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This is a scene I wrote some time last year that I won’t be using in my novel. This character barged into my head and started talking to me last May; she’s been with me ever since and I’m still trying to figure out how to best tell her story. I know how crazy that must sound, but I don’t really mind.

So, here it is . . . Week 10 of 52 Stories.

* * * * * * *

Mike dialed Penny’s cell phone and waited as it rang, pacing briskly from the door to the window.

“O’Neal,” she said brusquely.

“Are you downtown right now?” he asked.

“Oh hi, Mikey,” she said. He swore he could hear her smiling. “Nope; I’m on duty till at least two. What’s up?”

“Have you seen today’s Sun Times?” he asked, trying to contain his irritation.

“I don’t read that shit rag,” she said. “Then again, I don’t read any papers; too depressing. Why?”

“Find one,” he said.

He heard her yelling away from her phone. “All right, Baz! Settle down. And get me a Sun Times while you’re in there! Yeah, I’m serious—Sun Times! I know it’s a shit rag! Are we married or something, because last I checked, I wasn’t required to take any shit from you!”

She spoke into the phone again.

“I should have one in about a minute, depending on how long it takes Baz to count out his money,” she said. “Did you sleep at all last night?” she asked, her voice teasing.

“I wish I had,” he said. “Because I doubt I’ll be sleeping much tonight.”

“What?” said Penny, her voice sounding distant again.

“What’s so damned funny, Baz?” she asked, adding, “Gimme that.”

Mike heard the sound of paper rustling and then a quiet, “Oh, shit.”

“’Oh shit’ is right,” said Mike grimly.

The column devoted to local gossip on the inside front page read:

Cook County’s newest State’s Attorney on the case in Boystown

Below the headline was a photo of him, his head tilted slightly and his eyes half open, clinking beer bottles with Emmett, the Manhole logo clearly displayed in the background. What was actually a moment with Penny’s friends captured in between blinks now appeared as if he’d spent a wild night out on the town.

“They’re calling me “The Gay S.A.!” he yelled, his voice rising an octave.

After a moment, he said, “Are you there, Penny?

He heard the sound of her laughter and held the phone away from his ear.

“It’s not funny, Penn!” he said loudly. “Look, you know I’m not a homophobe, but stories like this can damage a career. Oh, wait–it gets better–a blogger is calling me ‘The Fey S.A.’ At least they’re trying with that one.”

“I’m sorry, Mike,” she said, catching her breath. “I know how important your job is to you. But hey, Chicago’s a surprisingly fag-friendly city, you know. You might have allies now you’d have never had before if you decide to run for State’s Attorney after McCready croaks, because you know he’s not givin’ up that gig till he’s in the ground.”

“I highly doubt that I’ve made any allies from this,” said Mike grimly.

“Aw, cheer up, Mikey,” said Penny. “It could be worse; they could’ve printed pics of us humping in your Jeep the other night. Hang on–Hey, d-bag!” she yelled, her voice further from the phone again. “I said climb INTO the dumpster, not stand next to it looking like a retarded basset hound! Sorry Mike; I’m stuck babysitting a couple of newbies at a crime scene here.”

Mike closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been called into a meeting later; something tells me it’s not going to go well.”

“Hey, what can they do to you? Fire you for being a dick smoker? You can sue the shit out of ‘em then, Mike.”

“No, but I can be disbarred for behaving inappropriately by appearing to publicly inebriated.”

“Having a beer in a gay bar while fully clothed with your tongue in your mouth—well, it’s mostly in your mouth in this photo, anyway—doesn’t sound all that inappropriate to me,” she said. “You should see McCready at a strip club!”

“You’re not helping, Penn,” he said dryly.

”What, are you girls afraid of a little garbage?” she yelled again. “Because if I’ve gotta help you into that dumpster, you’re gonna get to know garbage. Intimately.“

He heard some muffled conversation in the background for a moment, then she said, “Hey, Mike; I gotta go or we’re never gonna get out of here. Wanna meet up later? I bet I can cheer you up.”

“Yes,” he said, without hesitation.

“Let’s talk tonight after I calm you down a little. Well, I’ll rile you up a lot and then I’ll calm you down. Meet at my place when you’re done getting your ass pounded by Don and probably some guys from the mayor’s office.”

She disconnected the call.

“I can’t wait,” he said to his empty office.

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