Today's holiday morsel is an excerpt from the Adrien English CYOA novel
STRANGER THINGS HAVE HAPPENED and you'll notice I'm sharing one of the gorgeous full color interior illustrations by the amazing Catherine Dair.
As you may or may not know, I used
Fatal Shadows as the rough guideline for STRANGER THINGS HAVE HAPPENED. This allowed me to embellish and expand a bit on
Fatal Shadows for those who can never quite get enough of Adrien and Jake, but the fun part is the multiple alternate possibilities for how that story could have gone. And if you've read STHH, you know that it could have gone very right or VERY wrong.
The illustrations, four in total, are probably the best thing about the book. So thank you yet again, Catherine.
Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing it--the SO tells me maniacal laughter echoed from my office on more than one occasion--but frankly it was the most difficult project I've ever done, and I'm not sure I have the nerve to try another (sorry, those of you who have suggested Will and Taylor are prime for CYOA).
I'm giving away two copies of the print edition that contains the full color illustrations. If you've tracked them down to Createspace (the
only place you can purchase them new) you know they're on the pricy side. So let's see...comment on why you feel Adrien and Jake are unique and you'll be included in the drawing for one of these two giveaway copies.
And for those of you who haven't bought the ebook or B&W edition but are a bit curious, enjoy the crazy:
PLOT LINE J If you decide
to go with Claude to Ball and Chain, turn to page...
The music is
deafening and about two decades out of date. For some reason, that strikes you
as the most embarrassing thing so far. Of course, the night is young. A lot of
guys are dancing, and you are reminded yet again that it is sadly true that
most white guys, even gay white guys, can’t dance.
You avert your
gaze from the dreadful spectacle — and who should you spot from clear across
the cavern-sized room but Detective Riordan. He’s standing at the bar drinking
whisky and staring broodingly into space. Your jaw drops and you walk right
into a guy who looks like an extra for Marlon Brando in The Wild One.
No, correction. He looks like Marlon Brando in later years trying to force his
way back into his costume from The Wild One. Talk about something your
best friends won’t tell you.
The guy, who is
old enough to be your father — although thinking about your parents in this context
kinda makes you feel faint — says something you can’t make out over the music.
Claude responds saucily on your behalf and drags you away, Marlon gives your
ass an appreciative pat and you jump like you sat on a rocket.
“What is the matter
with you?” Claude demands. “Behave!”
It’s hard to
picture Robert here. Oh, he’d have liked the general subversive kinkiness of
it, but Robert was not a kind or tolerant person when it came to other people’s
vulnerabilities, and you see a lot of vulnerability. A lot of soft underbelly,
both figuratively and literally.
You rock to a
stop, bringing Claude to a halt.
“What are we doing
here?” you ask in response to his questioning look.
“We’re detecting!”
“What are we
detecting?”
He smiles
coquettishly and nods at a blond twink in jeans and a black leather vest. “I can’t
speak for you, mon cher, but I detect that!”
You roll your
eyes. “I’m going to investigate the bar.”
You knew from the
moment Claude suggested it, that this night was a waste of time and money. You turn
away, but a hand hooks around your arm. You look up and your heart jumps in
your chest. Detective Riordan gazes down at you with a strange half smile.
“Why, look who’s
here,” he says in that voice that always feels like fingernails raking the back
of your neck.
“Oh. Hey,” you say
weakly. It really IS him. Detective Riordan is in a leather club. Detective
Riordan is apparently gay. Or maybe he’s undercover? Then you remember the
scene in Robert’s apartment.
Detective Riordan
was not giving you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation this afternoon, he was kissing
you.
Your gaze falls
and you take him in, from the gleam of his black boots…leather jeans…studded
leather belt…and then bare, broad muscular chest. Nothing else. Not a single
extra anything. Severe and elegant. Beneath the gold dusting of chest hair, his
pecs look like rocks. So do his biceps. He’s got an abdomen like a washboard.
You can’t stop staring. Your mouth is dry, your heart racketing around your
chest.
“Come here often?”
He’s laughing at you. Well, the line of his mouth is serious enough, but his
eyes glitter with amusement. Amusement and…excitement.
He wants you.
Holy moly.
Detective Riordan wants you.
“It’s my first
time,” you joke. “So be gentle.” At least…you thought you were joking. Maybe
not so much.
He blinks. Then
his eyes widen.
Anyway, to make a
long story short, it’s true what the American Express advertising says.
Membership does have its privileges. Before you can say “second thoughts,” you’re
in a small, private room marked MEMBERS ONLY. The “members” thing makes you
want to giggle, but that’s because you’re strung so tight with nerves you’re
ready to blow apart.
How can you be so
anxious and so turned on all at the same time?
The room is more
like a dentist’s office than a bedroom, but then you’re not there to sleep.
There is a long — two-way?! — mirror down the length of one brick wall. There
is a battered-looking armoire. Or maybe it’s an entertainment console. Are you
going to be filmed? Recorded? Blackmailed? There are a couple of padded
benches. Padded walls might be more appropriate. There is also a half table
with a frame that looks like a cross between a rack and a baby swing. You
definitely do not want to know.
The room is warm
and the lights are low. The thump of the bass from the dance floor is like a drugged
heartbeat beneath your feet.
“Do you have a
safe word?”
You try not to
start. Riordan is right behind you, breathing down your neck. Your scalp
prickles. Your prick prickles. Your prickles prickle.
“Stop?” you offer.
“You do know how
this works, right?”
“Of course,” you
lie.
“You need to pick
a different safe word.”
“Why wouldn’t stop
work? If I say stop, believe me, I mean stop.”
He is not amused. “Pick
another word.”
“Periwinkle.”
“Periwinkle it is.
Now take your clothes off, Adrien,” Riordan orders in a silky voice.
“Oh, right.” You
slowly pull your black turtleneck over your head. A black turtleneck. You’re
dressed more like a cat burglar than a guy hoping for some action. You fold
your pullover and then don’t know what to do with it. You hold it to your
chest, in ingénue fashion.
Riordan observes
your dilemma. His mouth quirks. “Maybe you better tell me about this fantasy of
yours,” he says, breaking character for a moment. Or maybe this is his
character. Superior, indulgent, completely
in control.
“Um, well, the
usual thing,” you say vaguely. How far are you going to take this? You’re not
sure.
“Sir.”
“Sorry?”
“You address me as
‘sir.’”
“Right. Sir.” You
almost snort, but catch yourself in time. Or do you? Riordan’s mouth quirks
again.
He reaches out and
his fingers brush the pulse point at the base of your throat. Your heartbeat bangs
away like a little blue hammer. “Why are you really here, Adrien? Don’t lie to
me.”
Now here’s a crazy
thing. You open your mouth to lie to him, and you find you can’t.
You swallow hard.
“Robert used to come here sometimes,” you admit. “Claude and I thought…” You
don’t finish it because it occurs to you, too late, that Riordan is not a
tourist like yourself. He might have run into Robert at this club. He might be
a suspect in Robert’s death himself.
You stare at him
wordlessly, the pulse fluttering away in the hollow of your throat. Your skin
seems to tingle beneath his touch. He stares at you, and you know he can read
your thoughts as easily as if they were subtitles at the bottom of a movie
screen. In this case, probably a horror movie.
“Go home,
Adrien-with-an-e,” Riordan says softly. His breath is warm against your face, and
scented of spearmint. “Go home before you get into real trouble.”
_________________________________________
If you choose to go home, turn to page 126
If you decide to stay and get into real trouble, turn to
page 142
