An excerpt from my latest project

As promised, here is a sneak peak at the novel I'm drafting. Enjoy!

           Ding-a-ling-a-ling. In came trouble and then some. Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum. The Hickston brothers were known for being a bit rowdy here and there. Most people left them alone, so long as they weren’t damaging anything. But the chances of them being out of trouble from one day to the next were slim.

            Nick and Rick Hickston strode into the store. As usual, their attitudes held that they owned the ground they walked on. Sam bent over and swept, hoping they would be in and out. They were murmuring to themselves. Sam heard one snickering. He glanced up to see Rick pointing at the girl. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He took a breath, as his dad’s voice floated through his mind. Keep your business yours, and their business theirs.

            She heard the door and didn’t bother to look up. Continuing to browse the various snack-food, she was dimly aware of voices across the room, and a snort. Pigs.

            Grabbing a Mr. Goodbar, she turned to find herself nose-to-nose with a young man a good three inches taller than her.

            “Y’know,” he said, giving her a once-over, “I don’t care too much for chocolate-” waving at the bar in her hand, “- but here, on the other hand…” he gestured to her, looking over her shoulder. With a start, she turned to find the other man cutting off her only other exit. “…here’s a fine spe-ci-men indeed.” He sounded out the word slowly, as though he had spent much effort mastering the word.

She tensed, and he saw it.

“Now don’t you worry your little self. I was just going to suggest that we might get to know one another.” He moved closer into the little space she already had. “I was thinking…” His hand moved slowly down towards her hair. Whap! Suddenly it was caught in a vice grip.

“The one thing you’ve got to know about trying to hustle somebody, sweetie…” She began to bend his arm backwards. He resisted at first, grunting as it began to move away from his body. “…is that you’ve got to be sure…” He was struggling, whimpering, as his arm bent back at a more unnatural angle. “…that your mark hasn’t spent years…” She gave a twist, there was a pop! and he fell to his knees, mouth agape, soundless. “…fending off jerks like you.” She turned back to his brother.

With a nervous shuffle, he slipped around her, pulling his brother up by the bad arm (he howled at that). With a mumbling, rushed conversation going between them, they hightailed it to the entrance, sliding out the door. She gave a huff and started for the counter.

 With a jump, Sam grabbed his broom, heading for the counter. He turned, going back to retrieve the dustpan, bringing both with him. The girl was at the counter already, watching him blandly.
            “I, uh-” he fumbled the broom, dropping the aluminum pan with a CLANG! on the floor. “I- I-” he bent over, picked up the dustpan, setting the broom in the corner, and the dustpan on a shelf. “I just-” He leapt back to catch the now-falling broom, knocking down the dustpan and tripping over his own legs in the process. There was another CLANG!, followed by a dull thud as first the pan and then he made contact with the floor.
            After scrambling back up and arranging the broom and dustpan in the corner once more, he straightened his apron, and looked up to her with a smile.
            “Hi.” She was not impressed. “Oh, yeah, let me, uh-” he grabbed the Mr. Goodbar and rang it up, followed by a bottled sweet tea. “That’ll be two dollars and eighty-eight cents.” After exchanging the three dollar bills for a dime and two pennies, she collected her things and headed for the door.
            “By the way-” he blurted. She stopped and turned to look at him. He gave a little wave. “I’m Sam, by the way. Sam Murray.” She gave a sigh.
            “Well, Sam, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Robin.”
            Ding-a-ling-a-ling.