Deleted: Scene Two

Ever get into a project and discover that what you thought you were writing wasn’t really what you’re writing? That’s kind of the way this scene came about.

It started as the first scene of the book. Then, I got about halfway through the book and realized that the book belongs to Tayna and Andrea only has a small, but very important part. So, I moved this to scene two.

But then, I finished the book and realized, that the book is actually Liz’s, not Tayna’s either. So, this scene was completely irrelevant and had to go buh-bye. When I went back to the beginning to start the serious editing, I also realized that it’s pretty obvious that I hadn’t figured out what I was writing yet. Double buh-bye.

And when a scene goes buh-bye from a book, to me that means, “Yay! I can put it on my website!”

While I cut a lot from the original manuscript, there were only two full scenes that disappeared. The other stuff disappeared page-by-page or paragraph-by-paragraph, making it not a whole lot of fun to post here.

Make sure you check out the former opening scene of Chapter Ten, too. VooDoo was both easy and hard to write.

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Pen in hand, Andrea paced the front window of Scentorium, hoping the soaps, lotions and oils would give her a decent idea.

If today was a holiday, it should be scentimentalsentimental.

No. Bad idea.

If today was a holiday, it should be magnifiscentmagnificent.

Eww… Definitely not.

If today was a holiday, it should have nothing but a parade of sexy men. Yeah, confident, gorgeous, easy with smiles and laughter. A big long parade of them through the store, looking at essential oils, shampoo, conditioner, all sorts of stuff to rub into Andrea’s hair or skin. They would know when to laugh, know when to be serious.

Okay, maybe a whole parade wasn’t necessary. Just one man would do. He’d come in looking for some oils and be decisive, not want her opinion, not need her to make recommendations and not ask what her favorite was. He’d know the difference between a cleanser and an exfoliant and know which one he needed and why.

He would know what to say and when to say it. And he’d be smooth about it, too. No tripping and stumbling over his words like every high school boy or heck, every date since then—all three of them.

He would be so great that he could come up with the darn tagline for the buy-two-get-one-free sale happening next week.

Mr. Perfect. Mr. Wonderful. Mr. Most-Likely-Non-Existent.

“Right. And I’m Meg Ryan in a romantic comedy… Sure.” Andrea shook her head and sighed. While her life was a comedy, there wasn’t anything romantic about it. The store was empty. No men in sight, either. Not even walking by the front window.

Heck, in her own little world, she was probably pretty enough to be the female love interest in a movie. Definitely skinny enough. Long blonde hair that she only used the finest products on thanks to her little job here at Scentorium. All she needed was a sharp tongue and a whole lot of stubbornness. Wouldn’t that be great, though? She’d know for sure that no matter what icky stuff happened, she’d get her happily ever after with some prince or pirate or demon slayer or computer geek. Whoever. Did it really matter as long as she was happy?

The bell on the front door chimed, reminding her that she was far from a movie character—they never have jobs this boring. She pasted on her trusty retail smile and greeted the fellow. Upper forties, somewhat scrawny, balding, plain gold wedding band, beady eyes.

And of course, the telltale terrified expression on his face—most guys were frightened by scented body products.

“Welcome to Scentorium.” Andrea approached. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

“Oh, no. Not really. Just something for my wife. Tonight is our anniversary and I wanted to get something I could, you know…ummm…smear on her. And maybe some bubble bath, too.” His face was beet red.

Why couldn’t she have that parade of sensitive men come through? Instead she got Mr. Wimpy.

“Okay. Well, over here we have massage oils. Do you know what kind of scents your wife likes best?”

“Ummmm…No.”

“Then, may I suggest rose? It’s easily recognizable and you can make up some story about how her skin reminds you of the petals of a rose. Soft, supple and just the right shade of pink.” Maybe that would be a good kick-start for him. At least one woman would have a great romantic evening—even if she was stuck with Mr. Wimpy…at least he was trying.

“Wow. You’re really good.” He picked up a bottle of massage oil and didn’t object when Andrea put a three-ball massager tool in his other hand. “My wife would like that.”

“Getting stuff for her to pamper herself with is one thing, but getting her stuff for you to pamper her with is a whole other story. Along with all these things, think of the best compliments and say them as you run your hands along her back, smoothing, caressing all the way down to her feet. And spend some time on her feet, too. She’ll be putty in your hands. Make love to her mind, body and soul. Anniversaries are only as special as you make them.” Andrea’s little rehearsed speech seemed to be working. She added bubble bath, shampoo, conditioner and three kinds of lotion onto the tab before ringing him up.

With a dopey grin bulging his cheeks, Mr. Wimpy plunked his credit card down on the counter. “Your husband’s a very lucky man and he obviously knows how to take care of you.”

“Yeah, he’s great.” She lied. It probably made the poor schmuck feel better. “I hope you treat your wife the same. Go get her, tiger.” She winked.

“Well, yeah, I will. A-And thank you. For everything.” He tripped, catching himself on the door before exiting into the night.

“Actually, my husband is invisible. He’s the man of my dreams. The man I will probably have to invent or build from scratch.” Andrea pondered that idea for a moment. “I wonder if that’s possible.” Maybe some female scientist somewhere would come up with a way of building men from the ground up. Yeah, and the dating game would become an easy win.

She busied her hands with organizing perfume testers. Taller ones in back, prettier ones in front.

Before long, a teenage girl walked into the store, pausing to draw in a huge breath. She briefly scanned the essential oil display, then headed straight for the counter, the girl’s grin inspiring Andrea to smile.

“Hi. Is there something I can help you with?”

The girl was sort of an ugly duckling—wearing more make-up than necessary, but the quality of application looked more experimental than intentional. Her eyelids were done in shades of brown and beige as though trying to master shading. The blue designer jacket over red discount store shirt reminded Andrea of her own time in high school.

She’d also worried about what clothes were in style, but only because she’d set the trends in her little clique. She’d gone through great pains to make sure that her closest friends didn’t look stupid if they’d copied her outfits.

Hands on the edge of the counter, the young girl leaned over, staring at the myriad of colored bottles and liquids in the case. “Yeah, you could probably help me.” She looked up at Andrea. “Do you have any boy-catching perfume? All I want is a boyfriend.” The girl giggled, innocent charm sweetening her smile.

Great last customer of the evening. Andrea easily started reminiscing about the days before rent money drove every plan and getting dates on a Friday night became impossible. She shook her head, long golden hair swishing onto her shoulders. “I wish there was some good boy-catcher in here. I’ve tried everything in the store and I still can’t nab a man.”

The girl’s green eyes lit up. “No way. You? You’re so pretty, though.”

While Andrea never got tired of young girls saying that, it did make her feel aged—like her shelf life was almost up. “Thank you, sweetie, but it’s true. I swear it.”

“Maybe you’re cursed.” The girl shrugged as she picked up an empty atomizer and inspected the glasswork.

“I’m beginning to think perhaps I am.” Wasn’t that the truth? It made more sense than any other explanation.

“I hope I’m not.” The girl set down the atomizer. “But maybe it’s just that this building is cursed and you work here, so it rubbed off on you.”

For the first time today, Andrea chuckled for real. “Maybe so. But I’ve only worked here for a couple years. What about before?”

“Ummm…before… I dunno. Did you break a mirror or walk under a ladder or something? ‘Cause that’ll really haunt you.”

“Maybe I did and then I started working in this cursed building,” Andrea mused. “I guess I’m doomed to be either haunted or cursed until I get another job.” She’d never considered supernatural possibilities. They sounded pretty silly. “Seriously, though. Are you looking for something in particular?”

“Just something that smells nice.” The young girl inspected the bottles in the tester tray. “Hey, did ya know the guy who owned the old card shop next door disappeared?”

Andrea didn’t like to think about that guy. He was strange to begin with, coming into her store with intention to buy oils, but ending up talking about his foster son who’d run away. At first his story almost made her cry, but after hearing it fifty times, it got old and he always dodged when she asked why he didn’t try to look for him. She’d had no choice but to give up.

The young girl continued as she picked up a tester of Catch. “Yeah, but they found him last week in a ditch outside of town. They said it looked like animals had started eating him, too. Gross.” The girl set down Catch and picked up Seek. “I heard that he’s still next door…haunting the pet store that’s there now.”

Andrea animatedly played along. “That would explain the random puppy howls and cat screeches.”

“Yeah. And I heard that the big old house next to the university is haunted, too. My friend saw lights floating in some of the windows. Creepy.” The girl sniffed a tester for Savor.

“I know the woman who lives there. She’s my best friend and she is pretty kooky.” Andrea nodded. “But I think you might be right about her house. It’s really creepy. Sometimes, I swear all old buildings are haunted.”

“Maybe. But then lots of places here have ghosts. There’s hardly any new buildings here at all. When I moved from Stockton, the first thing I noticed was all the old stuff. It was like when Mom and Dad took me to San Francisco. Everything was old.”

“Hmmm…” Andrea was born here, but never really noticed before. Heck, she hadn’t left here much, either. She’d been to San Francisco and Mission Sonoma for a school field trip, but wasn’t all the old stuff what made small towns into tourist attractions?

“Maybe whoever started the university came from San Francisco. I went to the R.U. library a few days ago to look up some stuff for school. It was so creepy—all its weird tall and thin windows in the front. And it was like twenty degrees inside.” She sniffed another tester before holding it up to read the label. “I’ll take this one. I don’t care whether or not it’ll get me a guy, either. It just smells really good.”

Andrea let the all the spooky talk go and focused on selling. “Odeon. Hey, you never know. It might hook you a guy. Or at least get his attention so you can talk to him and win him over.” Andrea opened the storage cabinet under the display case. “I’ve only worn Odeon a couple times, but I like the sort of light and happy smell.” Andrea located the right box. If only a perfume could catch a man. Oh, the amorous adventures she’d been missing out on. Why couldn’t life be more of a fantasy? “Like a summer day.”

“Uh-huh. It reminds me of my best friend back in Stockton.” The girl opened up her polka-dotted purse to retrieve her flowery corduroy and vinyl wallet. “I’m gonna go home and email her. I miss her. Next year, when I get my license, my first drive is gonna be to her house.”

“That’s cool. I hope you get your license right on your birthday, then.” Andrea completed the transaction.

“I hope so, too. Thanks.” The girl’s sweet smile had Andrea wishing she could turn back the clock ten years. There were plenty of things she would have done differently—starting with keeping whatever mojo she had that kept all the boys asking for dates. Nowadays, she had the worst luck. It was like guys were afraid of her or something.

“Good luck with the manhunt,” Andrea called after the girl.

“You, too,” she called back as she walked out, then waved through the front window.

Andrea looked around the empty shop and sighed. She picked up the tester of Odeon and applied some to her neck and wrists. No sooner had she replaced the bottle on the tray than the sound of a howling puppy came through the wall. The poor thing sounded horribly lonely.

And unfortunately, that feeling was all too familiar.

Buy: eBook — Paperback
Excerpt: Library — Dinner
Deleted: Scene Two — Chapter Ten Opening