So, it's the 10th August: 3+7=10, and 8 is 378 words of my work in progress, The WAG and The Scoundrel, which is a white-collar crime mystery (ish) / romance (ish) (LGBTQ). It's the first book in the Gray Fisher Series, which is a spinoff of Hiding Behind The Couch. It's scheduled for an October release. It's...getting there.
There are three main characters in The WAG and The Scoundrel: Gray Fisher, Will Richards and police officer Rob Simpson-Stone - a previous colleague of Gray's. In the scene below, Rob is at the public swimming pool with his son, Lucas. Rob and Lucas's mum, Zoë, are divorced, and Zoë has custody.
Here's the WIPpet:
"Mum said you could come to the fireworks with us."
"Did she?" Rob tried not to let his surprise show, but it didn't matter. Lucas was already two body lengths away and splicing the water with helicopter arms. These past few weeks, his crawl had come on in leaps and bounds. He was still creating whitewater and bringing his arms forward too soon, but he'd only learnt to swim in the summer holidays, when he'd had Rob at the pool on every day off, before late shifts and after earlies.
It was a difficult balance to strike, and Rob wasn't sure of the wisdom of giving in so easily to his son's demands, but he had a lot of catching up to do. It would've been different if they'd still been a family under one roof. The opportunities to do things together were always there, like when Rob's dad had said 'come on, then, let's get this mess sorted' and Rob had cussed under his breath at being coerced into tidying his room before he could go out with his mates, even if it did only take half as long with his dad's help. Those times had taken on a new value, now Rob was looking back from the vantage point of a dad on the outside.
Lucas had turned and was on his way back across the pool, oblivious to other swimmers dodging around him. His strokes were getting slower and longer, which improved his technique. He was no natural water baby, that was for sure, but as long as he was building stamina, Rob was happy. Strength was more important than speed. His panting son appeared next to him, grinning and proud.
"You did great there, Lu."
The praise made his grin wider still. "My arms hurt."
"Yeah, they will do, mate. When you bring your arms back -"
"Are you coming, Dad?"
So much for talking technique. "Where?" Lucas tutted and rolled his eyes. He looked the spit of Zoë, and just as astute. "Are you sure your mum said that?"
"Yeah." Lucas stretched the word for emphasis and gave Rob the kind of hopeful, pleading big-blinky-eyed look that instantly stole any hope he had of saying no. The boy was always one step ahead.
Thanks for reading!