31,826 Words... Time to Get Moving...

As usual, we all seem to be doing the same thing... delaying. The time has come for me to stop the dilly dallying and start making things happen in my novel. Right now, I have finally brought the sisters together, which I think will make writing a bit easier. The excerpt I am including is Grace receiving a phone call at Jackie's Place... she is about to get some bad news about her sister.

"Jackie himself was startled by the phone ringing, it was indeed a rare occurrence. At the moment the phone rang, Jackie was completely absorbed by both a close examination of the latest edition of Martha Stewart Living, and the act of ignoring that douchebag Gordon the Vampyre, who Jackie liked to actively discourage from coming in as often and as fervently as possible. Thus far, Jackie’s tactics had proven ineffective. He was wondering whether he was going to have to dip into his dark ops background, make some phone calls, maybe see what David Boreanaz was up to these days, and whether he might be willing to lend a brother a hand. He was simultaneously toying with the idea of crafting some fun floral straws, using assorted pastel baking cups, both regular size and mini, and cutting them into floral shapes. He was sure that these would make any summer drink irresistible, but he couldn’t help wondering whether this would be another case of a Martha craft gone horribly wrong... it seemed almost too simple. He couldn’t even talk about the sea glass necklace debacle of ’08, when he had inadvertently sliced his own neck open and had needed to perform an emergency tracheotomy on himself. Sadly, his crush had been present to witness his humiliation. How embarrassing!
He shook off these thoughts and grabbed the phone from underneath the bar, setting it on the bar top. It was black, an old rotary phone that was sure to boggle the mind of any person born after 1989. He let the phone ring a few times before he answered, hoping whoever was calling would give up. He hated talking on the phone, he had never really been able to rid himself of the belief that whatever he said was being recorded. Others might consider this type of belief paranoid, but to Jackie, paranoia was a virtue. It had served him well many times.
He lifted the preposterously heavy headset, and held it to his ear.
“Jackie’s Place,” he growled into the headset, hoping his menacing tone would deter the caller from any tomfoolery. Jackie couldn’t stand for tomfoolery of any sort. It was almost as bad as ‘playing the goat’."