A Novel Idea for the True-to-Life Orange County Story

Best-selling author Judith Krantz’s latest novel, “Dazzle,” is set in South County and is the latest in a flurry of novels by various authors the last few years that use Orange County as their setting.

But it’s always the same old thing:

Glitter-Glamour-Wealth.

Glitter-Glamour-Wealth.

Bor-ing.

Who cares about people drinking Perrier in the front seat of their Jags or jetting to the Seychelles or having midnight orgies on yachts with names like Daddy’s Little Girl.

How about something gritty, something so thick with reality that it runs off the page like syrup off a short stack.

Something like my new book, “Just Another Slow Day.”

Set in North County, it’s the story of the love affair between Big Luke, weekend manager at an auto parts store in Brea, and Patsy, the doughty proprietor of a bowling alley in La Habra.

Here’s an excerpt from Chapter One:

She was drilling the daylights out of the thumb hole in Big Luke’s 16-pounder when his eye caught hers. “I like your style,” he said over the whir. She smiled and blew the sawdust into his face.

His eyes welled with tears but he was too proud to cough. “Could I interest you in a cheeseburger?” Big Luke said.

“You move pretty fast, big boy.”

“Faint heart never won fair lady,” he said.

“I’m impressed. Milli Vanilli?’ she said.

“No. Gilbert and Sullivan.”

She rolled her eyes. “Friends of yours, no doubt?”

Big Luke was feeling kind of wobbly in the head. He hadn’t felt this giddy since his 12th birthday, when he bagged a pheasant with the new thirty-ought-six his daddy gave him. He wanted nothing more than to take this bowl-a-rama mama home and see what she could do to a pot roast.

She was feeling it too. “I was thinking of closing up shop a little early tonight, maybe heading south.”

Big Luke hoped she didn’t notice the catch in his throat. “Anyplace special?”

“I was thinking maybe ... Placentia.”

She arched an eyebrow and studied his reaction. She was testing him, seeing if he could play in her league. When he didn’t flinch, Big Luke saw something in her eyes--something he spelled R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

“Placentia, it is,” he said, feigning insouciance but feverishly racking his brain, trying to remember if his VISA card was still under its $200 credit limit.

They cruised Valencia Boulevard in Big Luke’s pickup--past the Laundromat, the hardware store, a grocery store, another Laundromat, another hardware store, another Laundromat. It was the kind of Friday night he’d seen a thousand times on this street in this town--nobody doin’ nothin’--but for reasons he couldn’t explain, the old town had never looked better.

“Lot of stories on this street,” she said.

“How about yours?” Big Luke said.

“It’s nothin’ you ain’t heard a thousand times before.”

“Try me. I don’t get around much.”

“Dad sold school supplies, mom was a housewife and Brownies block leader. I fought with my brother and loved my dog. We flew the flag on the 4th and bought our clothes at Sears.”

“Don’t stop.”

Patsy liked this galoot, this lug in Levis, this trout with a mustache. He looked like a guy a woman could build a life with. She told herself not to rush it.

“I got married. Big surprise, huh? I was only 17 but what can I say--I met him when he was 9. He proposed at 13. He was the only guy I’d ever known. He didn’t shoot nearly as much 8-ball back then, though. If I’d known how much he loved the game--well, who knows; I might have played it different. Had three kids by the time I was 25, then we drifted apart. He got the stereo and the El Camino, I got the kids. He’s in Tulsa now, married to a billiard table saleswoman.”

“That’s rough,” he said. His eyes told Patsy he meant it.

He summoned his courage, knowing it was time to make his move. The two tickets to the tractor pull were burning a hole in his pocket.

“I don’t suppose you’d--”

“All you gotta do is ask,” she cooed. Big Luke nearly swerved over the median.

“What are you doing next Tuesday night?”

“Baby-sitting co-op.”

“How about Wednesday?”

“Self-defense class.”

“Thursday?”

“Meeting with my insurance agent.”

“Friday?”

“It’s a date, you big knucklehead.”

“Oo-e-e-e-e-e-!” Big Luke let out a whoop. He slapped his thigh, and a grin as wide as Imperial Highway crossed his face. At that instant, he was sure that life had never been better ...

That’s all I’ve written. I know it’s a little rough, but you get the idea.

So far, I haven’t been able to interest a publisher. Meanwhile, Krantz’s “Dazzle” has a 500,000-copy first printing.

Go figure.

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by writing to him at The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, Calif. 92626, or calling (714) 966-7821.