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The black and whites hit the parking lot in a fury of sirens and flashing lights, as the Nashville police respond quickly, statutory rape was not taken lightly in Tennessee.   Their orders had come from high up, that the tip was more than credible.  A fifteen year old girl was involved, and they were to arrest the man in the black Lincoln.  The first officers on the scene saw the motorcycle with the lithe figure speed out of the parking lot, but it was the man they were after, so they quickly hemmed in the town car before the driver had a chance to exit.

A furious Spencer shot from the car to confront the cops.  “Just what the hell do you think you are doing?”

” Sir, we are placing you under arrest for the rape of a minor.  A concerned citizen reported the activity, and apparently caught your act on tape. Knows the girl.  Besides, screwing in Hog Heaven’s parking lot is frowned upon.”

“That’s impossible, you can’t even see inside!”,  a bug-eyed Spencer protested as the cuffs snapped and grew tighter.

“The windows may be tinted, but the windshield isn’t.  You can have your say at the station, I’ll Mirandize you on the way.”

The dirty white van pulled out of the Hog’s lot and headed west to follow the bike.  How the girl knew where she was headed they weren’t sure, but the occupants were tasked to protect her… as if Blue needed their help.  Turning in pretty-boy Spencer was the best fun they’d had in some time.  The Director had not been pleased with him and approved of the lesson, the douche would be out soon anyway.

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 A thousand miles west, Jose Torres helped a stunned Suzi stow her bags in the bed of a sun-bleached pick-up truck.  ’Sanderson‘… the distant name gave her a chill… ‘this was getting more complicated, but maybe he can help.’

Jose shifted into gear and tipped his stained cowboy hat, “I think you have my wallet.  Let’s gas up those cans, and where exactly are we going?”

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Two planes touch down at Albuquerque International Sunport.  Sam and Ephraim depart the Southwest jet into the air-conditioned terminal.  Outside on the shimmering tarmac, a private charter waits to deplane its fare.  A determined Melissa helps a shrouded figure down the aisle, the stench overpowering the attendant at the open door… (to be continued)  

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The Noted Romance Writer, Dawn Rinken at The Mouse’s Soapbox is next to answer some of our questions, and add a few of her own no doubt…

It is hard going, but the demolition is scheduled for tomorrow.   The brush that started at your ankles now reaches chest height, the fence is in sight.  

Past bulldozers, poised like fierce beasts to devour the hapless sanatorium, you enter and hunt for #36.  

Sadness overwhelms  as you search her room for what was hidden within the wall.  After the accident her decline had been swift.  Seventeen years since you learned the truth about Daisy,  it’s now or never.   An unseen hand guides you to a loose wallpaper patch,  glittering Art Deco reveals itself.

Her bracelets are safe once again.

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 The photo for our prompt this week is courtesy of  Sarah Ann Hall.  Join the Friday Fictioneers and write a story, or read others stories here…   

I was going to ask everyone to guess what city this was taken in, except that might be too obvious.  Each week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields hosts a meeting of the FRIDAY FICTIONEERS.  She posts a photograph, and an august group of writers pen a 100 word flash fiction based on their impression.  Sometimes she ‘borrows’ one of those writer’s photos… this week she chose one of mine.

Instead of writing a fiction story, I thought it would be interesting to share my thoughts, and more photos of the Icon Grill.  For the first time in my Friday Fictioneers history I will write more than 100 words… Hey, it’s my photo and my story!  I always stuck to the 100 words because I was afraid of Rich, who believe me, counts every one.  It’s been over 14 months since I wrote my first story… I had commented on one of Madison Wood’s FF pieces and she suggested I write one… I said I couldn’t because I wasn’t a writer… She said “Bullshit!”  So I did… here is my first FriFic story… Friday Fictioneers#1… Semi-Precious Gememoir… not exactly fiction, but a start.

My new favorite restaurant in Seattle is the Icon Grill, under the monorail train track across 5th Ave from the Westin Hotel.  I like to stay at the Westin… right in the heart of downtown and a block away from The Palace Kitchen.  A short walk to the Seattle Art Museum, Pike Place Market, Tom Douglas Restaurants, Penzey Spices, all the theaters that count, and shopping.  In short… all the things I like to do in Seattle.  I’d looked at ‘The Grill’ before and didn’t pay much attention, maybe I was a bit put off by the tacky marquee in front…most likely left over from some old diner long before the Westin.  The neon sign was pretty cool though, so we checked out the menu in the window and were surprised at how upscale it seemed.  I was in town with my friend Michel Ann to see the musical ”Flashdance” at the Paramont Theater.  She really wanted Crab Benedict, and they had it listed so we went for breakfast at the Icon Grill.  We were not really ready for the assault on the senses upon entering.  There was stuff everywhere you  looked… paintings, lamps, blown glass orbs of every shape, size and color… and the colors of the restaurant with the rich wood was absolutely beautiful.  Like a decorator on steroids… but I got the feeling it all evolved over the years, and that’s what makes it special to me.  We were seated in a spacious comfortable booth and ordered.  The food was exceptional without being ‘over the top’ with cuteness that seems to make the rounds these days.  Priced fairly, and best of all… great coffee!  But what also impressed me, was that our waiter Michael had been serving diners there for 13 years… that is the mark of a good restaurant, or any business, when the ‘help’ stays like that.  I was taught how to be a bartender by Liz Sinclair at Paragary’s Bar and Oven in Sacramento some 35 years ago… she is still tending bar at Paragary’s… and last time I was there I saw a few waiters I worked with then.  That restaurant is family… and I could see by the interaction of the staff, that the Icon Grill is family.  The art of being a good server is to make the diners feel they are welcome and important… without letting them know you are doing it.  To size up the table and know how much interaction will make them happy, and know when to shut up.  That is tricky to do well, I like to think I was pretty good… Michael is excellent at his job.  I couldn’t wait to start taking photos of this ab fab place, I couldn’t help it.  The banquet or meeting room blew me away… and the men’s room, well there’s a photo below.  I used to hang out in bars a lot, and if I had lived in Seattle, this would have been my bar.  The beautiful and relaxing ambience of the Icon settled a feeling of comfort and joy into that booth… the company didn’t hurt either.  Michel Ann loved her Crab Benedict and the bite she shared was delicious… that’s my choice next trip.          Here is the photo Rochelle chose for the prompt…

The photo I took with my iPhone and posted on facebook, that became the prompt…

And here are some more of the Icon Grill.  If you are ever in Seattle… go see Michael and tell him I sent you.  Their motto is Aroused Americana!

Here’s the ICON GRILL!

Paramont Theater… The play was fabulous!

The Dinning Room

The Bar

Art…

Looking down from upstairs…

Looking down at the bar area…

The Banquette Room…

The Men’s Room…

Everywhere you look… it’s crazy!

Back Bar…

Got to love it!

So that’s my tour of the Icon Grill in Seattle… to read my friends stories -> -> -> ->  
 

Roni Hanson slides into home, as the catcher waits for the throw, Emily Guard is hot on her heels… will she make it home safe?

The girls are going to the mainland for the Fast Pitch Post-season Tournament tomorrow, of course I’ll be there with my camera… so stay tuned to TedBook’s Daily Pics for more action from your Lady Wolverines.  Good Luck Girls!  (This was actually supposed to go to TedBook’s Daily Pics, but I screwed up… that’s okay, as I’m so proud of our girls more people get to see them now… lot’s more Lady Wolverine pics at TBDP)

Reblogged from This, that and the other thing:

Friday Fictioneers.

One hundred words, one story.
One picture, many stories.
Read more by clicking the link at the very end...
or join if you dare!

Connected

He almost didn’t go.  Too many miles in too few days, a week of writing deemed not good enough and erased, too many restaurant meals, too little exercise.  But he needed time to unwind before going home.

Read more… 69 more words

THE RED BALL

It’s a starlit night as he searches for his red ball.
Suddenly, a bluish-white flash of light reveals its hiding place!
Success!  Now, the question is… will he stop at the tree first?

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My story is inspired by one of the latest paintings by Friday Harbor artist Jaime Ellsworth.  To see more of Jaime’s work, visit her website… Jaime Ellsworth Art

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Here is this week’s Trifextra Challenge instructions… Your challenge this weekend is to give us 33 words about anything you want.  Your piece must include at least one hyphenated compound modifier.   Click the Trike to see other stories…

THE TABLE

RING ♪♪ RING ♪♪

“Hello?”

“Cheryl, my chance for the table will be lost, you need to bring me some cash right now!”

“For God’s sake, Ethel, join the 21st Century and get a charge card.”

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Here’s This Week’s Instructions… (to submit one your stories or read others, click the Trike)

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Would love your thoughts…

 A BOSTON DRABBLE

The steel balls shot through the crowd like a swarm of angry hornets awakened from sleep; in their wake came the nails.  The impact of the blast knocked down runners and sent bystanders through the plate-glass of nearby display windows.  Dazed, confused, amidst blood everywhere, people jumped  to help the fallen, not knowing if another blast was imminent.  Police and fire rushed to help, no care for their own safety, and after twenty-six miles, some runners ran two more miles to a nearby hospital to donate blood.  They are the heroes.

Nearby, the coward stood smirking, satisfied with his handiwork.

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I usually don’t write this sort of thing, and am not one to ‘jump on a bandwagon’, in fact I abhor that sort of thing.  But, when I saw this week’s photo and wondered what I could write about, this is what popped into my head… Why, I don’t know… I think it looks like one of those mortars that shoot many rockets at once, and the rockets are called ‘bombs’… it looks lethal, as do hornets or wasps when they are coming at you.  So I wrote my impression of what I had seen on television and heard on the radio.

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Thanks to The Princess of Punctuation,  Janet Webb, for this week’s Photo Prompt.  Visit Rochelle Wisoff-Fields to read her story and find out how to add  yours.

To read other stories including Janet’s -> -> -> 

Reblogged from TedBook:

DEVIL OF A LUCK... A Drabble

I have changed my short version.  After good advice from my friends, I decided to learn more about the writing process, and try to make my drabble better.  

The Devil rode into town one day and the sawmill closed.

Amy’s husband, always monitoring his police scanner, heard that Earl “I-drive-better-when-I’m-drunk” Hollister drove from Herb’s Tavern into a tree and now jail.

Read more… 633 more words

Reblogged from TedBook's DAILY PICS...:

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Guest Photographer Mariya Masters catches the editor hard at work in the TedBook Test Kitchen...