Short Stories by Lola Nation - Make it Short

The bar looked like midnight, or maybe 2 a.m. at last call, it was so dark. The mirrors against the wall were stained in permanent fog and nicotine, even though smoking had been banned for the last ten years. The speeded-out bartender came out from her perch and wobbled her head toward Ginger as if to sexily say “what would you like?” But nothing came from her mouth, only a jaw grinding smile as she loosely placed her arms on the cooler. “Can I get a Jack n’ Coke please?” Ginger asked her in response. The bartender nodded, her jet black hair forward with yes and back with of course. She ambled to the bottles behind her and served the drink. Ginger left a five in front of her. She hadn’t had a jack and coke in a long time. She could feel her nerve endings begging to come out of her skin, a slight twitch in her eye that always gave way to her anxiety and a tightness in her chest. As the swinging doors creaked open and Jerry sauntered in, light followed him, unwelcome into

Alissa got up from the sofa and walked into the spare room. Sean was tidying up. She stood in the doorway watching him, admiring his methodical mannerisms. As he picked up the yellow towel, he peered up from the floor and whipped at her leg, she caught the towel mid-air on its return to Sean, he yanked and she came toward him unbalanced. Catching her with his left arm he kissed her. Everything suddenly slowed down, an overwhelming sense of dizziness shook Alissa and then she found herself straightening up, still face to face with Sean, her hand caressing his cheek and coming in for another kiss. They stood softly kissing, treading unfamiliar territory for a few seconds. Sean tossed the towel into the hamper. Alissa walked backward to the wall by the door frame, leaning she accidentally turned on the light and nervously laughed. She knew better than to speak. It had happened, something she dreamed of for years and she would not let a volley of emotion interrupt the serenity.

Sharon was in the bathroom when Dean let Petey in. She was blowing her nose, sniffing some water for comfort and examining her skin in the mirror when she decided to leave the bathroom. As she approached the doorway to the living room she saw the men in a Mexican stand-off, sitting down. “Oh.” She mouthed. Dean looked at her quickly as her presence caught the attention of the other two men she recognized as Petey and Little John. “If you so much as look at her, I will blow you both away before you can blink.” Dean said matter of factly. They rested their eyes between one another. Petey sat on the floor by the coffee table, Little John was on the floor by the curios cabinet and Dean was the tip of the triangle facing both of them, gun in hand and one on his lap. “This is why I don’t like having people over who don’t call first. Someone comes over and has a hot temper and the next thing I know, I’ve got two high and angry thieves arguing over how what they stole rightfully