Due to the number of click-throughs for the last extract of Clarissa’s story, I Like A Bit Of Phone Sex In The Morning, SHE-POWER Fiction is returning as a blog post.

“You don’t need me to do anything right now, do you?” Scott placed his half empty coffee mug on the kitchen bench in front of Clarissa and hovered uncertainly near her shoulder.

Clarissa looked at the mug pointedly. “Can you put that in the sink please. I’m trying to cook here.”

Scott huffed under his breath, but picked the mug up and half tossed it onto another bench. “Happy?”

Not for years, Clarissa wanted to scream. Not since you took up sleeping around and humiliating me.

Instead, she said, “That’s not the sink.”

“I’ve got to head out. You want me to pick up anything?” Scott was already backing away and out of the kitchen. “I’ll be here in plenty of time for the party.”

Clarissa didn’t turn around, just tightened her grip on the handle of the knife as she deftly cubed the warm potatoes into a bowl.

“Where are you going?”

“Rick’s.” Scott’s voice sounded muffled like he’d started talking to his chest. “That was him on the phone before. He wants to catch up over breakfast. Show me the photos from his Canada ski trip.” He rolled back on his heels, his feet agitated, rearing to go.

Clarissa marveled at how easily the lie slipped off his tongue. Like he’d been lying his whole life. Like he did it as naturally as breathing. She looked down at the knife and had a brief image of ramming the blade into Scott’s smug face. The shock as he realized he’d underestimated her. The long groan as he slipped to the floor and died in a pool of his own blood. Just like something from one of those horror movies her and Ashley had watched as teenagers. The thought almost made her smile.

“Lissa?”

“Fine,” Clarissa managed to get out, her jaw tightening, her back molars grinding together.

As much as she didn’t want Scott seeing his lover, the last thing she wanted was for him to hang around the house with her. She couldn’t deal with him at the moment. Needed some time and space to clear her head.

“I’ll be back before two,” Scott said, moving in to stand beside her, his hand lightly touching her arm.

She shook him off and reached for the sprig of fresh parsley, lining up the ends and severing them with one swift movement, the knife snapping loudly against the wooden cutting board. He removed his hand, but didn’t move, unsure if he had permission.

“You can go to the bottle shop while you’re out,” Clarissa said, wiping a stray hair out of her face with the back of her hand, the knife waving in the air. “Pick up three cases of beer and another case of sauvignon blanc and one of a cabernet merlot. No shiraz.”

“Don’t we still have a case of white wine?” Scott asked, walking over to open the pantry door and looking down to check the floor. “I swear there was a box here last week.”

“It was empty. I just forgot to clear the box until a few days ago.” Clarissa was amazed her voice sounded so steady,but her inner robot had kicked into gear. “Go. I don’t want you to be back late.”

“Okay, love you.” Scott planted a quick kiss on her cheek as he passed her and left the room.

A minute later she heard the front door shut and Clarissa felt her body relax. She exhaled heavily and leaned on the kitchen bench for support. How was she going to get through this party? Mingling and playing happy families seemed like cruel and unusual punishment right now. How do you put on a brave face when you know that your husband has just come from the arms of his new lover.?

His new lover. Anguish tore at Clarissa’s gut, the knife sagging from her hand as she tried to steady her breathing. There was no time to fall apart now. It wouldn’t do any good anyway. She’d fallen to pieces about Susie Hampton and it had certainly achieved nothing there. Just added more fuel to Scott’s excuses. Proof that she was difficult, unstable. How he’d been driven into the arms of another.

Susie Hampton had been Scott’s personal assistant. An effervescent woman of twenty two, keen to get ahead, pretty beyond belief and still under the disillusionment that she would have some kind of meaningful job with the Department of Foreign Affairs. In reality, all she got for her eighteen months with Scott was some illicit sex, a lot of lies, a broken heart and public humiliation when the two of them were discovered in a compromising position at the work Christmas party. It didn’t take long after that for her to be transferred.

The discovery of Susie had been two years ago. Two years that her and Scott had been in limbo, pretending everything was okay, trying not to be with each other too much, talk too much, lest ugly wods were said. They were also two years that Clarissa had buried herself in her work. Taken one assignment after another. Refused to take breaks. Worked weekends. Worked even when she was exhausted and didn’t know why she bothered.

If Clarissa was completely honest, the more she worked the less her career meant to her. She’d love for her and Scott to have a baby. But that had never happened and might well not happen. The doctors said there was nothing medically wrong with either of them, but after three years of trying with no result, Clarissa wasn’t so sure. Maybe the problem was them. Maybe they just weren’t fit to be parents.

Lord knows, Clarissa had asked herself a thousand times how you could have a baby with a man she didn’t trust. As much as Scott said he loved her and would never leave her, every time he flirted with someone. Every time he smiled at someone, she wondered.

No. There would be no falling apart this time. Her husband may be an unfaithful louse, but he was still her husband. And she had no intentions of handing him over to another bimbette who’d become starry eyed over his charm, money and connections. She’d handle things differently this time. Be cool, in control. Once she let him know she knew, he’d buckle and break up with this woman, whoever she was. Then they’d rebuild. they’d done it before.

Clarissa thought of Lex and the promotion. She couldn’t take it, of course. There was no other choice. Scott needed her attention. He was obviously feeling neglected. Taking a deep breath, Clarissa closed her eyes and put down the knife. She noted the rage bubbling through her veins and tried to think calming thoughts.

This was an easy to solve problem. No need to panic. She’d just be a better wife, that’s all. She’d turn down the promotion, her and Scott would take a holiday and soon life could be good again. She brushed aside any fears about what Lex would say when she told him. There were plenty of other Production Managers who’d jump at the job.

With a plan in place and her barracking emotions slowly being pulled back into their box, Clarissa started to feel somewhat better. A little drink and she’d be fine. Opening the refrigerator, she withdrew a bottle of white wine, the chill of the glass reassuring, tingling her fingers. Taking a glass from the cupboard her eyes caught the time on the wall clock. 11.15am. She unscrewed the cap and poured herself half a glass, watched it for a moment as her eyes again went back to the clock. It wasn’t even midday.

But this wasn’t like any other day, she reasoned. Her husband was off fucking some other woman. Clarissa took a large gulp, felt the cold liquid slide down her throat. She felt instantly better so she quickly emptied the rest of the bottle into her glass, only stopping to sip the overfull glass and top it up again, until the bottle was finally empty.

Photo by DogFromSpace

This short is a continuation of Mama’s Girls

The house was quiet as Clarissa walked toward the bedroom. Obviously Scott was still asleep. So much for helping with the barbecue. He’d be lucky if he was showered and dressed before everyone arrived at this rate.

Opening the bedroom door, Clarissa expected to see Scott still huddled under the quilt, one arm strewn across the bed, taking up all the room.

“Wake up sleepyhead. We have a lot to do today.”

The bed was empty, the covers pulled back to reveal crumpled white sheets.

(Continue reading)

Photo by gotplaid?

Clarissa watched the clock as if it was her enemy. Almost 10am and Scott still wasn’t up. She’d already hung out a load of washing, cleaned the kitchen and was on her second cup of coffee. She should have gone for a run, but she just couldn’t be bothered this morning. The wine from last night lingered in her sinuses and her limbs had the kind of dead weight that defies moving in a hurry.

She was half regretting telling Ashley she’d have the barbecue at her place. She knew it was her sister’s birthday, but all she wanted to do was crawl back into bed for the day. Lie on the sofa and watch DVDs. Read the latest Patricia Cornwell book. All these options sounded good. But what she had to do - cater for thirty guests and tell her husband she had a promotion - that, she didn’t want to do at all.

Clarissa checked the clock again. No change. She went to take another sip of her coffee, then changed her mind. Hyping herself up on caffeine wasn’t going to help. If only Scott would get up and she could tell him about the job. The knowledge of it and her anticipation of what he was going to say were killing her. She’d been telling herself all morning he’d be happy for her. Proud of her, even. But in her heart she knew he wouldn’t be. She kept imagining the screaming and the slammed doors and then him disappearing off for the night, only to come home drunk and unapologetic the next day.

Rationally, Clarissa knew she shouldn’t even tell Scott until after the party, but she just couldn’t hold onto the worry for another night. She had to say it. Confront the situation head on. Take the consequences.

The doorbell caught her by surprise. She glanced at the clock again. 10.02am. Who would be coming over now?

Her sister, Ashley stood on the doorstep. She wore skinny jeans and a flimsy cotton camisole. A thin piece of leather was wound around her neck, and an oversized tote bag clutched to her chest. She looked hippie stylish and not happy.

“Hello, I wasn’t expecting you this early.”

“You didn’t invite mum to the barbecue.” Ashley accused.

Clarissa groaned. “Come on Ash, you honestly didn’t think I would, did you?”

“Gee, I don’t know.” Ashley said, throwing her arms in the air, the tote bag swinging around wildly . “She is our MOTHER and it’s my birthday, so I kinda thought you might.”

Clarissa opened the door wider and moved to one side. “You better come in. But no yelling; Scott’s sleeping.”

“Fuck Scott.” Ashley scowled, pushing her aviator shades up on top of her head. “Anyway, I’m getting a cut and colour at ten.” She touched her strawberry blond hair self-consciously.

“It’s after ten now,” Clarissa pointed out.

“They can wait.” Ashley looked away and then down at her feet, before muttering, “I want you to ring and invite mum.”

Clarissa stepped out onto the patio to stand beside her sister. “Pardon, I think your kneecaps are the only ones who can hear you.”

Ashley looked at her scathingly. “You heard me. Call mum and tell her about the barbecue.”

Clarissa didn’t say anything for a moment. The last thing she wanted was to get into a fight with Ashley. But somehow, that’s what Eliza always did. Their mother caused fights and upsets wherever she went.

Finally Clarissa said, “How will she get here? How will she get home?”

Ashley shrugged. “We can work something out.”

Clarissa raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to not drink and play taxi on your birthday? Because I’m not ferrying her to and from Beecroft.”

Ashley shook her head and looked down at her feet again. “You’re such a bitch sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, I learned from the best.” Clarissa reached out to pull her sister into her arms. She felt resistant at first, then folded a little and hugged Clarissa back.

“Can’t you do this for me?” She pulled away and went back to clutching the bag to her chest, it’s mass covering her thin body, making her look like a child who’d raided mummy’s closet. “She’s been sober for over a year now. It’s going to stick this time, Lissa.”

Clarissa nodded, saying nothing, her eyes somber.

“You don’t care, do you?”

“It’s not that. I just can’t …” Clarissa didn’t know how to finish the sentence. She didn’t know how she felt about her mother. She just knew it was easier since she’d stopped seeing her.

“I’ll invite her if you want me to,” she said softly.

Ashley stepped back and slid her sunglasses back into place, but not before Clarissa saw the pain flash into her eyes.

“Never mind. It’s your house, you don’t have to. I’ll see her on my own time.” She turned and walked down the steps, striding to the gate without looking back. “I’ve got to go. See you this afternoon.”

“Don’t leave upset,” Clarissa called after her. But Ashley just put her hand up in a wave and kept walking, her head down.

Eliza had struck again. That woman could ruin anything, Clarissa thought. Even when she wasn’t invited she found a way to ruin things. Her heart heavy, Clarissa walked inside and closed the door. It was time to speak to Scott. This day was off to a bad start and she had to get things back under control. Scott was waking up now, whether he liked it or not.

This is the last extract from SHE-POWER Fiction to appear as a post. In future, SHE-POWER Fiction can be found on its own page.

Photo by gotplaid?

This weekend my internet connection has been problematic, dropping out at random and without warning. Very annoying. I’ve been trying to get a couple of half-written articles completed, but it just hasn’t been possible, so I’ve found my mind going around in circles, throwing up lots of questions that have been stewing around in there for awhile.

Questions like:

What niche am I in?

What do I offer my readers? What more can I give?

What’s unique about me?

Should I write an e-book, and what would it be about?

What can I do to move my subscriber numbers to the next level?

And the big one that’s been circulating for some time; should I cut SHE-POWER Fiction?

You’re probably thinking right now, “Wow, she really doesn’t know what she’s doing here.” And you’d be right. At least a little bit anyway.

Like my life itself, this blog is a work in progress and I tend to live and write by gut instinct. Everything you’ve ever read on this blog has poured forth from my heart and soul. Even if an article has seemed trivial to you, it’s been authentic and meaningful to me at the time I published it. On that day, those words, whether mundane or profound, were the words I wanted to communicate to you.

That said, this blog is not just about me. YOU are the reason I take time away from my young son and family and friends to blog on a regular basis. You may not have been here in the beginning when SHE-POWER was started, but the blog was nothing then. It was an idea, a catchy url. Now it’s a tool that I use to serve and entertain YOU.

So tell me, what is SHE-POWER to you? Do you have any feedback you’d like to share with me? Because for a chick that usually has a lot to say, I’m going to go out on a limb and admit I’m a bit stumped for answers here. I know the ideas I’m trying to communicate, but I don’t know what you’re actually receiving.

One decision I have made for the moment is to move SHE-POWER Fiction to its own page.

As an aspiring novelist, this category is very important to me. I not only want to share my stories and characters with an audience, but I want to impose a public discipline on myself to keep up my fiction writing.

That said, I’m not sure SHE-POWER is the right place for fiction. Some of you are devoted fans of my current storyline with Clarissa and Scott and email and write me with encouragement. I really appreciate that, thank you. Many others don’t seem to click through and read these posts. So, what to do?

For the moment, the next extract of SHE-POWER Fiction will be the last blog post. After that, I’ll post a quick message to let you know I’ve updated the Fiction Page, but you’ll then have to follow a link to read the story extract. That way, people who are interested get their Clarissa and Scott fix, and people who aren’t can just ignore the notification.

I will also get a chance to see how many people are actively seeking the stories, which will help me decide what to do with SHE-POWER Fiction long term. I have thought about moving all fiction to another writing site, but I’ll make that decision in due course.

Hope you’re having a great weekend, and I look forward to hearing any thoughts you might have about the future of this blog.

Kelly

Photo by aussiegall

This short is a continuation of SHE-POWER Fiction: Dinner Time Blues

“You were such an ass tonight.” Clarissa couldn’t help herself. She swore she’d wait until they got home, but sitting here in the taxi she felt like a fire was roaring inside her, smashing at the windows, desperate to come out.

There was no answer. Scott had his head back against the headrest; his face was slack, the overlong blond fringe stuck to one cheek, and a slight whistling rattled in time with his breathing. She could almost see his pink tongue lolling around near his lips with a fine trail of dribble threatening to roll down his chin. He looked so pathetic she was tempted to reach across and slap him.

Instead she wrapped her arms across her chest and tried not to think about what had become of her once handsome husband. These days when Clarissa looked at Scott all she saw was the curl of his lips, the permanently furrowed brow and mean glint in his once shining sea blue eyes.

She found it near impossible to remember the charming, intelligent man she’d met ten years ago. The wealthy son of a heroic General. The political science student who was going to set the international political arena alight. What had happened to that man? She had loved him so. Been in awe of him, of his drive and strong convictions. How did he become another spineless public servant, more concerned with pushing papers and covering his own behind than helping anybody?

Depression and an overwhelming sense of disappointment settled in Clarissa’s chest. Is this what her life had come to? Escorting her drunk and flirtatious husband home at two in the morning, knowing full well he had barely registered her existence tonight, and wouldn’t even notice when she went to sleep in the spare room to avoid his snoring. Tomorrow, if he followed his usual routine, he’d sleep late, read the newspaper, then spend the afternoon playing golf before coming home and getting dolled up to go out again. Their whole lives were one pointless social event after another.

Clarissa stared out the window as the cab quietly travelled through Sydney’s northern suburbs, the leafy privileged enclaves of her childhood. She could close her eyes and probably describe every single house, shop, and landmark from here to their house in Balmain. Predictable. All so bloody predictable.

“Okay, if we take the bridge? The cab driver broke through Clarissa’s melancholy.

“Yes, that’s fine. Thank you.”

She noticed the man kept a small plastic frame of two children stuck to his dashboard. A toothy girl grinned and posed for the camera, one hand on an exaggerated hip, and a shy looking toddler, a boy she guessed, was half hiding behind his extroverted sister’s skirt.

“Are they your kids?” Clarissa asked, tryign to keep the wistfulness out of her voice. “How old are they?”

The man changed the position of his rear vision mirror so he could see Clarissa’s face. His bald head seemed to shine in the moon light, while his fleshy lips spread in a wide frog-like grin.

“This is my Lita and my Daniel. She is eight next week and he is three.” He beamed with pride and raised a finger to his lips before using it to transfer a kiss to the picture. “You got kids?”

“No.” Clarissa shook her head and turned to stare out her window. “Maybe one day.”

“Don’t leave it too late,” the man warned, making the same assumption everyone else did.

Clarissa nodded, pretending like she was listening to him. Why did everyone assume a childless woman in her thirties had chosen to be this way? Clarissa didn’t like to share her and Scott’s failures with the world, and for that she seemed destined to be pegged as the hard hitting career woman, too selfish to procreate. If only they knew.

Clarissa cast her eyes over Scott’s slack figure. She knew he blamed her of course. It had never been said, but they both knew. She tried to tell herself that they were still young, and there was nothing physically wrong . It could happen any time. But in her heart she didn’t think it ever would. Maybe her and Scott weren’t cut out to be parents. God knows they could barely function as a couple, let alone as parents.

Clarissa heard a groan come from the other side of the back seat. Scott stirred, but seemed to find his head too heavy. “Shit, I feel awful.” He rested his head against the cool glass. “We home yet?”

“We’re on the freeway and about to go over the Harbour Bridge.”

He shifted his legs awkwardly and turned bloodshot eyes on her.

She held his eyes and a long moment stretched between them. His expression was unreadable. She wished he’d say something, at least try to make things better.

“Do you have anything you’d like to say to me?”

He yawned and rubbed his cheekbones. “Like what?”

“Never mind.” Clarissa turned away and moved closer to the window. How she hated him at this moment.

“So, what was the big news you had to tell me? Let me guess, Lex is retiring and you, as resident workaholic, is in line to be his replacement.” The sarcasm was thick and there was an edge of malice in Scott’s voice that Clarissa didn’t have the energy to deal with tonight.

She decided to ignore his baiting. “You remember we’re having a barbeque tomorrow night for Ashley’s birthday.”

“Fantastic, just what I need. An afternoon spent with the one woman in the world who hates me.”

“I wouldn’t say she’s the only woman,” Clarissa snapped.

“Listen to you Miss Snippy. Come on. Tell me. what I’ve done wrong now.”

“I don’t want to argue,” Clarissa said, hating the way he always made her feel so petty. “And you know why I’m upset.”

Scott groaned. “Oh the jealousy and the drama. Seriously, what did I do? Chat a bit much to a pretty lady? Well, excuse me.”

“People will start arriving about 4pm so make sure you’re there, okay?”

“That’s a subtle way to change the subject, isn’t it?”

She gave him a pained look, and he threw his hands up.

“Fine. I’ll be there.” He was silent for a moment. “Do you need me to pick anything up tomorrow?”

Clarissa looked at him with surprise. She seriously couldn’t figure Scott out. He could be considerate one minute, then a jerk the next.”You could pick up the beer on your way home from the golf course.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I’ll stay home tomorrow and give you a hand.”

“Really?” Clarissa was skeptical.

“Sure.”

They sat staring at each other for a moment before Scott reached across and entwined his fingers through hers. “I love you.”

What could she say to that? She leaned over to snuggle against him, her head resting against his heart, her fingers kneading into his shirt. She closed her eyes and wished it could be like this all the time.

“I love you too,” she murmured.

Photo by normanack

This short is a continuation of SHE-POWER Fiction: The Dilemma

“Look who managed to make it after all.”

Geoff ushered Clarissa into the dining room, one hand nestled on the small of her back, the other still clutching a large glass of red wine, which was sloshing about, threatening to spill on the polished floors.

Clarissa clutched her bulging laptop bag to her body, feeling a little like the new girl at school. She realised that she had not checked her appearance before coming, and quite likely she was wrinkled, frizzy haired and shiny faced right now. Hardly the best look for a sophisticated dinner party.

While Clarissa liked the Roystons, their dinner parties were always full of Scott’s old friends and family connections. It was all very incestuous. Everyone either worked for the Government, an NGO, the courts or was married to someone who did. Most of the room had known each other for years and Geoff had been friends with Scott’s father, so the two men were practically family.

“Hi everyone, sorry I’m late.” Clarissa held out the $50 bottle of shiraz she’d just plucked off the shelf in the bottle shop for. It was ridiculously overpriced and she had no idea what it was, but the price guide meant the Roystons would love it. “I picked up this, just in case we run out.”

Geoff’s wife, Sandra laughed as she pushed back her chair and reached up to give Clarissa a peck on the cheek, enveloping her in Chanel No. 5.

“I think Sydney will run out of water before this house runs out of wine, but thank you.” She held out her hands for Clarissa’s bag. “Let’s take this and get you comfortable, shall we.”

Clarissa handed over the bag and then felt quite naked standing there alone. There didn’t seem to be an obviously empty chair and she noticed a couple of unfamiliar faces. Her legs felt heavy and stiff, and as she shifted her feet awkwardly, she wished Geoff would forget about the wine glass he was trying to find for her, and get her a chair instead.

Doing a quick scan of the table, Clarissa noticed that Scott was seated at the far end, near the windows and was deep in conversation with a young blond woman she had never seen before. They were the only two who continued talking despite her arrival.

A slew of open wine bottles littered across the table in between serving bowls and dirty plates indicated that dinner had obviously been served and enjoyed. It occurred to Clarissa that Scott may not have told Geoff and Sandra she was coming.

Suddenly feeling like an uninvited guest, Clarissa turned to Sandra just as Geoff thrust a glass of wine in her hand. “I’m so sorry to turn up like this. I really meant to be here a lot earlier, but there was an emergency at work.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you decided to come. Geoffrey and I were very disappointed when Scott said you couldn’t make it.” Sandra looked across at Geoff. “Darling, get Lissa a seat will you.”

Clarissa felt a knot forming in her stomach, and she lowered her eyes, blinking back a hot rush of tears. Damn Scott. Why do that to her? he knew this would be awkward. He just wanted to humiliate her because he was pissed off she was late. She looked over at him and for the first time caught his eye as he half turned toward her. He stared at her with angry eyes, then turned back to his blond dinner companion.

“I’ll rustle you up some food,” Sandra fussed. “We were going to have cheese and dessert soon, but we’ll wait for you.”

“No, I’m okay actually. Cheese will be fine.”Sandra looked concerned and squeezed Clarissa’s arm tenderly. “You really should eat. You look like you’ve lost weight.”

“I just need to sit down and relax, that’s all.”

“Geoffrey, where’s that chair?”

“Here.” Geoff said, dragging another chair over from the wall. He moved towards Scott. “Everyone shuffle along please.”

Geoff nudged the chair in and held it for Clarissa as she sat. “I’m afraid my daughter’s been monopolizing your husband. They haven’t seen each other for years, have you?” He patted Scott’s shoulder.

Clarissa felt a little better about Scott’s attentions now. Maybe he was behaving himself after all. She’d never met Geoff’s daughter from his first marriage before, but surely Scott had known her since she was a child.

She extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Scott’s wife, Clarissa. I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

The blond turned flinty green eyes on her and shook Clarissa’s hand limply. “Madeline.”

She slid a glance at Scott before reaching for her glass and bringing it to her lips.

Although Clarissa wanted to slap Scott for his childish antics, she forced herself to lean over and kiss his cool lips. “Hi.”

“Decided to come, did you?” Up close, Scott’s eyes were glassy, and he’d spilled wine down his shirt.

“I told you I was,” Clarissa said through gritted teeth, a smile pasted on her face. “I would’ve come earlier if I could have.”

“Sure.” Scott brought his over full glass of wine to his lips again, the liquid sloshing out onto the table cloth at his unsteady hand. “But we can’t disappoint Lex, can we?”

Clarissa flushed hot with embarrassment and hoped that no one else had heard. “Not here, not tonight.”Her jaw ached from smiling so much. “We’ll talk later.”

Clarissa reached for his hand, but he pulled it away from her. She sighed and turned back to Madeline, who was now leaning forward, displaying perky, well tanned breasts in a flimsy camisole top. Clarissa could see Scott’s eyes continually going in their direction, and from the smug look on Madeline’s face she didn’t seem to mind a bit.

“So, how is it we haven’t met before, Madeline?”.

Scott let out a groan. “Fucking small talk.” He reclined back in his chair and loosened the top buttons of his shirt.

Madeline looked amused as Clarissa’s face reddened. “I’ve been in New York for a couple of years. And before that I was living with mummy in Melbourne.”

Ah, the first wife. Clarissa had heard a little about Geoff’s first wife, an ex-model and fashion designer, but she and Geoff were not exactly on speaking terms.

“And what made you return home?” Clarissa resisted the urge to hit Scott for the way he was now openly staring down Madeline’s top. Madeline Radcliff had to be no more than 22 years of age, and even for Scott that was young.

Madeline scowled at Geoff, who was deep in conversation at then other end of the table. “Dad wants me to go to university.” She spoke like it was a pointless exercise.

“Oh, so you haven’t been yet?”

“No, I finished school and just spent two gap years in London working with a fashion designer friend of mummy’s.”

“How nice,” Clarissa said, thinking this girl was barely out of school, so what was she doing flirting with her thirty year old husband. “And what will you be studying?”

“I don’t know. Business or something boring.” Madeline yawned. “I can’t stand studying.”

“I need a cigarette,” Scott interrupted, pushing back his chair to stand. He extended his hand to Madeline. “Coming?”

She nodded obediently and rose from the table, clasping her hand in his.

Clarissa resisted the urge to look up as they disappeared together out to the back patio. So this is how the night was going to go.

With a shaky hand she raised her glass and took a large gulp. There was nothing she could do except hope he didn’t embarrass her too much, and drink enough that she didn’t care about any embarrassment at all.

“This is lovely wine, Geoff. What vineyard is it from?”
Photo by RTPeat

PINK’s Stupid Girls interrupted her train of thought, the tinny sound erupting from her mobile as it danced across the desk. Clarissa didn’t have to pick it up to know who was calling her. She glanced down at the clock on her computer screen. 8.45pm.

“Shit.” She was tempted not to answer the call, but she knew Scott would keep ringing until she picked up. May as well get it over with.

“Hi honey.” Her voice sounded strained and overly jovial even to her own ears. “I’m leaving now.”

She stood, tucked the mobile into her neck and started collecting the papers from the desk.

“You haven’t left yet? I’m already at the Roystons. I thought you’d at least be on your way.” She heard a thump and imagined him slamming his fist against the steering wheel.

Clarissa grabbed at her briefcase and started throwing her files into it. Slamming the MacBook closed, she squashed it in with the files.

“I’ll be in a cab in five minutes, at their front door in twenty. See you then.” She disconnected before he could continue.”Shit. Shit.”

She had completely forgotten about the Roystons. She hadn’t even picked up some wine. Maybe they could stop on the way. She was half way to the elevator, pulling on her coat as she walked, when she heard her boss, Lex, start shouting.

“Wayne Crook is a hack. I want him on the next plane back to Sydney.”

Clarissa grimaced. Obviously Lex had heard about their star presenter’s on-location meltdown. It was hot gossip in the tea room, and while Clarissa was surprised by the news, she was also relieved Wayne wasn’t working on one of her projects. She noticed Lex was out of his chair and yelling. She quickly turned away. Not quick enough.

“Lissa!”

She waved and put her head down, stabbing the DOWN button, hoping he’d let her go.

“Lissa, get in here.”

Clarissa looked longingly at the elevator. So close. With a sigh she hurried back to Lex’s office and stuck her head around his door. “I’m on my way out. Can it wait ’till Monday?”

Lex motioned for her to sit down. Claire moved into the overcrowded office and settled herself on the edge of a hard backed chair, the sour smell of cigarettes heavy in the air.

“We’re fucked on the Discovery Prehistoric Creatures job.”

Lex leaned back in his chair, a deep frown an ugly stain on his face. “A crew in Cairns, some fucking park ranger ready to be interviewed, crocodiles fucking all around, and our presenter in the hospital having some kind of breakdown.”

“I heard. Danny will sort it out.”

Lex looked dubious. “My grandmother has more balls than Danny. I need you to provide back-up. You’ll fly to Cairns tomorrow.”

Claire’s stomach dropped. Not another lost weekend. Scott was going to freak. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary. I’ll phone Danny on my way home.”

Claire tried to sound calm and confident. “I think Tony Hop is free at the moment. Maybe he can present. We’ll be back on schedule by Monday. We’ll lose a day, but we’ll make it up when the shoot gets back to Sydney.”

Lex snorted, his large nostrils flaring. “I’ve heard that before.”

Claire held Lex’s eyes coolly. “Don’t give it another thought. It’s taken care of. I don’t need to go to Queensland.”

He opened the manila folder in front of him and pushed a pile of budgets and schedules towards her. Papers fluttered into the air and splayed out like a numbered collage. “And who’s gonna pay for these delays, hey? Do you know how much a day of idle camera crews is going to cost me?”

Claire said nothing and shifted her eyes to a spot behind Lex’s head. She wasn’t going to argue with him.. If she kept her mouth shut, he’d soon run out of steam. She focused on the bland cream walls and the disjointed cluster of celebrity stills, and wondered if there was any point in reminding her boss that she, Clarissa Watts, was the best damn Production Manager Life Productions had. If she said she could do it, the job was as good as done.

Clarissa put in the hours, she knew the schedules, the cash drains, the gripes, the petty rivalries and all the illicit gossip. Lex, on the other hand, was a has been. A red faced drunk. A fat slob more interested in beer and pies than the production company he had founded twenty years before.

Lex was still complaining about money and moving on to bitching about the editor on the job. He shook out a cigarette and picked up his lighter. “So I told Pam that I’d fire her ass if she ever did that again.”

Claire tuned out and prayed he’d finish soon. Lex lit the cigarette and coughed out a trail of smoke and a mouth full of spittle. Disgusting. She had to get out of there.

“So, I’ll call you tomorrow about Prehistoric Creatures.” Claire stood and picked up her briefcase.

“Step out on the balcony with me.” Lex nodded at the door to his private balcony. “I want to talk to you.”

He stuck the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, clamped down on it with his teeth and gave the rusted double doors a solid pull with both hands. They snapped open and a strong gust of chilly air hit Clarissa in the face.

“Lex, it’s really quite late. I have to…”

“Only take a second.” Lex leaned against the railing. “Come on, just stand in the doorway so I can see you.”

Clarissa turned to check the clock on the wall. 9pm. She was going to be so late. But, what could she do? She moved to stand near the door, the chill making her shiver.

“How long you been with us now, Lissa?”

“I don’t know,” Clarissa said wearily. “Four years maybe.”

Lex nodded. “I’ve been thinking, it’s about time you became a Senior Production Manager. How’d you like to oversee all the Discovery series as well as continue that travel show thingy of yours.” He snapped his fingers, searching for the name.

“On the Edge with Jack McCoy.”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

Clarissa stared at him, speechless. “Wow, I don’t know what to… I didn’t realize we needed another Senior.”

Lex took a deep drag on his cigarette and blew a trail of smoke rings at the doorway. “We don’t. I’m letting Francesca go. I told her today.”

“Why? Francesca’s a fantastic SPM.”

Lex shook his head dismissively. “She doesn’t have the time or the energy for the work since she had those brats of hers. She’s always wanting flexible hours. Turns her fucking phone onto voice mail all the time, and you can’t get her anywhere near a meeting on the weekend. It’s just not working anymore. We tried, but the fact is television is no place for mothers.”

Sadness settled like a weight on Clarissa’s chest. Francesca Spiteri had employed and mentored her throughout her entire time at Life. She was patient, fair and worked as hard as any of the men. And where did it get her? Fired at thirty seven because she’d dared to have two children in the last three years.

Lex was watching her closely, his deep set eyes looking black in the night, a cloud of smoke circling his head. “So, you want the job or not?”

Claire shrugged. “I don’t know what to say. This has kinda come from left field.”

Even as she said it, she knew her stalling wasn’t about the job. An unwelcome sense of loyalty to Francesca was circling inside of her, and then there was the matter of Scott. There were no prizes for guessing what he would think of the job offer. Every Senior Production Manager at Life Productions worked over seventy hours a week. Scott rarely stayed at the office past 6pm.

Lex frowned and tossed the cigarette stub onto the floor of the balcony. He ground it out with his boot heel. “Listen, don’t do me no favors. Jimmy Daniels would give his left ball to become Senior Production Manager for Discovery, so if you’re not up to it, don’t worry about it. I’ll set someone else up.”

He patted her shoulder as he walked back into the office and took his jacket from the hat stand. “Shut those doors will you.”

He walked from the office without looking back. “See you Monday.”

Claire stood rooted to the spot. What had just happened there? Had he offered her a job and then rescinded it all in one conversation? She felt the vibration of her mobile in her pocket. Scott. The clock now said 9.15pm.

Suddenly it hit her. This was her life. Her job was the only thing she was really good at. The only part of her life that was hers alone. She ran from the office and towards the lift. “Lex,” she yelled. “Lex, wait!”

He put a hand out to stop the elevator doors from closing. “What?”

“I’ll take the job,” she puffed, feeling a knot start to tighten in her stomach. “I’d love to be the new SPM.”

Lex grinned, flashing crooked yellowing teeth. “Of course you will. I never doubted it. See you Monday.”

Claire stood there panting, trying to collect herself as the elevator doors closed. She should feel excited, happy. Instead, all she felt was heavy, tired, depressed. She’d managed to sell out a friend and her husband in one fell swoop. What a way to end the week.

She checked her watch again and hurried back to Lex’s office to collect her briefcase. No time to think about it now. She had a sulking man to placate.

Photo by meyshanworld

You may have read my post for New Year, where I talked about my primary goal for 2008: to write consistently and hopefully sell a short story or novel.

So far, I’ve managed to keep up with blogging a few times a week, but my old enemy, FEAR, has prevented me from fulfilling the promise I made to start writing some short fiction, finish my novel and maybe start on a new one. There’s no point in keeping all these stories on my hard drive and looking at them longingly, is there? They need an audience. People to read them, enjoy them, critique them. People like you.

As of tomorrow I will be posting a piece of short fiction every Wednesday. This story or excerpt will feature a female protagonist (main character) who is struggling with all the issues you and I wrestle with, whilst trying to be the best woman she can be. She may be a mess, she’ll definitely be conflicted, and I’m hoping she’ll resonate with most of you.

Some fiction pieces may be one offs and others may run as a serial. I may even take plot requests, so tell me what you want to be reading. And if anything feels like it has a life of its own, or attracts a good audience, well maybe it will be turned into a novel.

I’m counting on you to work with me here. I need your feedback. I need your support. Come on this journey with me and I will endeavor to write fiction that inspires and moves you.

Photo by moriza