Along with friends, I am participating in a writing challenge over at Frankie’s Wining Room. Each piece is intended to stand alone, but if you (like me) enjoy seeing the chronological progression of things in writing, I recommend you read them in order. This is the third piece of flash fiction for Week 1. The first of this series is located in Illness, Achievements, and Challenges. Enjoy!

Wind howled about the car with unsettling intensity, obscuring the hum of its well-tuned engine. The jarring thrust of its fury prompted his driver to slow slightly, which Frank appreciated very much. His eyes drifted to the bridge across the way, its steel girders nearly obscuring the cars traveling across it. Between those ties was Lucy. He would recognize her form anywhere, even from this distance.

He saw her in a different light today, hair strung into a knot so tight, his fingers fairly itched to loosen it. Her lips softly exhaling a sigh of wordless pleasure meant for no other ears to hear—save his own. He could already sense the suss of his calloused fingertips against her silken strands and hear the faint, erratic echo of her heartbeat.

Erratic. That was not an accurate descriptor for Lucy’s heart, its unwavering cadence never leaving any doubt where her true feelings lie. Frank glanced sideways to see the culprit—her fingertips erratically tap-tap-tapping against the fine leather upholstery, with a pulse just inconsistent enough to irritate. Good thing it only lasted for a moment, as she shifted her notebook and returned to scribbling furious sketches across her lap.

He heard the buzzing of a cell phone on vibrate, then felt its sensation against his thigh. Removing it from his pocket, he checked the call display before lifting it to his ear. “What’s the verdict?” he asked, of a connection humming with traffic sounds, muffled wind, and stilted exhalation.

“Reroute the motorcade. There is a suspicious item on the bridge.”

Frank startled, his own heartbeat turning erratic. “Move,” he fairly barked at her, surprised at the timbre of his own voice. “I’ll tell the driver—get yourself to a safe place.” Without moving the phone or disconnecting the call, he signaled the driver. “Logan, Plan B. Take an alternate route.”

Logan shifted, and the car sprang into action. “Lucy.” Frank inhaled deeply, attempting to rein in a symphony of emotion. “Are you moving?”

Silence. Then, “You can’t expect me to respond on your every command, Frank. I am not one of your third-chair flunkies.”

“No,” he sighed, “you are not. Which is why I love you so much—and why you terrify me. Please stay safe.”

“I love you too, Frank. Be careful. You are in even greater danger.”

She had disconnected the call. Frank returned the phone to his pocket and his wildly galloping heart back into some semblance of its normal tempo. He flashed a crowd-winning smile at his scribbling companion. “How would you like to see my office?”

Her eyes widened. “Seriously? Are you allowed to do that?”

“As long as I take proper precautions.” Retrieving his phone, he sent Lucy a new message. “I’m going to give her a behind-the-scenes tour. Want to meet us on location?” He closed his eyes and envisioned her, the annoying, electronic chirp of her phone, and her soft smile as she opens and reads his message. She would be there, all right. He had no doubt of that.

Now it’s your turn. Leave a comment or send me a message to give feedback. Check out the writing challenge for yourself if you are curious to see how different individuals have approached the same material, or if you would also like to participate.

Until the next time…