Sheritta Bitikofer's Blog, page 17

Always Be Kind…

Why do you even bother? Makeup isn’t going to hide all of that ugliness.

What’s the point of going to work when you suck at what you do? Your coworkers don’t even like you. They just tolerate your company because they have to.

Just go back to bed and be the lazy piece of crap that you are. No one wants to be around you when you’re like this.

Those clothes just making you look even fatter. Why can’t you lose weight? You could eat healthier, but you choose to eat junk food. If you just got on a treadmill every once and a while, you wouldn’t be so huge. What’s wrong with you?

You can’t seem to do anything right, can you? You just try and fail all the time. You’re mediocre at everything you do. You’ll never be successful because you just weren’t born that way. You don’t have the motivation. You don’t have the courage. You’re so painfully shy and people notice. You have all these dreams, but they’ll never amount to anything. You’re going to die in obscurity and no one’s even going to remember your name. You don’t contribute anything to this world and you can’t make anyone happy. They just put up with you and your moodiness.

You’re completely worthless. A waste of space. The air you breathe could be going to someone who actually needs it. So many people have it worse than you, but you complain about everything. You’re so negative. When you come around, people want to run away because they’re sick of your drama.

If you just smiled every once and a while, you might be bearable. But instead, you’re always frowning and that’s what makes you hideous. Why can’t you just be happy? Why can’t you just straighten up and fly right? Why can’t you just follow the crowd and be like everyone else? Why do you have to be so weird?

You’ll never make it in this world and you might as well give up on everything you’re trying to do because it’s pointless. No one cares about you or what you do with your life. They just want you out of the way. And you should get out of the way. Just hide in your hole and let the world pass by. The world is better without you.

 

She stared at her face in the mirror as a silent tear leaked out from her bloodshot eyes. She wiped her hand on the back of her cheek and tried to ignore the tightness in her chest. Taking a long and difficult breath, she squared her shoulders and walked out of the bedroom to get ready for a new day.

–          Courage comes in many forms. Sometimes, it’s the determination to survive and live one more day that makes us strong. Always be kind. You never know what they’re going through.

Interview with Jennifer Siddoway, author of “Dealing with the Devil”

One of the amazing things about being an author or writer is that there is an entire community that is as passionate about the craft as you are. I have a few select friends who [image error]are part of this amazing community. One in particular just got herself a contract with the publishing house Duncurra and her novel “Dancing with the Devil” (formerly known as “Demon Dialysis”) will be published soon!

She found time in her busy schedule of being a mother, wife, and author to answer some questions about her career as an author.

What inspired you to write “Dealing with the Devil”?

That is an excellent question, and I wish I had a better answer for you than the one I’m about to give. I’ve always loved Fairy Tales and enjoy a good re-telling of an established plotline. It’s [image error]especially fun if there’s a dramatic shift, or unexpected role reversal. I started toying with the idea of Rumpelstiltskin and started thinking, “What if something went wrong?”I knew what she meant was intended to be sweet and reassuring, but I just felt this chill run down my spine. “What if I wasn’t? What if it wasn’t God that I was creating life with?”

I walked away and my arms were covered with goosebumps and after that the story just wrote itself.

I didn’t want to do an actual re-telling, so I twisted things around a bit and tried to picture how that would play out from the point of view from the child who got wished away. The whole concept of selling your unborn child to the devil is such a terrible thing to digest you have to wonder what kind of a person would do that. Around the same time, I was pregnant with my first child and a well-meaning, older person in church put her hand on my stomach and said, “You only get to work hand in hand with God to create life a handful of times in life, so enjoy it while you can.”

Do you have a system for developing the characters and plot?

*laughs manically* That is a loaded question!Once I’ve started asking myself these questions, the story starts taking shape. Suddenly, I’m not the one writing it but just a vehicle to get it on paper. Sometimes the answers I come up with surprise me and that’s always a fun twist to have. I get to know the characters REALLY well and know how they would react in different situations. An example of this is when I was writing the chapter Dancing with the Devil. I was happily typing away at my computer and then I realized what was going to happen. Oh crap. I had to flinch and almost look away from the screen as I typed because I didn’t want to ‘see’ it. I knew that was the only way the chapter could end, but I didn’t know that until I was in the physical process of writing it.

I wrote that chapter and then cried—it was awful.

It doesn’t take long for me to get a character or plot idea in my head. Once that happens I mull on it for a while and start asking the question, “so what?”. Wynn’s character in the Earthwalker Trilogy is a demon…so what? What kind of implications would that bring into her character and her relationships? How does that affect her physically? If there is a demon in the Mortal Realm… so what? What does that say about magic in this universe? Are there other demons? Why, or an even better, why NOT?

What do your friends and family think of your author career?

Thankfully, I’ve have a supportive husband who never lost faith in me. He’s gone out of his way to encourage my career and enable me to focus on it. I think when it comes down to it, Ben just wants me to be happy. He knows how much I enjoy writing and does everything he can to let me do that.

The rest of my family is kind of flabbergasted that it happened. I’ve been talking about writing for so long they didn’t think it would ever happen. Now that it has, and is doing well, they don’t know what to say except, “Wow, you did it.”

Are any of your characters based off people you know in real life? Are they reflections of yourself?

I think it’s almost impossible not to put a little of yourself into the characters you write. Obviously, I’m not a demon like the character in my book, but Wynn absolutely displays some of my personality quirks – the good and the bad. Every now and then I find myself giving her habits or personality quirks that I display myself and laugh it off a bit.No one is without flaw.

Most of the time when we read about teenage girls, we must ask ourselves if they are vicious or vulnerable—I suggest that they’re both. There is something deliciously satisfying about co-existing in that dual relationship and while I don’t strive to be like Wynn, her shortcomings are human nature.

On one hand, she is funny, brave, and fiercely devoted to her family. On the other, she has some anger management issues, a fiery temper, and is also kind of a jerk at times. That’s understandable because she is, in fact, a demon and it gives her personality depth.

What has it been like shifting from being a self-published author to having a contract with a traditional publishing house?

To be honest it’s been relatively smooth. Duncurra LLC is a wonderful publishing house and I’m incredibly honored and grateful to be a part of their team. When I first got signed, we did have to change the title and get new cover art with the company logo, but other than that not a lot is changed.

I will confess, it’s been nice to have the emotional validation that comes with having a publishing house behind you. It’s not an imaginary career that I fabricated for myself, it’s real. I can justify sitting down at my computer for hours at a time and getting lost in the world of my characters. I always felt guilty before and thought it was taking me away from my family, but now I view it as part of the process and know the payout will be worth it.

What kind of struggles did you encounter as a self-published author and how did you overcome them?

The hardest thing about being an indie author is marketing and getting the word out. One hundred percent of the responsibility is on you, and it can be overwhelming at times. If the readers don’t know you exist than you’re preforming to an empty stage.It’s a lot of work knowing what is/is not worth the time and investment. It can be done well, but it’s also a constant struggle.

We’re experiencing a boom in the indie author community which is very exciting, but that also raises the bar for everyone else out there. With so many new books coming out, and so many new authors, it’s very important to present yourself in a professional light. The amount of time you put into branding yourself as an author directly correlates to how seriously you take your career, and there for the quality of your books. That means having a professional website, business cards, a mailing list, and healthy social media following.

If you could give any piece of advice to aspiring writings, what would it be?

I would tell aspiring authors to take their craft seriously and to view their writing as a job.

It can’t be something you play around with part time when you’ve got nothing better to do, otherwise it won’t get written. Set aside hours that are designated for writing and writing alone. I have friends that try to schedule play dates for the kids in the middle of my writing block and I tell them ‘no’. It took some time for them to realize it, but writing time is important and must not be tampered with. Give it the respect and discipline you would put on any other job.

What are your plans for the future?

I have tons of ideas! Once I’ve completed the Earthwalker Trilogy, her mother’s series is already in the works. Michele Whelan is such a toxic and selfish creature it will be interesting to see what her origins would be. We’ve already established that she had a romantic relationship with Lucifer, so that opens a ton of doors and lends itself to very good story telling.

I’ve been thinking about this puzzle piece in the story for years while developing a plot. It’s already been outlined into a four-book series and I can’t wait to write it! I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but whenever I start thinking about her I can’t help it—their love story is going to be epic.

To check out the latest news and follow her on social media, see the links below! “Dealing With The Devil” will be releasing within the next couple of weeks and she will be conducting giveaways and a release party on Duncurra’s Facebook page!

Website: http://www.jennifersiddoway.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wynnhendricks

Duncurra Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Duncurra/

Links to the Decimus Trilogy on Barnes & Noble and Kobo!

[image error]The day has come! The Decimus Trilogy has been successfully released in print under the new imprint “Moonstruck Writing” on Amazon and Barnes & Noble. What’s even better, the three eBooks are live on Barnes & Noble and Kobo! I’m really branching out and this is just the first book of many that will be re-released with new ISBNs and under my new imprint. So excited for the future! It’s gonna be great!

Here are the links to The Decimus Trilogy, The Beast of Verona, Amber Ashes, and Saving the Beast so you can go snag up your copy!

The Decimus Trilogy (in print)

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1946821020

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-decimus-trilogy-sheritta-bitikofer/1125836602

 The Beast of Verona

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B015TUP9WO

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-beast-of-verona-sheritta-bitikofer/1125871596

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-beast-of-verona

 Amber Ashes

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B015TUPGZ4

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/amber-ashes-sheritta-bitikofer/1125871597

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/amber-ashes

 Saving the Beast

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0181MZ4MM

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/saving-the-beast-sheritta-bitikofer/1125871598

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/saving-the-beast-1

That Morning At The Post Office…

This is a little short that’s been on my mind for a couple of months and I finally took a breath to write it. Let me know what you think!

                The post office was crowded that Tuesday morning. Since Monday was a holiday, Todd knew to expect a line halfway out the door which was why he decided to bring his package in that morning as opposed to lunch time when the rush would be even greater.

                All four of the kiosks were manned and each one looked to be a seasoned employee, so he was sure it wouldn’t be too long of a wait.

                He stepped up to the long, angled counter where the line had already began to form and set his small package down before shoving his hands in his pockets to spend the next fifteen minutes or so in peaceful patience.

                A few seconds later, the sliding doors opened up behind him. He heard the woman first as she briskly walked towards the space on the counter behind him. It was hard to ignore the clink of keys banging against her thigh with each step.

                He glanced behind him to get a look at her. She was young, probably a couple of years shy his senior, with brown hair that looked a little tousled by the windy weather outside. She wore a modest t-shirt and jeans. The hem of each pant leg nearly covered his shoes and grazed the tile where she stood.

                But what struck him most was how pretty she looked. Not quite beautiful, but he could certainly stare at her the entire time while he waited in line. Todd opened his mouth, ready to offer his spot to her when he noticed something else about the woman. She was nervous.

                Her package was nearly three times the size of his and she set it down on the counter with a heavy thud. With brows pinched together, she marched towards a stand in the corner were free tape dispensers were offered to customers. She snagged one up and fumbled with separating two adhesive labels from a stack.

                As she made her way back to her spot, Todd regarded the way her brows were pinched together and mouth set in a thin line as if she were concentrating on each step.

                The line moved forward and he slid his package down, giving her more room. He glanced over his shoulder, watching her progress as she applied strip after strip of tape along the top to close the box and the outer edges. By the time she was finished, Todd was sure the package would be sealed enough to be tossed in the ocean without the contents ever getting wet.

                The line moved again and more customers filed inside, sandwiching the anxious woman between him and a growing crowd of strangers. Her actions told him that she was perfectly aware of the lengthening line. Her hands were shaking as she applied the blank address label on top of the layers of tape. She still managed to make it slightly crooked, but Todd knew the post office attendants wouldn’t care.

                He took another step forward and she followed with a laden sigh. Todd turned and leaned his body over the countertop as if he needed to stretch out his back. With his package fit snug between his elbows, he continued to watch the show going on next to him.

Then, she pulled out a black pen and bright pink sticky note from her pocket. The woman hastily copied the recipient’s address and transcribed her own. But she didn’t stop there. For the next two shifts down, she rewrote over each letter until the two sets of addresses were bold and ragged from her efforts to make it readable to the postman.

Todd took a peek at the sender’s name. Abigail Crawford. A rather traditional name, but he liked it. She looked like an Abigail too.

Giving up, she put the cap back on her pen and stuck everything in her pockets with the exception of the tape dispenser. She looked between it, her package, the stand where she got it and the line that now extended outside the automatic doors.

She took a deep breath, her chest rising with the effort, and turned to Todd. “Can you hold my place?” she whispered.

Todd gave her a smile and nodded.

Abigail grabbed the dispenser and hustled back to the stand, put it away, and returned to cradle her package against her stomach. Todd would have thought it comical the way her fingers made imprints in the cardboard as she gripped it tightly. But he couldn’t laugh at her anxiety or the way she looked around at everything but the people, refusing to make eye contact and distancing herself at least two paces from him and the people behind her.

Such a pretty girl shouldn’t have been so edgy. Todd was sure that he was the only person interested in what she was doing. All the other customers were either talking to one another or had their eyes glued to their phones. They were the only two who had nothing to occupy themselves and he could tell that it was driving the woman up the wall not to be busy.

“Special package?” he asked. He knew there would have a fifty-fifty chance that she would either ignore him and pretend that he wasn’t talking to her, or that she would give some monosyllabic answer.

Abigail looked up, her green eyes wide and jaw tight. Todd kept his soft, pleasing smile on his face, the corners of his lips tilted up just enough to tell her that he was friendly, but not too much that she would think he was a creeper.

After a moment of being frozen under his stare, she nodded and shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah. It’s my niece’s birthday present.”

Todd inclined his chin towards the package. “Does she live someplace where people steal and rip up packages that don’t belong to them?”

She looked down at her handy work and gave a short laugh that was laced with tension. “No. I just want to make sure it doesn’t pop open during transit, you know?”

Todd nodded and glanced to the front of the line, just three people away. “I can understand that.”

Then, she surprised him. “What about yours?” she asked.

Todd looked to her, brows arched. Abigail recoiled and began blabbering, “I mean, you asked about mine, so it’s only fair that you tell me what you’re sending. But, if you don’t want to, that’s fine. I understand the need for privacy. It may be something personal, so don’t worry about it. Forget I asked.” Her last words were drowned in a mumble and Todd hated his face for causing such a frenzied comeback.

“No, it’s fine,” he replied. “I’m returning a book to a friend who lives out of state.”

Abigail’s lips drew together and he knew that he just might have ruined his chances of helping her relax. Her striking eyes looked away and silence stretched between them for a long moment before Todd extended the proverbial hand of friendship again.

“Have you ever read ‘The Last Lecture’ by Randy Pausch?” he asked.

She gave him a curious, but guarded look and shook her head.

Todd grinned. “It’s a great book. It’s what I’m mailing,” he said, showing her the small square package. “Randy Pausch was a professor dying of cancer and his book is basically a personal lecture to his children and the world about how to live out your dreams and live your life to the fullest. He talks about lessons he learned from childhood and other lessons he learned as an adult. It’s really interesting.”

Abigail’s softened and she smiled. And what a smile it was. Genuine and open. Todd wanted to keep it there. “It does sound interesting. What was it called?” she asked as she shifted the package between her hands to pull out her pen and sticky note.

Todd saw the package began to lilt to one side and lunged forward to catch it just as it left her hand. She gasped and let out a tiny squeak of alarm. Customers looked up from their phones or turned to see what happened. Nearly every eye in the room had turned on Todd and Abigail.

She covered her face in embarrassment as he set the heavy package down on the counter. “Thank you,” she said, utterly mortified that she had almost dropped her neice’s birthday present.

“No problem at all,” he assured. If he behaved as if this were nothing to panic about, as if the attention of every person in the room wasn’t a big deal, then perhaps she would be more at ease too.

Indeed, she followed his lead and took a deep breath before unveiling her face and looked up to him in completely mortification. But his unruffled demeanor helped her not to spiral into the fit of anxiety that she might have been tempted to fall into.

With her senses partially rattled and everyone turning back to their previous activities of talking or social media browsing, Todd took the pen and paper out of her hand and wrote down the title of the book, the author, and his name and phone number.

He gave it back to her with calm and steady composure. Abigail accepted the paper, her fingers trembling. But she was dumbstruck when she looked down at the note and saw his information.

“When you’re done reading it, give me a call and let me know what you think.”

He was next in line now and the wait seemed to pass by all too quickly for him.

The smile returned to her face, though a little more hesitant this time. “I’ll remember to do that,” she said. “My name’s Abigail, by the way.”

Todd nodded and gestured towards the note. “Todd,” he replied, more or less trying to be polite than redundant. “It was nice to meet you,” he added just before the next attendant ushered him forward.

He left the line to finish his business, but occasionally stole glances back in Abigail’s direction. She didn’t seem so nervous anymore with her shoulders square and eyes forward. Muscles that were once bunched and tense were loose and he noticed she didn’t grip her package so tight as she brought it up to the kiosk beside his.

He paid for the shipping charges on his package and turned to Abigail. “Have a good day, Abigail.”

She shyly looked to him and with a coy smile, she replied, “You too, Todd.”

Todd walked out the post office that morning and he felt like Abigail’s simple blessing to have a good day would certainly come true, just because she said it first. And he hoped that one day, he’d get a call from the timid girl he met in the post office, saying that the book he recommended changed her life.

Re-Release of “The Decimus Trilogy”! Giveaway Details!

So, I’ve been working hard on a new project that I’m hoping will revitalize my author career. Not only am I stepping up my game to put myself out there with the book signing event in July and plans for various ads and promotional campaigns, I’m working at re-releasing ALL of my books on a wider distribution channel. And guess which one I’m starting with?

That’s right! The Decimus Trilogy is first in line for re-release in my master plan. Through Ingram Spark, The Decimus Trilogy will be available to more bookstores than just Amazon. Barnes & Noble as well as thousands of other major bookstore retailers across the US, libraries, schools, and online print retailers will be able to sell my book to the masses. I’ll have the potential to reach a wider audience, but that’s not all!

I am now publishing under my own imprint! “Moonstruck Writing” is now the official imprint name for every novel published by Sheritta Bitikofer. All of my books and e-books will feature the words “Published by: Moonstruck Writing” on the inside copyrights page.

So, what’s different about The Decimus Trilogy this time around? Some reviewers made the observation in “The Beast of Verona” that there were some grammatical and spelling errors. I have sent the manuscript through another round of proofreading and although I can’t guarantee they are all fixed, I can say that many were caught and corrected. Also, the interior design has undergone a facelift with new and exciting type faces and include the logo for Moonstruck Writing on the inside cover page.

“The Decimus Trilogy” print book, which includes all three novelettes of this epic story will be available in print form later in the month of March, but on March 3rd, I will be releasing “The Beast of Verona”, “Amber Ashes”, and “Saving the Beast” in eBook form to various platforms like Kobo, Barnes & Noble, iBooks, and more! I’ll be posting their new store links on their respective pages here on my blog and on my website!

But what does this mean for you? Not only am I putting out a better and fresher product for the masses to enjoy, I’m holding a giveaway! Yes, a giveaway to celebrate the re-release!

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From now until the release date of the eBooks on March 3rd, every NEW “like” on my Facebook Author Page will be put into a drawing for this fantastic gift basket! In it, you have everything you need to get geared up for the release of The Decimus Trilogy. I’ve included the Blu-Ray movies “The Gladiator” starring Russell Crowe and “Pompeii” starring the Game of Thrones actor Kit Harrington, as well as a 2017 Italy Tour Guide book to inspire your imagination. Also included in the gift basket will be an signed copy of The Decimus Trilogy and a gorgeous wolf pendant necklace rimmed in Celtic designs. Though this wasn’t the kind of pendant anyone in the story would wear, it is reminiscent of the artwork of Decimus’ homeland in Germania Inferior.

All you need to do to enter into the giveaway is hop on over to my Facebook Author Page (link is to the right) and hit “LIKE”. If you want to increase your chances of winning, simply “SHARE” my page or any book-related content from my page to yours! And if you want to really impress me and up your odds further, go over to Amazon and check out one of my novels and leave a review on my Author Page or on your own Facebook page, but tag my author profile to it so I can see that you reviewed a book. One “Like” equals one entry into the giveaway. One “Share” equals three entries and one “Review” equals ten entries! Simple, right?

I’ll be keeping track of every Facebook user who likes and shares from my page between now and March 3rd when the final drawing will take place. Because both of the movies are rated R, I do have to set an age limit of 18 to participate. And yes, I will be checking your Facebook page for age!

In the meantime, subscribe to my blog and email list for regular updates on new releases! They are sure to come in the next six months and there will be more fun and exciting giveaways!

My Big Announcement!

I’ve been quiet about something for a couple of weeks because I wanted to make sure I had all my ducks in a row before telling anyone the news.

Inspired by one of my author friends, I ventured beyond my comfort zone and I am more than a little happy to announce that I will be attending as a signing author at an event in July! It will be my first event and I’m so looking forward to it.

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For The Love Of Books and Authors will be holding one of their many book signing events this coming July in Sarasota, FL. They only hold a few book signing events a year around the country and it was pure dumb luck that they were going to host one in Florida, within a day’s drive of my hometown.

I’ve been eagerly planning my table set up and having my talented graphic designer compile some stunning art for a banner and some goodies to give out to attending readers at the signing. I’ll be joining an amazing team of authors (about 25 in all) for a day of fun networking.

I’ll have more news about what all I’ll be offering at the event as the time comes closer and I hope if you’re in the Florida area, you’ll consider taking the trip down to the Ritz-Carlton Hotel of Sarasota to pop in and say hello. I’ll have books there to sign and I’ll be setting up a pre-order form so you can go ahead and reserve your own copy ahead of time!

Another big piece of news is that I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, researching, watching podcasts and videos, and reading articles and I’ve decided to give this door one last push. I’ll be re-releasing all of my books through IngramSpark in hopes to reach more readers and widen my distribution channels. Publishing exclusively through Amazon has not be cutting it and I’m ready to get this career off the ground.

Subscribe to my blog for more details on upcoming events (yes, before the book signing!) within the next month. It’s gonna be good and I don’t want anyone to miss it!

A Bit of Chapter 15 from “Beast Within”

[image error]So, I’ve been tirelessly working on “Beast Within”, the third installment in my Loup-Garou Series. This past Saturday, I wrote 5,000 words and on Sunday I wrote another 6,000. I took a break on Monday because my brain was pretty fried, and tonight I wrote over 3,000 words. I’ve been setting a daily goal for myself of 1,000 words or 2,000 if I have the time. Well, I’ve been making the time and I’ll be on time with this novel. I aim to finish, completely (edits and all) by the end of February. At this rate, I only have about 8 more chapters to go.

To give a sneak peak, here’s a segment from Chapter 15 that I’m fairly proud of. I had a lot of help from my friends who have actually visited New Orleans. I was born in Louisiana and I’ve never been to New Orleans for good reasons, but I hope I’ve captured the spirit of Canal and Bourbon Street in this part of Katey and Logan’s journey. Keep in mind that this is a first draft scene with possible typos and atrocious grammatical errors. The finished product will be neater.

After parking Logan’s bike at the Canal Place Garage near the Mississippi River and across from the aquarium, they started their trek down Canal Street, into the swiftly setting sun. To the east, a blue and purple haze lined the horizon and Katey couldn’t help but admire how distinct the line was in the sky, differing their world between night and day.

The air was bursting with scents. The salty river breeze that wafted from behind them collided with the aromas of restaurants and cafes. Katey could smell everything from sugar-powdered pastries baking in overs to the spiced tinge of true Cajun seafood and authentic gumbo that made her stomach ache. The only thing they had to eat were those few packets of beef jerky at the motel and that did not satisfy the biting hunger. At the same time, the stench of stale alcohol assaulted her nose and made her lose her appetite.

Music joined the myriad of scents. Jazz, country, and rock melodies wove together, filtering out of the windows and doors of clubs along the strip. The cacophony of noises roared in her ears as well, but it wasn’t more than her senses could handle. After some time of walking close to one another, the modern shopping centers and restaurants gave way to an endless sea of European- inspired architecture with richly ornate facades that shot up three or four stories high in some places.

Lining the streets were all makes and models of cars, towering palm trees and bright red trolleys that carted tourists down the streets on either side. Somehow, Katey had imagined the French Quarter to be even more touristy and old world in its buildings.

They had been walking for several blocks before Logan paused, his hand grasping hers and he sniffed the air. Katey did the same and she smelt it too. There was a distinct trail of vampire. They looked to their right, down Bourbon Street, and she found the French Quarter she had been expecting.

There was hardly any room on the paved street for more than two cars to travel down abreast of each other. The style of the brick buildings were similar, but different as their balconies loomed over the sidewalks. Tourists and venders crowded for space on the streets further down, where the vampires must have been.

With wary feet, they made their way down the street that was dotted with potholes, passing by more shops – some modern and some not – as they searched. Logan had told her they would have to search for any vampire who might know Michael’s whereabouts. Unfortunately, they would probably be inside some club or bar that catered to their kind and Katey was not looking forward to it.

As the sunlight waned, colorful neon lights sparked to life down the strip, casting a red and yellow glow over the darkening street and shop entrances that were more like tall, lime green shutters in some places, opening onto the street under the balconies.

The iron railings and balusters along the balconies were decorated with potted plants whose vines hung low and must have sprouted flowers in the spring time. Some residents – or perhaps tourists – stood upon the balconies and took pictures of the sights below.

In some places, the fronts of buildings were wrapped in scaffolding, cluttered with building supplies and tools as the edifice was in the process of renovation. Several blocks away, Katey spotted what looked to be a man mounted on a horse, trotting down the street. When they came closer, she realize the rider was a police man just before he turned down a connecting street to patrol.

Katey walked into a wall of odor that she could only distinguish as a horrid mix of urine and vomit that drifted from the north. She had to stop and gag, tugging Logan to a halt just outside a cigar shop that wreaked of tobacco and smoke. Her eyes watered and for a moment she thought her own vomit would join in the unpleasant smells of Bourbon Street.

Logan seemed unaffected by the pong and waited until she could get her bearings again. “I know it’s bad. It’s going to get worse.”

“How could it possibly get worse?” she asked while trying to swallow back the beef jerky that wanted to see the light of day again.

Logan didn’t answer her and once she straightened up, they carried on.

Outside of shops, merchants and vendors displayed their goods, often shirts and souvenirs for the tourists. In some of the windows were displays of clothing and risqué fashion that Logan paid no attention to. Drunken voices slithered out of the countless bars and strip clubs they past and Katey held onto Logan’s hand a little tighter.

Bands and other street performers came into view. Some of them were single operations with a simple hat out to solicit tips, while others were five or six men groups of musicians playing lively music for a throng of spectators. Katey watched for a moment and admired the raw talent, but had no money and no time to pay them with as they continued their search.

The crowds began to thin farther north down the block and the vampire trail grew stronger with each step. Yet, with the potent scent of sulfur came another unwelcome sensation that set Katey’s teeth on edge.

It was a nearly imperceptible feeling that started in her bones and snaked its way through her blood. It was unlike anything she had experienced before and with her growing discomfort from what happened in the motel in Mississippi, Katey wanted to scream. It was too much.

Logan looked to her, probably sensing her unease. “It’s ok. Just keep walking.”

“What is that?” she whispered, looking around as if the answer lay with the shop keepers or pedestrians that passed them by.

“Magic,” Logan replied in a calm voice. “New Orleans is like the mecca of voodoo and witchcraft. Most of them are wannabes or charlatans, but there are a few that practice the craft. Some humans can sense the energy, but we can moreso. You’ll feel better once we pass the source.”

Katey cringed as images of shrunken heads and painted witchdoctors were conjured in her mind. “Where is the source?”

“It’s probably one of these shops. I can smell the herbs they use in their spells and rituals.”

Katey was afraid to breathe too deeply, lest the suffocating smells of New Orleans made her dizzy. Instead, she steeled herself against the effects of the magic and whatever else had been plaguing her since they left the motel.

The more they walked and dodged past hustlers, the begging homeless, and drunkards teetering on the sidewalk, the stronger the magic hammered at her spirit. Her wolf, who had been silent up to now, cowered and growled at the foreign powers.

Up ahead, a sign beamed in the darkness. “Madam Celeste’s Voodoo Emporium” it read in swirly, mystic letters. Katey gritted her teeth. There were no windows for her to peek through, but she could smell what Logan had been talking about.

The entrance, a set of blue shutter-like doors like the ones scattered along Bourbon Street, released a flow of magic, the essence of incense, spices, herbs, petrified wood, and other aromas that Katey couldn’t recognize. Firelight danced from inside, casting a flickering glow onto the pavement.

Just outside the open doors, sitting on a faded stool, was a petite woman. She wore a dark, flowing skirt that pooled on the sidewalk around her and a white, billowy shirt, embroidered with swirls and flowery designs. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, her head held high and wrapped in a red turban to contain her hair that was pushed up inside of it. Hoop earrings dangled from her ears as her dark eyes were set across the street.

Katey shrank back and wanted to dart to the other sidewalk to avoid her, but Logan pulled her on. If they acted strangely, they would draw attention to themselves. The only way to cross the river was to go straight through.

They were no more than two yards away when the woman turned and locked stares with the two of them. The change in her cold expression shifted and Katey wanted to run. She beamed at the two loups-garous and stood from her stool. She didn’t seem young, but neither too old. The woman was at a sweet-spot in age where her beauty and womanhood was in full bloom.

Logan guided Katey around his back to stand on the side closest to the street, serving as her shield against the woman and her magic.

Katey averted her eyes, but felt the woman’s gaze drill into her like a penetrating heat.

“Friends,” she greeted in a silvery voice and tinged with a thick accent that seemed neither African or Creole. “May I have a word?” she asked, seeming eager, but polite.

Logan waved her off. “We don’t have the time, sorry.”

The woman charged forward and grasped Logan’s arm. Despite her fear, Katey stepped up and made her presence known. The woman saw her and recoiled her hands instantly.

“I’m sorry, princess,” she said. “I did not mean to offend.”

Katey narrowed her eyes on the woman. “I’m not a princess,” she corrected and weaved her arm through Logan’s before turning away.

The voodoo woman blocked their way with her hands held up to stop them. “But, you are. I can see it in you.”

Logan scoffed. “And I’m sure for thirty bucks, you’ll tell us more, right?”

The woman’s smile faded. “Do not insult me, wolf.”

They both went rigid. Could this woman tell they were loups-garous, or was she simply implying that Logan was like a wolf. He blew air from his nose and stepped towards her, his blue eyes holding all the excuse she would need to move out of the way.

“Stand aside, woman.”

She crossed her arms defiantly. “Please,” she crooned. “It’s been so long since I stood in the presence of such great creatures as yourselves. Indulge me for a moment only.”

Katey felt the muscle in her jaw jump. Yes, the woman knew.

She offered out her hand. “My name is Marie. I am an apprentice here under Madam Celeste. She’s away for a moment, but I’m sure she would love to meet you, princess.”

Katey didn’t accept the hand of friendship just yet. Through the dissonance of voices and feelings that teemed down Bourbon Street, she reached out with her spirit to read this woman. There was no malice behind her eyes and no cunning plan of deception about her. It seemed, regardless of what instinct told her, that this woman was kind and willing to help them. Perhaps if she knew what they were, she would know where the vamps were.

In a gesture that might have confirmed everything the woman thought of her, Katey briefly shook the woman’s hand and was sure to give it a firm grip to hide her anxiety. “We can’t stay long enough to meet your madam.”

The smile returned to Marie’s face, showing her pearl white teeth against dark skin. “Oh, well, I suppose that will be alright. It was my pleasure to meet you, then.”

Logan read her words as the cue to break away, but Marie blocked them again.

“No, wait. Please, allow me to grant you with some of my services. I have many spells and talismans that you can benefit from.”

He shook his head. “We’re not interested in your magic.”

A sly, unconvinced glint in her eye made Katey pay closer attention. “What about for that problem you’ve been having? You… can’t change, it seems. That’s a very serious thing.” She fished out a business card from the folds of her dress. “I have just the thing that can help you, if you so choose. Here is my card. I know you’re in a hurry, but please know I am here to help you in whatever way I can.”

Katey’s eyebrows shot up with curiosity. Was there such a potion or herb that could help Logan? More importantly, was it worth the risk to dabble in magic just to settle a one hundred yearlong battle?

Logan snatched the card of her hand and shoved it into his pocket. “Fine,” he mumbled and pressed past her, dragging Katey along.

Marie rushed forward, abandoning her shop front and grabbed Katey’s hand. They all froze and Katey looked into Marie’s dark and haunting eyes.

“My dear, take courage,” she whispered. “I sense the trouble in you. It will pass with the morning. And as for the other thing,” she smiled, “you will make a fine leader. Even our people have been waiting for you to bring peace. I have been privileged to witness many things in my life, but you are the greatest. I shall tell my grandchildren of the day that I met you.”

Marie kissed the back of Katey’s hand and then hurried away inside her shop, probably to tell all her friends who she just saw on Bourbon Street.

Heedless of the confusion that warred in Katey, pulled her along and they left the voodoo shop behind them in the chaos of New Orleans nightlife.

Curious about how Katey and Logan get to this place? Check out “The Enigma” and “Becoming the Enigma” on Amazon to get caught up in my Loup-Garou series before the release of “Beast Within”! Subscribe and follow my social media for continuous updates!

I surprise myself…

Ok, so as a writer I put little pieces of myself into my writing and it’s often done without my knowing it. I’ve read back over some of my books and realize that some of the things the characters go through are troubles I had either already worked through, or I was currently working through them at the time I was writing.

Well, tonight, I surprised myself again. Now, this is a bit of a spoiler alert for my Loup-Garou series, but this is a segment from chapter 12 of my next novel, Beast Within. It speaks a truth that I’ve been working at hammering into my own head for a while and I wonder if the message would help anyone else out there who is dealing with self-condemnation and insecurities about their life and relationships with others…

If the chase proved anything to Michael, it was that he was no longer a young man and that he had grown too accustomed to civilized life. Werewolves were always drawn to the woods, while his kind stayed indoors where it was safe and comfortable.

He stood in front of the cemetery gates to catch his breath, taking in the view of the graffitied sign that welcomed mourners and visitors alike. Miles away from Crestucky and well out of sight from human eyes, Logan had certainly picked a strange place to sulk.

“Leave me be, old man,” Logan’s voice drifted on the whistling wind.

Michael regained his strength and walked through the ajar gate, his footsteps barely making a sound on the crisp, untrodden grass. Even if Logan’s scent hadn’t led him to this remote graveyard, the trail of heightened emotions would have made his location known like a bright neon sign in the sky.

Since he had come to Crestucky, he knew the werewolves were in a dire situation. Fear and tension loomed like a thunder cloud over the city, and especially over the house in which Katey found herself living. Although Michael would have much preferred that she come to live with him, he understood the mind of the werewolves and their need for camaraderie and familial ties. To take her away from her pack would be like suffocating her slowly. To take her from her lover would prove even more disastrous.

From the moment he saw them together in the grand foyer, Michael knew their relationship was filled with love and devotion for one another. Yet, there was a queerness about their bond. Something unseen and probably undetected – even to them – was not quite right and Michael had racked his brain for weeks to figure it out.

Seeing them quarrel made it all too clear. Logan was willing to love, but not willing to lose. He loved to strongly, too passionately and although Katey loved him with just as much intensity, there was nothing holding her back, except for Logan himself.

With care, Michael approached the shaken wolf. Logan was crouched between two graves towards the back of the field. Every line of his body told Michael that he should not venture closer. But he did and stood within striking distance behind Logan.

He took a deep breath and turned to admire the surrounding woods that shaded the edges of the cemetery from the silvery moonlight. After a few moments of waiting, more or less to prove to Logan that he could control himself under the urge to assault the intruder, Michael asked, “Do you come here when you’re upset?”

“I come here to be alone,” he growled.

Michael looked back at the dirt road he had sped down to get here. “It’s a good place to be alone. I’m sure there aren’t more than a dozen people in the world who would know this is here.”

Logan looked over his shoulder, eyes still blazing gold and cutting through the night. “Many loups-garous know of this place.”

Michael avoided looking into the eyes of the beast and continued to observe his surroundings, studying the trees and the way the crickets sang their night chorus. “And now one vampire is privy to its location. Surely, you didn’t think we would let you run off while hunters are around?”

The hunters might have been closer than they thought. With his guards stationed around Katey’s home and new family, Michael was certain they would be safe for the time being. But there was one suspicion niggling in the back of his thoughts that refused to be pushed aside. With a few phone calls, he would know if his hunch was correct.

Until then, he had to find some way to get Logan back to the house so he could reconcile with Katey.

Logan turned away and rolled his shoulders before standing. They were equally matched in height, but with the extra pounds that age had given him, Michael was no match for Logan’s youth and brawn.

“Was that the first time you ever struck Dustin?” Michael asked, feigning intrigue and admiration.

“No,” Logan replied with a sigh. “It wasn’t. But it was the first time he didn’t deserve it.”

Michael bit back a smile. “Then why did you do it? If Dustin wasn’t – “

“I don’t know,” he snapped.

“Don’t know who you wanted to harm, or don’t know why you did it at all?”

Logan slowly turned to face him, face riddled with grief and a burden that no man could lift. “I don’t know why I struck him. I was just so angry.”

“At Katey?”

He shook his head. “No, I could never…”

Michael offered his ear to Logan, tilting his head and waiting for him to continue. “Never what? Never hate her? Never be angry with her? Back at the studio, you were furious with her. We could all see that as plain as day. There’s no shame in admitting that you were jealous.”

Logan shoved his hands into his pockets and averted his gaze. “I wasn’t jealous. How could I be jealous of someone coveting what is not rightfully mine?”

Michael rocked back in his heels and nodded. “Now, we’re getting to it. Come, son. There’s no one out here to eavesdrop and you can trust me.”

The werewolf shot a glare at him. “How can I? Ever since you showed up, you’ve been telling Katey how important she is, how her parents were famous and practically royalty. She’ll realize she can having something better than me and it’s all your fault. If you never came, everything would have been just fine the way it was.”

That was not true in the least. If Michael had never come, Katey would have never learned about her heritage and role in this grand design to bring the world back into balance. She wanted to know her parents, had wanted it from the very beginning before she even knew that she was the chosen one. Any orphan on this earth yearned for the same truth – to know where they belong and who they were. Michael furnished Katey with that knowledge and probably earned her undying gratitude for it. None of the others even knew she was the daughter of Adam and Jane.

“Has Katey told you this?” Michael asked. “Has she said the words ‘I don’t want you anymore’? Because, if I recall, she said quite the opposite just a short while ago.”

Logan shook his head. “She was saying those things to avoid making a scene.”

“No, I assure you that she was sincere. I am empathic, remember? Part from the fear that you were going to hurt someone, Katey felt love for you.”

“It must have been pity.”

Michael narrowed his eyes in puzzlement. “Why should she pity you? Why should she think you were not worthy of her love?”

Logan looked away across the field of tombstones, but would not reply.

With a sigh, Michael realized that he would have to learn the hard way. Using another of his vampiric abilities that was usually reserved for hunting or preying upon the weak, he reached into Logan’s mind and searched through is many memories.

Without blinking an eye, he sifted through the hate, the despair and utter agony that epitomized Logan’s life. One tragedy after another, full of lose and self-loathing. The only bright, shining light was Katey herself. Did she knew how much he needed her? How much he idolized her and worshipped her as his savior and angel of mercy?

It took only seconds for Michael to know everything; how Logan had unwittingly murdered his parents, how he was unable to change at will, how diluted his werewolf blood truly was. All of it made him wonder more about his origins.

In all of his years, Michael had never heard of a werewolf who obtained their condition from a second generation, such as Logan had inherited from Dustin. He might have been the only one to notice that morning at the castle, but Michael witnessed something extraordinary that left him scratching his head in regards to Logan.

When Katey had died, Logan was inconsolable as he held her in his arms. His tears ran in streams down his face. Michael had never heard a man weep in that way for over a century. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, or a romantic illusion, but he was sure that he saw one of Logan’s tears fall into Katey’s gun shot wound. A few seconds later, Katey was gasping for breath.

There was only one thing that could heal a mortal wound like that. Vampire tears had unique medicinal properties. In the dark ages, shamans and witches prized vampire tears and Michael had heard of some vials being sold for a small fortune. They were said to cure the plague and even bring the dead back to life.

Vampires did not cry often, making their tears a precious item that mystics searched after all their lives.

Michael held his hands behind his pack and continued to speculate as he watched Logan struggle for the words. It was lunacy to suggest that the werewolf who stood before him had any vampire blood in him. But the theory of his miracle tears was compelling. Then again, perhaps it was pure coincidence. Katey, after all, did poses the immortal spirit of Tanatia and with that privilege, might have come abilities that they could not begin to fathom.

Unable to wait for Logan to muster the courage, Michael spoke. “You think that because Katey is so special, that you can’t possibly match her.” He took a few steps forward. “My friend, love is not a competition. And if Katey’s parentage makes her unattainable, then you don’t understand what love is.”

Logan looked to Michael, a warning in his glare.

“Love,” Michael continued, “does not fabricate excuses. It wants what it will want and no force on earth can tear it asunder.” He held up a cautionary finger. “Unless you allow it to. If you continue to push her away on the grounds that you find your own self inadequate, then you have already lost her.”

“Katey deserves better than me.”

“No,” Michael barked. “She deserves the kind of love that you can give her. If you don’t pull up your trousers and realize that she will die inside without your love, then she will never fulfill her mission.”

“I’m sure she could do fine without me.”

Michael scowled. “So, then you don’t love her?”

Logan growled. “I do love her. She’s the only thing I’ve ever loved in this world.”

“All I’m hearing are excuses and lies that you’ve probably been feeding yourself for your entire life. The pack can do without you. Darren would be relieved that a disobedient pup left him. Dustin would be happier with a more stable grandson. Katey would be better off with a man who wasn’t so jealous and insecure. These lies will become true if you let them fester in your mind for the next four centuries.”

Michael leaned forward. “Or, you can make a choice to believe that your pack cares about you. You can choose to believe that Darren and Dustin love you as if you were their son. You can make a choice to believe every word that Katey tried to pound into your head on the sidewalk.”

Logan shook his head. “It’s not that easy. I don’t know how it is for you vamps, but I can’t just flip a switch.”

“I don’t expect you to flip a switch. I expect you to retrace the steps that have led you down this self-destructive path and find where you went wrong in your thinking. It may take years, maybe decades, for you to come back to the place you once were before you decided to make yourself your own worst enemy. But when you’re there, you’ll realize that you’ve been the mate that Katey has always deserved and the pack member that Darren has always needed.”

Logan was silent and Michael could see the wheels begin to turn in his head. Yes, it would take a while to reverse the damage, but tonight would be the first night of many where Logan didn’t have to hate so strongly anymore.

 

If you’re interested in reading what Michael’s talking about, check out “The Enigma” and “Becoming the Enigma” on Amazon!

Only Available For A Short Time!

[image error]So, in order for me to purchase copies for my beta readers, my arm has been twisted into publishing “Silver Screen”. Because it’s a very rough copy, it will be available for a short time and at a low price.

Blurb: “When Josie Carter found out she would be the head makeup artist for the famous Rodney Bator, it was hard not to be a little star struck. Working on her first big movie picture was a dream for the small town girl from Arkansas. But, her natural passion for acting has been pushed aside for many years now after the accident that killed her eldest sister. Seeing life through the lens of that tragedy had made her apprehensive to accept anything good, including the kindness and love of the incredible actor she worked with every day.

All Rodney every wanted in life was to prove to other werewolves, like himself, that it was possible to life in the midst of humans and not have to worry about discovery. The old world superstitious ways were a thing of the past, but he still knew many of his kind that lived in hiding – including his own father. Sure that his message was only enraging the alphas of the world, Rodney was ready to hang up his actor hat and settle down. And he knew just who he wanted to settle down with.”

This will be available on Amazon for probably only a month or so. If you want a limited edition copy, head over there right now and get yours today!

BUY IT HERE!

Chapter 2 of “Silver Screen”

Well, you showed your love for chapter 1, so here’s chapter 2! Tell me what you think!

By the way, I’ve completed my editing for this novel, but as I said before, I may never publish it. But, I am waiting approval for the proof copy from CreateSpace, so I’ll have a copy for myself to put on my shelf at least. Who knows, later down the road, I may get it professionally edited and see how it goes.

Until then, I’ll be posting pieces on my blog. Also as a note, I may disappear off the radar for a while because college classes start tomorrow and I have no idea how much work I’ll be doing and how busy I will be. With luck, I’ll be able to start back on “Beast Within” and get that going for publication in the later part of this year.

 

Chapter 2

Everything was quiet on the observatory scene set as Rodney took his place by the telescope with Sean Stanton, who played his father – Sir John Talbot – in the movie. Josie and Natalie stood off to the side behind the cameras, watching the actors prepare themselves as the rest of the crew moved in for the lighting and sound. The room wasn’t more than thirty foot by thirty foot, with more than half of that reserved for Rodney and Sean while nearly twenty other crew members crowded the space near the door and spilled out into the room beyond.

Landon was not too far off, his stance wide and arms crossed with an intense look on his tanned, middle-aged face. His hazel eyes, shadowed beneath the rim of his Cubs ballcap, jumped around the set and examined everything from a distance to make sure everything would be perfect for the shot.

Kirk was beside him, nervously biting on his thumbnail and eyes downcast to the floor as if the entire success of this movie depended on this scene, which was entirely untrue. Josie believed it was the movie as a whole that made it a hit, but she could understand how uneasy the creator of anything would be when it was brought to life in this way. His curly brown hair looked like it had been run through with a set of anxious fingers more than a few times.

Most of the castle scenes took place at Niddry Castle a little farther out of town. Although the time in which this story took place was the early nineteen hundreds, the castle was far more ancient, making Niddry Castle perfect for most of the shots. But for some of the scenes, the crew modified an old mansion in the village, making the interior look like a medieval nobleman’s castle.

Looking around at the modernly dressed crew working with the vintage-clad actors and actresses in such a historic setting was like witnessing a strange clash of ages. The set designers took painstaking steps to make sure that all the tapestries, Persian rugs, antique furniture, and crests hanging on the walls were as detailed as possible and accurate to the history of this fictional family.

All this preparation for a mere three-minute shot and Josie’s part in the standby team was to correct any slight smear in the actors’ makeup, while Natalie was prepared with needle and thread if a button should pop off.

Landon ordered silence and the cameras began to roll.

Rodney and Stanton exchanged their lines perfectly as their characters talked about the new telescope and arrangements for Larry – played by Rodney – to take up residence in Talbot Castle after a long absence. The funeral of his older brother was what drove him back to his home town. Not only that, Larry would become the lord of Talbot Castle when his father passed on, assuming the birth rights of the eldest who had recently passed.

Josie had listened to Rodney go on and on about his immersion into the mind of Larry Talbot, putting himself in the character’s shoes to deliver the best performance. And as she watched the scene unfold, she was sure that his emotionally and mentally taxing study was paying off. It was as if Rodney had shucked his usual personality and donned an entirely new person. That was the mark of a true and seasoned actor and Josie still felt a thrill in her gut when she saw a scene carried out so flawlessly.

Then came the moment that Rodney had been fretting over all morning. Sean walked off set and Rodney – Larry – was left to wander about the room and ogle at the relics on the walls. He went to the telescope and pretended to look at different views of the village below the castle. The camera steadily panned closer and Rodney feigned astonishment at everything he saw. Then, in a moment of cinematic gold, Rodney made a repeat performance of what Josie had the privilege to witness in his trailer.

He pulled off the look of first-love perfectly and when Landon gave the order to stop the cameras, he applauded the cast. “Very good, Rodney!” he praised, his once stern eyes lighting with satisfaction that every director wished to experience. Then, Landon gave the order to print the scene. They only needed one take. The fewer the takes, the less money and time was wasted.

Rodney smiled, but not in the same way he had when Josie complimented his acting.

Forgetting herself and her previous resolve that Rodney didn’t belong to her, Josie sighed happily and watched him discuss the next scenes with Landon and Kirk. As if in a daydream, the bustling noise of people and equipment moving faded into the background.

Natalie snapped her fingers in front of Josie’s nose, startling her out of her daze.

“What?” she asked when she saw the seamstress’s dubious look.

“You’ll catch flies with your mouth hanging open like that.”

“My mouth wasn’t hanging open.”

“But you were sure fixated on something… Or someone.” Natalie’s eyes slid to Rodney and back to Josie with a furtive look.

Josie stuck her nose up and turned to walk out of the room that was too crowded for a private conversation. “So what if I was looking at him?”

Natalie followed her, leaning close so no one else could hear. “You don’t have a crush on him, do you?”

Josie wanted to laugh. “Are we in grade school? A crush? Come on, Natalie. We’re grown women. I don’t have a crush on Rodney.” They reached a relatively quiet place in another room and stood by a decadently ornate, tall window that over looked a rich green field, untouched by the crew or movie project. “We just spend a lot of time together in his trailer and sometimes we have these meaningful conversations. He’s actually a very fascinating man, past the handsome face and ripped abs…”

Josie nibbled on her bottom lip and let her graze drift a bit as she remembered earlier that morning when they walked in on Rodney getting dressed.

“If you don’t like him, then why the staring and getting tea for him in the morning? The assistance can take care of that.”

Josie made a face and wagged her head a bit. “They technically could, but none of them can make it the way he likes it.”

Natalie raised a dark eyebrow and Josie crumbled under her friend’s accusing look. “Ok, maybe I really do like him. I always fall for the guys that are out of my league, you know that. It’s always the popular guys, the quarterbacks, the talented stage actors. And I’m just the drama geek or makeup girl. They don’t go for girls like me and I know it. It’s not going anywhere.”

“It better not. Do you know the kind of publicity a scandal like that would cause?” Natalie made a great sweeping motion with her hand as if she were painting the space between them. “I can see it now. ‘Makeup Maiden Makes Love to Sexiest Man Alive’.”

Josie rolled her eyes. “It wouldn’t go that far at all. When the movie’s over, I will go back to the states and he’ll go on to some new project or to his fancy mansion in California and we will never meet again…” A sly smile passed over her lips. “Unless we happen to meet on another movie set and he sweeps me into his arms, saying ‘Oh, Josie, I couldn’t stop thinking about you all these years. Will you marry me?’. And I’ll say ‘My darling, of course I will!’.”

“Will what?” came a familiar deep voice from behind Josie.

Both girls spun around to face Rodney, standing before them and looking curious in his dapper suit and tie. He was alone, unattended by the micromanaging director or fidgety writer.

Josie’s eyes went wide as she scrambled for the words, trying not to get lost in the way the late morning sunlight bathed his features in a warm glow that seemed otherworldly.

Natalie quickly jammed her elbow into Josie’s ribs, nearly knocking her off her feet.

Josie quickly recovered and reached around to pull something from her bag. “I will fix that one smudge in your makeup there,” she said as she dusted at one fictitious spot on his cheek with a clean brush.

“Do you think it was there during the shot?”

“No, it wasn’t. Must have shown up in the last few minutes.”

She didn’t even hear him come up, which wouldn’t have been so surprising if they were still in the crowded room. But it was nearly impossible to take a step on these stone and tile floors without the echo reverberating off the high ceilings.

They hadn’t been talking in too low of a whisper, either. Which, was why Josie was almost positive that Rodney would have heard what she said too. But, since he seemed to accept her hastily-formed excuse, then perhaps Rodney hadn’t heard her after all.

Josie finished fixing the “smudge” and tucked her brush away. “Is there something you needed?” she asked, trying desperately to not fantasize that Rodney might have come over purely to socialize.

The great actor glanced out the window, his pupils shrinking to adjust to the bright light, making his eyes even more luminous. “Yes, I was wondering if – “

“Rodney!” Landon shouted from the doorway. His deep, booming voice resonated off the stone ceiling above them and the girls jumped. “I need you in here. Kirk’s talking about altering a scene and we need your opinion.”

Rodney peeked over his shoulder and for a moment, Josie saw a flash of irritation in his eyes. He wasn’t the type to get impatient with anyone that quickly. But as quickly as it came, the emotion was gone. He inclined his head to the girls and excused himself like the gentleman he was dressed as.

Josie grinned at the courteous gesture and watched him leave the room, the heels of his boots tapping all the way. There was no way he could have snuck up so easily. Perhaps she wasn’t as alert as she thought she was.

“That was a close one. He didn’t seem to hear what we were talking about,” Natalie whispered, being careful this time.

Rodney glimpsed back at the girls just before he left the room and one corner of his mouth curled up in a sly smile, as if he were incredibly amused by something.

“I’m not so sure he didn’t,” Josie muttered as a pleasant shiver ran down her back. “I wonder what he was about to say.”

 

It had been a long day of filming and Rodney knew the coming night would be even longer. After spending most of his time wrestling with Landon and Kirk about the way he thought scenes should be played out, all Rodney wanted to do was go back to his private home just outside Edinburgh, get his things ready and find a place away from all the people.

Well, perhaps there was one thing he would have wanted to do. But, Rodney suspected that Josie would have left with the rest of the crew on the shuttle bus back into town. Apart from this morning, he hadn’t been able to catch some alone time with her. He found encouragement in the fact that she would be back the next day and perhaps they could talk then.

Landon had cleared the shooting schedule this evening because of Rodney’s mandatory “meeting” that he couldn’t skip for anything. The director didn’t seem too bothered by the change of plans. Perhaps what made him such a great director was how flexible he was on things that were out of his control. If only Rodney had a similar quality.

Once he stripped out of his costume, being careful not to manhandle the intricately made garments. He didn’t want to see what a gentle woman like Natalie would do to someone who tore up her masterpieces.

Rodney was in the middle of packing up his things when he heard the soft crunch of footfalls upon crisp grass coming towards his trailer. He hadn’t heard any activity near the set for half an hour now and the last shuttle left ten minutes prior. Unless this was a curious villager, there should have been no one around. He was often the first one on set and the last to leave.

He sniffed the air and detected the faint whiffs of a peach fragrant deodorant that only Josie wore.

He straightened up where he stood just outside the bedroom threshold and watched the door as she quietly entered. There was hesitance at first, probably because she didn’t expect the lights to be on. She shut the door behind her and her eyes fell directly on him. Eyes the color of sunlight shining through a full tumbler of Scotch that reminded him of better times and made him hope for a future.

As tired as she must have felt, she was still able to express her shock.

“I thought you went back to town already,” she said, a tremble of some repressed emotion coloring her words.

“I was just about to leave,” he replied. Normally, he would have been able to focus and not let his thoughts and feelings wander rampantly. Tonight, however, was different and his biological urges made it difficult for him to behave the way he normally would have in her presence.

“Still have that meeting you need to go to?” Josie seemed to have recovered. She moved towards the vanity where he sat every morning and let her touch his face, secretly driving him mad with her nearness.

Any sensible man would have requested another makeup artist and discharged Josie after the first day when he realized what he might begin to care for her as something more than a co-worker. He should have scrambled off that plane as soon as he saw her pass and he first breathed in her wonderful scene of womanhood and peaches and realized that she would cause trouble for him. But, Rodney was no ordinary man, let alone a sensible one.

“Yes, I do.” He checked out the window and saw that the sun was just an hour away from setting. He didn’t have much time and the tension in his soul was mounting with every passing moment. He cleared his throat. “Did you need something?”

Josie looked away and began searching through the vanity drawers and counter top. “I think I left a compact in here. It’s red with gold lettering.”

Something in her posture and tone told Rodney that she was a little more than nervous about this compact and its whereabouts. “What’s in it?” he asked.

“It’s just a cheek color. I already looked in Bianca’s trailer to see if it was there, but I didn’t find it.” Her search became a little more frantic, her nimble fingers combing through the contents of the drawers.

Without being asked, Rodney joined her search and roamed around the trailer, checking everywhere she might have been that day, including by the arm chair. He remembered how badly he wanted her to speak that morning when she leaned against the back of the chair to watch the movie with him. Not because he felt the silence to be uncomfortable, but because he had been eager to hear her lovely, smoky voice since the moment he woke up.

His keen eyes picked up the tiny reflection of light against smooth plastic. Beneath his arm chair was the compact she was looking for.

“Is this it?” he asked, offering it to her, his hand a little shaky.

Josie released her held breath and took it from him, their fingers touching for a brief second in the exchange. “Thank you. It’s very special to me,” she said as she tucked it away in a reserved compartment of her backpack and zipped it shut.

He took the chance to look her up and down again for what seemed the dozenth time that day. Rodney couldn’t get enough of Josie with her simple sense of style and quiet loveliness. Without even trying, she made khaki capris, tank tops, and cotton shirts look fashionable. She wore them well and in his opinion, no model on earth could hold a candle to her. Especially today, since she wore no makeup and disclosed her true beauty. Seeing her quieted the beast for a little longer. He hoped that she would be running late more often so she wouldn’t have to bother gussying herself up each morning.

Rodney snapped out of his daydream when Josie looked back to him. “I’ve never seen you use it before.”

“It’s my personal compact.”

“But the initials on the front were not yours. Unless you go by a different name that starts with an A.”

Josie paused, her eyes unblinking. “It’s my sister’s compact.”

Rodney’s lips parted. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

Despite the obvious unease he sensed in her, Josie smiled it away and shook her head. “No, it’s ok. She… She gave it to me on my birthday, just before we left the house on the day of the accident.”

Rodney nodded, understanding that such a gift could easily become something of a relic for her. Losing it would be like losing part of herself. It had been several years since Josie’s sister passed away, but the grief was still real and fresh to her. He wasn’t sure how many people Josie had confided in about her family tragedy.

She had told him about the accident in brief and almost reporter-like details only a few weeks ago, after Rodney asked about her family back in the states. There was none of this emotion misting in her eyes back then and he wondered how close she had been to completely breaking down over this compact.

“I thought the shuttle left a little while ago,” he said. “Why didn’t you take it? Have you been looking for the compact this whole time?”

“Kind of, but I wasn’t worried about missing it. I can just call a cab.”

Rodney couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think you’ll find a cab driving around this part of the country.”

“I had one drop me off this morning,” she replied defensively.

“Yes, that was to drop you off. Not to pick you up. I’m not so sure they will make the trip up here again.” Rodney thought for a moment and then risked it all by asking, “Can I give you a lift into town? I know where the hotel is.”

Josie bowed her head, but he could still see the bit of color rise in her cheeks. Without her usual light layer of foundation, every flush and blush had shined through clear as day. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

Rodney ventured a step closer. “It’s no trouble. How else would you get back? Walk?”

She gave a soft giggle and shrugged. “Maybe I could use the exercise.”

“That was a joke,” he teased with a grin. “I wouldn’t let you walk all the way. It might take you all night.”

“What about your meeting?”

Rodney’s face wrinkled a bit as he was reminded again of how little previous time he had before nightfall. He calculated the route from the hotel to his home and figured that it wouldn’t take him that long to pack his other bag for the night. If he broke the speed limit, it was possible that he would make it out of town in time.

“The time is a little flexible. It won’t be a problem.”

Throwing caution to the wind, Josie threw up her hands. “I’m ready to go when you are.”

This was just the private time he needed. If he could hold himself together and nothing unexpected happened, he would get around to asking Josie exactly what he intended to ask her earlier that day.

Rodney gathered up his things, locked the trailer and led Josie to his black Dodge Charger that he had specially imported for this project. Despite his seemingly boundless riches, Rodney owned only one vehicle and tried to take it everywhere he traveled. He hated the hassle of renting an unfamiliar vehicle or having to garage several across the world just for convenience.

When Josie slid into the patent leather passenger seat and he started up the engine, it dawned on Rodney that this might not have been a flawless plan. Her scent, both artificial and natural, swirled around in his senses and he was unable to escape it for the next half hour or so while he drove back into Edinburgh.

With the added pressure from his churning innards and sore muscles, Rodney wasn’t sure how he would handle carrying on a regular conversation.

Luckily, he didn’t have to worry about it. Josie received a call on her cellphone shortly after they pulled back onto the main road. Streaks of ochre and scarlet clouds filled the sky ahead of him as he listened to both sides of the conversation, even though Josie hadn’t put the call on speaker phone at all.

“Sorry, I have to take this.” Josie pressed the phone to her ear. “Hey,” she greeted. Through the road noise and gentle rumble of the engine, Rodney could hear her heart race.

“Hey! How was your day at work, honey?” an older woman asked on the other end of the line. Judging by the intimate nickname, she must have been Josie’s mother or some other woman in close relation.

“It was good. We got a few good shots in and we’ll be moving on to some pretty important scenes tomorrow so I’ll need to get a good night’s sleep for a change.”

“So where are you now?”

Rodney glanced over and saw Josie pull a face as if she were coming up with a quick lie. “I’m riding back on the shuttle, of course.”

Rodney tried to hold back a laugh. One thing he adored about Josie, among other things, was her unguarded expressions. She was an open book to anyone who could read the signs and paid attention. And Rodney always paid close attention.

“It’s a little more quiet than usual.”

“Yeah, there’s not a lot of us here. They sent two shuttles today.”

“Well, that’s good, I guess. Did you get to see Rodney Bator today? Did you get the autograph I asked for?”

Josie rolled her eyes and leaned against the headrest. “No, I haven’t yet. He’s a very busy man, mom.”

Rodney waited through the rest of the phone call, filtering out the details of inner family life that was none of his business. They were about five minutes from the hotel when Josie finally hung up and let out a long breath.

“She doesn’t know you work with me on a regular basis, does she?”

“Nope and I was hoping to keep it that way,” she confessed without a hint of shame or hesitance.

“I don’t mind signing something for you to send back to her in the states.”

Josie wiped a hand over his forehead. “I wasn’t going to ask until the last day of shooting. I didn’t want you to think I was some devoted fan or something.”

“I’m used to devoted fans. I used to answer all of my fan mail until my agent recommended that I hire someone to weed through them for me.”

“I’m sure you’ve probably come across a few letters or emails from my mother. She owns all your movies and dad had to talk her out of buying a poster of you one time. It’s pretty embarrassing.”

Rodney chuckled. After years of being a celebrity, he had never gotten used to people admitting fanatical obsessions over him. He wasn’t oblivious to the hordes of stalking females online or the countless fan websites and clubs formed in his honor.

“I’m sure your parents are pretty proud of what you’ve accomplished,” she said.

Rodney would have blanched if he hadn’t caught himself slipping into that deep well of emotion that he’d been avoiding for some time now. The entity within Rodney that strained for release lashed out against him at the mere mention of the people he never wanted to think of. His grip tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, and then he released.

“I’m sure your parents must be very proud of you,” he deflected.

Josie snorted. “Honestly, I don’t know anymore.” She propped her head in her hand, leaning her elbow against the passenger side door. “Mom wants me to meet someone with all my traveling for movie jobs and settle down into marriage. Dad’s never quite been the same since my sister passed but he said that he’s proud of my going out and making a career for myself. I don’t know if that means he’s proud of what I’m actually doing or not.”

“Do they not approve of you doing makeup?” he asked as he pulled up to a red light at a mildly busy intersection.

“They approve of it a lot more than what I wanted to do first.”

“Which was?” Rodney settled back in his seat and watched how the headlights of the passing cars splashed across her face, both highlighting and casting shadows over her sharp but elegant features.

One car came a little too close and Rodney saw Josie seize just as it zoomed past. She closed her eyes for a moment and let out a slow breath.

“Are you ok?” he asked, nearly reaching out to touch her shoulder, but thought better of it and kept the gear shift and cup holders between their seats as his boundary line.

“Yeah, sorry.” She flashed him an apologetic look. “I still get a little jumpy driving at night.”

Rodney felt his chest squeeze with sympathy for her grief. He understood the power of ghosts in the mind and fears that just wouldn’t go away after years or decades. “So, you didn’t always want to do makeup?”

Josie eased a little and looked out the window at the pedestrians ambling down the sidewalks with their shopping bags. “Not always.”

A slight frown formed between his brows. “Why do makeup then? What happened to that first dream?”

Josie was quiet for a moment, like she had been in the trailer when they talked about the compact. “My sister taught me how to do makeup. She wanted to do the makeup for models down a runway, but could never land a big gig like that. Instead, she worked in salons or theater groups. When she died, I wanted to honor her somehow and since I was just as good at makeup as her, I figured I’d go into the same profession.”

The car behind them laid on his horn, snapping both back into the present. Rodney sped through the intersection and turned a few corners until they were close to the carpool area in front of the hotel.

Rodney parked half a block from the entrance, well aware that if he were spotted dropping Josie off, there would be some magazine reporting about it somewhere. He threw the car into park and unlocked the doors.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” he said, glad to have asked but still burning with more questions.

Josie smiled. “Thank you for the lift.”

She grabbed her bag and opened the car door, but Rodney wasn’t finished just yet. “Wait.”

Josie froze and looked back at him, her dark eyes reflecting the blue and green dash lights from the interior of his car. There was too little daylight left and he saw a few evening stars begin to twinkle above, but even in the dim light, she was exquisite. Once more he realized what deep waters he had waded into.

Despite everything, his boldness to offer her a ride and the personal conversations, Rodney lost his nerve. “Thank you for all your hard work. Bianca’s makeup looked great today and I know it must have been a stretch for you to handle both of us in one day.”

Josie looked slightly disappointed. “Oh, it wasn’t any trouble. I had to do the makeup for an entire acting troupe once and the theater’s air conditioning unit was broken so makeup would be sweating off of them every act. That was a handful.”

Rodney nodded and gave her an approving smile. If her parents weren’t truly proud of her, they should have been. “Good night, Josie.”

She returned the warm wishes and slammed the door shut. Even though the urges within him were pulling even harder than they had all day, Rodney took a few moments to watch Josie saunter down the sidewalk and into the hotel. Only when she was safely inside, did he pull back into traffic and rush to his home. Down the long, winding forest road he sped, gunning the car much faster what was safe.

It was a modest house, nothing like his mansion in Beverly Hills. The outer stone edifice was strongly reminiscent of an English cottage or country home, while the interior was remodeled to modern standards of living. But it wasn’t the style of the home that made it ideal for Rodney to stay in during filming.

Beyond the cottage were acres upon acres of undeveloped woodlands that he knew he could use without risk of exposure. This project could easily take a year to complete and Rodney needed a safe place like this, away from the noise and crowds of city life. And as far as he knew, the paparazzi had no clue that he even lived here.

Rodney owned many homes like this one around Europe and in the states. And if he happened to be filming in an area that he didn’t have a place to stay, he found one quickly and snatched it up with help from his agent to conceal his identity during the transaction. While he wasn’t staying in the dozens of homes he owned, he rented them out to vacationers or let the local citizens use it for functions or events.

Rodney hurried inside, dropped his work bag and picked up his emergency duffle bag. He checked it to make sure it had a complete change of clothes. The animal’s assaults were coming in their usual pulsating frequency, pounding in Rodney’s head and threatening to split his body in two right there in his living room.

A sound threatened his hold on humanity. His superior heightened senses heard the approach of a car down the narrow road that led to his cottage. He turned off the lights and listened to the crunch of tires rolling across the pebble drive. Rodney hoped that whoever it was would assume he was asleep and not bother with the door.

But as the driver of the car climbed out of their vehicle, Rodney rolled his eyes in exasperation. Her pungent perfume was hard to miss, even if he couldn’t hear the way she nearly twisted her ankles on the soft earth as she trudged up the path in high heels.

He flipped on the lights and opened the door just as she was about to knock.

Bianca stood on the welcome mat, simpering like a whore straight out of a cathouse. She was dressed for the part too, standing there in her bright red, skin-tight dress that didn’t extend past her knees. “Hey there, stranger,” she said.

Rodney was not in the mood for company, but knew that if he didn’t handle this well, it would prove fatal to his image. Bianca was obsessed with publicity, good and bad. One wrong move and she was liable to blab to the presses how Rodney rudely shoved her off his property at night. More than likely, she would add a few embellishments in there to make the story even juicier for readers back in the states.

“Hey, Bianca. I wasn’t expecting you. I have a meeting to go to and I’m already late.”

As if she hadn’t heard a word he said, Bianca strutted forward and placed a thin and delicate hand against his chest. Rodney knew her to be too narcissistic to even suspect that his rapidly beating heart had nothing to do with her.

“I thought we were going to rehearse lines tonight.”

“I don’t recall every having said that.”

“Sure you did, don’t you remember? Today on the set, you mentioned that you needed to practice your lines for the scene tomorrow. I’m in that scene. So, you need me here to help.”

Rodney’s memory was too sharp to forget that. And yes, he needed to practice, but that was before he realized what would happen tonight.

“I think you assumed that I would need your help, but I don’t. Either way, I have a meeting and I can’t rehearse, even if I wanted to. Maybe some other time.”

The coquettish glimmer in her eye turned sour and she stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. “But I was looking forward to this.”

“I’m very sorry, but like I told you, I’m late for a meeting.”

“Who could possibly be meeting this late in the evening?”

No one had yet to ask him that. Everyone might have presumed that it was none of their business – which is wasn’t. Rodney hadn’t prepared a lie for this, but he wasn’t called a great actor just because of his looks. He could improvise.

“It’s an online meeting with some people in California. They’re talking about doing a short television series after I’m done here. And they’re probably waiting for me to get online right now.”

Bianca sighed. “Well, far be it for me to get in the way of your career. God knows I have my own troubles keeping the directors in Hollywood off of me. I’m in high demand, you know.”

Rodney held back the urge to remind Bianca that he knew exactly how much work she was being offered nowadays. None. This film was the first she had been offered in nearly a year. After her scandal with some director on her last project, Hollywood was hesitant to even approach her anymore. The only reason she had been casted as his co-star was because of her golden hair that fit so well with Gwen’s character.

“You’re very fortunate,” Rodney said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really need to get to that meeting.”

Bianca nodded and leaned up to kiss him on the lips just before she left. Rodney restrained the urge to push her away, once more, knowing the consequences. It wasn’t the first time they kissed off set and knowing her, it wouldn’t be the last. He hated her kisses. Her lipstick was sticky and the chemical taste it left on his mouth was repulsive. Even the beast within him writhed at the touch of the woman it despised. Too unnatural, too fake and dishonest. Bianca was too unlike the beast to be appealing in any sense of the word.

Rodney had regretted letting it go this far and cursed his weak spine for caring about an image that he didn’t even want anymore. If he had enough guts, he would have told Bianca to take a hike long ago. But the film wasn’t finished, yet and Landon needed their cooperation as performers. To keep Bianca playing along, Rodney had to play the part she imposed on him.

He endured the kiss and watched her drive off before closing the door. He waited until her car was far away, out of range from his sharp ears.

By now, his forehead was damp with sweat from the effort it took to hold himself together. He had waited this long before, but not in years and he was a little rustier at taking command of himself for this long. He remembered a time when he could hardly contain himself before sundown.

But he had enough control by now to hold out for a few more minutes. He shouldered the bag, locked the door behind him and darted into the woods just as the crescent moon began to rise.