So I'm going to do it, guys. I'm going to let you read something from my book. I haven't edited this yet, and I would in no way call myself a great writer, but here it is. Probably the most legitimate dialog I've written. The formating isn't great, but hopefully you guys will cut me some slack. It *is* NaNoWriMo after all!
Setting: The Pecan, a local coffee shop.
"Hey, Ingrid!" says George as I walk in. I wave to him as I close the door, the jingle of the bells making noise over my head.
"Nippy out there, eh?' he says.
"Yeah," I reply, "November's been a pretty harsh month."
"Agreed. So what will it be today?" he asks me.
"Just a late," i respond, "I also need to tell you and Delila some exciting news. Do you guys have a second?"
"Uhm," murmurs George, "I'll see. Delila's in the back. Go ahead and take a seat anywhere you'd like and I'll get your order in for you." He walks to the back and I take a small seat next to the window. I look out the window to see all of the people wondering the streets with a backwards "The Best Coffee in SoHo!" painted on the window. I put my purse on the ground under the table and put my foot through the handle, as to make sure that I don't forget it. Too many times before have I forgotten my purse, and I'm not about to make that mistake ever again.
"Hey!" I hear Lila say." I turn my head to see her coming over with George. "George said you wanted to tell us some news of yours?"
"Yeah," i reply, "do you have time?'
"Doll, we have more time in the world than you could possibly imagine," she says with a smile. She sits down in the seat opposite of me and George takes a chair from a neighboring table and straddles it, folding his arms on the top of the chair.
"What's up?" he asks.
"I got a new job," I say quickly, trying to keep my smile hidden, but somehow it still seems to seep through.
"You did?" George and Delila say in unison.
"It's probably my dream job," I say, "and it pays really well."
"You've got to be kidding me," says george, folding his arms, "that's fantastic. Is it in photography?"
"It is. I just quit my Apple job a couple days ago."
"Ah, damn," says Delilia, "who's going to get me all of those massive discounts, then?"
"Sorry," I say with a little laugh, "I can still fix anything you need fixing. Apple products only, though."
"So tell us!" says George, "tell us about your fabulous job!"
"Okay,' I take a breath, preparing myself for confusion and questions. "I met a friend of my moms at my work, and he has his little kid with him."
"Ew, kids," says Delila. I can't really tell if she's joking or not.
"He recognized my name and after talking to him for a while and we talked a bit about my life and my mom over coffee. After a little bit of conversation, he gave me a job proposal. Because he's heard so much from my mom about my photography, he wanted me to document his son's life while Julian's mother is in the hospital." As soon as I say this, Delila cuffs her hands over her mouth as soon as I say this.
"That's terrible!" she looked so sad, and I'm guessing that she gets pretty emotional about things like this. "How old is Julian? That's the kid's name, right?Julian?"
"He's 7," I say, "it's almost heartbreaking looking at the kid, because it's almost like he's oblivious as to what's going on."
"Well it's probably his way to coping with what's going on," suggested George, picking at his finger. "I have no clue as to how that would feel. But if I was that age, I would probably try to block it out from my brain."
"But here's another thing," I tell them, "he has this imaginary friend that he's always talking to."
"That isn't unusual," says Delila, "I had an imaginary friend when I was younger. Granted I was like, four."
"But see, I got the feeling that he doesn't really have a lot of friends, and this friend is his way of... dealing with what's going on," I say, trying to remember what exactly he was saying to Corwin. No direct quotes came to mind. I just shrugged.
"So are you living with Oliver?" asks Delila.
"Half the time. A couple nights during the week and I'm on call the rest of the time."
"Is there a reason he can't do this stuff himself?"
"I think he just doesn't want to screw up. It seems like he's really stressed, and doesn't have time to do any of this stuff himself. So he wants someone who knew what they were doing."
"Large latte for Ingrid!" I hear a worker from behind the counter say. I start to get up but George puts his hand up as if to stop me.
"It's my job," he says as he quickly gets up from the chair.
"Well that sounds like a fantastic job," says Delila, "does it pay well?"
"It pays extremely well. I'm not even sure if I can comprehend." I lean in to whisper the amount, as to not attract attention. " 7,300." Right after I say this Delila's eyes spread wide open and her jaw drops. I sit there and half smile, waiting for her to respond.
"You're shitting me right now. You've got to be fucking shitting me right now." After she says this she realizes what she says, and turns around to see a mother with her young child sitting behind her.
"Sorry, ma'am!" she says, looking embarrassed. The mother gives her a glare, and then quickly spreads the glare to my direction. I quickly move my head away.
"What did I miss?" asks George as he comes back with my latte.
"Took you long enough," I say to him in a joking tone.
"Sorry, I was talking to Wilson in the back. He just can't seem to understand the process of a late steamer. Anyway, come on! What did I miss?" He looks over to Delila and she still loves like someone just told her that Santa isn't real.
"Go ahead," said Delila, "tell him the pay." I lean in and whisper the amount in his ear.
" SEVEN THOUSAND?" exclaims George, immediately drawing attention to our table from the whole cafe. The women behind us glares at us with piercing grey eyes.
"Nice volume," I say as George immediately sulks down in his chair.
"Well, that's pretty awesome," he says, as if he didn't just yell my pay check in the middle of a coffee shop.
"You guys are taking this way better than Nathan did,' I say.
'Was he worried about you living with someone you just met?"
"It was half that, but the other half seemed like he was almost jealous," I say. "I have no idea why."
"You just moved in with him, and I don't think he has a lot of friends," says Nathan. "Oh, I know! We can all go out to a gay bar! That would be so much fun!" George and I both look at her like she just suggested that we go to a Justine Beiber concert.
"Hear me out, guys. it would be a fun way for Nathan to meet people, and maybe even get a boyfriend? It'll be fun!"
"I guess that could be fun. A plus I guess is that we wouldn't have to worry about getting hit on." George sits up in his chair when I say this.
"What am I, chop liver?" he asks
"Just remember these words," I say, "'I'm straight. Hit on that guy.' All will be well in the world." George looks at us to a couple seconds. "I think about it," he finally says.
"I'll ask Nathan tonight. He wants to meet Oliver, just to make sure that he's not going to murder me," I say. "I should get to my apartment real quick before I get to my final shift." A couple people are starting to trickle in the door. Jingle after jingle meets my ears, and I feel happy.
"Looks like the rush is starting," says George. He stands up and slides the chair back in it's rightful place.
"I'll see you guys later," I say, grabbing my bag from underneath the table.
"Don't forget to tell us how tonight goes!" says Delila. I nod wave goodbye to both of them as I push open the door, making the jingling noise sound once again.