The other day, as I was driving up the road, I was reminded of an idea that I'd had for a short story, and pulled over to the side of the road to write it down. Later, during a block of free time, I started mocking up scenes and in doing so, was reminded of a time when I believed myself incapable of writing a short. May workshops later, I found the courage to submit my first one to Wayward Ink publishing, and the rest is, as they say, history. Forbidden appeared in the Mix n' Match Anthology and after that I made it my mission to submit one for each anthology announced, plus go out and seek other anthologies to submit to. In the end, All Roads Lead Within appeared in Wayward Ink's Age is Just a Number anthology, while Forged in Steel appeared in Wayward Ink's Collars and Cuffs Anthology. Along the way, two short stories were released as stand alone pieces. Today, I wanted to take a moment to share excepts from each stand along and an exclusive peek at a never before released short as well as my upcoming release in the new Fractured Fairytales Anthology.
Spider Webs and Cover Art: Written for the Take a Pause call for submissions from MLR Press, this short is near and deep to my heart. The semi-colon tattoo described in the book is one that I eventually had tattooed on my own wrist, a memorial for a friend who took his own life at 18. Jace's struggle to understand what happened to his brother was difficult to write, but I hope it's one readers will take a chance on.
Losing his brother leaves rocker Jace Christenson struggling to understand how it happened, and what he can do to open the door to a conversation about suicide and mental illness. A trip to visit an old friend who runs the tattoo parlor where he got his first tattoo soon nets him a conversation piece, in the form of a semi-colon tattoo, but the pain of grief is still overwhelming. Reconnecting with his band is an obstacle he's not sure he can overcome. It takes some time away with best friend and fellow bandmate Troy Paulus to finally get him to open up and accept that the things he's feeling are normal parts of the healing process. And if along the way, the two grow even closer, than that's just a bonus right?
“Blaming
yourself isn’t going to change what happened,” she said, after a few minutes of
both of them just listening to the hum of the gun.
“I know.
I just wish I could understand why.”
“There is
no understanding. It isn’t a math problem you can solve. And maybe you’ll learn
more about what he was going through when you read those journals, but the
final thing that pushed him over the edge you might never know.”
Jace had
nothing to say to that, so he unwrapped another candy and popped it in his
mouth.
“I
thought about putting it in a spider’s web,” he said suddenly. “The semi-colon,
I fiddled around with a few drawings before deciding on this one.”
“You
should have brought them in, it’s easier when people do.”
“They
looked like shit,” he said. “Just doodles on a napkin”
“So,
something’s better than nothing.”
“Maybe.”
“You
know, after my sister got help, she said she understood why my brothers and I
had stopped talking to her,” she began. “She said part of her therapy was
learning how to seek out the things that brought her joy, even when she didn’t
feel like doing anything. Make sure you look at this whenever you start feeling
down on yourself for all the things you think you should have done. It isn’t
healthy to dwell in the past.”
“Yeah.”
“Not
yeah. Yes Sherri, you’re older than me and wiser than me and you’re right,” she
said as she turned his wrist a little. “Because I am right, Jace. Believe me
when I tell you that you’re not the only one to ask “what if.” When I found out
what Lydia was really going through, I hated myself for having turned my back
on her. I woke up in tears in the middle of the night because I’d dreamed
something had happened to her while I was living it up, enjoying my life. I’m
betting that’s exactly what you’re feeling right now.”
“Pretty
much.”
“It’s in
your eyes, whenever you say his name,” Sherri explained.
Jace
sighed heavily and sucked on the candy, silently watching her work.
“How
happy would you have been, if you’d stayed?” she asked as she worked just over
the bone, making him close his eyes and focus on not flinching.
“Miserable,”
he said at last. “All I ever wanted was to share my music with the world.”
“Then
don’t second guess it,” she warned. “Brian wouldn’t have wanted you to be
miserable, any more than you wanted him to be.”
“I just
wish I’d known how miserable he was.”
“Maybe he
couldn’t find the words to tell you, or maybe he just didn’t want you to know.
Maybe the reason he always asked to hear about your adventures, was because
they brightened his day.”
“I never
thought about that.”
“You
should.”
Nero keeps his mind sharp and his body toned for the nights he spends stripping for horny men. In the light of day, however, he's bitter. Can his best friend Vance help restore his belief in love?
Vance has always loved cooking. His dream is to return to the coast of Maine where he grew up to open his own restaurant. The closer he gets to that goal, the angrier he feels when Nero doesn't seem to have any goals or plans for the future. He wants better for Nero, even while harboring a secret dream that somewhere in Nero's future there might be a place for him.
“Everything’s
a joke to you, isn’t it? You can never take anything seriously, never give a serious answer to a serious question.”
“I
thought you said it was a hypothetical question.”
“That
didn’t mean I wasn’t expecting a real answer, dammit! Nero this is your life
we’re talking about. Why is it so hard for you to take seriously?”
“Sorry
I didn’t realize it was a life or death answer. Vance, relax. You want me to be
serious about something, fine. I’m seriously pissed off right now because that
son of a bitch that’s been hanging around the bar was back again tonight,
that’s the fourth time this week. According to Harry he only shows up for my
shifts, even asked him when I’m on and of course, my uncle told him because
he’s Harry and he’s a sadistic son of a bitch. So I finish up tonight, and this guy corners me beside the
bar, tells me he’d love to take me out for dinner and that he’d really like to
talk. He’s got me crowded against the wall,
and he’s clutching my hand, and I don’t
have room to move back or anything. This guy, he’s just steadily pleading with
me to come sit down and talk to him, and I could see Harry over his shoulder, just
standing there at the bar, watching it all.”
“Shit,
Nero, he didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No,
but that’s not the point. The point is that he hasn’t learned to take no for an
answer and keeps coming back. He kept insisting that he isn’t trying to pick me
up, that if I’d just go to dinner with him,
he’d explain why he wanted to talk. Yeah, so I can end up with a roofie in my
drink or some other crazy shit. No thanks.”
“Yeah
because it’s impossible for him to be serious, right!” Vance exploded. “That’s
what stripping has done to you, made you think of yourself as cheap.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who…”
“Shut.
UP!” Vance yelled, the ferocity in his tone making Nero jump. “You’re so
convinced that everyone’s a sleazy jerkoff that you toss the nice guys out
right alongside the assholes. Worse though is
that you won’t even take the time to consider doing something more with your
life. You’re just content to waste it grinding against a pole and
flaunting yourself on a stage.”
“This
from the guy who fills notebooks full of unrealistic expectations without ever
taking into account that he might just fail!”
“And
you think you’re being realistic? Face it Nero, all you’re doing is settling for way
less than your fullest potential, and
that’s a shame. You’re wasting your life, Nero and what truly sucks is that I
have to be here to see it.”
“Well
then close your eyes from now on, ‘cause the last thing I need is you judging
me!” Nero snapped, snatching up his notepad and stalking back to his room,
slamming the door behind him so hard the mirror hanging behind it fell off its
nail and shattered on the floor.
Fuckin’
figured Nero grumbled as he flopped down on his bed. It was only then that he’d
remembered that he’d never gotten to read Vance the poem he’d truly wanted to.
^^^
“You almost bit Langley’s head off tonight,
and though he deserved a stern reprimand, I am not sure equating his cooking to
reconstituted squid entrails was very motivating. What’s going on with you? You
usually have far more tact than that.”
“Sorry
Chef, it’s been a really rough couple of days.”
“You’re
telling me, I don’t think the staff is used to you yelling at them so much. Me,
they practically cry when I’m silent, thinking I’m plotting their demise or an all-night
mis en plas, but from you, they look like they want to puke or hide in the coatroom,
possibly both at the same time.”
“I’ll
be more mindful of that tomorrow.”
“See
that you do. In the meantime, why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
“Just
shit at home, which I know I shouldn’t bring with me into the kitchen. I just,
I can’t even make it right because Nero’s been avoiding me since it happened. I
think he switched to the late, late shift because I pass out before I hear him
come in. He hasn’t been leaving for his morning workouts either. I can hear him
moving around in his room, but he never
comes out while I’m home. This morning I tried knocking,
and the dick just turned his music up louder.”
“What
happened?”
“We
got into it about him not having any plans for the future and always making a
joke about it whenever I bring it up. I think I might have pushed too far this
time, but I hate seeing him waste his potential.”
“What
you see as a waste might be exactly what
he needs right now. Never forget that there are many different paths. Some
people are planners, and some are
drifters, but isn’t the truly important thing that they reach the end of the
path together?”
Vance
hung his head. It seemed so simple when Chef said it.
“Look.
It’s clear to me how much you care about him, but you need to make it clear to
Nero. Attacking what you think are his flaws isn’t going to convey to him that
you care about his well-being and it certainly isn’t going to make it easy for
him to accept that you have feelings for him. I think you need to sit down and
explain to him why you said whatever it is you said, without attacking him with
it or picking up where your last argument left off.”
“How
am I supposed to do that if he won’t even talk to me?”
“Boy,
do I have to teach you everything I know about romance?”
“Chef,
the extent of your romantic knowhow is a long stemmed rose in an empty wine
bottle, chocolate martinis and crab stuffed lobster with a butter sauce; though
it might have helped if you’d checked to see if she was allergic to shellfish
first.”
Chef
chuckled, waving at the air between them. “Not one of my finer moments but
that’s completely beside the point. All I’m trying to say is that sometimes a
grand gesture is exactly what you need to
get the other person’s attention. From there it’s up to you how you’re going to
go about making things right.”
Sighing
heavily, Vance rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, and I do want to make it up
to him. I shouldn’t have yelled at him.”
“Don’t
tell me, tell him.”
“I
will, Chef. Thank you. I’d better be getting home now.”
Vance
stood and stretched his back, then headed for the door.
“Hey, Vance.”
Pausing,
Vance glanced back to where Chef sat behind his desk. “Yes, Chef.”
“When
you love someone, you love them for who they are, not what you’d make of them.
If you can’t do that, then it really isn’t love.”
Vance
closed his eyes and nodded, knowing Chef was right. In truth, he really didn’t
want to change Nero; all this time he’d been fishing around for Nero’s plans
for the future, it had been in the hopes
that he’d say something, anything to give Vance some inkling that they had dreams
that could somehow mesh.
Season of New Beginnings: Coming this holiday season from Nine Star Press.
Sitting
there, surrounded by partygoers in Santa hats and green elf shoes, he found
himself wondering if Clay had found the time to trim his tree or shop for
Christmas dinner. If he’d gotten the stack of cards he’d written out to the
mailbox or if he’d set the DVR to record the Christmas shows he loved but would
otherwise miss.
“Hey!
Hey wait a minute,” Desi’s screeching words cutting through Josh’s thoughts
like nails on a chalkboard. “I thought you two were dating?”
Josh
pressed a hand to his forehead and dragged it down his face. Inside he was
seething, and it was taking every ounce of control he had not to snatch that
pink squirrel from Desi’s hand and upend it over his head.
“We
were,” Josh snapped. “But that didn’t make him ‘my man.’ People aren’t
possessions, I fuckin’ hate that term ‘my man.’ I’m my own fuckin’ person and
so is he. Just because we were in a relationship doesn’t mean we stopped being
individuals. And before you say some more stupid shit, I hate when assholes
decide to call me babe. Makes me wanna jackslap them upside the head.”
“You’re
a bitter, violent little queen aren’t you? No wonder you can’t keep a man.”
Josh
growled and snatched up his shot of whiskey and downed it before slamming the
glass back onto the bar hard enough that it was a miracle it didn’t crack.
“Motherfucker,
if you don’t get the hell away from me and stay the hell away from me for the
rest of the night, I’m gonna forget this is David’s party, tear that ratty wig
off your head, and ram it down your throat.”
Desi
pursed his lips, narrowed his eyes, and licked his tongue out along the
glittery metallic pink of his lip gloss before batting his eyes flirtatiously
at Josh, a sight that made the younger man’s stomach turn.
“That’s
not what I’d prefer for you to be ramming down my throat,” Desi practically purred,
as Josh all but fell off the barstool in his haste to get away. “Nor is it your
mother I’d love to be fucking.”
“God I
hate you,” Josh grumbled and stomped across the room.
“Merry Christmas,
Sweetheart!” Desi called after him. “Now that’s one queen that needs to get
laid.”
Joshua
almost turned at Desi’s parting remarks; the only thing stopping him was the
fact that he didn’t have enough money on him for bail, at least for the kind of
charges he’d end up with if he did to Desi everything that was running through
his mind. Shouldering his way past people, and ignoring the looks and questions
they hurled his way, he headed for the door. He’d almost made it to the coat-check
room when he crashed
into Brayden Parker, nearly sending the other man plummeting to the floor. Of course, wherever Brayden was,
his partner, Chase Bennington, was close at hand, and after he’d steadied
Brayden, his ironclad grip clasped around Josh’s arm, holding him firmly in
place.
“What
the hell’s your problem?” Chase demanded as he gave Josh a bit of a shake. Josh
wasn’t a small man, but compared to Chase’s six-foot-six muscle-bound frame, he
might as well have been.
“Sorry,
just in a hurry to get the hell out of here.”
“Yeah,
well too bad,” Chase grumbled.
Balling
his hands into fists, Josh glared up to see Chase glaring right back at him,
his ice-blue eyes seeming even colder, even with the bright colors from the
Christmas lights overhead reflecting in them.
“What
the hell is that supposed to mean?” Josh growled as he twisted, determined to
yank his arm loose from Chase’s hold.
“It
means you ain’t going anywhere yet, not until David unveils his surprise. He
specifically asked that all of his friends be here to share whatever it is with
him and Dion, and knowing how he feels about you, it would hurt his feelings if
you weren’t here to see it, so sit down and stop acting like you’re the only
one who’s ever gone through a breakup. You’re an adult, act like it.”
“What
the fuck do you know?”
“I know
you’ve been acting like a selfish little punk all night, glaring at everyone
who tries to talk to you and storming around like you’re just spoiling for a
fight. Well if that’s what you’re after, we can go outside, just as long as you
know I’m dragging your ass back in here when we’re done.”
Now that
got Josh’s dander up. He might not have the size advantage, but he’d been in
his share of fights and was never one for backing down.
“And
what makes you think you’d win?” Josh demanded, drawing his arm back, itching to
punch the smug look
right off of Chase’s face, would have too, if Brayden hadn’t stepped between
them.
“Behave
yourselves, both of you,” Brayden hissed. “Chase, I’d like another Sloe Gin
Fizz please.”
The
smile he fixed his boyfriend with was one-part innocence and two-parts predator.
Josh had to chuckle. While Chase might be the bruiser in the family, it was
clear who was truly running things. Chase sighed, his face softened and his
stance relaxed.
“Sure,”
Chase replied and turned, heading back the way Josh had come, toward the bar.
“He’d
have broken you in two,” Brayden cautioned as soon as Chase was out of earshot,
“and then he’d have felt like shit about it. The last thing I need is him being
broody and mopey at Christmas, so ease up, will ya?”
“I’m not
the one who started it.”
“Really?
Hmmm, guess it’s some other guy plowing through the place looking to bowl
people over on his way to the door?”
“Yeah,
well, I am sorry about that. Desi was
being an ass; I figured if I didn’t leave, I’d end up going to jail for beating
him half to death with his own wig.”
“Awe, honey,
you need to relax a minute, before you go and do something you’ll regret,
though it seems like you already have. It’s an easy fix you know. If you miss
Clay so much, why not just tell him that?”
Josh
snorted.
“When?
Between the playlist that needs tweaking or the guest list that’s gotten out of
control? If I had the cash, I’d schedule a consultation with him, because that
way, at least, I’d have his undivided attention, which is about the only way I’m
gonna get it.”
“Wow, I
never took you for the needy sort.”
“Margaret, it’s
been a pleasure, but I just saw someone I really need to catch up with.”
“Of course.
Take care, dear. I hope your next performance brings you threw. I’d love to get
together for lunch.”
For the first
time since their conversation began, he had to fake a smile, biting his tongue
to keep from replying that he hoped never to see the town again. Instead, he
gave a non-committal grunt and headed towards the door, scanning for curls and
a face that would be most welcome. Instead, a bulky body stepped into his path,
dressed in a navy blue dress that bulged in places. Blonde hair flowed over
lace covered shoulders, and Sebastian struggled to place her face, though he
was certain he’d seen it before.
“You were
really good up there.”
“Thank you,” he
remarked, trying to look past her to find that fluffy batch of curls.
“It’s a far cry
from Pirates of Penzance, isn’t it? I
heard you danced on Broadway in The Snow
Queen and Beauty’s Revenge.”
“Yes, though
that was a few years ago.”
“I wished we
could have seen you, but my husband isn’t much for ballet, I’m afraid.”
“I’m…sorry,” he
managed, not sure what she wanted to hear.
“I wish I’d
kept up with my dancing the way you have. It must be amazing, having the chance
to play so many different parts and see so many cities,” she gushed. All while,
he struggled to recall her name or where he’d known her from.
“It has its
moments,” he remarked, shuffling his feet as he brought the champagne glass to
lips, only to find it empty.
Her lips
pursed, then turned down into either a pout or a frown. He wasn’t sure. “You
don’t remember me, do you?”
“No. I’m sorry,
I don’t.”
“That’s okay.
I’ve gained a bunch of weight since I saw you last. You, though− you look
amazing. I could hardly believe it was you when you stepped out onto the stage.
I’m Kristen. Kristen DeMarco? It was actually Kristen Sousa back in high
school. We were on dance team together.”
He blinked and
studied her closer. Peered into cornflower blue eyes seeking any hint of who
she’d been. It was hard to believe they were the same age. She didn’t look 27. Hell,
she didn’t look like she was in her twenties at all. He’d have pegged her for
thirty-five.
“It’s nice
seeing you again, but I’ve really gotta run. I was trying to catch up to
someone.”
“I’m sorry. I just…can I ask you something first.”
He sighed, but
gave her a nod.
“What’s it like
being up there in front of so many people, having them in awe of you?”
It was a
struggle not to roll his eyes. Inside, he groaned, hating those type of
questions. Didn’t people realize that he didn’t dance for the adulation of the
crowd, but for his own pleasure?
“Dancing is exhilarating.
The rush is indescribable. You’d have to experience it to really understand.
Words don’t do it justice. Up there, I feel powerful, magical, alive, free to
slip into a role and soar with it. The discipline, not only to endure each
grueling practice, but to exercise control when fueling my body. There’s little
in this world that can compare to it. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
He said the
last part while stepping around her, searching for the one thing in his life
that topped his dancing.
Luca.
But those riotous
curls were nowhere in sight, and as he furiously strode through the room, it
finally clicked who Kristen Sousa was. Funny, but there had been nothing left
of the haughty, loud young woman he’d practiced with every day for years. He
remembered her now, giggling and whispering with her friends, the ‘in crowd’ of
catty girls who’d danced and done cheerleading, gossiped and pranced about the
hallways like they’d owned the school.
“Oh eww, can you believe they let him on our
team? I swear, he’d better not try to touch me. I am not doing lifts with him.”
“Yeah, you wouldn’t want to get warts or
scabies. l mean just look at his face.”
“Barf. Why would I want to? That’s just
sick.”
“At least you don’t have classes with him
after lunch. It’s a good thing he sits in the back. I’d vomit if I had to look
at him too long.”
“I want to vomit now.”
Sebastian
slammed his locker door hard enough that he knew he’d have trouble opening it
later, glaring at their retreating backs as they’d pressed their heads
together, snickering as they scurried down the hall.
