Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Deepest Blues TEASER ( Full Prologue)

Final teaser before Deepest Blues releases in less than a week! Pre-Order Links here!

Prologue



Cologne, Germany
3 years ago

After all of that.
Everything.
The secrets kept.
The promises made.
All that he had done for her.
For them.
Mike pushed his thumb and index finger into his eye sockets and breathed against the pain. The physicality of the burn in his eyes was nothing compared to the soul pulverizing drum of his pulse roaring in his ears.
The darkness was smothering. Or maybe that was his own thankless breath that was killing him. His chest was heavy. Like someone had filled the empty spaces between his ribs with lead. It was dragging, pulling him forward. He hunched over his legs, letting go of his face and allowing his head to hang unseeingly towards the floor.
It was still too easy to breathe. He tried to squeeze the air from his lungs, wondering at the brown edges around his vision. Wondering if he could follow the pattern and figure out it's path.
He jolted from his position when he heard someone walking down the hall.
He stood slowly, listening for an indication of identity.
The suite he occupied was massive, plush, beautiful. He had gotten it for her. Just like the spray of blue cornflowers on the table by the entry. Gifts. Distractions. Things to fill the void that threatened to swallow them—him—whole. He'd known he was grasping, scraping desperately at the fabric of his sanity. Or what was left of it.
It didn't matter what gifts he threw at her, the words he promised, the images he pretended weren't there. None of it mattered.
Nothing was the same.
His heart stuttered briefly and he wondered if maybe it wouldn't restart. That would be okay, he decided. But then it continued beating and he moved his attention back to the sounds in the hallway.
A soft feminine laugh rippled through him, and, like an undertow, he was pulled unwillingly to the door. The knob felt cold as he acknowledged the easy way it fit in his hand, the lack of resistance it gave him as he opened the door. Like it had conspired with the universe to bring him to this moment.
The hall opened up before him and his heart did the stutter again. Just as the door across the hall from him was falling closed on Ilsa's long porcelain legs, black skirt swishing just above her knee, her elegant figure hooked around the waist by a man's arm. Her elongated neck highlighted by the short and flirty cut of her iridescent blonde hair tilted to the side as her head rested on the shoulder of...
Of course.
They'd talked about this yesterday. At least, Mike was pretty sure it was yesterday. He'd lost track of time when it had all happened. And there wasn't a whole lot of talking. It was mostly Ilsa crying and explaining, Mike realizing too late what she was saying. Something about him being different. Or was it distant? He remembered thinking how odd that one moment, one breath—or lack thereof, could alter their lives so intensely.
Then she'd left.
He knew she wasn't coming back. Somewhere in his center, he just knew that it was well and truly over.
Hadn't it been over already, though? Hadn't he felt the distance for weeks, maybe even months? Hadn't he seen her talking and laughing with Sway? Laughing.
God, he loved her laugh. He was going to miss that.
The final moments, the death rattle of their love (in a very literal sense now) came suddenly but not unexpectedly. They'd been decaying for weeks. She'd finally put it to rest with her broken words falling from her chapped lips.
He must have stood in the hall for several minutes. He wasn't sure. But he knew he had to do something.
She was gone. And with his band mate—his brother—no less.
Mike wasn't capable of living with that. Not an overly morose person, this feeling of utter devastation and loss was foreign to him. Yes, he'd been broken up with before; yes, he'd experienced the pain of a relationship tearing apart like flesh ripping from bone. But something about this moment was different. Something darker and far more lethal was threatening to take over his mind.
His thoughts skittered to the obvious solution. Though Ilsa had claimed that his recreational substance use was what had pushed her into Sway's arms, he now saw them as his only outlet. His only source of control in this unfair and unpredictable world.
He wasn't an idiot. He knew it wasn't his friend. He knew the risk. But didn't all reward come with risk? He most definitely was acquainted with the reward. The bliss of darkness, of calm. Like crashing into a giant pillow and finding sleep.
He hadn't slept in a week. How could he? All he saw was the accusing eyes of the hospital staff. All he heard was the abundance of heartbeats in his own chest and the lack of them in another.
His door slammed shut on his right. He looked at it briefly, then slid his phone out of his pocket, texting his contact on the crew who would no doubt get him exactly what he needed.
He needed to think. He could figure out how to be okay with all of this if he could just find some time to think and plan. This would help. It always helped. Made him feel connected to the bigger picture when he was usually so wrapped up inside himself.
Besides, the show wasn't until tomorrow. He had plenty of time.
This would help.
That's all he wanted.
Just a little bit of help.

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Deepest Blues TEASER

Who was she?”
What? Who was who?” Mike asked. Ilsa reared back, eyes wild, hands waving in front of her, palms out like she could not believe what he'd just said.
The woman at the bar? How many times have you slept with her?”
Mike rolled his eyes and ran both hands through his hair. So she was on this again. Whatever. He turned to the living quarters of their suite and flopped onto the sofa. Maybe if he ignored her, she'd go away. Or at least shut up.
Why won't you answer me?” she yelled at his back.
Because you're crazy?” Mike asked sarcastically.
He probably shouldn't be pushing her buttons. But they had had this argument just hours ago.
I can't believe you would say that to me,” she whispered just behind him.
Mike twisted on the couch to face her, one arm along the back. “Really, Ilsa? We just had this fight. I told you I don't know the woman! She was being nice, that's all.”
You expect me to think that a beautiful woman who is all over you means nothing to you?” Ilsa's voice pitched higher.
Mike swore under his breath. “She asked me to sign a napkin. I'm famous, it happens!”
Now he was getting mad. He hated getting mad. She just wouldn't stop. She never stopped. It was the same paranoid bullshit all the time. He stood up and stalked across the room to the front door, picking up his jacket off of the chair. He knew he should have cut her off earlier. She reached incredible levels of insanity when she'd partied too much. Why couldn't she partake in something more relaxing? Why did it always have to be vodka? And why did it always have to be explosive?
Where are you going?” she shrieked.
Can you hear yourself?” Mike shouted at her. “Why would I stay here when I'm getting screamed at?”
He slid his arms into the sleeves and turned his back to her. In those few seconds she ripped the lamp cord out of the wall and hurled it from the balcony. Mike heard the crash on the sidewalk below and he stared at her.
Her blue eyes challenged him to do something about it. He rushed to the open balcony door and looked at the shattered pieces below. People were looking up at them and he was certain he saw a camera flash. Perfect.
Spinning back around, he found her right behind him, a blank look on her face. He grabbed her by her arm and forced her back inside. She struggled and let out a loud yelp of exaggerated pain. Of course.
He closed the door behind him and then lost his temper.
What the hell is the matter with you?! You could have killed someone!”
Ilsa's chin began to quiver and large tears formed in her eyes. “I just want you to notice me!” she yelled.
How could I not?” Mike swung his arms out to the sides. “You make the biggest frickin' spectacle—Oh my God, stop crying!”
She covered her face with both hands and crumpled to the floor just as someone knocked on the door. Because that's what hotel staff did when a guest threw a lamp out the window. And they normally brought security.
Are you happy now?” Mike yelled. She sobbed loudly at his feet. 

 

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Phoning it in (this is what it looks like)

I know, I know, I know, I'm way behind on posting anything.  This week is the week of deadlines, so my brain is tied up at the moment.  It's so full of all the things I want o share with you.  I just don't have the time.  Tomorrow I'll be over at Ms J's and I'll have a little rant for you or something equally irritating.  
 
Today though, today, you get poetry.  Because it's what I have and it's what is kind of happening in book 5 (spoilers).
 
Without Your Permission
 
I would love you
 
at the beginning and end of your words
at the start and finish of your breaths
in between the awkward pauses
     and broken silences
and even the length of your sighs
 
     and lies
 
I would love you
 
without reason or shame
without remorse or guilt
without absence
     
     or calculation
 
I would
              love 
                      you