As The Country Goes To Hell

First order of business. I was never overly happy with the title Sleep Dream Silently Scream, at least not for this particular story. It was just a title I was playing with at the opening of the July CampNaNo and I used it, not really meaning to make it permanent. So I'm playing with some different ideas: Parking is Limited, Permit Parking Only, Blind Ante, Bluff Induce. If you have any ideas, put them in the comments. I'm looking for something having to do with parking (because Jordan lived out of his car for so long and doesn't want to go back to that) or something to do with Poker/Blackjack. Some titles are obvious and already used multiple times, titles like Ante Up, and Cashing Out. Hopefully, we'll discover something original.

And now for the regular update: So, I had planned on doing word sprints over the weekend and getting my word count over 30K. The plan is still to hit around 40K and my hope is to finish the first draft in the next couple of weeks. Unfortunately, the weekend events in Charleston (and now around the country) have me rattled. Hopefully, I'll get back on track within the next couple of days. I did manage to make my minimum word count goal for the week, actually finishing at 5094. That doesn't include notes I spent some time typing up, plus working on a scene from the final chapters. I keep reminding myself that it's going fairly well for a story that I've been totally pantsing (also known as 'winging it'). Only time will tell if it's actually coherent!


This week's excerpt:

“Shit, Jordan. You’re drunk. Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”

Jordan sat back up and one side of his mouth curled while his eyebrows rose high into his forehead. “Oh damn. Yeah.” Before Reese could say anything, Jordan lost interest in the conversation and ripped off his jacket. “Dude, it’s hot in here.”  

A chill of dismay ran through Reese as his hand shot out to grab Jordan’s wrist and pull it towards him into the light. It wasn’t dismay so much as a combination of horror and anger and worry.  “What the fuck, Jordan? What did Jeb do to you?”

Jordan tried to tug his arm back, but Reese wouldn’t let go. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“This isn’t nothing!” Reese hissed. Some of the other patrons were looking their way in interest, wondering if the stories were true after all. Reese didn’t want to add to the rumour mill, but this couldn’t be ignored. He tightened his grip and gave him a pull, directing him around the end of the bar. From there, he pulled him into the storeroom where they kept the extra kegs and liquor.  

“Reese, let me go,” Jordan pleaded, his eyes wide in panic. The drunkenness that was evident only a few minutes earlier was completely erased from his features.

“What is this? Tell me! Jeb did this, didn’t he?”

“It’s nothing, Reese. I swear. Just tape.”

“Why did you have tape around your wrists?”

Jordan stood up to his full height and stared at Reese, sucking in his cheeks while his eyelids got heavy. He smirked as he said, “Because I like it.”

Reese let go of him and stepped back. “What do you mean?” Jeb’s comments from that first night began to replay themselves in his mind. He hadn’t believed it then, but Jordan’s sneer confirmed every word.

“Because pain is such a rush.” He said it like he was trying to get a reaction. “I like a little pain with my play and Jeb...gets into that.”

“Oh, fuck,” Reese choked out. If Jordan was trying to get him to respond, he was succeeding.