A couple of weeks ago, my friend, Laird Sapir, started a round robin where several writers will all pitch in to tell a story across their blogs. Last week, the lovely Liv Rancourt added her piece and left us wondering if Simon would lose his pants. If you missed that installment, be sure to check it out here.
However, the writing torch has been passed yet again and the fate of Ninja the Octopus now lies in my creative hands. Or does it? Read on to find out!
The Octopus Knows #3
“So that’s what this is about.” Simon popped open the second button. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get them done up again before standing. Maybe Marguerite would lend him her coat. Losing his pants in a restaurant was sure to draw unwanted attention.
“Oh please, Simon. You knew this day was coming. Mr. Jones isn’t one to forgive transgressions so easily, you of all people should know that.” Marguerite sipped from her water-glass, her emerald gaze darting around the restaurant. Instantly, Simon knew something wasn’t right. Upon first glance, Marguerite seemed like her normal self; confident, irritated, bitchy. But it was her eyes that belied her self-assured exterior.
The woman he knew would never hesitate to look directly at him. There was a time he would have sworn she held the power in her eyes to make any man confess his darkest deeds. She just had to give “the look.” Simon would get so nervous under her scrutiny that he would have to excuse himself to the restroom to freshen up. He’d rather have her think that he had bladder issues than to ruin one of his spectacular shirts with pit stains. Of course, this was how it was before the accident. Before that fretful day when his life changed. The same day he acquired Ninja.
“Darling, is everything al-” Simon began just as his companion abruptly stood from their booth.
“I’ll be back. I’m going to the lady’s room. Go on and order if you must,” she said. He watched her stop and stare pointedly at her purse as if she was deciding whether it was safe to leave it. It was then that he saw the remnants of his old friend. She directed her emerald eyes at him, gave him a slight smirk, and then turned on her heel and walked away.
Simon sat motionless in his seat. He could have sworn he saw Marguerite give him a slight nod after looking at her purse. Was she trying to tell him something? He looked over at the black leather pocketbook that sat just out of reach. Why else would she have left it there if she didn’t want him to look in it?
Placing his hand on the seat beside him, he leaned his weight on that arm. He glanced around the room, trying to give off the air of boredom when really his heart was about to pound right out of his chest. Satisfied that no one was paying any attention to him, he reached over to snag Marguerite’s purse from its resting place and felt the teeth of the zipper on pants give way.
And there you have it. I hope you enjoyed my little addition. Find out what happens next as I pass the pen to Patricia Caviglia.