Rainbow Snippet 1/26/2020 Halfway to Someday

Rainbow Snippets gives writers a chance to share six sentences (and sometimes a little more) of LGBTQ+ fiction every weekend. Check out the Rainbow Snippets group on Facebook for more snippets: https://www.facebook.com/groups/RainbowSnippets/

A little longer than six sentences but best not to break up :)

“I’ll be out of the way in a minute; this is almost done. You can report back to Kyle that I ate.”

“Don’t you mean I could report back that you cooked, since technically, I haven’t even seen you take a bite yet.”

“Whatever.”

“Jesse.”

“What?”

Ryker huffed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “I wasn’t spying on you for Kyle. He’s just worried about both of us.”

“Oh, now he’s worried,” Jesse scoffed.

“Sounds to me like he’s been worried for a while.”

“And is that supposed to be my fault?”

“I don’t know. Is it?”

Ryker let the words hang in the air between them. He needed to piss but worried that the moment he stepped out of the doorway, Jesse would once again flee back to his room. Surprisingly, Jesse sighed and hung his head.

“I’d have told him the truth if he’d given me half a chance,” Jesse muttered, his voice low and sad.

“You talk like it’s too late,” Ryker replied. “I know Kyle would welcome a phone call from you and a chance to talk.”

“You don’t know shit.”

Halfway to Someday: Available Tomorrow 1/27/2020 at online booksellers everywhere: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B083YW8DLW/

Rainbow Snippet 1/18/2020: Halfway to Someday

Rainbow Snippets gives writers a chance to share six sentences (and sometimes a little more) of LGBTQ+ fiction every weekend. Check out the Rainbow Snippets group on Facebook for more snippets: https://www.facebook.com/groups/RainbowSnippets/


Picking up where last weeks left off:

“I didn’t want him ditching you up there.”

“You let me handle me. You should have used that chance right there to find out what the hell was going on with Jesse. Fuck! I thought we were okay for a little while there. Maybe if I hadn’t asked to use the space up here…”

“No. I’m glad you asked. At least there was something I could do to help you since Jesse seems bound and determined to keep me at arm’s length.”

“Can’t help but feel I chased him out of here though. I swear I wasn’t trying to. Things just spiraled real quick.”

“Still not your fault, so stop blaming yourself.” Another heavy sigh from Kyle. “How have you been holding up?”

Now it was Ryker’s turn to sigh.

“I’ve been better. Wish I’d brought a carton of cigarettes before coming up here. I’m sure my docs would tell me what a good thing it was that I didn’t. The silence sucks though, man. At least, when Jesse played his music, there was that to look forward to.”

“Fuck, Ryker are you taking your meds?”

“Yeah, but they aren’t helping much.”

Coming January 27th from Nine Star Press

Halfway to Someday Cover Reveal and Sneak Peek

Firelight flickered against the stone mantel of the fireplace, yet despite its warmth, Jesse shivered and huddled in the blankets he’d wrapped around his shoulders. The winds outside had picked up as the sun sank lower in the sky. Now, as the minutes ticked closer to sunset, they howled like the crowds in the stands at every show he’d ever played. Staring into tear-blurred flames, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever climb up on a stage again. His fingers itched to touch his guitar, but what was the point in creating anything with the way his bandmates had turned their backs on him.

“Way to go.”

The sarcasm in Tish’s voice was unmistakable. Whirling, Jesse turned to glare at her.

“You think I ruined the concert on purpose?”

“What are we supposed to think!” she spat, crowding into his space. Didn’t matter that she was shorter, she had a way of getting right in his face. “The way you played tonight was abysmal. The fans didn’t deserve that. We didn’t deserve to have you out there ruining the set like that. You let everyone down tonight, so instead of making excuses, why don’t you tell us what the hell you’re on so you can get the treatment you need!”

“I’m not on anything!” he roared; then Kyle and Griffin were there, crowding him back against the wall.

“You garbled half the words to songs you wrote!” Griffin shot back.

“Not to mention how many times you were off key and singing in an entirely different pitch than you were supposed to!” Kyle rebuked, staring into his eyes. “Were you drunk up there? High? Are you high now?”

“It was a bad night, okay? Why the hell can’t you all leave it at that?”

“One night is a bad night,” Tish hissed. “Hell, even two nights out of an eight-month tour, but this was what, the eleventh, twelfth time you’ve fucked everything up?”

“Fourteen,” Griffin said. “You’re forgetting the show he had to cut short in Reno and the one we had to cancel in San Diego when he called and said he couldn’t perform. Couldn’t even bother to come tell us to our faces, he was so strung out.”

“I. Don’t. Use,” he snarled[CE2] , exhausted, throat hurting as they’d loomed over him like vultures ready to pick him apart.

“Then tell us what the fuck is going on!” Kyle snapped.

Jesse shook his head, defeated, as he stared up into the eyes of his oldest friend. “I-I can’t.”

“You mean you won’t!” Tish chided. “And you’ll drag all of us down with you as our band, our dream, fizzles and burns.”

“It’s not like that. That’s the last thing I want.”

“Could have fooled me,” she snapped, sidestepping him and walking away, leaving the others to follow her.

“I just need time to work a few things out,” he called after them, cringing at the burn in his throat any time he tried to get loud. None of them even so much as turned back to look at him.

Pain sliced through his insides like broken glass, and he cringed and curled inward, rocking in the hopes of easing the ache. It wasn’t fair—he’d never set out do anything that would hurt the band or their music, never meant to get up there and fail or worse, not make it up there at all. But he’d screwed up both his personal and his professional life in all the worst ways possible…well, all except the ways they’d thought. He wasn’t stupid. [CE3] He’d never use any of the hard stuff; he knew what it could do to bands, and he didn’t drink to get drunk, despite how free-flowing the whiskey and liquor got. Pot was different; it came from the earth, and besides, he only smoked it in the states where it was already legal recreationally. It mellowed him out when his brain was racing a mile a minute, and sometimes, that hazy silence was the only way he could relax enough to sleep. They knew him; they knew how deeply he loved the music, how it was all he had aside from them, and yet…

Did he even have them anymore?

Halfway to Someday

Coming January 27th

Rocker Jesse Winters just wants to be left alone. If he could melt into oblivion he would and bid farewell to the wild child of rock n’ roll so many have dubbed him in recent months. Truth is, there was never anything reckless, wild or even deliberate about most of the things that had happened on Wild Child’s last tour, but had anyone cared to listen? No! which was precisely why he was sitting in a cabin high up in the Colorado mountains, hoping the incoming blizzard would bury him forever.

Ryker Jorgensen left the VA hospital with a bunch of prescriptions and pamphlets on how to deal with reentering the civilian world, not that he’s in any hurry to do so. His nightmares still keep him up at night, and every new limitation he discovers gives him more reason to believe that he’s hopelessly useless now. Better to drive up to his cousin’s cabin and lick his wounds. Come spring, maybe, he’d look into being around people, if only for long enough to make the kind of money he’d need to buy his own secluded place.

The last thing he ever expected to see was the man whose face had been plastered in his footlocker and his dreams for the better part of the past six years, but Jesse Winters is nothing like he imagined. When trying to leave Ryker out in the storm doesn’t work, Jesse resorts to ignoring him. But two wounded souls trapped in a snowed-in cabin have little choice but to reach out for one another when emotions get frayed. His only hope is that Jesse will trust him enough to let him drag him back from the edge before he’s just another burned-out star in the legacy that is rock n’ roll.

Rainbow Snippet: Halfway to Someday 1/11/2020

Rainbow Snippets gives writers a chance to share six sentences (and sometimes a little more) of LGBTQ+ fiction every weekend. Check out the Rainbow Snippets group on Facebook for more snippets: https://www.facebook.com/groups/RainbowSnippets/

“You know I’ve listened to every CD you ever sent me and have most of Wild Child’s lyrics memorized, but the stuff he was singing up here? It was from a really dark place. About hurting and death and hating who he’d become.”

“That’s not like Jesse. He always said music was supposed to be a celebration of life. He hated touching on the darker aspects and said he never felt he could do them justice.”

“Well, I think something happened to change all that.”

“That’s what I want to know! That stubborn bastard. Why run? Why not fucking talk to me, goddamn it!”

“Maybe because the moment you had him on the phone you blew up at him!” 

Coming January 27, 2020 from Nine Star Press

Dust Trail Blues Interview: Nash

Good morning, Nash, please tell me you’re a morning person ort this conversation is about to get off to a really rough start.

Naa, it’s all good, I don’t mind mornings as much as some people I know. *snickers*

Yeah, I’ve already gotten an earful and a half from him about starting the interview so early and not telling him the moment he arrived that there was coffee ready.

It’s okay, he kind of needs to cut down on caffeine anyway. His blood pressure is high enough.

You should try slipping him some decaf. Just pour out most of the coffee grinds in the can and replace them with decaf, give the can a good shake to mix them all together and slowly wean him off the high octane stuff that way.

And when he figures it out, and you know he will, who’s going to keep him from burying me under the shop.

Well, when you put it that way, perhaps it isn’t the best way to ensure one’s personal safety.

Exactly. So, why are you dragging us all back out, anyway? Stories over, fade to black and all that dramatic shit. Notebook neatly tucked away in a box with the others and our storyboard taken down. You didn’t decide to write a sequel, did you?

And if I did?

Makes no difference to me, I’ll come out and play whenever, but um, wanna do me a favor this time?

Depends.

Okay, well, if there is any more scary shit to be found, wanna let someone else find it?

I’ll think about, now can you stop sidetracking the interview and let me actually ask a question?

You still haven’t told me why you dragged us all back out here to play.

I thought it would be fun to talk to you each one on one and introduce you to the public, ya snarky brat.

Oh, well, in that case, hello reader-verse, I’m Nash, the character Layla took great pleasure in tormenting through a large chunk of Dust Trail Blues.

To be fair, you did sort of bring a lot of it on yourself.

Hey, isn’t this breaking the fourth wall?

No, it’s blowing it up, now can we get on with it?

Okay, okay, sheesh, ask what you’re going to ask so we can get this over with, I haven’t even had breakfast yet.

Don’t you start too, or I swear, not only will I write a sequel, but I will set it during a record heatwave and make sure the air conditioner in the shop dies three pages in.

Are you seriously trying to kill me?

At the moment, no, but it can be arranged if you keep on pushing your luck.

Fine, I’ll behave, alright, see this is me behaving, ask me anything you’d like.

Okay, have you been keeping a journal of your overheating incidents like Luke asked or did it go in one ear and out the other again?

Okay, anything but that.

Uh-huh, pretty sure you can expect a phone call from him the moment this goes live.

Gee, thanks.

Well, learn to listen and you wouldn’t have these issues.

Question…please.

Okay, were you seriously contemplating heading up to Alaska, or was that all just the melodrama and woe is me mess kicking in?

I still want to see Alaska. Maybe it’ll be a vacation trip or something. I just think it would be nice to be able to spend time outdoors without having to limit myself to particular hours or weather conditions, you know. And yeah, if things hadn’t worked out the way they had, then maybe. Or at least Maine. I hear it’s beautiful up there too, and mercifully cold a good chunk of the year.

What’s the coldest place you’ve lived since leaving Virginia?

Pennsylvania and Ohio. Holy crap it was awesome up there in the winter. Snow, ice, I could go hiking or wander down a trail for three out of the four seasons.

So why leave?

Cost of living, mostly, I moved out of two different places in the same year because the landlords there raised the rent.

You know the secret to getting around that, right?

Yeah, yeah, my Gram has said the same things about a billion times. Get a better job, one where I can put my talents to good use and get paid top dollar for the things I create.

Exactly.

There’s more to life than money you know.

An argument that’s difficult to make when you’re strapping your stuff to the back of your Triumph in late November so you can move it into your new apartment before the snowstorm hits.

Good point. Moving on now.

Okay, tell me about the goats.

What about them?

Do you get along with them better now or are you still worried about one of them launching you into the next county?

The goats and I have reached a tentative truce. I give them a wide berth and refrain from discussing the ingredients in Mediterranean Goat Casserole in their presence and they grant me safe passage through the salvage yard.

Uh-huh, so, if you give them such a wide berth, why were you brushing goat feed dust off your jeans when you first came in? Admit it, they’ve grown on you.

Nope.

I’m pretty sure those are brown, tan and black goat hairs clinging to your t-shirt right now.

Okay, so the kids are cute. But once they get their horns, forget it. I’ve got no interest in being turned into shish-kabobs by one of the ornery things.

Well I see one thing hasn’t changed.

Yeah, and what’s that?

You’re unwillingness to admit you were wrong about something. The goats are awesome, aren’t they? Come on, you can say it, the goats are awesome, which was why you were rolling a soccer ball to some of them early this morning when you went out to help Justice with their feed. And I could swear I saw you sitting in the shade of a magnolia just last night, one of the new kids sleeping across you where you were doodling away in that sketchbook of yours.

Okay, okay, you win! The goats are adorable. Even the ones with massive horns. There. I said it. Happy now.

Very. 

Dust Trail Blues

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B081TLQRXF/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i0

Now Available from Encompass Ink