Last week I finished work on the galleys for Possessing Morgan and since it was a Sunday, decided to go out for dinner to celebrate. Our favorite pizza joint had moved and become more upscale and now had actual tablecloths rather than paper placemats.
All reports were that the new management had done a good job because the food’s “delicious”. So, I get out of my sweats, slip into my stylin’ cords and a new sweater and off we go.
Perched on a cliff, we got a window seat with a distant view to sigh over. Romantic wine, 
soft music and chat about our very first date, which coincidentally was at a hole-in-the-wall pizza joint where we ordered a small pizza and sodas. That was some time ago. As I recall a T-Rex lumbered by the window . . . but I digress.
I said the distant view was pretty, right? Well, immediately below the cliff we spy several businesses with quiet back streets and delivery lanes. We’re seated above a store that sells automotive parts, a car rental place, a car detailing shop and facing the main thoroughfare, a long-established floral business.
I notice that a van pulls up outside the florist’s shop. Nothing happens. No one exits the van for ages…at least two whole minutes. (Which to me means the guy’s busy re-wrapping body parts that have come unrolled from the carpet he used to drag … sorry, again, digressing.) 
My husband (a non-writer), says the van must be occupied by a cleaner who’s getting his equipment ready. Sure enough a dark figure climbs out of the van and opens the back. Some kind of delivery, we decide.
And then, another van shows up and parks directly behind the first one. A helper? No.
No one gets out of that van, either. Not in two minutes, not in five minutes. Ten minutes later the delivery van driver returns from inside the florist’s shop and puts his cart away in the back. He eventually drives off, leaving the second van alone on the side street with some mysterious person still inside.
Did I mention there seemed to be a light glowing inside this second van?
By now, my pizza’s all but forgotten (so’s the husband, if I must confess) as I stare intently out the window, down the cliff to mystery van number two. I’m mumbling about bodies, or drug deals and police surveillance.
Finally my husband says, “Enough Columbo, it’s probably just some guy on the phone.” (Did I mention dinosaurs roamed when I met my hubby? The proof is in his reference to Columbo.)
Right, we’re here for dinner. We’re here to celebrate me getting my galleys in and a new release in a few days. We finish our meal while I glance surreptitiously down the cliff and wonder. . . .
We finish our lovely meal and when we pull out of the parking lot, my husband (did I also tell you he’s definite hero material?) drives around the block and back again in order to go down the cliff on the one way street below the restaurant so as to creep past mystery van number two.
Excitement rises as we approach the van. And yes! There’s a light on inside. What terrible deeds are happening in there? What reason could there be for a van to pull up behind another and just sit? Clearly, there are nefarious dealings afoot.
We cruise by slowly, windows up and doors locked, while I crane my neck to ogle the perfectly ordinary man on his phone with a map open across his steering wheel.
My husband, bless his heart, didn’t even laugh at me. But it didn’t matter one whit, because I’d already decided he was a hit man calling his contact for directions to his next hit. 
The mind of a writer is a glorious thing. If one plot won’t work, we always have another in our back pocket.
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I wanted to cry when I was unable to get him to boot up or even see the beautiful glow of his power button. *sigh* Yes, it was a guy. I pictured him as a hunky, wide, bronzed chested Greek God. Yeah, He was like a best friend. *snicker*
Patsy, not dramatic at all! I completely understand. Between my first book sale and my second, which kicked off my career in erotic romance…I worked for a custom computer shop where the techs built custom machines. I *know* how scary it is to worry about losing work. People would come in with this my-dog-just-got-hit-by-a-car look of sick fear in their eyes.
I would listen, be sympathetic and then assure them my techs were the best and they could almost always mirror the entire hard drive and the customer would find everything they needed.
And fwiw: 4 years from a pc is pretty good. Most hard drives have one yr warranties. So if anyone is running a 3 year old machine they should be aware that the end is near. particularly with laptops. Just sayin….
I’m so glad you backed up – losing a story would kill me!
I was smart enough to send my manuscripts to my yahoo addy and within two days my desktop was gone and buried. *sob*
I understand as well. For example, I was throughly convinced that a house up the block is part of the witness protection program. You never see anyone coming or going, the plates on the cars that park there all start with SC, ect.
Then another house up the street had a strong chemical smell coming from it – you could smell it from the street and I decided they were making Crystal Meth inside.
Strange smells create all kinds of scenarios! Could be a meth lab (that’s a great one, and all too common, unfortunately), could be a marijuana grow op (they stink, too) or a body that’s been there too long. (CSI anyone?)
I’m glad to know I’m not alone … LOL my dh is here, wondering why this blog post is delighting me so much. I’ll tell him the next time we’re celebrating. Which will be Tuesday when my next book is released. Wonder what I’ll come up with then?
Bonnie
My brother is good at twisting normal everyday situations into unique situations. I was thoroughly entertained through out you blog!
thanks Nicole…I always worry I’m not going to come up with anything fun to say when I blog. Now I know I can just tell a story. Which is a big joy in my life.
Bonnie
How did I miss this? Too funny! I find myself doing this all the time. My problem is, the DH just looks at me and rolls his eyes. Maybe it’s the difference between being pubbed and not. I don’t know.
Good thing I wasn’t with you though. I’d have made you stop the car and gotten out to knock on the window. I know, not smart, but great story material!