The Switch (Part 2)

“That was more of a formality, Ms. McCall. It is no secret that Bass & Cordovan’s revenues have declined drastically from ten years ago.”

“Yes, well, prisons are full to bursting, so criminals no longer have a need for attorneys.”

“I am well aware of our current legal system.”

“You seem to be aware of everything else,” Nancy’s voice began to rise.

Ms. Tross cocked her head almost too slightly to notice. “There are just too many of us these days.”

“You’ve got that right.” Nancy leaned back.

The red bulb above the door began to flash. “I am going to leave you for the next few minutes to consider this visual.” Ms. Tross stood from her seat and pushed the curtains open.

Nancy let out a gasp at the sight of the street below. Not five inches of the street was left unpopulated by people. Several groups were engaged in full out brawls. A few broken down cars were scattered and appeared to have been remodeled into homes with linens in the windows and makeshift toilets by the wheels. Everyone was bloody and dirty. Guns went off. Whenever one person fell down dead, three more appeared to take his or her place in the battle.

“Hence, the reason we had you take our underground entrance.” Ms. Tross peered at the scene as if viewing a portrait at the Guggenheim.

“Close it! They’ll see us!” Nancy yelled, pushing her wheeled seat away from the window with her heels.

“This is bulletproof, one-way glass,” Ms. Tross said. “You are safe here.” She exited the office with the second binder and locked the door behind her.

Ms. Tross found a young man in suspender with tossed dirty blond hair now seated in the reception area. He sat reclined with his arms wide around the chairs next to him and chatted with the receptionist.

“Martin Greggor?” Ms. Tross asked.

“Yep,” the man replied without straightening.

“Back here, if you please.” She led him to the identical but reversed second office and locked the door behind them.

*Part 3 coming next week.*

Find Part 1 at: http://emmaraeparker.blogspot.com/2014/11/the-switch.html

The Switch

The taps of her high-heeled shoes echoed behind her through the metal hall. Her blond hair danced on her gray suited shoulders. As her pale face blended into its blond hairline, her gray eyes contrasted deeply as its only dark feature. She squeezed the two binders she held into her side as she pushed open the thick metal door.

            “Good morning, Ms. Tross,” a young man said from the front desk. He wore a blue and white striped collared shirt. “How many are we expecting today?”

            “We decided two is most efficient. Gives them time for personal reflection.”

“Anyone promising?”

            “They’re always promising,” Ms. Tross said. Her mouth remained in a line flatter than a calm sea.

The office was a sealed box with metal floors and walls. The reception area was decorated in abstract art pieces and mahogany furnishings. Ms. Tross continued behind the man’s desk and entered the first office.

Ms. Tross pulled the black curtains together on the far wall and dropped the two folders on the end of the long white table. She glanced up at the small metal box at the other end before turning back to her binders.

Ms. Tross was halfway through the second binder when the red bulb above the door began blinking, and she stepped out of the office. A woman sat in the waiting area with crossed legs and arms, her back stiff in her chair. She wore a black high-waist pencil skit with a white collared blouse. Her black hair was twisted into a bun behind her head.

“Nancy McCall?” Ms. Tross said. The woman sat up even straighter. “This way, if you please.”

Nancy pulled her small, black purse into her chest and followed Ms. Tross into the office.

“Criminal defense attorney for 19 years with Bass & Cordovan,” Ms. Tross said as they seated themselves. “Very impressive.”

“Thank you.”

“Divorced, ostracized son, no close family.” Ms. Tross read from her binder and looked up.

“Excuse me?” Nancy asked, her voice slightly softer.

“Just some fact checking while we get acquainted, here, Ms. McCall. Or do you prefer your maiden name of Henderson?”

“McCall is fine.”

“Tough times in business?” Ms. Tross continued.

“When every human in the world is a criminal, it’s not hard to find clients.”


*Part 2 coming next week.*

Inferno Review

Pretty top notch things have been happening, which is why I have been the world's biggest slacker for the past month. But now that I am a college grad, started my dream job, and got home from a trip to Italy, things are looking up. So if you like reading my stuff (and you are the world's classiest champ if you do) then you should be hearing a lot more from me. 

I just started a job as an acquisitions editor for a publishing house. So now I'm getting paid to be judgmental (and to read all day which is better than great). So now I'll share some judgments here, too, about books I've read. I promise I'll never reveal any spoilers so they all will be safe to read.

Inferno by Dan Brown

4 Stars

Dan Brown is an incredible story-teller, which is why you can read his 400-500 page books in a few days. They play better in your mind than the movies do on the screen. This book was not his best. (The Da Vinci Code will probably always hold the title for that one.) The confusion and lack of purpose at the beginning makes it drag slightly more than I am used to with Brown, but once you start getting clues from events that happened before the narration started, it picks right back up again.

I loved this book, but I'm not sure if it was because the story rivaled that of Angles and Demons of if it was because I got to visit everywhere Langdon went in Italy a week later. (If you are going to Florence or Venice anytime soon, READ THIS BOOK.)

My biggest problem with Brown's books are his cliches. Aside from the cliche phrases that the characters use a bit too much, Robert Langdon being a tall, handsome, mature, and wise hero with one "fatal" flaw off being claustrophobic is too big of a cliche for a rounded protagonist.

However, this book was worth the read. Dan Brown is so good at throwing surprises at you at the very last minute, making you think that it could not possibly make sense by the time you get to the end, and then revealing all the turn of events in a whole new way. Well done, Brown. You did it again.

And here's a little trinket for your time:

Just laxing on the Ponte Vecchio in Florence.

Introducing, A Delicate Charade

My novel in progress, A Delicate Charade, is a work of contemporary fiction. This novel revolves around two characters, Jack and Ellie, along with their family and friends that surround them. Each character reveals their account of a specific illness, disorder, or issue from which they suffer and attempt to hide. Written as a tightly knit anthology of short stories, each disorder is given a personal and detailed account, and in most cases, the reader is left to discover the illness that is being described. This work revolves around the theme of people lives not always living as they seem.

Below is a tiny excerpt from this work in progress!:

“You’re kidding!” Jack finally halted his fork. His voice sounded horse and a little gargled from the food still making its way down his esophagus. He took a huge gulp of milk from the glass in front of him, leaving food debris on its rim, and brown gravy remained doodled around his lips and chin. This was no concern to him. His entire mind had just shifted from the juices running down his meat to the juicy information his mother just shared. The gossip filled his mind like a balloon being pumped with helium, and there was no room for thought about how ridiculous he looked at that moment and how easy it would have been to use the napkin sitting underneath his crusted, sticky right hand. “What did his parents say? What did he do?”

Beginning a Healthier Life: Making Habits

The link below is one of my nonfiction writing samples. If you have tried to get healthy at least five times and find it never sticks, check it out to learn how to keep healthy habits. Or if you already have fabulous healthy habits and motivation of steel, check it out for an ounce of entertainment. Click on my name and take a look at my other published articles if you want to read more.



Familius | Beginning a Healthier Life, Step Four: Making Habits

Who Eats Pasta with a Spoon?

“You have got to be kidding me.”

            “Every last bit of it.”

            She stared down at the thick, cheese-stuffed noodles, the dripping cream sauce, the long strips of vegetables, and the fat chicken chunks poking throughout. Her stomach churned at sight of the overflowing mound on her plate.

            “This is more than I can eat in a day.”

            “I’m eating just as much.”

            “You’re twice as big as me.”

            It wasn’t a pile of salmon, egg whites, or fruit. That she could manage. The vegetables were dosed in butter and salt. It wasn’t even healthy food.

            He had had enough of her only scooping herself two spoonfuls every meal, enough of her burning more calories than she ate, enough of her ribcage getting more prominent by the day.

            After conquering a fourth of the plate, her stomach was already feeling more than satisfied. Satisfied was not exactly the right word when she could feel its contents spinning. Occupied, maybe. Maybe worse.

            She tried to keep going, but her fork fell right back down. “I just don’t see the point of wasted calories.”

            “Nothing is wasted calories if it will bulk you up!”

She really wasn’t a picky eater. She had just seen food in a different way from most people. And it wasn’t as if she was a total health freak. She would never consider chocolate or sourdough bread as wasted calories. Not when they were so delightful. But food had to be better than average for her to eat with no second thoughts and limitations because every time she took a bite, it was a risk.

He put another scoop on her plate. “If you stop again, I am just going to keep scooping.”

She considered punching him in the face. More imagined than considered. He thought this was helping her. He thought she needed it. She loved him for that, even though it was ridiculous. It was really making everything worse.

            She didn’t understand how pleasant it was to lean back with a full belly after dinner, to rummage through his mom’s baked goods and try a little bit of everything, to sit at the dinner table for hours with his family and chatting all the while with his mouth half full.

            He didn’t understand how much she wished she could pick and taste any yummy-looking thing in her wake, grab another spoonful of his mom’s mashed potatoes, lounge around in full-stomached ecstasy after a long coursey meal.

            He also didn’t understand the burning through her throat, the headaches after big meals, the acid seeping up her esophagus, and the horrible gagging of dumping your insides out.

            What, then, was the point of putting anything in? 

Beginning a Healthier Life: Getting Active

The link below is another one of my nonfiction article samples. If you are looking to start a healthier life, check it out. I'll tell you what you need to know to begin because believe it or not, I'm a personal trainer, too! Click on my name, and scroll through my list of published articles if you fancy reading more. 


Familius | Beginning a Healthier Life, Step Two: Getting Active