Anyway--
I thought I'd share a little bit of Selfie, which is the thing I finished. It's part of the Bluewater Bay Universe (from whence came Deep of the Sound) and this one deals more directly with some of the actors.
One actor in particular. On actor who spent eleven years of his life hiding a big fucking secret from the whole world, and now that the secret has been gone for a year? Connor Montgomery is having a hell of a time finding normal.
Fortunately he's got Noah Dakers to help him find normal. But Noah's vision of normal is a little more san than Con's--and Con's not as ready for it as he should be.
Are you ready? Here's and excerpt from Selfie, which will be out in April.
* * *
Simon?” Noah was
trying to sound humble—and failing. “Uh… don’t take this the wrong way but—“
“I’m gone,” Simon said quietly. I didn’t flinch from his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll have Anna get
Jillian the contract by Monday. Please stay. This show’s so good with you.”
“Thanks,” I said
automatically. “Yeah. Of course I’ll stay.”
And then he was
gone, and I was alone with Noah.
“You knew?” he
said quietly.
“Like I said, not
with who. It… I was gone a lot. Vinnie wasn’t…”
“Strong,” Noah said
quietly. “I get it. So—why did you
leave Warlock Tea?”
I shook my head,
not wanting to do this, not now. “Noah—“ I all but begged.
“Got it. Let’s get
to the car and get you on some pain meds.”
“No pain meds,” I
muttered. “R.I.C.E.”
“All weekend,” he
said grimly, and then he squat next to me so I could throw my arm around his
shoulder. He straightened and I
pushed, and in a moment I was hopping across the trailer. We got to the steps
and Noah made me hold on to the doorframe so he could walk down and steady me
as I hopped some more.
God, by the time I
got to the car, I was sweating and pissed.
“You know what?” I
bitched as he slid me into the back seat.
“You want me to
sell your mountain bike?” he asked before shutting my door and getting into the
front seat.
“No,” I snarled,
using my adrenaline. “I want to get better so I can ride that thing again. I’m
going to ride it, and I’m going to scream
down that goddamned hill, and I’m going to show it who the fuck is the fucking
boss. That’s what I’m going to do.
And then I’m going to go down a bigger hill. I’m going to go down hills so
steep I need a fucking parachute to get on the trail in the first place. I’m tired of this shit. I’m tired of things hurting. I’m tired wanting to hide my head under a
pillow and scream and cry and sleep. I’m fucking tired of pain. I’m going to make pain my bitch, and I’m going to fly down that fucking mountain with my hair
on fire, screaming bloody murder all the—ouch!”
There was a cattle
guard in the driveway of the property we’d leased for the outdoor sets. Going
over that fucking set of pipes almost made me throw up.
“Sorry about
that,” Noah said gently.
“Don’t be sorry,”
I muttered. “Not your fault. I’m tired of pain. I just want to live my life
without any fucking pain.”
“Yeah, sure,” he
soothed. “But first, you’ve got to heal.”
Neither of us were
talking about the ankle, and both of us knew it.
“Yeah, fine,” I
muttered. “I’ll fucking heal. I don’t have to be gracious about it.”
Noah laughed
softly, and I knew what he was going to say before it came out of his mouth.
“And we have the video to prove it!”
“Augh!”
I shut up and
seethed for the rest of the trip.
By the time we
were done with the X-Rays and the bandaging and the fitting for the brace and,
yes, the pain medication that I finally relented and agreed to take, I was too
exhausted to seethe. I was too exhausted to talk.
In fact, about the only thing I had the energy to do was to fold my arms in
front of me, tuck my head in the corner of the door and the seat, and fall asleep.
I woke up at the end of the forty-five minute drive as Noah was parking the
car.
He got out and
opened the door for me, handing me the hated and dreaded crutches.
“Ugh.”
“Yeah, well, get used to them. When
you’re not standing on the set, that’s your default for the next two weeks.”
I glared. “I can
do water aerobics and weight lifting,” I reminded him and he rolled his eyes.
“Yeah. There’s a
pool at the Global—if you want I’ll have Anna get you permission to go swim
there in the mornings. Are we done being a diva who has to keep his body
perfect now?”
“You seemed so
sweet when we first met,” I muttered. “Who knew?”
“I’m a philosophy
major, Connor. Sarcasm is our defense against the workforce disappointment.”
“Ha.” I started to hobble forward, letting
him open the garage door for me.
He followed me into the house, taking one of the crutches and holding my
arm while I used the banister to make it up the stairs.
“Ha what?”
“You have the
world’s greatest job at the moment,” I told him facetiously. “You get to watch
me completely implode and shuttle me
to exciting places like hotels and doctor’s offices. You have nothing to
complain about.”
He took my arm
over his shoulders as we cleared the landing, and held the crutches in his
opposite hand. I leaned on him
until we got into the bedroom.
“Can you pee
standing up, or do you have to do number two?” he asked in all seriousness, and
I…
I did not take
that very well.
I collapsed on the
bed, laughing my ass off.
“Number two? Oh my God—did you just ask me if I have
to take a crap? Because—“
“Yeah, I get—“
“I mean, I know
the paparazzi can be intrusive sometimes—“
“Yeah, there was
probably—“
“But Jesus,
Noah—not even Vinnie used to ask me if I had to take a crap!”
Noah rolled his
eyes. “I’m sure he didn’t. Vinnie was perfect and saintly in all things.”
“No he wasn’t.”
“Did I mention the sarcasm? Now do you
have to go sit down and have private time for a while or what?”
I thought about it. “Naw,” I said, suddenly sober. “Just
let me pee and brush my teeth."
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