Through the Smoke

Chapter 1

My dad used to smoke cigars. Not often though. Mostly after partaking of a special meal such as on Christmas and Thanksgiving. In addition, he would light one up during the Super Bowl or whenever he and his buddies played poker in our garage. In recent years due to mild health concerns Mom has encouraged him to give them up entirely, so as far as I'm aware he hasn't smoked in at least three years.

I, on the other hand, have taken up his infrequent habit. However, just like Dad I limit myself by only lighting up when I finish a full length novel. There's an elated smile on my face as I stare at the computer screen filled with thousands upon thousands of words through blood, sweat and tears I've weaved together over the last two-hundred and forty-two days. This being my seventh novel, I'm almost six weeks ahead of schedule and cannot wait to send it to my publisher. Ever since writing my first story at age eight I've been my worst critic, yet I'm feeling unusually confident about this manuscript.

Hand balled into a fist and triumphantly thrust into the air I hear a chuckle stemming from the kitchen. She asks me if I've finished another chapter. Why? Because long ago I developed the habit of pumping a fist upward whenever another chapter is completed. Whether that chapter is two-thousand or ten-thousand words long, the fist pump is just something I automatically do.

Since she's paused whatever she's doing to gaze in my direction I nod. "Yes." Trying to smother a grin, I reach for the small wooden box kept next to the landline on my desk and remove a cigar, making a big show of running it underneath my nose while inhaling its sweet aroma. I have a variety of cigars in that box, but this one has to be my favorite. With each inhale I get a taste of rich chocolate and by chance I discovered it goes well with a cup of premium coffee.

"Holy shi..." She trails off while still watching me. "You finished it? The book? The whole book?"

I'm wearing what I can only describe as a shit-eating grin. "The whole book and nothing but the book, so help me God."

My wife suddenly seems to be part kangaroo as she jumps up and down while I chuckle. I'm about to reach into the box for the cigar cutter, but pause when I see her sprinting out the kitchen and in my direction. Bare feet pushing against the carpet, I swivel toward the left just in time to catch a lapful of Kelly. She litters my face with kisses before our lips finally meet. When she murmurs that she's proud of me I feel like melting into a contented puddle on the floor.

"When are you going to send it in?" A warm palm on the nape of my neck begins to massage.

"After you read it."

Kelly's face glows as she smiles. "Oh my. Is the bestselling author Jordan Lancaster aka my brilliant other half finally going to allow me to partake of her latest novel?"

Guilt flashes across my face. I'm aware I've been an ass with this latest book, as I've always shared each chapter with Kelly as it was completed, but this time I made her wait. She's attempted to read over my shoulder many times, but I doubt she's been able to absorb more than a sentence or two here and there. It's been driving her nuts (she informed me as much) that she doesn't know what I've been diligently working on the last almost eight months.

I indicate the computer with a nod of my head. "Have at it, baby. Or would you prefer I print it out first?"

Kelly shakes her head a dark brown ponytail swinging from side to side. "Computer's fine. That way if I catch any errors along the way I can easily fix them for you."

"Gee whiz, you're like the bestest wife ever!"

She laughs. "Are you intending to light that thing or what?"

I'm on the verge of asking what she's talking about when I remember the cigar held between my fingers. "Ah. Yes." Though she has made it clear she doesn't like tobacco, Kelly doesn't mind too much when I smoke a cigar since I don't do it often. Also, I've never finished one.