FROM LORETTA
This is my first post. It is a short story I'm working on. Let me know how the story feels. Is it to melodramatic?
Blue Moon Rising
By Loretta Green
It was a Tuesday night when the stagnant heat settled over the island in a blackout caused by an overloaded grid. It was hot, and hot again. Blindly hot. Sucking the breath out of the remaining tourists, itching the locals. Wriggling crooked cops and waifs alike up out of the underbelly and gravitating them over to Dahlia's place.
Far away from the swank nightclubs and boardwalks, Dahlia's was the seediest bar on the island. It's owner, Dahlia Huntley had a cynical heart. She wore a patch over her missing eye, and donned combat boots and army fatigues belted with a bandana where she carried a machete. It was said that she chopped off the pinkie of a grifter trying to make a score off one of her regulars.
It was this particular Tuesday, with Dahlia's place lit by candle light and Santana playing “Black Magic Woman” on the old transistor radio, that a ruggedly handsome stranger in his forties walked in looking like a younger Harrison Ford. He caught Dahlia's eye when he sat at the table strategically placed closest to the exit, yet still able to survey the entire room. Her father's table.
Dahlia brought a bottle of Bourbon and shot glass over to the table as a brawl broke out and a chair was smashed on the rafter above her head, “It's the heat,” She told the stranger as she turned a chair backwards and straddled it like a man, “It boils the blood.”
“How did you know I drink Bourbon?” He asked, popping the cork and pouring a shot.
“Because you sat at this table, you're a cautious man. Cautious men drink Bourbon.”
“I was told to sit at this table.”
“Told by whom?”
There was a twinkle in Harrison Ford's eyes, “Like you said, I'm cautious.”
“Touche.” She said, “But if you're here to see Donovan Huntley, he's not seeing anyone tonight.”
“I'm not here to see your father, I'm here to see you.” He said.
“And you are?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Right,” She said, “Cautious.” She leaned in and gulped the shot he had poured, “Then, I shall call you Max.”
“Why Max?” He asked.
“I had a dog named Max once. He was cautious too.”
He leaned in and matched her dangerously flirtatious stare, “So Dahlia, what did happen to your eye?”
She stiffened. He was trying to make her wobble off guard, she knew. She placed her hand on the machete and raised her eyebrow in warning, “Max turned on me. I had to slit his throat.” She poured and gulped another shot, “This is getting old, Max. What is it that I can do you for?”
Max slid his chair closer, turning his back on the rest of the bar for the first time. He whispered onto Dahlia's cheek, “The Blue Moon.” He said, “The fat man has it, I want it, and your going to steal it.”
Dahlia did wobble this time. The Blue Moon was a 5.16 karat trillion cut, blue diamond that went missing from Weatherly's auction house in the states. Worth over 5.5 million. She knew it well. Her laugh was a little too exaggerated, “What makes you think I would or could steal anything for you?”
“Because you're the one who stole it from Weatherly's.”
Her good eye turned steely hard, she tried not to flinch. “Who are you?”
“I'm an insurance investigator. I've spent the last year and a half tracking the Blue Moon, and you down.”
Dahlia smiled wide. “If you could prove it was me, I would already be in custody.”
“I don't think you understand,” He said, “I don't want to turn you in. I want you to steal the diamond back from the man you sold it to, the Fat man. You return the diamond to me, I return it to the rightful owner and collect the finders fee from him and double my commission from the insurance company. I'm not a greedy man, I will even through you a bone for your trouble.”
Dahlia's laugh was more nervous this time, set on edge by the look in Max's eyes. The look of a man with an ace up his sleeve. “And if I refuse?”
CRITIQUE
First off, I have no clue as to the setting. Is it Hawaii, Bahamas, Fiji, Jamaica...who knows? That makes just a tad bit of difference, you know. And is this happening in the present or past? You mention a "younger" Harrison Ford, so I imagine it's fairly recent, but the man's 70 years old - that's a lot of years for him to be "younger". Who knows where or when this story is happening?
Second, you paint Dahlia as cynical and hard-boiled enough to chop someone's finger off and allegedly steal a valuable diamond, yet she gets nervous and "wobbles" almost immediately with Max just by talking with him. That rang pretty false to me. I expect her to show zero nervousness. In fact, I expect her to make Max nervous. Max is a quiet insurance investigator and even this little shady deal he is proposing to Dahlia involves no real risk on his part, but supposedly, Dahlia the cynic lives life on the edge fairly consistently...who do YOU think will be more nervous?
Third, Dahlia's dialogue seems very unnatural to me. Would this machete wielding cynic in army fatigues really say “If you could prove it was me, I would already be in custody.”, or would she say something more like "If you had dick on me, I'd already be in the can."? Would she say, "Told by whom?", or would she say, "By who?"? She doesn't strike me as the type to care much about correct grammar.
On the plus side, I understood it fine, so kudos there, but you definitely need some tightening after you fix your characterization problems. See "About Hammer & Tongs".