Writer Dan O’Shea has thrown down another Flash Fiction Challenge – write a story of 1,000 words or less that incorporates rain. And for every story posted, Dan is going to donate $5 to the Red Cross to help the victims of last week’s tornadoes.
I was going to do it.
Then it didn’t work out.
Then, this evening, when I couldn’t get up from my desk without the cat throwing a fit, I wrote this.
And you can check out the rest of the stories here.
ALL FOR THE LOVE OF OUTLAW WOMEN
“There are several songs that get me in the mood. But if there’s one song, one song that seals the deal…” Betty gave me a bashful grin.
“What song?” I asked, “What song seals the deal?”
“’I Love A Rainy Night’ by Eddie Rabbitt.” She looked at the clerk behind the liquor store cash register. “Can you please hurry up with that!”
It was starting to sprinkle outside. The cars passing by had that driving on wet asphalt sound.
“He wrote ‘Kentucky Rain,’ too,” I said.
“What?” She looked at the clerk, his name tag said he was Carl. He was eyeing something under the counter. “Don’t get any ideas!”
“I wasn’t…” Carl said.
She put the nose of her revolver into his face. “Just empty the register. And throw in a couple bottles of Jim Beam.”
“And some Diet Coke?” I added.
Betty gave me a look that said I should let her do the talking. “And some Diet Coke,” she said.
“Okay,” Carl said. There was a black garbage bag on the counter and he was filling it as fast as he could. “Okay, just be cool.”
“Eddie Rabbitt,” I continued. “He wrote the song ‘Kentucky Rain.’ It was a hit for Elvis.”
“I don’t think I know that one.”
People walking by outside were starting to open their umbrellas. If anybody decided to come into Barry’s Booze to get out of the weather, we’d be in trouble.
“He must like writing songs about the rain,” I said.
“Who doesn’t like the rain?” Betty agreed. Our eyes met and she smiled. It made my chest and shoulders tingle.
“What about ‘Purple Rain’?” I asked.
“Prince?” Betty said. “I love Prince!”
“What about ‘Mandolin Rain’?”
“Bruce Hornsby?” I said. “I hate Bruce Hornsby.”
“That’s it,” Carl said, pushing the bag toward us.
“Is there a safe?” Betty asked.
“That’s all of it.”
Betty looked into his eyes. “Don’t think I won’t blow your head off,” she said. I wondered if he felt a tingle, too.
“It’s down here,” Carl said, gesturing under the counter.
Carl knelt down. When he couldn’t see I grabbed some Breath Savers and slipped them in my pocket in case I needed them later.
“’Here Comes The Rain Again’?” Betty asked.
“Eurythmics? Love it. ‘November Rain’?”
“Guns ‘N’ Roses? Hell yes! ‘Blame It On The Rain’?”
“Milli Vanilli?” I said. She nodded. We both started laughing. When I could catch my breath, I said, “I actually like it.”
“I do, too. I actually like it, too.”
Carl jumped up from behind the counter with a small hatchet in his hand. He looked pretty upset. “This is the third time I’ve been robbed this month!” he screamed. He started to swing the hatchet toward me, but he was too slow. Betty put a bullet between his eyes before he has halfway there . He fell to the ground.
“Looks like this is all we get,” Betty said, grabbing the garbage bag full of money, booze and Diet Coke off of the counter.
“That’s not so bad,” I said. “Jim Beam?” I added. “Are you going to try to get me drunk?”
“I’m not going to try,” Betty said. “I AM going to get you drunk.”
As we left Barry’s Booze it was still sprinkling, the clouds trying to make up their minds. With the rain misting around us, the streets smelled clean.
I took Betty’s hand and hoped we’d have a second date.