The Devil Wears Black Leather: Chapter 18

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.


About Pulp Scribbler

The Writing of David S. Grant View all posts by Pulp Scribbler

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: