General Fiction posted September 12, 2016


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Woman is invited to lunch for obvious reasons.

Lunch with the Ladies

by zeezeewriter


"I was only trying to help."

I lied. I wasn't trying to help. But it sounded good. The ladies fell for it. And in the end, that's all that matters. I was believable.

"Oh, my dear, of course you were," Audrey gushed while wiping the chocolate cake off Darlene's ridiculously expensive Persian rug.

"This stain will come right out with a bit of club soda."

Darlene was not convinced. Nor was I, but it sounded good, believable.

It started off innocently enough. A simple luncheon: stale finger-sandwiches, an array of aged cheese doodles, and cucumber slices floating in imported toilet water.

Okay, I lied about the toilet water. I'm sure it was Perrier, or Pellegrino, or some such nonsense. I prefer my water straight out of the tap, sans vegetables.

"Can we count on you for a donation?" Darlene asked in a not-so-subtle way.

Now we were getting down to the nitty gritty, the reason I'd been invited to this little shindig. Winning the biggest lottery in Illinois history put me on the A list. Apparently $450 million dollars was an eye-opener in some circles. My calendar bulged at the seams with invitations to all sorts of functions.

Six months ago I couldn't get a car loan at Darlene's husband's bank. Two years ago Audrey's husband fired my Fred. Oh, wait. I believe the term used was, "laid-off". After twenty nine years, he was kicked to the curb. I guess loyalty doesn't feed the bottom line. I do know the severance package only fed our family for three months.

Goodbye Northwestern University. Hello Junior College. Katy took it like a trouper. I cried my eyes out. Our plans for our daughter were put on hold. She took a job at Verizon. I picked up extra shifts at Walmart. Fred fell into a dark place. Then, he fell into a bottle of whiskey. Then, he fell into the Chicago River.

But life has a way of turning on a dime. I won the lottery. A little too late for Fred but not too late for Katy.

And now I find myself in the company of the rich and almost famous crowd. Now I'm somebody. Sought after. Slobbered over.

"Why of course," I said. "Let me get my check book. It's in the car."

I took the elevator down to the lobby and hailed a cab. I don't own a car. But it sounded good, believable.



Flash Fiction Story... contest entry


Flash Fiction contest entry. Thanks to supergold for graphic artwork. 432 Words.
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

Artwork by supergold at FanArtReview.com

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