling coyly at the hot girl behind him in case this dream guy somehow chose not to sit next to me.
At least I hoped I was smiling coyly at “girl.” My seduction techniques are so refined sometimes my flirting leaves me looking simple, and other times completely mentally deficient.
So that’s how “girl” originally entered the story, but she demanded something better, hence the angel nonsense.
I think I’m going to call “girl” Gertrude. That’s as close to a consensus on a name we’ve come to after an exhaustive series of negotiations that went a little like this:
Gertrude: “If I’m going to be in your book, I want a great romantic heroine name.”
Me: “What’s wrong with your name? I like your name.”
Gertrude:” It’s so plain, so ordinary, I hate it. Come up with something better, something sexy.”
Me: “Okay, how about Melba?”
Gertrude: “Melba? Like Melba toast? Melba’s not a sexy name.”
Me: “I have an Aunt Melba. She’s very sexy for an eighty year old. How about Gertrude?”
Gertrude: “Gertrude’s almost as bad as Melba.”
Me: “Hey, I’ve got an Aunt Gertrude, another very sexy senior citizen.”
Gertrude: “Why would you want to name me after one of your old aunts? You’re so weird. Give me a sexy temptress name.”
Me: “I got it… you ready… it’s a good one… Florist!”
Gertrude: “Florist? Florist? How about dentist? Or plumber? Florist is a job, not a name.”
Me: “I have an Aunt Florist, but she’s not very sexy. She really kinda looks like my Dad in drag, but years ago my Dad shaved his mustache.”
So I was left with the daunting task of coming up with a secret identity for “girl”. I think she’s Gertrude.