David S. Grant is posting his latest fiction “The Devil Wears Black Leather” while he works on his latest book, the fourth and final installment that follows: Bliss | Bleach | Blackout. The working title is of course, Bleak. Why is he doing this? Because he loves you! (Note: Also, may be drunk, hence the third person intro.) For more information (or purchase/download) David’s books check out his Goodreads (Bleach 4.6 out of 5 rating; Bleach | Blackout 4.8 rating) or Amazon page.
I have one suitcase that contains three pairs of pants, a collared shirt, two Tee-shirts and two pair of Chuck Taylors. Jagger meets me in the front and our town car arrives shortly after. We are early to the airport so we have a drink and then almost miss boarding due to the long line at security. While we are boarding a Mexican man approaches me and asks me if I remember him and then he starts singing and I realize he is part of the Mariachi band from the other night. Jagger moves ahead, looking a little embarrassed for me.
I have my window seat, but still feel crowded, sitting next to a woman wearing a baseball hat and sweatpants. I look down at my brown Chuck Taylors, glad I was able to find them in the back of my closet and then I open my laptop, trying to work up a proposal for Elvis, but the clip art I’m pulling is cheesy and I haven’t been given any direction to I shut my laptop – a little too hard catching the attention of sweatpants next to me.
“Would you like to see my pussy cat?” She asks, pointing down to her legs. I open my mouth, but words don’t come out, and then it’s too late. Sweatpants woman rolls up her pants up over her knee. On the back of her leg is a large cat tattooed. “MEOW!” she says and I just look away. We have only been in the air for twenty minutes. Five hours until arrival in Las Vegas.
During boarding Jagger kindly upgraded himself to first class, I now see him walking back. He looks around, “Tight, isn’t it?” Jagger hands me a glass of champagne, “I got you something”. I lower the glass as a flight attendant walks by. “Ask me what first class is like?” Says Jagger. I cringe and then drink down the champagne. “Just ask”, he continues so I ask and he says, “It’s perfection. It’s like a Nick Nolte mug shot, pure perfection.” Jagger goes back to his seat in first class.