I am proud to be a member of the Humble Fiction Café. We are a diverse group of aspiring writers that meet weekly at the Barnes & Noble in the Deerfield Mall, Humble,
Speaking of work in progress, we are currently working on a book that we plan to self-publish entitled
The twelve-story building loomed ahead. One of the first apartment buildings built to replace the former mansions lining the street, its facade was handsome and rich. Hesitating for only a moment, Enrico entered. The elegant and lavishly decorated lobby featured beautiful sculptures, plush oriental rugs and a graceful stone staircase, suggesting a wealth beyond belief. He thought about his own family and friends less than five miles away, how they struggled to make ends meet and lived together, extended families, in tiny two-room tenements.
The young uniformed doorman was humming a tune that vaguely resembled the newest Elvis Presley hit. He stopped humming, cleared his throat and looked Enrico up and down. “May I help you?” The scowl did not go unnoticed.
Enrico unbuttoned his black leather jacket, purposely revealing his raw and bloody knuckles. He clenched, then unclenched his fists. He could pound this punk and show him. He felt his neck getting hot and his palms getting sweaty, it always started like that. “Yeah, you can help me,” he said, “I’m here to see Jayne Lee.”
“And who shall I say is calling? Does Miss Lee know you?”
“I know her,” Enrico snarled as he walked over to where the doorman stood. Standing erect and nearly a foot taller, Enrico looked down and added, “Tell her that Enrico DeMaggio is here to see her.”
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