An excerpt for Jackie

In all the tumult of traveling to California and an action-packed day yesterday, I forgot to post an excerpt. I want to keep Jackie company on these last few days. With just 6,500 words to go, you can finish in just a couple of days! Woo hoo! I am so excited to read everyone's novels, and will get a copy ready of my novel as soon as I come back at end of July.

For now, here's an excerpt. I don't *think* I posted it before. This is from the first chapter, where Seth is in Jackie's Place and is thoroughly confused because a) it's her first time in a nightclub like this one, b) it's her first time seeing a woman dressed as a man impersonating a woman, and c) she can't figure out the bathrooms at Jackie's Place. (Remember that Jackie's Place, the original, had a proliferation of confusing bathrooms.)

She craned her neck and peered through the clouds of foul-smelling cigarette and cigar smoke to see if she could find Dee. Jackie’s Place was like a rabbit’s warren of interconnecting rooms, and she resigned herself to searching through all of them. The room she was currently in had a bar, tended by a young blonde woman. It was still surprising to be able to walk freely into a bar and openly order a whiskey or a glass of wine; Prohibition had just been lifted a few months earlier. Seth was young enough to barely remember a time before Prohibition, and although she wasn’t a frequent drinker, she reveled in the sense of freedom she felt at being out, at night, in the big city, in a nightclub. If the folks back home could see her now, they’d surely be shocked, she thought, with a wry grin. She quickly erased the grin from her face and attempted to look impassive again, before giving up. She didn’t know what big city people were supposed to look like in bars, so she might as well give up trying to fit in. She noted with satisfaction that at least her tweed suit wasn’t out of place. There were several other young women in pants, some with the very Eton crops that were currently fashionable and which Seth envied. Her own hair, a nondescript brownish blonde, was too curly for the Eton cuts so although she cut it short, it still had to be long enough that she could iron it straight. It often frizzed in the back no matter what she did with it.

Perhaps she should find the lavatory and a mirror, to make sure her hair was all right. She could look for Dee along the way. Towards the end of the long bar room, she could see a set of at least 5 doors leading into different areas. Some were open, some were closed, and some had the tell-tale lineups outside suggesting they were Seth’s destination. She moved towards that end of the room, stepping around the clusters of people chatting, drinking, and milling about the space. She did not see Dee in any of those clusters.

She found that in unfamiliar spaces, it was best to walk with a purposeful air. So, although she did not know which of the doors at the other end of the room she should enter, she selected the second door on the left, and walked directly towards it. As she approached, she slowed slightly so as not to collide with the group who were gathered around the door, and then came to a halt. The sign on the door, that she had thought was a sign advertising which genre of people should use the facilities inside, was actually a gold star, with a name written inside. Although she was fairly certain this door was not her destination, she peered closer to read the writing. Her thorough nature demanded that she methodically identify each of the doors in her search for Dee and for a mirror to check her hair.

The sign read, ‘The Duchess.’ Was this the same Duchess that Dee had joked about earlier? Or a different one? Impossible to know, Seth mused, as she squared her shoulders and stepped around the small crowd around the door. She had rarely seen a group of men as well dressed as they were, each one with a dashing cravat and matching pocket kerchief, brilliantined hair, and perfectly polished shoes. In West McGillivray, she reflected, those shoes would never last a day before being covered in, well, a lady didn’t have words to describe what would cover the shoes, and now that she was living and working in Toronto, at the glamorous Union Station, no less, Seth decided that she was a lady. Or, if ‘lady’ didn’t precisely fit, at least she was not a non-lady. At that point, even Seth was irritated by her meandering, aimless thoughts, and resolved to be more focused on her quest. She needed a good night’s sleep so she could spend her lunch break searching for a new rooming house, rather than daydreaming in the broad railway concourse full of bustling travelers.

By the time Seth had crossed the end of the room, inspecting each one of the doors, she was thoroughly confused. In addition to the door marked The Duchess, there were four doors with art deco pictures of flora and fauna: a bird, a tulip, an oak leaf, and a spiky goldfish. As she passed, she had seen people passing in and out, and had surmised that these were, indeed, the lavatories. How was she supposed to know which one to use? More importantly, how could she check the state of her hair without mussing it even further? The only thing to do would be to find Dee as quickly as possible, and use the time-honored trick of asking her to come to the lavatory with her, to hold her, erm, handbag. Seth’s roomy tweed suit, equipped with ample pockets, did not require the use of a handbag. She only hoped that Dee wouldn’t notice.