*READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. May contain language that may offend some people.*

Had an idea pop into my head the other night for what could be a great story. It's really just one scene so far, but I think I know how the rest of it is going to play out. Anyway...here:

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His tie was choking him. He sat in the tiny holding cell, waiting for the sheriff’s deputy to arrive and escort him into the courtroom, and for several excruciating moments he wasn’t sure he’d live that long. What kind of stupid-ass idea was this, anyway, tying a knot around your own throat in the name of looking presentable? He figured some woman long ago must have invented neckties as a sort of leash, and men had been wearing them ever since to catch pussy. That must be it. Advertise yourself as a doggy on a chain, and the pussy would just fall down in front of you.
He loosened the double-windsor knot just a little, praying his throat muscles would get the message and open up again. How he had ended up on trial for the murder of his kid sister’s friend was completely beyond his comprehension. He scrubbed his hands over his face and remembered how she had looked the last time he’d seen her. Hell, how she’d looked nearly every time he’d seen her. How she’d stare at him with her right eyebrow raised, her lips curved into just a hint of a smirk, as if she thought he was brown-eyed with bullshit but didn’t want to tell him and ruin his illusion of himself.
God, she had been beautiful in the kind of way no one ever called attention to. She’d had a kid while he’d been off traveling the world—how long ago that seemed now—and she was still carrying around that last ten pounds that any mother will testify are nearly impossible to lose. And by God, that extra ten looked perfect on her. Still, she was so far from the Playboy bunny type he usually went for that it was difficult to remember what had interested him in the first place.
“Roth. Roth! Wake up, man. Time to go,” the deputy barked as he slid open the cell door. The deputy was a disheveled-looking thirtysomething with clear blue eyes and a scar from his left temple to just below his cheekbone. Jamie didn’t want to ask where it had come from. He had this mental picture of a courtroom brawl, a verdict being returned that pissed someone off, all hell breaking loose. Not a pleasant thought to have, given where he was headed right at the moment.
Jamie stood on steady legs, surprised to be able to hold himself up. He straightened his tie and then turned his back to the deputy so he could be handcuffed. The deputy took him by the elbow and led him about ten feet down a dismal-looking hallway, stopping outside the door to the courtroom.
“You okay, man? You don’t look so hot.” He peered scrupulously at Jamie, and Jamie felt suddenly exposed.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just nervous. You ever been on trial for murder before?” He heard the anger, the tone of defensiveness in his voice, and was glad for it. Maybe his anger would keep him from weeping, from jumping onto the defense table and proclaiming innocence and guilt, defiance and repentance, all at the same time. He took a deep breath as the deputy shook his head and opened the courtroom door.

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I am intrigued. it's pretty interesting. Lets see some more.

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*squee* I have tons more in my head, I just have to get it typed! Haha. Did you catch who the main character is supposed to be?

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No I did not. Do tell?

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The guy I was telling you about last night...the one you called a "pole smoker," aha.

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