Page 60 of Playing With Matches
“Yeah,” I say, absentmindedly, watching as Isla and Marco appear to be debating something. Marco nods and then launches himself up and over the bar, landing like a cat. Isla claps. Marco locates a cocktail shaker and bottle of rum, placing them on the bar.
“Holy shit,” I say to Alexis. “Did you see that? Is he allowed to do that? I mean, that can’t be okay?”
“Eh,” Alexis shrugs. “The crew asked me to fill in for the regular guy, but I’m on a break. If Marco wants to make drinks, I’m not going to stop him.” She leans back, smiling. “I would not have placed great odds on those two, but they actually seem to be getting along,” Alexis raises her brows and pauses, considering. “Crazy, huh?”
“Oh, come on,” I roll my eyes. “Isla is not into that buffoon.”
Marco turns the music up at the bar and begins to dance to the beat. It’s that song fromBeetlejuiceby Harry Belafonte - “Jump in the Line.” Not only is he shaking the cocktail shaker to the beat, he’s also twerking his pecs in time with the rhythm. He still has the rum bottle balanced on his head. Once again he’s gathering a crowd, and everyone is filming and clapping. Including Isla.
“Aren’t you and Isla sharing a room?” Alexis asks. “You have a crush on her, don’t you?” She pats me on the shoulder sympathetically.
“It’s not like that. I just think she can do so much better than that idiot,” I retort. “She deserves better than him.”
Alexis shakes her head at me, curls bouncing, and rolls her eyes. “I dunno, Jackson. It’s like you enjoy being grumpy, horny, and alone all the time.”
With a flick of his wrist, Marco tosses the cocktail shaker into the air and catches it behind his back. The crowd gasps and cheers and the clapping reaches a crescendo as he pours the drink. For a final flourish, he grabs a lighter and sets the cocktail on fire before sliding it across the bar to Isla. Everyone falls silent, ready to snap when she blows it out.
“I am perfectly capable of getting laid any time I want to get laid. There are plenty of other apps I like to use for that!” I shout back at Alexis, timing my words almost perfectly with the expectant hush.
Suddenly, it feels like all eyes are on me.
isla
“According to my mom and my sister the reason I am still single is because I have no filter and I am always sticking my foot in my mouth. But really, I’m okay with my single status. I’m not stuck or anything. I’m just not actively looking for a mate at this time.”
~Jackson Porter, Playing with Matches Confessionals.
I’ve alwaysadmired writers with the ability to cut to the chase. Literally to cut directly to the chase, getting straight to the action and ignoring all the other boring details in their characters’ lives. But so far, there’s no chase in the final novel ofThe Mystic Matchmakerseries. I’ve just been following my main character around in my mind, waiting for something to happen, for her to undergo some kind of metamorphosis. It’s about as exciting as staring at a cocoon.
I’ve been stalled. I know where my character is, and I know where I want her to go. But today I’ve finally broken through the slump. Who knew that all I needed to do to summon my muse was set up camp at a ritzy, all-inclusive resort in the Caribbean?
Even with frequent interruptions and distractions, and a few fun diversions, I’ve been able to draft the scenes that I’ve been stuck on. I feel like it’s a genuine breakthrough.
It’s impossible not to smile watching Marco making cocktails. The man is such a ham, of course, but he’s alsofun. He’s drawing a crowd, and it’s easy to see why. He’s a natural entertainer. The Life of the Party. The embodiment of the Fool card in the tarot deck. The way he just leapt over the bar and how fully he embraces new experiences is impressive.
My initial assessment of him was incorrect. He’s not egotistical. He’s a little insecure. Afraid that nobody will love him if he doesn’t keep up the cover model front. Which is a pity. His most endearing quality is his openness and lack of inhibitions. It’s almost inspiring how Marco’s not afraid of diving right into new experiences. Or of making an ass of himself.
Asswiper.Poor Jackson. He has no filter, but all the inhibitions. He’s sensitive. I glance back at our table, happy to see that Alexis has joined him.
I take out my phone to film Marco swirling the cocktail shaker with flair, a bottle of rum balanced on his head. I find myself wishing the metal canister contained a magical elixir. Some kind of spell to release me from my family’s curse. The notion comes to me in a flash as Marco sets my drink on fire. If only it were as simple for me as it is for my main character.
To end her curse, the mystic matchmaker must complete the task at hand and pass the torch to someone else. Possibly the handsome surfer that I added into the last scene? She’s made her hundredth match, and it’s time for her to embrace a new, curse-free life. It’s time for her happy ever after.
For the first time, I can see the shape of that. I can feel the outlines of her next chapter taking form, even if it will have to happen off in the sunset, beyond the horizon of my reader’s view. It’s bittersweet, this send off. The end of an era. I’m not quite sure whoI’llbe without her to write about.
I take a deep breath and hold it before blowing out the drink. It’s not my birthday and this isn’t a cake, but it still feels like a wishing occasion. Inspired by Marco’s willingness to make a fool of himself, I make a frivolous impetuous wish of my own.
I wish I could have my own happy ever after.
I open my eyes and blow.
jackson
“I guess I do relate to my main character. She’s so great at putting people together, but she can’t find love of her own. I feel that way too sometimes. Like I’m out there writing happily ever afters, but so far, no great love of my own. But who knows? It’s wise to keep an open mind, right?”
~Isla Fairfax, Playing With Matches Confessionals
After our awkward lunch,I elect to do some solo windsurfing, enjoying the solitary time on the water. It’s been ages since I’ve done any water sports, and I hadn’t realized how much I miss it. Surfing, sailing, and waterskiing. These activities were such a big part of the better part of my childhood. My dad, having grown up on the coast in a fishing family, was always dragging us to the water. Somehow, in my attempts to purge the bad memories, I might have blocked a few good ones, too. I remember one particular day of unsuccessful sailing when my dad fished me out of the “soup” so many times, I was ready to quit.
