Today is Tuesday and for some reason, seems like the best time to share Part 2 of my “Garage Sale Addict” story. (If you haven’t read
“Garage Sale Addict”-Part 1, you may want to.) Now, it’s easy for me to share my crazy, weirdo thoughts, hopes and dreams on my blog. Most of the feedback is positive, although I do receive the occasional “you stink!”. That’s to be expected when you open your life up on the world wide interweb.
What I love most about sharing with you on my blog are the responses that I get; the encouraging emails and real mail (if you can believe it)-you know who you are, Janice.
Today, I have something entirely different to share with you. I am nervous about sharing it. Instead of me being able to use words like “crap” or my made up favorites like “goody-ness”, what I’m about to share will be held to a higher standard. Because it’s part of my hidden soul-my personal writing projects.
Who knows if this will ever go anywhere-but it’s fun to write and to dream. I’d love to hear what you have to say, or maybe I won’t.
Regardless, everyone needs a critic-and with all of you, at least I’ll know if this is crap or goody-ness.
So, hear goes nothing.
Garage Sale Addict (Young Adults)
Story Premise: Recently dumped pet photographer, Rosayln Jones, hosts a garage sale to purge her life from the memory of her extremely wealthy ex-boyfriend. News travels fast in a small town and the mayhem of the day proves to be a temporary distraction from her pain.
Rosalyn hopes to regain the excitement and holds another sale the following week. Selling off her own personal items, she is soon disappointed in the lackluster response.
Rosalyn becomes increasingly addicted to the garage sale “high” and convinces herself to purchase designer items to sell at a loss in hopes of creating new excitement for herself and her customers. However, she soon is under investigation for what the Department of Homeland Security is convinced is some sort of smuggling or counterfeiting ring.
Chapter One-Part 2
“So, let me get this straight. This crazy family asked you to come to dinner to tell you their son was breaking up with you?” Bonnie sat cross-legged on the couch, a box of tissues between the two of them. “Ouch.” She threw an empty bag of cheese puffs on the floor.
“Don’t forget he already had a replacement. A tall, twiggy one.” Rosalyn burst into tears again, licking at her orange fingertips.
“And she had a ring?” Her friend handed her the box of tissues.
Rosalyn nodded, pulling several out of the box at once.
“How big was the diamond?” Bonnie whispered, eyes growing wide.
“Enormous.” Rosalyn fell into Bonnie’s lap, sobbing.
“Well, that would have never suited you anyways. Your fingers are too pretty to be overshadowed by a gigantic ring.” She brushed at Rosalyn’s hair with her hands. “What are you going to do now?”
“Move on. What else can I do?” Rosalyn sat up, sniffing.
“You aren’t going to try and win him back?”
“I started to go after him, after they had abandoned me in the entryway. Even the servant just shook her head and left me there, humiliated.” Rosalyn blew into a tissue. “But then I started to wonder if I loved Kyle, or the idea of Kyle. Or worse, if I just wanted to be married to someone and not be pathetically single.”
“Oh, don’t say that Ros. You’re not pathetic. And if you are, then I am, too.” Bonnie touched her friend’s knee.
“I might have loved him in college, but that was before I knew the real him. I didn’t like the way he treated waitresses at the country club and I hated that he would buy me expensive stuff that I could never use.”
Rosalyn emptied the tissue box and went after another one.
“I mean, seriously, who really needs a crystal porcupine or an ostrich leather handbag the color of pepto? He just bought gifts for me because of the name on it, and not because he thought I would like it.”
“He was a good boyfriend to you, though.” Bonnie’s word sounded hollow.
“You know as well as I do that he ran me through the ringer.” Rosalyn returned to the room and plopped back on the couch, a new tissue box in hand.
The two sat in silence, facing each other on the couch.
“I’m fine with it. I’m glad this happened. I wish he would have had a little more class as to how he dumped me, though.” Rosalyn threw another tissue on the floor with countless others.
“Stand up.” Bonnie rose from the couch.
“Why? I’m too tired to stand.” Rosalyn slumped lower.
“Come on, get up.”
Rosalyn pushed herself off the couch to form the semblance of an upright human.
“Where are your sticky notes?,” her friend asked.
“I don’t know. In the kitchen junk drawer, maybe?” Rosalyn wiped at her nose; while her friend sprinted towards the kitchen.
“Found them!,” Bonnie announced, and returned to the living room. “Now, put one on everything Kyle ever bought for you.”
“That will take forever. I’m too tired.” Rosalyn sat down on the floor.
“Get up. This, my friend, is therapy.” Bonnie smiled down at her.
“Why am I doing this exactly?” She accepted the sticky notes, but didn’t move.
“We’re going to get rid of the memory of Kyle. You said it yourself, it’s a bunch of stuff you don’t need. Why not have a garage sale and pad your bank account a little. You’ve got some nice stuff you could sell.” Bonnie started with the crystal porcupine-piercing the sticky note through its quills.
“If I agree to this, you have to help me every step of the way. No finking out at six in the morning when it’s time for the garage sale.” Rosalyn slapped a sticky note on a pair of candlesticks.
“Who said anything about 6 am?” Bonnie eyed her friend.
“I’ve learned that’s when the real buyers are out. If I’m going to do this, I want to get rid of it all. I don’t want to go through all of this, only to have leftovers at the end of the day. It’s 6 am or nothing.”
“Six it is.” Bonnie whimpered.
Her best friend turned up the stereo, changing the station from the Dr. Laura show to their local rock station. Several hours later and after rummaging through closets, under beds and in the attic, sticky notes pervaded the entire house. A bright pink square had been attached to artwork, televisions, purses, jewelry, knick-knacks and shoes.
“Kyle really knew how to shop.” Bonnie put a sticky note on another pair of silver candlesticks, marking them at thirty dollars.
“He sure did. And I am sure Twig will appreciate it.”
Rosalyn removed a signed Beatle’s album from the bookshelf that her father had given her long before he died.
“See, this is what I like, Bonnie. Stuff with meaning, stuff with a history. Not this.” Rosalyn put the record back and held up a purple and blue vase that stood two feet high.
“But that’s a Marc Tiere.” Bonnie playfully flipped her hair to one side, prancing on her tiptoes.
“Who cares? It’s now worth approximately fifty dollars to me.”
“That’s at least worth two or three hundred bucks. Rosalyn, you can’t price stuff so low.”
“I want Kyle out of my life. I don’t want to haggle with anyone, I just want everything gone.”
“If that’s what you want, then I’m going to advertise it online. We can get a lot of good buyers in here who will take everything in an hour, and then I can go back to bed.” Bonnie pulled Rosalyn’s laptop onto the couch, perching in front of it. “Where’s your camera?”
“I’ll get it. What should I take pictures of first?” Rosalyn pulled her camera bag from the closet.
“Anything that has a designer label.” Bonnie typed out a small description of several items, adding pictures and directions to Rosalyn’s house.
“Looks good.” Rosalyn peered over her friend’s shoulder, reading through the ad.
“Now, what Saturday do you want to do this?” Bonnie groaned dramatically as she typed out the agreed upon 6 a.m. start time, leaving a space for the date.
“Do you think tomorrow is too soon?”
“It’s a Saturday, isn’t it? Let’s do it and get it over with.” Bonnie finished the listing and hit enter.
“We’d better get to bed. Six comes awfully early for me. I’ll be over here at five thirty. Make sure you have a pot of coffee going.” Bonnie turned the laptop off and stretched. Rosalyn hugged her tired friend and walked her to the door.
“I’ll do better than that. Coffee and doughnuts.”
Bonnie’s sagging eyebrows lifted.
“And Bonnie, thank you so much.” Rosalyn hugged her again.
“Don’t mention it.” Her friend yawned, waving goodbye as she headed to her car.
Rosalyn shut the door and immediately set her alarm for five the next morning. She would hightail it to the doughnut shop and make it back before the coffee would be done brewing. She might even have a few spare minutes to brush her teeth and run a comb through her hair. Flopping into bed exhausted, she pulled the covers to her chin and closed her eyes.
Chapter Two, Part 1
Rosalyn couldn’t make sense why there had even been a noise at all. She strained to see the red numbers on the alarm clock.
“4:13? What in the world?” She mumbled and slid out of bed.
She grabbed her robe from the closet and shuffled towards the noise. Rosalyn squinted through the peephole in the front door. A man and a woman, armed with flashlights, whispered back and forth to each other on the other side of the door.
“Fred, it’s too early. The ad said 6 am.”
“We gotta beat everyone else.” ‘Fred’ knocked again.
Rosalyn opened the front door and yawned.
“We’re here for the garage sale.” The man turned off his flashlight after momentarily blinding himself and his wife.
“It doesn’t start until six. Come back then.” Rosalyn went to shut the door.
“Can we just have a look around real quick?” He smiled, craning to look inside.
“I’m sorry, I’m not even dressed. Why don’t you come back at six?” She tried shutting the door; ‘Fred’ put the flashlight between it and the door frame.
“Oh, we don’t mind if you’re not dressed. Where’d you get all that nice stuff? Did you steal it?” Fred looked at his wife. The two giggled at each other.
“I don’t mean to sound rude, but the sale starts at six and I need more sleep.” Rosalyn moved the flashlight out of her way with a bit of persistence and then locked the door.
Dragging her body back to bed, she pulled the covers to her chin and closed her eyes.