Tuesday, September 21, 2021

The Boy Next Door

 Something I played with a little while ago. Here's the blurb:

Brendon moved in with his grandmother shortly after she bought a new condo. Being her last name was different from Brendon’s, and Brendon’s name wasn’t on the lease, it made the perfect hiding place. Sure, it was a coward’s way out of an abusive and loveless relationship, but Brendon has never been brave. Plus, it isn’t only Lyman he’s running from. Brendon has a secret few know about. Bravery for him is simply getting up in the morning and facing the day.

Take his grandmother’s next-door neighbor, for instance. The man was huge. Brandon knew he was joking when he complained about “losing his job” as his grandmother’s handyman due to Brendon’s arrival. But the guy was towering over him in that particular moment and Brandon nearly peed his pants. However, when Brandon saw the kind of collection the man had in his apartment peeing his pants was really the least of his worries. He was convinced his grandmother lived next door to a terrorist.

But getting to know Victor was easier and far more pleasant than Brendon thought it could be. Kind, patient, gentle and funny, Victor began to steal Brendon’s fears away ―along with his heart. With a little meddling from an old lady ― okay, a lot of meddling ― Brendon finds himself in Victor’s arms and in love.

Unfortunately, Brendon’s secret might just tear that new and fragile love completely apart. And when Lyman shows up to make sure Brendon’s new love is aware of it, Brendon isn’t sure the arsenal a pissed off Victor has will be used to protect him ―or kill him.

And here are the first few pages.


Brenden pressed end on his phone and took a last look around his now very empty apartment.  He was shocked how little time it had actually taken to clear it all out.  He was grateful to have found homes for most of his things; the rest had been hauled out by the Salvation Army.  The only thing he was taking with him; a barrowed suitcase and a few boxes, all but one of which were jammed in the back of his friend, Lisa's, SUV.

He had no real time left, Lisa had wanted to be on the road two hours ago, always fearful Lyman would show up.  But he still took a moment to walk the small rooms one more time.  Just to make sure I left nothing behind, he told himself.  But of course it was a lie.  He knew there was nothing at all in any of the space.  There was debris, maybe a stray item here and there, Lisa had friends coming over momentarily to clean now that they were done.  But anything of his life here, the long, long year he had spent here?  No, nothing.

Lots of memories.  Some not so good. He supposed he would take those with as well.

He had told the landlord if there was any damage deposit left it belonged to Lisa, her address the only one he gave him.  She had been a true blessing in all of this.  With her support – well – badgering was more the word to use, he had been able to make the break.  He knew it was cowardly to do this when Lyman was out of town but he also knew he would never have been able to leave any other way.  Lyman would never have let him.  And this way Lyman would never find him.  That was important.

He had just hung up from his grandmother on his mother’s side, letting her know he was finally on his way.  A different city, a different life.  Since he was moving in with her his name would not be on any lease so there was no address for anyone to find.  Since he was an EBook author full time now he could do his work from anywhere and anywhere away from Lyman was where he was going to be.  Thankfully his grandmother had also just moved from her cute little house to a condo.  It was just added security.  However, since Lyman had never asked about Brenden’s past, he never knew Brenden’s grandma even existed so there really was no problem.  Still, it felt good to know she was basically untraceable. Which would make Brenden invisible.

He stood in the bedroom of that shabby apartment looking down at the carpet stain he was never able to get out, a faded mark now, tannish in color, a combination of blood and coffee, faint but noticeable.  It would most likely still cost him some of that deposit.  He slowly moved his head side to side, reliving the incident, which happened pretty much right after he met Lyman.  He shivered and touched his fingers lightly to the scar on the left side of his face from the thrown coffee mug.  Every time he thought of that occasion he would always imagine hearing his mother saying “an inch over and it would have put your eye out”. 

Fuck, he missed her. 

But Lyman hadn’t really been aiming at him that morning or at least that was the story Lyman told.  Sure he had been angry at something Brenden had said…or done. Oddly enough he couldn’t remember that particular detail. But Lyman had frantically assured him afterward he simply slipped and Brenden had been in the way.  A trip to the hospital and six stitches later Brenden was back scrubbing at that stain, tears streaming down his face because Lyman had left a note saying it was “fucking over” and “you’re a fucking cunt” and other horrible things Brenden evidently chose at the moment to forget as well.  Lyman was gone.  In thinking about it now, it would have been good if the asshole had stayed gone.  But of course he didn’t.  He was back late the next day, sufficient time for Brenden to freak out but not enough time to think he was much better off without him.  The idiot Brenden was at the time had only been happy to see him.  It was easy to go along with that story, easy to accept there would be no real apology, only a whisper from Lyman that it would never happen again.  Wasn’t that apology enough?  Sure, it didn’t explain the offensive note but Brenden could easily forget about that too.

And had it been the only time something like that happened it would have been forgettable.

However back then even Lyman was still sensitive to some things.  He never said the words but Lyman apologized for days afterwards by coming over early to take Brenden to work, taking him out to lunch and dinner, even surprising him a couple of times with a single rose laying on his bed.  But it hadn’t taken long for Lyman to end up believing his own shit because the story went from Lyman slipping and Brenden being in the way to Brenden’s clumsiness that was to be held responsible.  Lyman even went as far as to suggest he should move in with Brenden, to keep him safe, as if what happened to him had nothing to do with Lyman at all.  It really should have raised a red flag – or twelve.  But it didn't.

 And it got steadily worse.

It became apparent that Lyman intended Brenden be placed in a bubble, to be taken out at only Lyman’s discretion and choice.  There were just too many perverts and homophobes out there who had it in for either Lyman himself or Brenden by way of wanting to kidnap, rape or maim.  The act of a simple greeting would have Lyman accusing Brenden of flirting “embarrassingly like a fucking whore”.

But he put up with all of it.  Until the rape.  That was the last straw.

He had been thinking about simply ending it with Lyman, had even tried to on several occasions.  But Lyman would do one of several things.  The first number of times, Lyman “fell apart” and begged Brenden to stay with him, swore he would change, he would go to counseling, read self-help books, anything to keep Brenden from walking away. And to his credit, he did hold up his end of each bargain… but only to a point.  For a good month the man worked hard at his anger, at his obsession over Brenden, his insane jealousy.  But there was always some hot guy out there no matter where they went, that was either ogling at Brenden or Brenden himself was looking at him.  It had been somewhat gradual but it got to a point where Brenden and Lyman never went out together anymore because Brenden just didn't want to deal with it.  As a couple it was easier if they just stayed in.  Brenden wasn’t sure when that also translated into Brenden himself always staying in.

The downward spiral after that wasn't all that slow though.  Once Lyman had Brenden convinced going outside for fun was a mistake he started to work on Brenden's job.  He would grill Brenden on his day, not because he was interested in conversation but more in who it was that was after Brenden’s ass.  There had to be someone.  Brandon would even catch Lyman checking Brenden's messages, texts, and emails, all in an effort to "protect" Brenden.  At one point he insisted Brenden quit that job and come work where Lyman worked so Lyman could keep an eye out for him. 

Brenden knew how crazy Lyman could get so usually he would evade the subject, change it or say he would think about it.  But he had no intention of leaving where he worked. 

Then Brenden had a break.  His seventh ebook did enormously well.  He was commissioned to write a sequel and the deadline made it impossible to keep his job.  Lisa freaked when she heard.  It was when her friendly support turned into harassment to leave Lyman.  She had seen the bruises.  She knew abuse when she saw it and she was frightened he would hole up in the apartment and the only person who would ever see him again was Lyman.  It was all a ploy on his part to keep Brenden all to himself.  The man was fucking crazy. 

Yes. He was fucking crazy. But he also knew what Brenden was. Not only that but he knew what Brenden had done, had seen it. Oh yes, Lyman witnessed the change and then what happened after. And that was a huge problem.

“Want me to tell the police, Brenden? I will, you know. You walk out that door and you’re as good as fucking dead. Worse yet, they’ll lock you up, boy. Fucking throw away the key. You understand me? I will tell everyone what you did. What you do! You leave me, Brenden, and that’s what I’ll do.”

But now it was over.  Lyman was out of town for a few days for a business seminar his job held every year for the higher ups of the company. Employees only. As hard as he tried to figure out a way to bring Brenden with, he couldn’t, and Lisa took that opportunity to force Brenden's hand.  She handled everything, from the doling out of his furniture to lining up the Salvation Army to pick up the rest. From the pizza and beer party for the people who hauled everything out of the apartment in a matter of two days to making a sole trip to his grandmother’s house to make sure that end was ready as well. She had been a whirlwind of energy.  All Brenden had to do was to pack what he could absolutely not live without. 

Surprisingly, there just wasn’t all that much.

Oh, he was well aware of Lisa's many covert calls to his grandmother over the last several weeks leading up to Lyman’s trip and between the two of them they were able to convince him he needed to move to his grandmother's new condo.  She had lived there all of two months herself, having just sold her home.  Certainly the fact she resided in a city two plus hours away was very attractive. 

Brenden had taken Lyman's phone calls off and on through the few days he was gone.  Oddly, yet thankfully, there hadn’t been that many.  Brenden still kept them light though, knowing Lyman could sometimes seem to read his mind.  Brenden hadn’t even really slept in the last three days knowing Lyman would somehow figure out what was going on and he would be on the next flight home to stop him. But it would have still been too late because the day Lyman left town Lisa had swooped in with her team of friends and cleaned out his apartment in nothing flat.  And now, on the day before Lyman was due to return, Brenden was already gone. 

Brenden sighed and walked back to the entry door.  He picked up the last box, threw his apartment key on the kitchen counter and walked out, closing that door physically and mentally for the last time.


So, what do you think? 



Wednesday, September 8, 2021

The Ex's Boyfriend - A Ghost Story

 Blurb:

Mark has always been a Dominant. The Top in every relationship. Just ask Leon, his very ex-boyfriend, because that’s precisely what he told Mark he was.

Okay, Mark’s only had the one relationship so the ‘always’ was a reach, but it didn’t matter. It was more than over with now, and Leon was long gone. That was until Leon decided he wanted to show off his new boyfriend, a gorgeous mountain called Rogan, by evidently telling him that Mark was stalking, harassing and get this, abusing him.

“He’ll kill you, Mark, because he loves me and wants to protect me.”

From whom? Skinny little Mark? What a joke. Because all Mark has ever done was exactly what Leon told him to do and that now included staying as far away from Leon as he could get. But even that crashed and burned when Leon became hell-bent on proving all the lies he's told Rogan were true, and by any means possible except the actual truth. Thankfully, it seems Rogan’s not quite as clueless about Leon’s wild imagination as Mark has always been. In fact, the big, beautiful man has come to Mark’s rescue a couple of times and has made it clear, Leon and he are not a thing. At least, not anymore.

Which is good. Because something else is out to get Mark. Something not Leon.

This something isn’t even human…


Excerpt:

They took the elevator to the sixth floor and headed cautiously down a deserted hall. Okay, maybe it was only Mark who walked warily. Rogan marched slightly ahead of him and seemed to barge down the hall with his chest puffed out like some storybook bodyguard protecting the prince.  However, no apparitions flew out at them this time, no lights exploded trying to kill them. When they got to Mark's apartment, Rogan snatched the set of keys Mark dug out of his pocket and opened the door of 612 and attempted to turn on the light.

“It doesn’t work,” Mark remarked. “It never has.”

As if that might have been important in the whole scheme of things, Rogan turned to him. “Really? Why?”

“I have no idea. They have never been able to fix it, either.”

Rogan grumbled a string of profanities against landlords as he pulled out his phone. “Hey Raptor. Flashlight.” The phone shot out a bright beam and Rogan shined it into the apartment. “Where is a switch that does work?”

“Right here.” Mark glanced around the apartment before he tiptoed over to the switch in the kitchen and turned it on. The apartment lit up enough to see that everything was normal―so to speak. The destroyed TV was right where it had been when they left, debris still everywhere. Not the chaos Mark had walked into with Leon, but shivers of that time chased through him as well. “What I don’t get is why you don’t even have a scratch on you.”

“That is a mystery,” Rogan murmured. “What’s even more an unknown is why you were basically sliced in the first place. Cut, I would understand. But sliced?” He walked over to the large, jagged piece laying against the wall, the piece that had been laced with blood but no longer appeared to be and picked it up. “This should never have been sharp enough to do that.” He brought it over for Mark to see.

“Fuck,” Mark whispered as he gazed at the piece of plastic. “It’s… like a knife.” And it was. The six-inch, razor-edged side appeared paper thin, to the point of it being see-through. As if someone had purposely honed it down to that sharpness. “But… didn’t it have blood on it?”

Rogan narrowed his eyes and glared back at the plastic as if it had just lied to him. “You’re right. It did. Exactly my point.”

“Which is?”

Rogan glanced briefly at Mark. “This isn’t right. I mean, how does something like this even happen?” Rogan’s lips pursed together.

“So, what are you saying?”

“I’m not sure.” Rogan gazed down at Mark. “And I don’t like not knowing. I will find some answers. That I promise.” He sighed. “Now what do we need to take with us so we can get out of here?”

Mark packed a backpack while Rogan kept watch. Mark would have thought it laughable if he wasn’t so panicked. It was one thing to be bullied by Leon. Quite another by a ghost.

“The extra apartment key is in the kitchen drawer,” Mark told Rogan as he threw the backpack over his shoulder.

Rogan immediately reached over and grabbed the backpack. “Go get it. I got this.”

Heat climbing Mark’s face he walked quickly to the drawer. “I can carry it. I’m not a princess.”

Rogan smirked but remained silent as he adjusted the backpack and held out a hand to accept the key. “Thanks,” he said, winking at Mark when he dropped the key in his hand.

“I don’t know what you plan on doing but have at it.”

Rogan grimaced as if he were guilty of something and shook his head.

When they arrived at Mark’s dad’s house, Rogan insisted on walking Mark in. “I didn’t keep you safe like I promised. He deserves an explanation.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m not some fragile teenager on a date. Besides, I can take care of myself.”

“I know that. But security is my job, and I should have…”

“Should have what?”

“Known.” He knocked on the door.

“Known? How? Why?”

But Rogan remained silent. Except it was clear he was battling something in his head.

“Whatever,” Mark mumbled. “Just… I can take care of myself.” Mark went to knock as well but the door flew open in front of him, Mark’s dad standing on the other side.

“What the fuck is going on out here?” Rob snarled, startling both Mark and Rogan.

“Sir!” Rogan nearly shouted back, gaining the older man’s attention. Then he lowered his voice probably realizing how loud he was being. “Mr. Corda. Sorry to wake you…”

“What the hell happened to you?” Rob grabbed Mark and pulled him into the house. “Why the bandages?” He turned his attention back to Rogan. “Why is my son covered in bandages?”

Mark took immediate offence. “Dad, I’m standing right here! Ask me!”

“Um… sir…” Rogan interrupted. “it’s a long story.