Showing posts with label Shadow's Night. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shadow's Night. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
Friday, October 24, 2014
eBook Discount Promotion
I decided to lower the prices of my two novels to just $0.99 as part of a promotion for my new book The Brat out December 21, 2014.
The eBook is available for pre-order through Amazon.
Friday, June 6, 2014
Sunday, June 1, 2014
Shadow's Night - Chapter 04 Blood Brother
The sound of knocking, then the sound of the doorbell awoke Simon from a nap on the sofa where he was flat on his back with one hand against his chest and the other hanging off the side. He let out a moan and sat up. There were no expected guests, no one would have been invited, and proselytizers had stopped coming years ago.
There was more knocking, the doorbell, he got to his feet and walked from the living room into the foyer, passed the game room and the parlor to the front door that he opened cautiously, leaving the chain still attached. He was blinded by the sunlight and held up his hand to shield his eyes.
There was a glare as a form stepped into the light and he could make out it was a young man he didn’t recognize. Was this someone from town? Maybe a newspaper boy? Hadn’t he heard all of the terrible stories about the place, about him? He winced as he tried to get a better look but he realized he’d need to take off the chain.
“Who is it?” Simon asked.
“Simon? It’s me Conrad,” the stranger said.
“Conrad?” he asked.
He thought about the people in town, relatives, and then he remembered it. Conrad, of course, but how the hell did he find me? He unfastened the chain as Conrad stepped closer. For a moment they were caught in an awkward standoff as each was unsure what the other would do but finally Simon opened the door and invited him inside. Conrad stepped into the house and kept his eyes on Simon. They looked at each other, assessing subtle differences, unsure how to greet the other.
It had been years since they had been together. It was a different place and time for both of them when they were truly equals dressed in grey sweat pants and sweat shirts. Each of them had gotten back to their own lives and how they changed showed that. Conrad was dressed in a tank top, shorts, sandals, and sunglasses. He had more muscles, notably his biceps, and he had tattoos, professional ones. Simon was dressed formally in a button down shirt, vest, tie, slacks, and dress shoes. He had a mustache.
Would a handshake suffice? Maybe a hug? Simon thought about the options and he didn’t like either of them. He didn’t like this familiar person from his past being there, reminding him, and yet he had always been curious.
“Hello blood brother,” Conrad said.
Simon smiled at the greeting and held out his hand. Conrad took it and shook his hand before pulling him against his chest and wrapping his left arm around Simon’s side to hug him. Simon was caught off guard by the action and had it been anyone else he would have resisted more, fought back, or complained but he didn’t. He let it go, even after the hug was too long and became awkward and uncomfortable. Finally, Conrad let him go and they stepped back from each other.
“What’s this blood brother shit?” Simon asked.
“We are you know. Or don’t you remember?”
“I remember, too well. But how did you find me?”
Conrad tapped his head.
“You told me the town where you lived and it was pretty easy after that, after all I knew your name and lots of other things about you.”
Simon winced at the comment. As nice as it was to see Conrad it was also reminder of his past, a connection to a time when he had been weaker, vulnerable. What was it that made people friends? What was it that bonded them? And why did they think the relationship, whatever it was, could be mended so easily or had never been destroyed? He pushed the thoughts aside and focused his mind on Conrad who sat before him with a familiar half smirk on his face.
“So this is your mom’s place?”
“Yeah, she’s upstairs in her bedroom,” Simon said. “Don’t worry she’ll probably stay up there it’s the afternoon and she’s probably watching her religious programs.”
“A little Father, Son, and Holy Ghost action?”
Simon winced at the comment. Conrad had always been easy to mock religion and church, and though Simon didn’t believe in any gods he still felt guilty about mocking them. It was Sunday school, he thought.
“There really aren’t too many Simon Winters in town. I only had to ask at the gas station. They knew the place.”
“That easy,” Simon said.
Conrad smiled and nodded. Simon was near as he had remembered him with thick hair and dark eyes that always looked like they were inspecting everything and everyone. There was a darkness there, he had come to know it, but there was also a sincerity and kindness of someone who wanted to live in a perfect world. He was handsome in his own way but not confident.
“So what brings you here? You just wanted to see me?”
“Well, I uh, kind of was passing through because I’ve been out of state. I wanted to go see my mom. She still lives in my hometown but I don’t really have the extra money for a hotel room.”
They stared each other in the eye but Conrad wasn’t going to give in, break or confess. He felt like his lie was working. This made sense.
“She’s pretty sick. She has cancer.”
Simon broke from the eye contact and looked to the coffee table, to his hands that he rubbed nervously on his pants. He had been caught trying to tell if someone was lying and he really couldn’t tell if he was. He had his reasons to not trust Conrad but he also had his reasons to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“With me having been in juvenile hall, well it’s not good for me to be at the house too long or even stay around town there. The cops there hate me. I’d get a ticket just for crossing the street if they saw me. And I’ve been working out of state so I don’t have a place around here. I remembered you and I know it’s not like we’re high school friends but we were close. You probably don’t want someone bringing up the past but I thought, I don’t know, you could help me out.”
Simon felt as if a ball of string in his chest had come undone. He felt so bad for the person beside him, the person he had known, whose mother was dying of cancer. He took a deep breath and let his shoulders relax. It would be awkward but it could work. He looked to Conrad, then past him and up to the ceiling where he imagined his mother in her bedroom. This would need some careful explanation, he thought.
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There was more knocking, the doorbell, he got to his feet and walked from the living room into the foyer, passed the game room and the parlor to the front door that he opened cautiously, leaving the chain still attached. He was blinded by the sunlight and held up his hand to shield his eyes.
There was a glare as a form stepped into the light and he could make out it was a young man he didn’t recognize. Was this someone from town? Maybe a newspaper boy? Hadn’t he heard all of the terrible stories about the place, about him? He winced as he tried to get a better look but he realized he’d need to take off the chain.
“Who is it?” Simon asked.
“Simon? It’s me Conrad,” the stranger said.
“Conrad?” he asked.
He thought about the people in town, relatives, and then he remembered it. Conrad, of course, but how the hell did he find me? He unfastened the chain as Conrad stepped closer. For a moment they were caught in an awkward standoff as each was unsure what the other would do but finally Simon opened the door and invited him inside. Conrad stepped into the house and kept his eyes on Simon. They looked at each other, assessing subtle differences, unsure how to greet the other.
It had been years since they had been together. It was a different place and time for both of them when they were truly equals dressed in grey sweat pants and sweat shirts. Each of them had gotten back to their own lives and how they changed showed that. Conrad was dressed in a tank top, shorts, sandals, and sunglasses. He had more muscles, notably his biceps, and he had tattoos, professional ones. Simon was dressed formally in a button down shirt, vest, tie, slacks, and dress shoes. He had a mustache.
Would a handshake suffice? Maybe a hug? Simon thought about the options and he didn’t like either of them. He didn’t like this familiar person from his past being there, reminding him, and yet he had always been curious.
“Hello blood brother,” Conrad said.
Simon smiled at the greeting and held out his hand. Conrad took it and shook his hand before pulling him against his chest and wrapping his left arm around Simon’s side to hug him. Simon was caught off guard by the action and had it been anyone else he would have resisted more, fought back, or complained but he didn’t. He let it go, even after the hug was too long and became awkward and uncomfortable. Finally, Conrad let him go and they stepped back from each other.
“What’s this blood brother shit?” Simon asked.
“We are you know. Or don’t you remember?”
“I remember, too well. But how did you find me?”
Conrad tapped his head.
“You told me the town where you lived and it was pretty easy after that, after all I knew your name and lots of other things about you.”
Simon winced at the comment. As nice as it was to see Conrad it was also reminder of his past, a connection to a time when he had been weaker, vulnerable. What was it that made people friends? What was it that bonded them? And why did they think the relationship, whatever it was, could be mended so easily or had never been destroyed? He pushed the thoughts aside and focused his mind on Conrad who sat before him with a familiar half smirk on his face.
“So this is your mom’s place?”
“Yeah, she’s upstairs in her bedroom,” Simon said. “Don’t worry she’ll probably stay up there it’s the afternoon and she’s probably watching her religious programs.”
“A little Father, Son, and Holy Ghost action?”
Simon winced at the comment. Conrad had always been easy to mock religion and church, and though Simon didn’t believe in any gods he still felt guilty about mocking them. It was Sunday school, he thought.
“There really aren’t too many Simon Winters in town. I only had to ask at the gas station. They knew the place.”
“That easy,” Simon said.
Conrad smiled and nodded. Simon was near as he had remembered him with thick hair and dark eyes that always looked like they were inspecting everything and everyone. There was a darkness there, he had come to know it, but there was also a sincerity and kindness of someone who wanted to live in a perfect world. He was handsome in his own way but not confident.
“So what brings you here? You just wanted to see me?”
“Well, I uh, kind of was passing through because I’ve been out of state. I wanted to go see my mom. She still lives in my hometown but I don’t really have the extra money for a hotel room.”
They stared each other in the eye but Conrad wasn’t going to give in, break or confess. He felt like his lie was working. This made sense.
“She’s pretty sick. She has cancer.”
Simon broke from the eye contact and looked to the coffee table, to his hands that he rubbed nervously on his pants. He had been caught trying to tell if someone was lying and he really couldn’t tell if he was. He had his reasons to not trust Conrad but he also had his reasons to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“With me having been in juvenile hall, well it’s not good for me to be at the house too long or even stay around town there. The cops there hate me. I’d get a ticket just for crossing the street if they saw me. And I’ve been working out of state so I don’t have a place around here. I remembered you and I know it’s not like we’re high school friends but we were close. You probably don’t want someone bringing up the past but I thought, I don’t know, you could help me out.”
Simon felt as if a ball of string in his chest had come undone. He felt so bad for the person beside him, the person he had known, whose mother was dying of cancer. He took a deep breath and let his shoulders relax. It would be awkward but it could work. He looked to Conrad, then past him and up to the ceiling where he imagined his mother in her bedroom. This would need some careful explanation, he thought.
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Saturday, May 24, 2014
Shadow's Night (Excerpt) Chapter 05 - Boredom
It was late and no one was in the coffee shop. Breakfast had the most people, lunch was stretched out, and after people got off work was the most sporadic, but any time she could Heather sat transfixed with a book. She was supposed to be learning the business, her business, but it was boring. Her father owned it and she had been running it since she graduated from high school, a deal they had worked out given her lack of ambition to go to college. Going some place local felt too much like going back to high school, if they weren’t the exact same kids it was still too close, and she didn’t feel like going away, not with her father the way he was, not with the business being his only support.
She was reading Breakfast of Champions that evening, thinking Vonnegut got it wrong and that she lived in the asshole of the Universe and that if she wasn’t careful she might live there for the rest of her life. She moaned at the thought. She wanted a distraction and she thought about Kevin. She hadn’t talked to him in weeks since he had been back to class. She took out her phone and called him.
“Come down and visit me,” she said as soon as he picked up. “I’m bored and no one is here.”
Alone in his room with one hand pressing the phone to his ear and the other scrolling through his dashboard he looked to the clock. He was bored too and there was nothing he had to do immediately. He agreed and ended the call before he got up from his desk chair, tightened the belt to his jean shorts, and made sure his fly was up. He stuck his phone in his pocket, checked the weight of it there, and headed out.
No one was there to notice him leave. He slipped his shoes on at the front door, pulled the door shut behind him making sure it was locked before he turned on his feet and made the quick five minute walk to Main Street and the coffee shop. He looked through the main window to Heather who looked back with her chin propped on her hand still bored. He opened the door to the smell of coffee and baked goods. His hands in the pockets of his hooded jacket he walked to the counter.
“Do you want something?” she asked.
“Uh,” he said before he looked back to the two people by the window. “I don’t know. Calories, you know, maybe just a tea.”
“No problem, go have a seat and I’ll bring it over,” she said.
He suddenly felt guilty for her waiting on him, and he hadn’t even paid. He reached into his pocket for the few loose dollar bills but when she saw him she shook her head and motioned for him to go where she had told him to go. He pulled out the dollars anyway and put them in the tip cup before he walked to the table, did a quick assessment of where she would need to sit to keep and eye on the door and sat in the opposite spot. He listened to her. She was getting a tea for herself, something to eat.
Was it something to share? He groaned at the thought. He was hungry, just a little bit, but he knew he’d look better if he denied it rather than indulge. She stepped out from behind the counter and walked to him where she set down a tray. There were two teas and two scones.
“You’re mean,” he said.
“Just a few carbs,” she said. “Besides you get plenty of exercise.”
“This will be an extra mile, maybe half,” he said.
“Skinny Mr. Kevin,” she said. She saw him wince at the comment. “Sorry, it just came to mind. We haven’t talked about it in a while. Does your father still check up on you?”
“Sometimes,” he said.
“That’s nice,” she said. “He cares.”
“So what do you want to do?”
“I don’t know, blow my brains out maybe.”
He recoiled at her sarcasm.
“Sorry, it’s been a long day,” she said. “I’m going to buy bullets with my tips.”
He raised an eyebrow at her and crossed one leg over the other to turn away from her slightly mocking her desperate, bitter attitude. She pulled her hands to her face and let out a grunt of disgust before she stretched out her arms and lay face down on the table for a second before she raised her shoulders with an inhale of air.
“That bad?”
“I’m here breakfast, lunch, and dinner everyday. I can take time off here and there, I convinced my father to get someone to help but it’s all just the same. It was bad when there were more people I knew from high school but there’s been two classes since we graduated. They get dumber each year. Somehow the place became hip.
“God, the other day there were a group of teen girls in here who talked about the television show Friends the whole time and how they wanted to go to New York. Boy are they going to be disappointed.”
“Reruns,” he said. “It gives us such bad impressions.”
“My father likes it but ugh, I’d rather be in some bookstore somewhere, reading quietly in the back, only sell things occasionally.”
“People would steal your books,” he said.
“No one steals books,” she said. “They’re not worth anything.”
She broke off a piece of scone and stuck it in her mouth, began to chew. Kevin watched her, looked at his own scone, looked away.
“How’s class?” she asked.
“Boring but I’ll get through it,” he said, “we’re supposed to research our local town and write a piece about it for our final paper. It’s not due for a long time though.”
“Not much to write about here,” she said.
“Some white people took land from some natives who suffered on a reservation until a loophole allowed them to open a casino where poor people of all colors go to gamble and buy cheap cigarettes.”
“Wow, that doesn’t sound bitter at all,” she said.
He laughed mockingly at her causing her to smile.
“So really what do you want to do?” he asked.
“Tarot card reading,” she said.
“Aw, come on?”
“No, it’ll be good.”
She got up from the table and went behind the counter to her bag where she retrieved a cloth bag that held her Tarot cards and returned with it. She sat across from him with renewed energy. She opened the bag, got out the cards, and shuffled them. She held them close to her body with her eyes closed, readied herself across from him before she slid them in his direction. He picked up the cards. They had been through this several times but each time he relied on her instruction and her creativity for what the cards meant.
“You deal your own fate,” she said.
He shuffled the cards, toyed with her a little before she instructed him on how to lay them out for a twenty-one card reading. She looked at them for several minutes when something else caught her eye, a spark. She looked up through the main window to the sidewalk where she saw a young man, a stranger, Conrad, with a cigarette in his hand signaling for someone to join him. The stranger was handsome. He wore a leather jack, the collar up towards his face to protect him from the wind.
“Who is that?” she asked.
Kevin turned on his seat to look out the front window. He looked to the young man, was captivated by his handsome face, his button nose, and kissable lips. He didn’t have to be gay, he thought, anyone would want him.
“Holy shit,” Heather said, “look who’s walking up to him.”
Kevin turned a little more to see the direction the young man was staring to see a familiar person stop in front of him. He knew that face.
“It’s Simon Winters,” she said.
Kevin turned around back to her, his muscles and joints slightly ached by the way he was turned. He let out a grunt of pain and looked her in the eye before he turned back to see the two young men outside the coffee shop talking, then he looked back to her with one ear listening for the door.
“Do you think they’re coming in here?” she asked.
“Has he ever come in here?”
“No, I’ve never seen him in here. He usually sticks to himself. I only ever see him in the library sometimes but he’s always alone. I’ve thought about going up and saying something to him.”
“More like getting his autograph,” he said.
“He’s infamous, not famous,” she replied.
“Is he moving in this direction?”
“I think they are,” she said.
They looked to the door where Conrad pushed his way inside followed by Simon who walked with his hands in his pockets. Heather jumped to her feet and made her way behind the counter to where her patrons took turns looking at each other, the selection of baked goods, and coffee.
“I’m terrible at this,” Conrad said.
“I told you I’ve never been here,” Simon replied. He was annoyed for having been dragged along and didn’t want it to be any easier.
“Can I help you?” Heather asked.
Conrad leaned against the counter and looked into Heather’s eyes, looked her over before looking to Kevin who sat staring back at him. They caught each other’s eyes and looked away, each with nearly the same thought, he’s cruising me, here. Conrad shook off the thought.
“I usually just get black coffee and a scone,” he said.
“We can do that,” she said.
“What about your friend?”
Everyone looked to Simon who held up a hand of slight protest. He looked to the floor and out into the street trying to show no interest.
“He’ll have the same,” Conrad said.
She rang up the order but she wanted to know more. She had an idea.
“I uh, usually call out a name,” she said.
“Conrad,” he replied.
Heather and Kevin looked to each other as Conrad began to count out cash. He paid with a ten dollar bill and when he got back the change he dropped a dollar and the change in the tip cup. Simon looked ready to leave but Conrad led him to a table where they sat. Conrad cast one last look across the room to Kevin who had focused back on the Tarot cards on the table. He spied the young man’s muscled calf and the way he played with his hair. Maybe there were queers here after all, he thought, and maybe I should get to know them.
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She was reading Breakfast of Champions that evening, thinking Vonnegut got it wrong and that she lived in the asshole of the Universe and that if she wasn’t careful she might live there for the rest of her life. She moaned at the thought. She wanted a distraction and she thought about Kevin. She hadn’t talked to him in weeks since he had been back to class. She took out her phone and called him.
“Come down and visit me,” she said as soon as he picked up. “I’m bored and no one is here.”
Alone in his room with one hand pressing the phone to his ear and the other scrolling through his dashboard he looked to the clock. He was bored too and there was nothing he had to do immediately. He agreed and ended the call before he got up from his desk chair, tightened the belt to his jean shorts, and made sure his fly was up. He stuck his phone in his pocket, checked the weight of it there, and headed out.
No one was there to notice him leave. He slipped his shoes on at the front door, pulled the door shut behind him making sure it was locked before he turned on his feet and made the quick five minute walk to Main Street and the coffee shop. He looked through the main window to Heather who looked back with her chin propped on her hand still bored. He opened the door to the smell of coffee and baked goods. His hands in the pockets of his hooded jacket he walked to the counter.
“Do you want something?” she asked.
“Uh,” he said before he looked back to the two people by the window. “I don’t know. Calories, you know, maybe just a tea.”
“No problem, go have a seat and I’ll bring it over,” she said.
He suddenly felt guilty for her waiting on him, and he hadn’t even paid. He reached into his pocket for the few loose dollar bills but when she saw him she shook her head and motioned for him to go where she had told him to go. He pulled out the dollars anyway and put them in the tip cup before he walked to the table, did a quick assessment of where she would need to sit to keep and eye on the door and sat in the opposite spot. He listened to her. She was getting a tea for herself, something to eat.
Was it something to share? He groaned at the thought. He was hungry, just a little bit, but he knew he’d look better if he denied it rather than indulge. She stepped out from behind the counter and walked to him where she set down a tray. There were two teas and two scones.
“You’re mean,” he said.
“Just a few carbs,” she said. “Besides you get plenty of exercise.”
“This will be an extra mile, maybe half,” he said.
“Skinny Mr. Kevin,” she said. She saw him wince at the comment. “Sorry, it just came to mind. We haven’t talked about it in a while. Does your father still check up on you?”
“Sometimes,” he said.
“That’s nice,” she said. “He cares.”
“So what do you want to do?”
“I don’t know, blow my brains out maybe.”
He recoiled at her sarcasm.
“Sorry, it’s been a long day,” she said. “I’m going to buy bullets with my tips.”
He raised an eyebrow at her and crossed one leg over the other to turn away from her slightly mocking her desperate, bitter attitude. She pulled her hands to her face and let out a grunt of disgust before she stretched out her arms and lay face down on the table for a second before she raised her shoulders with an inhale of air.
“That bad?”
“I’m here breakfast, lunch, and dinner everyday. I can take time off here and there, I convinced my father to get someone to help but it’s all just the same. It was bad when there were more people I knew from high school but there’s been two classes since we graduated. They get dumber each year. Somehow the place became hip.
“God, the other day there were a group of teen girls in here who talked about the television show Friends the whole time and how they wanted to go to New York. Boy are they going to be disappointed.”
“Reruns,” he said. “It gives us such bad impressions.”
“My father likes it but ugh, I’d rather be in some bookstore somewhere, reading quietly in the back, only sell things occasionally.”
“People would steal your books,” he said.
“No one steals books,” she said. “They’re not worth anything.”
She broke off a piece of scone and stuck it in her mouth, began to chew. Kevin watched her, looked at his own scone, looked away.
“How’s class?” she asked.
“Boring but I’ll get through it,” he said, “we’re supposed to research our local town and write a piece about it for our final paper. It’s not due for a long time though.”
“Not much to write about here,” she said.
“Some white people took land from some natives who suffered on a reservation until a loophole allowed them to open a casino where poor people of all colors go to gamble and buy cheap cigarettes.”
“Wow, that doesn’t sound bitter at all,” she said.
He laughed mockingly at her causing her to smile.
“So really what do you want to do?” he asked.
“Tarot card reading,” she said.
“Aw, come on?”
“No, it’ll be good.”
She got up from the table and went behind the counter to her bag where she retrieved a cloth bag that held her Tarot cards and returned with it. She sat across from him with renewed energy. She opened the bag, got out the cards, and shuffled them. She held them close to her body with her eyes closed, readied herself across from him before she slid them in his direction. He picked up the cards. They had been through this several times but each time he relied on her instruction and her creativity for what the cards meant.
“You deal your own fate,” she said.
He shuffled the cards, toyed with her a little before she instructed him on how to lay them out for a twenty-one card reading. She looked at them for several minutes when something else caught her eye, a spark. She looked up through the main window to the sidewalk where she saw a young man, a stranger, Conrad, with a cigarette in his hand signaling for someone to join him. The stranger was handsome. He wore a leather jack, the collar up towards his face to protect him from the wind.
“Who is that?” she asked.
Kevin turned on his seat to look out the front window. He looked to the young man, was captivated by his handsome face, his button nose, and kissable lips. He didn’t have to be gay, he thought, anyone would want him.
“Holy shit,” Heather said, “look who’s walking up to him.”
Kevin turned a little more to see the direction the young man was staring to see a familiar person stop in front of him. He knew that face.
“It’s Simon Winters,” she said.
Kevin turned around back to her, his muscles and joints slightly ached by the way he was turned. He let out a grunt of pain and looked her in the eye before he turned back to see the two young men outside the coffee shop talking, then he looked back to her with one ear listening for the door.
“Do you think they’re coming in here?” she asked.
“Has he ever come in here?”
“No, I’ve never seen him in here. He usually sticks to himself. I only ever see him in the library sometimes but he’s always alone. I’ve thought about going up and saying something to him.”
“More like getting his autograph,” he said.
“He’s infamous, not famous,” she replied.
“Is he moving in this direction?”
“I think they are,” she said.
They looked to the door where Conrad pushed his way inside followed by Simon who walked with his hands in his pockets. Heather jumped to her feet and made her way behind the counter to where her patrons took turns looking at each other, the selection of baked goods, and coffee.
“I’m terrible at this,” Conrad said.
“I told you I’ve never been here,” Simon replied. He was annoyed for having been dragged along and didn’t want it to be any easier.
“Can I help you?” Heather asked.
Conrad leaned against the counter and looked into Heather’s eyes, looked her over before looking to Kevin who sat staring back at him. They caught each other’s eyes and looked away, each with nearly the same thought, he’s cruising me, here. Conrad shook off the thought.
“I usually just get black coffee and a scone,” he said.
“We can do that,” she said.
“What about your friend?”
Everyone looked to Simon who held up a hand of slight protest. He looked to the floor and out into the street trying to show no interest.
“He’ll have the same,” Conrad said.
She rang up the order but she wanted to know more. She had an idea.
“I uh, usually call out a name,” she said.
“Conrad,” he replied.
Heather and Kevin looked to each other as Conrad began to count out cash. He paid with a ten dollar bill and when he got back the change he dropped a dollar and the change in the tip cup. Simon looked ready to leave but Conrad led him to a table where they sat. Conrad cast one last look across the room to Kevin who had focused back on the Tarot cards on the table. He spied the young man’s muscled calf and the way he played with his hair. Maybe there were queers here after all, he thought, and maybe I should get to know them.
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Friday, May 16, 2014
Shadow's Night (Excerpt) Chapter 02 - Spilled Blood
After shooting a man while
on a bender of drugs he was supposed to sell Conrad flees the city and
goes to a place where he believes no one will find him, the home of
Simon Winters, an old cellmate from his years in juvenile detention.
But he knows he can’t stay for long and Conrad’s greed inadvertently
causes Simon to confront his past and his life in a small town where
memories run deep. How will Simon survive Conrad’s path to darkness?
Present Day...
Rain fell against the windshield of the parked ‘94 Lincoln as it sat in the back of the grocery store parking lot away from customers and light. Inside the car two men, Conrad and Marcus, sat contemplating their fates and what one of them had done. Conrad, the younger of the two, looked out through the splattered rain drops into the night sky. He wanted to confess something they both knew. He wanted to say it even though it didn’t seem rational.
There had been minutes of silence between them after Marcus had picked him up and driven him to the lot. Marcus had been a mentor and his lover for over two years. He was a strong man, tough and unsympathetic. He had decried sentimentality and empathy on a regular basis. And Conrad was afraid how the man would react.
“Marcus, I shot someone,” Conrad said.
When Marcus didn’t respond he looked to the older man who sat next to him blowing smoke out of the partially open window. Marcus knocked ash onto the floor. He stroked his beard, scratched at his throat as if he were massaging the words there.
“Tell me about it,” Marcus said.
“I was over at Tina’s. It was early morning so no one was there. I was playing 9-Ball alone just to hone my skills. I had been up a few days snorting Ritalin and whatever else so I was scratching and getting frustrated. I was lining up a shot and not paying attention, bam, he blindsides me.”
Conrad thought about the way the enforcer hit him, lifted him from the ground and sent him flying into a nearby table, the feeling of the edge against his back, falling to the ground, and the way the carpet felt on his hands. He shook off the memory.
“I look up and it’s Dylan. He never liked me and he’s got this look in his eye because for once he’s justified to kick the shit out of me.”
“But how did you get mixed up with that sadistic bastard?” Marcus asked.
“He had that pharmaceutical connection. I thought it would be easy money. Everyone at the clubs and parties wants the pills because they know it’s uncut and high quality and I knew I could overcharge them. It would be a hustle but still it would be worth it. The weed from you was good but this was... I’m sorry.”
“Hey, it’s your life. You were being an entrepreneur.”
“Anyway, he’s on me but it’s like he’s toying with me. That was the worst part. I’m saying anything I can to get him to stop. I say, ‘I’ll do anything’ and he laughs at me. He tells me he had a bet that I’d try to bribe him with sex and how fags were good earners but could never be real members.
“I start to get to my knees but I’m dizzy and he grabs hold of my hair, I fall against him. He starts laughing. That’s when I got my gun from the ankle holster and I press the barrel up into his balls. Fucker turned white as a ghost, he was scared of me or some freak accident.
“I had him good. He lets me go and backs away. I get to my feet but stagger. He moves like he’s coming at me but there’s too much distance and I steady myself. I can feel as I look at him, this maggot is mine.”
“You shot him?”
“No, not like that. I was ready to let him go. I just wanted some sleep. He starts saying things like how this isn’t over and how I owe money, and how the next time he sees me it’s personal, that he’ll take my head off and let guys use it for a toilet. It all felt so weird. I knew what I was doing but I don’t know. He says to me, ‘Next time I-’ and that’s when I pointed my gun at his chest.
“He held out his hand and you know the funny thing is that I shot it. I shot his hand. I’ve barely used a gun but it just popped up, bam. I see him start to go weak but I’m thinking I have to finish this so I shoot at him. One shot hits the wall, another hits some glass, and I’m panicking so I close on him and bam, bam, he’s down and out.”
Marcus sat in the passenger seat slowly nodding.
“What do I do now?”
“Now you run,” Marcus said.
“What? Why? No one else saw me. Did they?”
“Some waitress named Brenda saw the whole thing from behind the door. She called the police, said you shot him in cold blood. The police have a sketch of your face and a description. They don’t know your name but they’ll probably find fingerprints. The Brotherhood got to her after that which is how I know. I heard it from her directly, and they know your name. They’re coming after you.”
“Even you?”
Marcus gave him a look and Conrad let out a nervous laugh.
“I care about you but this can’t be fixed. You have to get out of this city and start over somewhere. You can’t go home and you can’t go to any relative’s place. Drive out to the West Coast and get lost there.”
“What about us?”
“Maybe one day, when I retire or maybe I can meet up with you sometime, somewhere on a vacation but you know everything I do is with the club.”
“I’ll be alone,” he said. He didn’t know if he loved the man. He didn’t believe in love. But he did need the man. He could rely on him.
Some part of him wanted to be just cold and calculating. Some part of him wanted to believe Marcus cared. He wanted to believe it wasn’t a facade like when he pretended to be tough and when he pretended to be straight. He had to find out. He had to make the man feel something for him. He winced and looked to his hands. He felt like he could cry but he knew that would be too weak to Marcus. He had to have strength enough to hold the tears back.
“Do you have enough?”
“I’ve got a little of what I was selling, some cash I was going to pay him, a few things but nothing of real value.”
Marcus reached into the breast pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a roll of bills wrapped in rubber bands. The wad had been stuck together for some time and was old and not bills recently taken from a cash machine.
“There’s three grand there in small bills mostly. That’s the best I can come up with right now from my squirrel fund.”
“I need more than this,” Conrad said. “I can’t live like I did before when I was on the street. I can’t go back to that.”
“Do you have some place you can stay for a while? I can get you some more money unless you find some of your own.”
Conrad slouched in his seat as he tried to think over his friends in life, someone the police and the gang wouldn’t know about, couldn’t find through a simple background check. There was one name that came to mind, they had been close once for a brief time but never stayed in contact. It would be easy enough to track him down.
“Yeah, I might know someone,” Conrad said.
“Good, take the car and drive out now, as far as you can. No one knows what you’re driving so don’t get panicked. You find a place off the main road somewhere and crash for a few days to sleep this off. We’ll stay in contact through my second burner phone, no one knows about it.”
“This guy, he lives-”
Marcus silenced him with a finger.
“I don’t want to know where. You need to get safe, let this blow over, and I’ll contact you.”
“Thank you,” Conrad said.
“Come here,” Marcus replied.
Conrad leaned over to hug Marcus but was lifted to his lap where they embraced and kissed as the older man ran his hands under the younger man’s shirt to his shoulder blades where he grasped at the skin there.
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Present Day...
Rain fell against the windshield of the parked ‘94 Lincoln as it sat in the back of the grocery store parking lot away from customers and light. Inside the car two men, Conrad and Marcus, sat contemplating their fates and what one of them had done. Conrad, the younger of the two, looked out through the splattered rain drops into the night sky. He wanted to confess something they both knew. He wanted to say it even though it didn’t seem rational.
There had been minutes of silence between them after Marcus had picked him up and driven him to the lot. Marcus had been a mentor and his lover for over two years. He was a strong man, tough and unsympathetic. He had decried sentimentality and empathy on a regular basis. And Conrad was afraid how the man would react.
“Marcus, I shot someone,” Conrad said.
When Marcus didn’t respond he looked to the older man who sat next to him blowing smoke out of the partially open window. Marcus knocked ash onto the floor. He stroked his beard, scratched at his throat as if he were massaging the words there.
“Tell me about it,” Marcus said.
“I was over at Tina’s. It was early morning so no one was there. I was playing 9-Ball alone just to hone my skills. I had been up a few days snorting Ritalin and whatever else so I was scratching and getting frustrated. I was lining up a shot and not paying attention, bam, he blindsides me.”
Conrad thought about the way the enforcer hit him, lifted him from the ground and sent him flying into a nearby table, the feeling of the edge against his back, falling to the ground, and the way the carpet felt on his hands. He shook off the memory.
“I look up and it’s Dylan. He never liked me and he’s got this look in his eye because for once he’s justified to kick the shit out of me.”
“But how did you get mixed up with that sadistic bastard?” Marcus asked.
“He had that pharmaceutical connection. I thought it would be easy money. Everyone at the clubs and parties wants the pills because they know it’s uncut and high quality and I knew I could overcharge them. It would be a hustle but still it would be worth it. The weed from you was good but this was... I’m sorry.”
“Hey, it’s your life. You were being an entrepreneur.”
“Anyway, he’s on me but it’s like he’s toying with me. That was the worst part. I’m saying anything I can to get him to stop. I say, ‘I’ll do anything’ and he laughs at me. He tells me he had a bet that I’d try to bribe him with sex and how fags were good earners but could never be real members.
“I start to get to my knees but I’m dizzy and he grabs hold of my hair, I fall against him. He starts laughing. That’s when I got my gun from the ankle holster and I press the barrel up into his balls. Fucker turned white as a ghost, he was scared of me or some freak accident.
“I had him good. He lets me go and backs away. I get to my feet but stagger. He moves like he’s coming at me but there’s too much distance and I steady myself. I can feel as I look at him, this maggot is mine.”
“You shot him?”
“No, not like that. I was ready to let him go. I just wanted some sleep. He starts saying things like how this isn’t over and how I owe money, and how the next time he sees me it’s personal, that he’ll take my head off and let guys use it for a toilet. It all felt so weird. I knew what I was doing but I don’t know. He says to me, ‘Next time I-’ and that’s when I pointed my gun at his chest.
“He held out his hand and you know the funny thing is that I shot it. I shot his hand. I’ve barely used a gun but it just popped up, bam. I see him start to go weak but I’m thinking I have to finish this so I shoot at him. One shot hits the wall, another hits some glass, and I’m panicking so I close on him and bam, bam, he’s down and out.”
Marcus sat in the passenger seat slowly nodding.
“What do I do now?”
“Now you run,” Marcus said.
“What? Why? No one else saw me. Did they?”
“Some waitress named Brenda saw the whole thing from behind the door. She called the police, said you shot him in cold blood. The police have a sketch of your face and a description. They don’t know your name but they’ll probably find fingerprints. The Brotherhood got to her after that which is how I know. I heard it from her directly, and they know your name. They’re coming after you.”
“Even you?”
Marcus gave him a look and Conrad let out a nervous laugh.
“I care about you but this can’t be fixed. You have to get out of this city and start over somewhere. You can’t go home and you can’t go to any relative’s place. Drive out to the West Coast and get lost there.”
“What about us?”
“Maybe one day, when I retire or maybe I can meet up with you sometime, somewhere on a vacation but you know everything I do is with the club.”
“I’ll be alone,” he said. He didn’t know if he loved the man. He didn’t believe in love. But he did need the man. He could rely on him.
Some part of him wanted to be just cold and calculating. Some part of him wanted to believe Marcus cared. He wanted to believe it wasn’t a facade like when he pretended to be tough and when he pretended to be straight. He had to find out. He had to make the man feel something for him. He winced and looked to his hands. He felt like he could cry but he knew that would be too weak to Marcus. He had to have strength enough to hold the tears back.
“Do you have enough?”
“I’ve got a little of what I was selling, some cash I was going to pay him, a few things but nothing of real value.”
Marcus reached into the breast pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a roll of bills wrapped in rubber bands. The wad had been stuck together for some time and was old and not bills recently taken from a cash machine.
“There’s three grand there in small bills mostly. That’s the best I can come up with right now from my squirrel fund.”
“I need more than this,” Conrad said. “I can’t live like I did before when I was on the street. I can’t go back to that.”
“Do you have some place you can stay for a while? I can get you some more money unless you find some of your own.”
Conrad slouched in his seat as he tried to think over his friends in life, someone the police and the gang wouldn’t know about, couldn’t find through a simple background check. There was one name that came to mind, they had been close once for a brief time but never stayed in contact. It would be easy enough to track him down.
“Yeah, I might know someone,” Conrad said.
“Good, take the car and drive out now, as far as you can. No one knows what you’re driving so don’t get panicked. You find a place off the main road somewhere and crash for a few days to sleep this off. We’ll stay in contact through my second burner phone, no one knows about it.”
“This guy, he lives-”
Marcus silenced him with a finger.
“I don’t want to know where. You need to get safe, let this blow over, and I’ll contact you.”
“Thank you,” Conrad said.
“Come here,” Marcus replied.
Conrad leaned over to hug Marcus but was lifted to his lap where they embraced and kissed as the older man ran his hands under the younger man’s shirt to his shoulder blades where he grasped at the skin there.
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Sunday, May 11, 2014
New Book - Shadow's Night Excerpt, Prologue
Down to editing the last chapter of my book I hope to publish soon so
as a little celebration of my achievement I decided to post the
Prologue today. I will post two other chapters soon...
After shooting a man while on a bender of drugs he was supposed to sell Conrad flees the city and goes to a place where he believes no one will find him, the home of Simon Winters, an old cellmate from his years in juvenile detention. But he knows he can’t stay for long and Conrad’s greed inadvertently causes Simon to confront his past and his life in a small town where memories run deep. How will Simon survive Conrad’s path to darkness?
http://brieflytoldstories.blogspot.com/2014/05/shadows-night-prologue-going-home.html
After shooting a man while on a bender of drugs he was supposed to sell Conrad flees the city and goes to a place where he believes no one will find him, the home of Simon Winters, an old cellmate from his years in juvenile detention. But he knows he can’t stay for long and Conrad’s greed inadvertently causes Simon to confront his past and his life in a small town where memories run deep. How will Simon survive Conrad’s path to darkness?
http://brieflytoldstories.blogspot.com/2014/05/shadows-night-prologue-going-home.html
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