…So I started working on this piece, right, where this waitress trips and literally lands in the lap of a billionaire with this ridiculous name that I love. She gets fired, he offers her a “job,” all’s right with the world.

Except the piece is 4.5k now and um… I think I wanna turn it into a serial like Say What You Want, which I have four planned parts for it. I think I’m within 1000 words of it turning sexy (which will add on at least another 1000 words) and then I can wrap it up with a “come back for another installment,” type deal…

Oooorrr, I might just turn this into my “project” (after I finish the next part of Say What You Want, which is my project for next week), write the whole book, then publish the whole thing as a romance novel kind of deal, under the Victoria Greene pen name. I’m not 100% on which I want to do yet, but I miss writing lengthier stuff and I feel strangely inspired by this piece and just want to keep on going. If I decide to release it all at once instead of in chunks like Say What You Want, I’m hoping I can finish it by November. I have 4k words now; I can’t really see it being much longer than 40k. I dunno. 

But here is the opening section:


Vicky Morrison couldn’t believe it.

She stumbled, the toe of her shoe catching on the slightly raised step. She fell, order and all, into the lap of the most powerful man in the country. Mordecai Falconi sat, arms at his sides and with a look of abject horror on his chiseled features.

The world slowed down. Everything stopped, even the music in the small cafe. Sensing the silence, Vicky began stammering apologies over and over and picked herself out of Mordecai Falconi’s lap. Just as the music started again, she began desperately trying to brush off the food that covered his suit that had to be worth more than a few months’ wages.

Her manager, Marv, hovered over them within seconds, asking if there was anything he could offer for the inconvenience. Vicky gave her manager an apologetic look, which earned her a stern glare in response from Marv before another sickly sweet smile overtook his features.

“It’s quite alright,” Falconi uttered, gratefully taking the towel one of Vicky’s coworkers had offered him. He dabbled it over his front, a slight frown on his face. His steel grey eyes locked with Vicky’s for a moment, and his frown deepened. “Accidents happen, after all,” he continued, focusing his attention on Marv once again.

Vicky released the breath she’d been holding, collecting the rest of the plates back on her tray. “I’ll go put the order back in, Marv,” she muttered, managing one of her best smiles towards Falconi. “It was for another table, anyway. I’ll go apologize to them, too, for the wait.”

Marv nodded curtly. Without another word, Vicky turned on her heel and headed back into the kitchens. As she called in the replacement meals for her table, she sneaked away to the bathroom. She tried to clean herself up as best as she could, drying her shirt off some with the automatic hand-dryers.

Mordecai Falconi. She tripped and fell on top of Mordecai Falconi. A lump formed in her throat as tears stung her eyes. She willed them back down and breathed in deeply. The man at least hadn’t made a fuss. Marc would yell at her, she knew that for certain. It was only a matter of time before he cornered her and gave her a piece of his mind.

As she slipped back into the kitchen to pick up her other table’s meals, Marv stood between her and the food waiting to be brought out to customers. He tapped his foot against the tile floor, hands firmly placed on his hips. “The hell do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You practically covered Mordecai Falconi from head to toe in food. He could shut us down with bad publicity if he really wanted to –”

“I — I’m sorry, Marv, I didn’t mean –”

“I don’t give a damn whether or not you meant to,” Marv spat, getting in Vicky’s face. She could smell garlic on his breath. “This is the fifth time you tripped and dropped food all over a customer — get the fuck out of my restaurant and don’t come back.”

The tears came back, threatening to spill over as Vicky bit her bottom lip. She ignored how her lip quivered and how her chest tightened at Marv’s words. She didn’t argue, instead turning on her heel and walking right out of the kitchen. With the way Marv spoke to her, there’d be no point in it, anyway.

Whispers followed her as she stepped back onto the dining area, the eyes of various customers following her. As she passed Falconi’s table, the billionaire looked up from his meal. Those piercing blue eyes of his caught her attention, causing her to stumble over that same raise in the floor yet again. This time, she caught her balance and looked away from him, a familiar heat rising to her cheeks.

It’s not like Falconi would ever be interested in a woman like her. The man was successful. Powerful. If she had impressed him — if she had done a good job, then maybe, just maybe she would have finally shown herself to be an asset to Marv’s restaurant. But that was at the absolute most. Instead, she had gotten fired.

She blinked her tears away again as she pushed through the front doors, her shoes padding softly against the sidewalk. No more long days standing on her aching feet. No more customers to yell at her for the slightest mistake.

No more pay, either, she thought bitterly to herself as she shoved her hands in her pockets. No more school. She’d have to drop out — there would be no way for her to afford it now. Vicky frowned, wrapping her arms around herself and gripping the sleeves of her shirt. The walk home was long, but uneventful as she made her way up the stairs to her apartment.

She unlocked the door, swinging it open and managing a small smile as her cat chirped at her. The calico cat brushed against her legs before skittering off somewhere unseen. Sighing, Vicky shucked off her shoes and placed them on the small shoe rack beside the door. She reached behind her, unhooking her bra strap and removing the offending piece of fabric without even bothering to take off her shirt, first.

It wasn’t like she would be having any company over, anyway. Or anywhere to go — especially since she should have been at the restaurant for another five hours or so. She tossed the bra into her bedroom before making her way back out to the living room. Vicky collapsed onto her couch, lying down on it and propping her feet up on the other arm. Her cat jumped onto her stomach, curling up into a tight ball.

Vicky glanced around the quiet room, noticing the mail she had piled up on the small, glass coffee table in front of the couch. Without a second thought, she knocked them over, watching as the papers scattered to the floor. With her other hand, she scratched behind her cat’s ears and closed her eyes.

Fired. She didn’t have a second job. She’d have to go looking — again. What restaurant would want a clutz like her? She was friendly enough, and customers tended to like her and her soft-spoken nature, but Marv was right. Her feet were never sure of themselves, always tripping over the slightest changes in the terrain of the restaurant floor. He only knew about five of the times she had lost food due to her clumsiness. There had been a dozen other times, each time more drastic than the last.

Still, she had never expected to trip and dump all of her food on the Mordecai Falconi. Vicky groaned, putting her hand to face and burying her fingers in her hair, combing the loose strands back. Her cat opened a single eye, giving her an admonishing look before closing its eye again with a yawn. She knew about that one step. She knew she shouldn’t have gone that way — that she should have picked a different route to her table. Except the tray had been heavy and her arms burning with exertion, and that path was the shortest to the her table, and —

Vicky shook her head. It didn’t matter why she picked that path. It didn’t matter that she could have gone another way. She couldn’t go back and change it. What was done was done. Sighing, she closed her eyes.

A nap would probably do her a world of good.