Low Tide

Around 2:15a.m., once the last employee left for home, Hayden locked up the bar. The patio faced a marina, crowded by schooners, charter boats, and a few house boats. One of those had already been strung with blue Christmas lights, which made a strange neighbor for the yacht next to it, where a party was in full swing. Music from a steel drum band floated on the air.

Hayden sat down on the end of a pier and pulled a joint from his pocket. He didn't like to smoke at the house because he only rented the bottom floor. The upstairs neighbors, a pair of yuppies saving to buy a condo, complained if the acrid odor got in the air vents. It was easier just to hang out here. He felt a little weak burning one by himself, but things at the bar weren't going that great. His business partner, a laid-back guy named Mike, wasn't pulling his administrative weight and Hayden was debating how to bring it up. He couldn't exactly fire him.

Holding the joint in his mouth, he lit up. Under his shoes, salty water rolled with what passed for waves on Key West.

( Busted )

( Night Jogging )

November 22, 2009

Now what the hell do I do? Izzy Shaw stared at the tiny piece of jewelry innocently sitting there nestled in its box. It was just some gold and diamonds, nothing that should cause her the least bit of trouble, so why was she looking at it as if it would jump out and bite her?
( Big impact from a tiny item )