short story

Shiny New Wheels (short story)

by Kristen James

I love writing prompts! I was that kid in school that was itching to get started even while the teacher described the project and what we should write about. Recently I discovered Reedsy’s weekly writing prompt, where they supply five versions of a prompt. You pick one and write a short story, and then share it or even enter the weekly contest. I’ve enjoyed writing short stories in the past and thought I’d start including some on my blog.

I wrote this story, “Shiny New Wheels” for the prompt: Write a story where two characters want the same thing but for different reasons. (This is great inherent conflict for any story or novel so of course I had to give it a go!)

SHINY NEW WHEELS

It’s all I ever wanted.

I walk beside the man who might steal my dream and inheritance right from under me. How did this even happen? How did it get so far without warning signs? Or did I just miss them?

It’s hot as ball out here as we walk from the dealership to Ricky’s Bar a block away, and Ben’s voice drones on, happy and fast, while I can barely hear over my pounding heart. His cologne is killing me in the heat. Why did I say yes when he asked me to walk over for lunch?

Because I wanted to get into his head. Feel this out. Find out what he’s thinking.

I turn toward him, ready to explode. Meanwhile, he’s grinning ear to ear, hands waving in the air while he talks about his sales numbers. 

He has no clue. 

He’s tall, slim, and slick. Dark hair combed and gelled, pants pressed, shoes shiny, and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to show off his muscular forearms. The ladies eat it up. The men want to be like him. That’s how he sells so many cars. 

“Ben,” I start but he keeps talking. “Ben!”

“Huh?” His face goes slack and his dark eyebrows pop up in question. “What’s up, bro?” He sees something in my expression and adds, “Zackery.” 

“How long have you been here?” In my memory, we hired him about three years ago. That’s not long.

“A couple years. Three, actually. What a ride, huh?” He shakes his head as we reach the bar’s double doors and pulls on the vertical golden bar handle. “Ricky’s Place” was a Chinese buffet long ago and much of the original look is still here in the decorations and layout. Cool darkness meets us, along with lots of deep red and velvet accents. 

“Yeah, sure.” We walk inside and go straight to the bar, which is what all the salesmen do. We know they drink on their lunches, but it doesn’t seem to affect sales numbers so no one cares. 

I care, but I’m the youngest brother. My dad started this car dealership thirty years ago. My oldest brother, Jake, helped for years before retiring. He wanted to move on to something more peaceful. He teaches yoga in Montana now. 

My other brother, Max, is still here, running the deals through the desk after the salesmen bring them in. He makes great money but has never wanted any kind of leadership role. He’d rather play golf, play in the clubs, and go on vacations. Maybe he’s the smart one. He enjoys life more than any of us.

And then there’s me. 

Working my ass off, putting in the hours, the years, the dedication. Thinking I would take over for Pops, and now I’m learning he’s considering putting this jerk off in charge. Who puts a salesman in charge like that? Did I misunderstand him earlier today? It was like he issued a challenge, hinting he was considering both of us. His son and a salesman.

I grab my collar and puff my shirt a few times to cool down.

Our usual drinks appear in front of us while I glance over the menu. It’s too dark in here to really read it, and I know what it says anyway. I order my unusual French Dip and a salad. 

Ben is still chatting up a storm, and I haven’t heard a word he said since we left. My dad took us aside after the morning meeting.

“Boys, I wanted to give you two a heads up.” He spoke as if he were talking to his sons, but like I said, he’s known Ben for three years. “I’m watching those numbers closer than ever, if you know what I mean. Ben, you’ve come in like a storm and proven how much you care about our success here.”

I finally understood the saying “my stomach dropped like a lead ball.” A cold dread hit my head like a snowball and slowly melted down my body, leaving a hot burning fury. 

I oversee the entire dealership, not sell cars. I’ve been working Pop’s job for the last five years because he was training me to take over. Did he ever overtly say that or had he let me believe it?

That’s not all I believed. I thought he saw me as the faithful son, the working one, the man who had his back no matter what. And I thought he had mine.

“Man, to think the old man trusts me that much,” Ben says, beaming. 

“Why is that?” I swivel on my bar stool and study him while he answers.

“Have you seen what I can do? Have you seen my numbers?”

“Sure, I have. And I know what you take home. But that’s not the same as building a customer base and trust with the public.”

“Trust?” He laughs and takes a long swig of his beer. “People don’t care about trust. They want to feel good. They want to look good in a new, shiny set of wheels. Know what I mean? They trust me because I give them what they want.”

Now it’s clicking. He likes the rush of a sale, like many of the people on the floor. It’s a power rush to some. They’re paid on commission and the competition gets fierce. Ben has been at the top of the leaderboard since he arrived.

“Okay, so why would you want more? A higher role with more responsibility? That would take you away from the customers, put you behind a desk, and then you’re planning marketing and thinking about budgets.”

“Ah, man, but the money.” He raises his pint in the air to toast no one in particular.” 

And there it is. 

I want to continue a legacy and he just wants the money.

Why would my father put the dealership in his hands? There’s just no way that’s what he’s thinking. 

Our food arrives and Ben digs in. I try to force down a few bites of my sandwich. 

I think through my next moves. Should I talk some sense into Ben, see if I can get through to him about how much work it’ll be, for little tradeoff? Or do I try to get into his head and mess with him, shake his confidence. That has little chance of working. 

Or I could… No, I couldn’t mess with the numbers. My mind races, wondering if there’s any way I can make him look bad to Pops. That’s not something I’ve ever considered doing, even though it’s common in this industry. It’s all about image and playing the game. 

I’ve gotten under my own skin. Now I’m doubting myself, and I feel a dark envy growing in me. No, I can’t let myself turn into someone like Ben. He would stab me in the back without a second thought.

“Yo!” he calls out. Two other salesmen enter: Selina and Mike. Their lunch is starting so Ben’s is coming to end soon. I ask for a box as they sit down. The three of them are back slapping and bragging, greeting each other with all kinds of nicknames. It’s annoying as hell, but in reality salespeople need to be macho. That confidence sells cars. 

“I’m heading back,” I say, giving up on eating or getting anything more out of Ben. They wave as I walk out. 

The sun is blinding after the dark bar, bringing up my daily debate about finding a new place for lunch. I love the French Dip. But I’m tired of eating around the other salespeople. I should start ordering in. 

Back at the dealership, I put my food away, stop by the bathroom, and make my way to Pop’s office. He’s on the phone but I linger until he hangs up a minute later.

“Hey, Zackery, my son, come on in.” He sinks down into his chair and picks up his old baseball to toss from hand to hand. He’s a fidgeter so he always has something he can do to look calm. 

“Pops… about earlier…” I sit down facing him across his expansive desk. “You know what this place means to me. I like to think that matches what it means to you.”

“I know, son. You’ve always been here. You make sure everything’s done right.”

“That matters, right?”

“Sure it does.”

“I’m curious why you talked to me and Ben together. He thinks you’re considering him to take over for you.” I don’t scoff but my tone implies it. 

The ball pauses in one hand for a few extra seconds.

“He’s got a lot of potential.”

“So you are?”

“No, no, not take over. Not follow me in my footsteps. But he’s ready to move up.”

Sweet, cool relief splashes into my stomach. The heartburn I’d been ignoring subsides. Then I think about running this place with Ben under me. All of them, for that matter. Not really approving of their methods, or speech, or how they live their lives. It’s probably not fair to lump them all together, but there’s a culture here, one that I’ve lived on the outskirts of. 

Suddenly I don’t want it. 

“Okay, I see,” is all I say to Pops. 

“How’s the numbers looking for the week?” he asks, going back to business. Odd. Why did he talk to us earlier? Ben will be pushing even harder for sales now. That might be it. And I’m rethinking everything. Is that what Pops wanted?

As we go over the numbers, new possibilities start running around in the back of my mind. I don’t feel so hedged in, stressed about my future here. It’s time I started driving my life instead of sitting in the passenger seat. 

In The Land of Huckleberries and Wokas – Now Available on Kindle

by Kristen James

Now Available on Nook and Kindle

Click to preview or purchase on Amazon Kindle

In The Land of Huckleberries and Wokas, a Native American adventure novella, was expanded from a short story that placed 32nd in the YA category out of 12,000 plus entries in Writer’s Digest Annual Writing Competition.

Young Snow Bird is taken from her people in a raid and forced to leave her marshes and people behind. A young brave in the raiding party offers help but he cannot help all of the women in children. She must decide if she can leave them and search for help.

Preview:  The stories weren’t just stores, after all. Snow Bird had listened all through her childhood to scary tales of braves raiding camps and taking slaves, but she had never truly feared such a thing happening. When others told her these stories, her father patted her head and smiled, reassuring her that the elders used stories to keep the children close to camp.

Yet now she sat with her hands bound in front of her while her captors drank from the river. They had rushed into camp and attacked those around the dinner fire. With knives tied to their wrists and clubs to swing, they had hit and stunned the adults in a confusing blink of the eye.

Kindle Link

Nook Link

Fire Eyes – Short Story

by Kristen James

Fire Eyes….

 

She wasn’t afraid at all. The wolf met her gaze with penetrating amber eyes and slowly slinked her way, sniffing the ground. She leaned back on a log next to a tiny shade creek. The water shhhh-ed over its pebbly bed and the insects buzzed. Even with the large animal in front of her, she felt complete peace.

Sunshine danced all over like it was reflecting off a disco ball, glimmering through a light morning forest mist. The wolf blinked, turned and disappeared into the mist and trees, leaving her with a longing to jump up and follow him.

 

Avery’s eyes jolted open. It’d just been a dream, a very real dream.

7: 08 am. There wasn’t much point in trying to go back to sleep. Sighing, she crawled out of bed, made a stop in the bathroom and padded into the kitchen to tell her dad about the wolf dream.

Then she remembered. It always hit her hard to see that empty spot at the kitchen table. Dad wouldn’t be there reading his paper ever again. The stupid tears came, the fluttering of her heart. It was so unfair how this tore her apart over and over. Like losing her dad once wasn’t enough.

The emptiness of the house overcame her, new again every day. Eighteen and on her own. Alone. She went back to her room, cranked up the radio and slid back into the still warm covers.

Four hours later, she tried restarting her day with a quick shower and a bowl of granola before heading out to her favorite hiking trail, the one place where she could feel her dad and remember without it hurting…quite as much.

Inside her car, she found a note that said, “That orange light means to add gas. I put in five gallons.” She could hear Ke’s always laughing voice in her head. He’d even drawn a smiley face on the note. She looked down the hill at his driveway, thinking she’d invite him on her hike, but his car was gone. He was quiet and kept to himself but he did keep an eye on her, even checking that her car had gas. Five gallons was plenty to drive to her hiking spot and back into town.

Once she arrived and parked at the trail head, she got out and took a minute to soak in the sun, the smell of pine and moist grass, and listen to the faint breeze up in the trees.

The air felt about mid-eighties in the sunshine but she’d be in the cool forest soon. She pulled on a sweater and then her backpack filled with food, water, her camera, sketching paper and pencils. She often wondered if the tiny places and nuances of the forest would simply fade away, unmarked by mankind, if no one found and enjoyed them.

Once she entered the sun-spotted world of ferns, moths and tiny creeks crossing her path, she forgot about life that involved houses, roads and other people. In that world, she felt lonely. But out here, physically alone, she didn’t.

She found delicate wild strawberries growing in a small patch of sun and clicked a picture of the tiny berries just starting to change to pink. Higher up, a trickle of water ran across the path. Right where it entered, she photographed a fern arching over the water and a waterskipper skimming underneath. The pictures would help her draw later.

Something snapped right behind her, then something bumped against her hard. Instantaneously she felt something grab her, trapping her arms down.

Just as she screamed, a stinky hand clamped down on her mouth, pushing her top lip into her teeth. Still, with her mouth forced shut, she yelled, straining her throat and making her eyes water.

“Hush! Or I’ll hurt you even worse.”

Despite the threat, she yelled into his hand, even as he kicked her feet out from under her and dragged her backwards roughly, right into the brush on the other side of the trail. Avery fought back. Like hell she was going to listen to him. She thrashed, kicked and made as much noise as possible. The man cursed and pulled her through more branches.

“I’ll make you sorry, stupid little-”

A growl and streak of dark silenced him. He stopped pulling and she pushed her chin down to see a large, dark gray wolf snarling at them, its face close to the ground like it planned to lunge. She flinched, trying to throw her hands up over her face, but her arms were trapped. Helpless, she could only look right back into the wolf’s amber eyes, glowing like fire because they were so bright against his dark fur.

The crappy excuse of a man shoved her toward the animal.

Avery screamed in terror, flailing. The wolf jumped the out of the way as she fell onto the ground. Just as she scampered away, the wolf jumped at the man and knocked him over onto his back. Scampering, gasping, she had no idea what to do but run.

She didn’t see a path or even look for one, but instead pushed and clawed through branches and thorns, trying to get away. It took a long time to break free from the briars and bushes into an opening. It was dark forest with a pine needle floor arching up a hill under the tall evergreens. There wasn’t anything that looked like a trail, not even a deer trail. Now what?

Another, different kind of panic slammed into her. She turned around, scared but knowing she might need to backtrack.

“Avery!”

She ran right into someone. “Ke!”

“What’s the matter? Are you lost out here?” His voice calmed her. His strong arms held her up.

Without a second thought, she slipped her arms around him and held on tightly, searching for words. She needed to explain, maybe warn him. “There’s a man… why are you way out here?”

She looked up and noticed, for the first time, that his brown eyes were more of an amber with flecks of red and gold.

“It’s okay, I promise. I told your dad I’d watch out for you, remember?”

Her legs had gone to putty minutes before. She hardly cared she was hanging in his arms like a rag doll, gazing up at his handsome reddish brown face, at his eyes that told stories and kept secrets at the same time.

He pulled her closer and cradled her head into his neck, supporting her. “Shh, it’s okay now. We’ll head down to the back road and circle back to your car. I’ll get your stuff later, after we call the police.”

The police. That man. “What will we tell them?”

“The truth. You’re not sure what happened to that guy, just that something seemed to grab him and you got away. There’s bear and cougars out here. Maybe someone’s half wild dog. You never know. But you’re safe, and that’s all that matters.”

Her mind couldn’t fit the pieces together, but she did remember one thing. Ke had promised her dad he would look after her.

Trust him, Avery. It came in the breeze weaving through the ancient trees, in the light whispering high above.

Trust him, Avery.

She looked up to the amber fire eyes again. Protective and fierce. Soft and yet strong.

“Thank you,” she whispered. His eyes acknowledged her before he buried his face into her hair, a wild and messy mass of red curls she was sure, and held her tighter. Only then did she wonder if he had been scared for her.

Her heartbeat slowed and she felt at peace, just like in her dream.  Somewhere above the wind moved branches and sunlight suddenly danced all around them.

 

“The Look” – A Romance Mini

by Kristen James

(First appeared on Books-n-Kisses)

The pouring rain outside made it feel more like late evening than six in the morning. Annalisa stared out into it, her back to the office door. Sounds banged and clicked in from the busy shop outside as she tried to jumpstart herself.

The sound of the door swinging open did it. The outside noise jumped in volume, then dimmed again as it slammed shut. She spun around.

“We don’t need some change agent coming in here. We can handle this ourselves!” A very fit man with a long sleeve shirt and jeans threw a stack of papers onto her desk. Some slid across it and hung over the edge on her side. Spotting her, he stood mid gesture and blank faced, watching her push the papers back into a somewhat neat stack.

The day went from bleak to super charged in 2.3 seconds, and not because he’d burst into the office. This guy needed to be in a clothing ad, maybe for outdoor gear. He had a movie star, Brad Pitt type face, and she imagined running her hand along his jaw, checking for stubble.

She sat and leaned back in her chair. “What kind of ideas do you have?”

“Who are you?”

“Looks like I’m the person you’re looking for. Mr. Rici brought me in to see how we can improve the processes out there.” She glanced down at his papers to keep her eyes away from his tall and lean figure, the piercing blue eyes set in a firm face. Soon she realized he had thoughtfully written out several process improvement ideas with calculations on how much time each would save.

Sometime during her scanning, he asked, “Do you have a name?”

She finally looked up and realized he’d sat down and had been watching her for several minutes. Evaluating her. Memorizing her. His face had softened considerably and now he stared at her in wonder. She’d been about to compliment his ideas but got caught up in gazing back at him.

Oh, yeah, her name.

“I’m Annalisa Gildhart, and you?”

“Dan.” He extended his hand in a polite gesture that threw her. His shake was firm but not too hard…and they didn’t break the physical contact right away. He nodded toward the papers. “You know, people aren’t expecting you to listen to our ideas.”

She smiled, thankful for his honesty. “I’m here to help, believe it or not, and that means working with you to keep this place running. These are great ideas, Dan.”

A slow smile spread across his face, and the flirtatious tilt to it made her think he’d reacted more to her smile than her words. Still, he looked much more at ease.

It was her that was tingling inside.

Dan leaned back and studied her. Change always made people nervous, but he almost looked like he’d be willing to drop the old us-against-you routine. Oh, she hoped he’d keep that attitude and prevent a hotbed of tension. Everyone would have to work together or this place would be closing within three months.

“So you might be around a while?” The smile lifted even more on one side.

“Yeah.” She was local too, but kept her answer short.

They were smiling across the desk at each other when someone else rapped on the door and cracked it. “Mrs. Gildhart, you’re on. Everyone’s gathered for the morning meeting.”

She pulled in a deep breath as she rose, then grabbed the papers. She’d like to show them she was on their side and wanted their ideas.

Dan gave her a reassuring smile. “This revamp is starting to look much better than I anticipated.” The gleam in his eye sent shivers up her back as she stepped out of the office.  Annalisa agreed. She just hoped she could concentrate on work with him around… but, wow, those jeans looked good on him.

Copyright Kristen James, all rights reserved. If you like the short stories and previews on my blog, try my Kindle freebie, Embers of Hope, Flickers of Passion. 

The Perfect Christmas (Short Story)

by Kristen James

The Perfect Christmas   by Kristen James    First Published by Skive Quarterly

 

Could this be a retirement-age crisis? Mark mused as he strolled down Sixtieth Avenue in the biting cold. Funny, he never imagined himself having one, but then, who does? He’d made it to sixty without any major breakdowns, and thus far had attributed that to his stoic prejudice against marriage. Only now did he question that.

A little late, he’d decided. But with Christmas bearing down on houses and shops with glaring lights, giant snow-filled balloons, and overly extravagant lawn figurines, he suddenly wished he could have a quiet evening celebration with someone. Not a wife. Not a big family. So he wasn’t sure what he wanted, and that was the crisis part.

Rushing around him, everyone else apparently had plenty of shopping to do. That he didn’t wish for. He’d enjoyed his time alone over the years when others were forced to migrate to family gatherings for long dinners.

He turned the corner and crossed the street to his office building. Though it was dark, he wasn’t done for the day. He’d taken the walk for a diversion, to waken himself and refresh his mind for another session. By putting in a few extra hours today, he would be done and could have an extended weekend to relax.

The itch for company? He used to find a companion here and there. They’d date for a few months – sometimes almost a year.

He saw the homeless woman standing outside his building and paused, ceasing his conversation with himself as well. She wasn’t blocking the entrance and he could enter without speaking to her. However, since she’d first appeared a week ago, he felt a need to see her face, hear her voice. Silly. Holiday hoo-ha catching up to him.

He passed inside and took the elevator up, wondering all the while what the woman looked like. She’d been facing the other way, dressed in a shabby, faded blue coat and black ski cap. His colleagues wanted her gone, taken care of, taken somewhere else. He’d contemplated giving her money for a hotel, at least for the holiday, but where would that lead? She’d simply be back on the street in four days.

He stepped out of the elevator and walked to his office, now thinking of the proposal sitting on his desk. There were a few letters to write, a phone call to make, and some loose ends he’d been pushing back.

That woman did look a bit like his sister. Sitting at his desk, he scanned papers with his eyes but couldn’t make his brain comprehend. He’d searched for his sister on and off all through his life. If alive, she’d be his only relative, and that wasn’t something he needed or wanted. But, maybe, it would be nice to know how her life turned out.

Sighing loudly, he threw up his hands in surrender. His mind must be aging as well as his body. Well, he supposed it wouldn’t ruin anything if he came in the next day to finish up. And what were his plans for the next day? For the weekend? For Christmas?

He took his trip in reverse, and somewhere between floor fifteen and one, he determined to give the homeless woman something. An old, solitary man like him had nothing to lose. Only everything to give. Maybe he should donate more; give his time, perhaps and do something besides ignore the imminent end to his existence.

Outside, the woman was still turned the other way, toward the busy street corner, holding her sign. Yes, very much like his sister, he thought with each step closer.

 

***

 

A car slowed, but only to let out a shopper. She tried for a smile, but the classy businesswoman didn’t even look. People stared right through her. They threw glares behind her, actually, and she realized another beggar must be edging in on her corner. She turned, not sure she could get him to leave. No, she would probably have to leave.

A man in an expensive coat and neat, gray hair stood lifeless ten feet away from her. He stared right at her, but his lined face wasn’t repulsed. Instead, tears streamed down both cheeks.

“Susan! My word, Susan!”

He rushed and embraced her before she could really see him. Who knew her? That voice . . . she slowly comprehended, but didn’t believe.

“Susan? You know your own brother, don’t you?”

“Mark? Can it be?” She felt weak and dizzy, but light. Could that be happiness? She wasn’t sure she remembered anymore. “Mark?”

“Yes, it’s your brother Mark. This is wonderful – you’re here for Christmas! Let’s go celebrate.”