Thursday, November 24, 2016

NaNoWriMo 2016: What What You Know, Part 17

This is my first draft for NaNoWriMo 2016 novel Write What You Know. It's only a rough draft with very minimal editing and will, more than likely, contain, typos, grammatical errors, plot holes, or conflicting descriptions. It also includes notes to myself and excerpts from the novel the MC is writing that I try to indicate through various formatting that doesn't always translate well with my limited html skills. Furthermore, this particular novel is... there's no delicate way to put this... this novel is fucked up. So, especially in this rough draft crazed sort of NaNoWriMo way of writing, it may be difficult to read or follow.  I'm still posting it here because I want to shed more light on the process of writing to encourage and inspire other writers or readers who are interested. To learn more about this project, or my daily NaNoWriMo postings, please read Day 1-7.


Write What You Know, Part 17
By Stephanie Thompson,  1,307  words

Read: Part 1Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16


“Ok, I only have a few questions for you and hopefully we can get this cleared up pretty quickly.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Great, we’ll start with something simple. Which would you prefer to be called Christie or  Jennifer?”

Told you. He knows all your dirty secrets. Well, most of them, anyway.

Her face warmed up like she was blushing. She really didn’t want to be blushing. There was nothing she was hiding about her identity per se. Her name change was perfectly legal  and the right thing to do but she felt like she had when she got in trouble as a child, back when they were pulling heads off dolls. When they made it seem like she was doing something wrong but no one could explain why it was so wrong.

“Christie is my legal name now, so that is fine.”

Her voice came out cooler than she felt.

“Great again, so that was question 1, not too hard right?”

She nodded her head and bit her tongue. The chair cutting her fingers wasn’t enough any more.

“All right, now when I saw you the other night we touched a little bit on you’re whereabouts for Wednesday (some date) evening. I’d like to talk about that a little more. Have you had any better luck in remembering your activities for that night?”
“Like I told you before, I was writing.”
“Well, last time you said you couldn’t remember for sure but you now you’re sure you were definitely writing that night? Alone in your hotel room? Is there any who can vouch for you, maybe your agent called on you or a friend?”
“I was alone.”
There were actually a handful of answers she would have liked to given but this wasn’t a scene she was composing. She couldn’t delete and edit her wrong answers or suspicious tones. She had to give her safest answers. She still didn’t know when Wednesday was because she didn’t know what today was or how any of the days were different than any of the other days. Without sleep to break up the days or without her cell phone she didn’t know any one day from another. They blurred together into an incoherent events in no particular order. But she couldn’t tell the detective that, especially with her history in the mix, she would just insane again and once people decided you were insane they stopped believing you. Or stopped listening all together. She also couldn’t say she was never alone or that she didn’t have any friends, for the same reasons. She just had to be normal. She had to be Christie. Bland, bland, inoffensive, sane, non-criminal Christie Fields.
“I’m asking because we found a cell phone, registered in your name, in the vicinity of a crime scene and if I remember correctly, you did say you lost your cell phone right?”
“Um, yes, yes that’s correct it, I can’t find it.”
“But you don’t remember losing it, maybe around some address (look at a map dummy)?”
“No sir, I thought I’d misplaced around my hotel room.”
He couldn’t tell if she was purposely being evasive with simple answers or legitimately honest. Her delivery was one of confidant, open honesty, with a maybe a hint of bafflement, a completely different profile from the one gathered from her juvenile records. There were many counts and notes of open defiance and contempt of court charges (or is warnings better).
“You were checking out this morning, right? All packed up and ready to go?”
She nodded. She thought she tasted blood in her mouth but it was just as likely to be her imagination as it was real.
“So did you find your phone in your room?”
“No, sir, I still haven’t found it. I may have left it at a book signing or a car. I’ve been traveling a lot lately.”
“Right you said that before but don’t you think if you lost it at one of those places, it would be returned to you by, you know through you car company or one of your minders?”
This mother fucker. . .Who in the fucking hell does he think he fucking is? I would love to introduce my fist to his fucking face.
Nikki wasn’t the only one pissed. It took her already threadbare restraint to not show her own anger at the detective’s implications. In no way she some diva pop star princess who couldn’t keep track of herself but she also wasn’t the type of celebutante to lose who cool.
“I don’t know, sir. I mean things go missing that isn’t a crime. I don’t remember where or when I lost but I’m sure I’ve never been to that address or even that side of town. If it isn’t a book store, a tv studio, a restaurant, or my hotel, I haven’t been there. So, I didn’t leave my phone there.”
She didn’t yell or slam her fist but she did finally say more than a dozen words and she finally brought her hands to the top of the table. Wes felt like her was finally getting some traction.
“I’m glad you brought up your hotel. It’s a very nice hotel, lots of amenities, a spa, several restaurants and bars, a pool. What’s your stay been like?”
The change of subject snapped her patience. She could hear the little pop in her ears like the burst of bubble warp. “Are you looking for travel tips now?”
“I’m just wondering if you’ve visited any of the bars or restaurants in your hotel.”
“Did you find my cell phone in one of them too?”
“Do you have more than one cell phone?”
This was the type of behavior he’d expected to see and it was satisfying to be in control again. It was just a long day he had the other day, he was out of his element then. Now, she was much less haunting.
Instead of responding again and getting further entrenched in bickering, Christie bit down as hard as she could on her tongue. She breathed deep the pain and swallowed the blood that was for sure real this time.
“May I please be escorted to the bathroom?”
“Absolutely I’ll have a female officer escort you in a minute.”
Riley left the room happy with the direction of the interview. Christie was still fuming.

In the bathroom, there was a window high on the wall and Christie, not Nikki, was ready to climb out of it. Officer Rodriguez stood by the only other exit.
I told you we should have tried the door when we had the chance.
The last thing I need right now is a told you so, especially from you.
She swished the cool water from the faucet in her mouth and spat out more blood in the sink. She splashed water on her face but she couldn’t check the mirror to see if it was red because Nikki’s face was in the reflection.
How about you come up with a plan to legally get us out of this water this is, since it was your idea to try this without a lawyer.
It’s simple don’t take everything so passively and then overcompensate with aggression. Ask questions back. Interrogate him while he’s trying to interrogate you. And kill ‘em with ‘kindness. Like that time we were in Blue Mountain, remember? We got the one therapist to reduce our group hours, an orderly to give us cigarettes, and gave our stuck up roommate an attitude adjustment all without fuss, stress, or mess. We ran that place, we can run this piece too. (This is kind of lame and doesn’t make much sense with their personalities, sort that shit out)
Yeah, I was never good at that.
I’ll handle it.
Nikki spat more blood into the sink.


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