Josh Lanyon's Blog, page 2

Christmas Coda 72

 Caz and Raleigh from THE LEMON DROP KID

 

It was dark when I opened my eyes.

The room was dark, yes, but outside was also dark. I knew Iwas in my own bed. In my own bedroom. Knew I was home. I felt a wave of reliefand gratitude. I was never going to get over being grateful for normalcy. Icould see stars shining through the window. See the pinpoint reflected gleam inFreyja’s eyes as she gazed toward the closed bedroom door.

There was a band of light beneath the door, and now that Ilistened, I could hear Raleigh’s deep voice speaking quietly.

My hearted started to pound in instant anxiety.

Which didn’t make sense, because everything was okay.

Everything was better than okay—unless something hadhappened while I’d slept, unless the D.A., the chief, Raleigh had changed hismind again—

The frantic, frightened drumbeat in my ears drowned out thesound of Raleigh’s hushed tones. I felt like I was smothering beneath theweight of fear. That was not survival instinct. It was PTSD. And it was goingto take me a while to get over it even as I reminded myself of the last fewhours.

Hours so lovely they felt like they had to have been a dream.

Never mind believing in Santa Claus, I was having trouble believingin happiness.

Freyja’s tail stirred on the comforter, the door openedcautiously, and Raleigh was briefly silhouetted in the doorway, before the doorclosed again.

I pushed up on elbow, said softly, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said quickly, apologetically. “I was tryingnot to wake you.” He climbed into bed, blocked Freyja’s enthusiastic greetings,and slipped his arm beneath my shoulders, pulling me toward him. I locked myarms around him, buried my face in his throat.

“My mom wants to know if you’d want to come to Christmasdinner.” He still sounded apologetic.

I didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. I was fighting tears.Trying to conceal my reaction. So much reaction to every little thing. It wasexhausting. Draining.

Freyja noisily snuffled the back of my neck, my ears.

“Freyja, don’t.” Raleigh bent his head lower to mine. “Youokay, Caz?”

I nodded.

“Tell me,” he said gently.

I said thickly, “Just…reaction.”

After a moment he said, “Yeah, of course. That’s normal.” He kissed the top of myhead, my ear, nudged my face so he could kiss my nose and then my mouth. Thenmy mouth, wet from the silent tears, again. “It’s going to be okay. I promiseyou.”

I nodded.

“I won’t ever let you down again.”

“I know that.”

He had to stop apologizing. I had to stop having panicattacks. It was all going to take time. But we had time. That was the important thing to remember. That was the thing to hold onto. Second chances.

I said, “I just want things to be normal again.”

“They will be.” His throat moved against my face as heswallowed. “It’s going to be a new normal that’s all.”

Freyja seemed to feel progress was not being made fastenough. She thrust her muzzle between my face and Raleigh’s, snuffled loudly, suspiciously,and then suddenly sneezed. Everywhere.

“Jeez, Freyja,” Raleigh protested, letting go of me, wipinghis face.

I rolled over, laughing unsteadily, and Freyja, seeming to feelher work was done, settled against me and sighed.

I tugged gently on her silky ears. “What do you think of allthis, Freyja?”  

Freyja licked my wrist.

Raleigh said, “Dogs live in the moment.”

I thought about that. “Sometimes in the moment is the lastplace you want to be.”

Raleigh resettled, pulled me closer.

I knew what he was thinking, and I said, “This is goodmoment to be in, though.” I tilted my face up, and in the moonlight, he lookedso serious.

Raleigh said in that gruff voice he got when he was afraidhis voice would shake, “This is the best moment.” It took him a moment beforehe could add, “I didn’t think there was a chance in hell of ever having amoment like this again.”

“Same.”

Like one of those schmaltzy tchotchkes: Forgiveness is agift you give yourself!

True, though.

Very true.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Advent Calendar - Day 17 GIVEAWAY

 

Today I'm giving away 10 copies/downloads of A WINTER ROMANCE (Holiday Codas 3). 

As I'm sure most of you know, every year I try to write a few holiday codas for this "Advent Calendar."

If you don't know, in literature, a coda is a concluding section of a narrative that provides closure or resolution beyond the main action of the story. It can tie up loose ends, expand on the themes of the story, or--in our case--offer a glimpse of the characters' lives after the main plot has ended. It's a similar to an epilogue, but in the world of romance fiction, there can be multiple codas which can eventually even turn into short stories (as in "A Funny Thing Happened").  Basically, it's a little book of HEA. (Mostly.)

Anyway, every few years I collect these codas, get them edited and formatted--actually, here's the intro:

In 2012 I began a holiday tradition of writing holiday codasfor some of my—and your—favorite stories. I ran the codas on my blog and leftthem up there for readers to enjoy all year round.

At the request of readers, I collected the codas in anexpanded and edited edition which I published in 2015 as Merry Christmas, Darling.

In 2017 I did a second collection titled Christmas Waltz.

In the years that followed, I’ve written an additional thirty codas, so it seems about time to do a third collection. As before, I’mincluding recipes for cocktails and dishes that are either featured in theoriginal works or seem to add some final comment or insight into the era or thecharacters or their relationship. OR that I just want to share with you, myreaders! (Black Orchid martinis, anyone?)

Because the codas are a holiday gift to you, my readers,they also remain available for free on my blog (minus edits, expansion or any eroticcontent).

There are those who complain about the “predictability” ofhappy endings, but after the unpredictability of the last few years, I thinkthere’s something to be said for happy holidays and true love. May this seasonbe filled with only the best and loveliest of predictabilities.

So yes, there's a new coda collection this year, and I'm giving away a few copies. As of writing this, I'm not sure if the collection will be ready by the time this posts, but it'll be out soon. 

To be eligible for the giveaway for A Winter Romance, just comment down below letting me know the couple you'd most love to see in another coda. 

OH. Almost forgot. The original two coda collections are currently on sale. Merry Christmas, Darling and Christmas Waltz are each currently priced at $1.99 in the U.S.

PS -- Thank you to Johanna Ollila who did the lovely art for all three collection covers! 

Advent Calendar - Day 16 Fiction from Byron Beach!

 

Happy Monday! 

Even the Mondays are a bit nicer this time of year, I think. Right? Everyone's a bit cheerier. A little more hopeful that THIS is the year they finally get their pony. 

I figured Monday was the perfect time to share this bit of holiday sweetness from Byron. Today we're checking in with Griff and Pierce of Stranger on the Shore.

 

"PierceDiscovers Costco"

 

Griffwas finishing his morning run, and as he turned onto their street, he couldn’thelp but marvel at the vibrant fall colors on Long Island. The leaves seemedeven more intense than in Wisconsin, and winter’s snow wouldn’t arrive quite asearly. While he missed parts of his life in the Midwest, being close to hisgrandfather—and, of course, to Pierce—made him feel truly at home. Nearingtheir house, Griff was filled with a sense of contentment: health, love, andthe promise of a hot cup of coffee.

 

Despitethe wealth now at his command, Griff still believed that the simple, frugalvalues he’d grown up with were the clearest path to happiness. Pierce, Jarrett,and most of Syosset, however, would politely but firmly disagree.

 

Unlockingthe front door, Griff was greeted by six large packages piled in the foyer,another testament to the festival of excess their upcoming wedding had become.For the most part, he and Pierce were aligned on the important parts of “TheEvent,” like vows and tone, but minor details—guest lists, appetizers, music—were part of an incessant demand for decisions. Griff had made countlessconcessions, mostly to make his grandfather, Jarrett, happy, but also forPierce’s family. Lately, though, he was beginning to feel just a bit—notannoyed, not angry—more like overlooked. It was fine with him if it made Jarretthappy to spend a disturbing amount of money on a single afternoon and evening;Griff would still be married to Pierce at the end of the extravaganza, and thatwas what truly mattered. But there was a limit, and with the holiday seasonapproaching, Griff felt that line drawing near.

 

Therun had cooled his temper, but earlier that morning, he’d found himself nearlysnapping at Pierce over something that seemed simple enough: how to decoratetheir home for Christmas. Pierce’s “Don’t you want it to be nice?” comment hadgotten under his skin, as if only expensive decorations could be “nice.” Heunderstood, though—for Pierce, Christmas decor had never been personal orintimate. His parents hired a designer every year to transform their mansionwith enormous trees, sparkling lights, and exquisite ornaments. Pierce saw noreason why this year should be any different, but Griff had other ideas.

 

“Whyhire someone when we can do it ourselves?” Griff asked as they stood in theirspacious, mostly empty living room.

 

“Idon’t have the time,” Pierce replied in a clipped tone, signaling he was readyto push his case. “And neither do you, considering you were up until 2 a.m.working on your new book.”

 

Griffopened his mouth to respond, but Pierce cut him off. “What’s the big deal?It’ll be lovely. You can ask for any special touches, and it’ll all be done bythe end of the week.” Griff, bit back a few choice responses and let it go fornow deciding a run would clear his head.

 

Griffwalked into the kitchen, where Pierce handed him a cup of coffee with a smile.He knew cost wasn’t the right angle to approach this, so he chose a differenttactic. Growing up, Christmas hadn’t been lavish, but it was the one time ofyear he felt truly close to the woman he’d considered his mother. They bakedcookies, made their own wrapping paper and ornaments, and created a worldwhere, for a short time each year, Griff felt safe. No designer could recreatethat feeling—not with all the German blown-glass ornaments and brocade ribbonin the world.

 

“Whatwould make this Christmas special for you?” Griff asked softly, taking thecoffee and meeting Pierce’s gaze. “If the right designer would give you thatfeeling of love, comfort, and home, I won’t stand in your way.”

 

Pierce’sface softened. “You didn’t tell me this was going to be a dirty fight.”

 

“It’snot a fight. I don’t want to fight,” Griff said earnestly. “I want us to dothings we love together, things we’ll remember year after year. And I don’t seewhy that has to cost tens of thousands of dollars.”

 

Pierce,now certain that he’d been bested, wrapped his arms around Griff, kissed him,and whispered, “Anything you want, as long as we do it together.”

 

Griffseized the moment. “We can get everything we need from Costco. Make it our own.It'll be fun.”

 

Piercearched an eyebrow, adjusting the collar of his cashmere sweater. “Costco?Really? Isn’t that like a discount Whole Foods or something?”

 

“Areyou serious? You’ve never been to Costco?” Griff tried not to laugh.

 

“I’mpretty sure I own a fair amount of their stock,” Pierce replied.

 

“Definitelynot the same thing,” Griff chuckled. “You’re in for an adventure.”

 

Thenext day, Griff checked his pockets for his holy trinity: keys, wallet, andphone before locking the front door. Pierce was already waiting in thedriveway, revving the engine of his sleek Porsche Boxster.

 

Griffraised an eyebrow. “You do realize we’re going to Costco, right? How exactly doyou plan on fitting anything in here?”

 

Piercewinked. “Adventurous spontaneity, my love. That’s what today’s about.”

 

Grifflaughed as he climbed into the passenger seat. “This is definitely not what Imeant by ‘adventurous,’ but sure, let’s go with that.”

 

Asthey sped down the road, Pierce asked, “So, what exactly do they sell at Costcothat has you so excited?”

 

Griffgrinned. “Everything. Toilet paper, Christmas trees, and—of course—wine. Trustme, you’ll love it.”

 

Piercemade a skeptical face. “Christmas trees and toilet paper in the same store?This should be interesting.”

 

Whenthey arrived, Griff grabbed them each a cart. The moment they stepped inside,Pierce froze, taking in the vastness of the warehouse. Rows upon rows of bulkproducts stretched into the distance, and the air buzzed with a scatteredchoreography of high-performance shopping. 

 

“Thisis… comprehensive,” Pierce muttered as they passed a display of 90-inch TVs.

 

Griffchuckled, leading the way toward the Christmas section. “Welcome to the realworld.”

 

Asthey wandered the aisles, Pierce marveled at the oddities. “Who needs afive-pound bag of peanut brittle? And why would anyone want a six-pack of miniwaffle makers?”

 

“Here,try a mini quiche,” Griff said, holding out a sample. “Eating samples at Costcois part of the experience.”

 

Pierceeyed the quiche warily but took a bite. “Hmm… not bad.”

 

Thereal test came when they reached the Christmas trees.

 

“So,”Griff began, pulling out a slim, 7-foot artificial tree from the display. “Thisone looks great, right? We can decorate it together.”

 

Piercestared at the tree, his expression unreadable. “It’s… small.”

 

“It’spersonal,” Griff countered with a grin. “And easy to set up. Plus, no pineneedles all over the floor.”

 

Piercehesitated, and for a moment, Griff thought he’d lost him. Then Pierce spotted atowering 15-foot tree. “What about this one with the lights already attached?We could get one for the living room, one for the kitchen, and maybe thissmaller one for the bedroom.”

 

Grifflaughed, nudging Pierce playfully. “With that setup, we could camp out in ourChristmas forest. Maybe even zip our sleeping bags together.”

 

WhileGriff picked up decorations and a few office supplies, he let Pierce wander onhis own. By the time they met at checkout, Griff found Pierce with a cartloaded with wine—not just a few bottles, but enough to stock a small vineyard.Alongside the wine were 480 frozen mini quiches.

 

Griffraised an eyebrow. “Planning a party I don’t know about?”

 

Piercegrinned. “This place… it’s unexpected. They had an excellent selection ofFrench Bordeaux and a Château Neuf-du-Pape. I thought we could stock up forholiday visitors.”

 

Grifflaughed. “Good thing they deliver the trees. The Boxster’s going to be maxedout just with this—you might have to leave me behind.”

 

Piercewinked. “Dream on. I’m never leaving you behind, not as long as we both shalllive.”

 

Advent Calendar - Day 15

 

This one's for my dad. 

He had a really beautiful tenor-baritone singing voice. A kind of Bing Crosby lite. His love of music, of singing, particularly of Americanized Irish and Scottish songs was a huge reason of how my sisters and I ended up becoming a Celtic folk band and recording 7 (8?) albums back in the day. 

Anyway. On Thanksgiving night as everyone was saying goodbye and heading out, "I'll Be Home for Christmas" came on Pandora. For a minute it was like my dad was standing there with us. 

Advent Calendar - Day 14

 

It's the weekend somewhere! Actually, it's the weekend right here right now. 

Today, we have another cocktail recipe. During my recent trip to New England I discovered a very delicious cocktail called The Peanut Butter Cup martini. 

Now, this is a dessert drink. It doesn't go well with food. It is really yummy as an after dinner cocktail. If prepared properly, it does have a hint of peanutbutter. That comes from the whisky NOT actual peanutbutter. Unless, as did happen a couple of times, the bartender makes a serious misstep. 

PEANUT BUTTER CUP MARTINI 

4 oz Skrewball Peanut Butter Whiskey

4 oz chocolate liqueur (I used Mozart dark chocolate)

4 oz creme de cocoa

1 oz heavy cream 

DIRECTIONS

chill the martini glass

Fill the shaker with ice

Add your liquids

Shake the heck out of it (I don't know why people skip this step -- SHAKE IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT)

Pour into chilled glass 

I urge you NOT to add chocolate syrup or peanut butter. I am anti garnish. However, you're going to do what you're going to do. And I'm going to say I told you so.

Advent Calendar - Day 13

 UH. OH. Friday the 13th. Is that alowed during the holidays?!

Just kidding. I'm not particularly superstitious. Yes, maybe a little on the mystical, magical side of things, but not days of the month and rabbit's feet (CLEARLY NOT LUCKY -- ask that poor bunny) and black cats crossing your path. When I see a black cat, I always call, "Good morning, sister!"  Which maybe the brother cats don't appreciate. Who knows? Cats are enigmatic.

What about you? No, I don't mean enigmatic. I mean, are you superstitious? About what kinds of things?

Anyway, I think we'll just go with some nice holiday-themed art today. It's Friday. I'm writing. You're busy. We're halfway there. I truly hope you're having a healthy and happy season so far.

Advent Calendar - Day 12 Fiction by Meg Perry

 

Well, I wasn't kidding when I said our reader-writer friends are being extraordinarily generous with us this year. I appreciate it so much--and I encourage anyone reading along this season to also let these talented and kind people know that you're enjoying their work. 

Anyway, this morning we have fiction from Meg Perry! Meg is giving us a peek at what Tim and Jack from Cards on the Table have cooking this holiday season. 

Ha. Yes, I did. 

And we also get to touch base with Jamie and Kevin Brodie. So even better. 

Birds of Prey

 

The scent wafted to Tim’s nose assoon as he opened the front door. Jack was making his famous chicken wingsagain. He dropped his computer bag on the sofa and went to the kitchen, wherehe found Jack fiddling with their new air fryer. Jack glanced up and smileddistractedly. “Hey. Who thought this thing was a good idea?”

“As I remember, it was you.” Timkissed him hello. “Why don’t you make ‘em the old-fashioned way and figure itout later?”

“I refuse to allow this hunk ofmetal to defeat me.”

“It hasn’t defeated you, it’s justtemporarily stymied you. Where did you put the instruction manual?”

“In the drawer with the others.”Jack sighed. “I’ll read it later. How’d it go with the woman in Santa Monica?”

“Gwen Foresman.” Gwen was thefeatures editor of the Santa Monica Banner, the primary newspaper thatpublished solely for the residents of Santa Monica. “It went well. She liked mywork samples, but she wants me to write an entire feature on something of mychoice, then she’ll share it with the editorial staff and they’ll decidewhether to hire me.”

“This is not a full-time job, isit?”

“Of course not. They’ll give meassignments and pay me by the story, assuming they like what I submit to them. ButI have to think of something to write about. Quick. I’d like to get thisfinalized before the end of the year, and the end of the year is almost uponus.”

“Well, I might have an idea foryou.” Jack spread the wings on a baking sheet and basted them with sauce. “Ihad an interesting conversation with the chief today.”

Jack was a homicide detective withthe Glendale Police Department. An “interesting” conversation with Chief Rothwasn’t necessarily a good thing. “Uh-oh. And how does that have anything to dowith me?”

Jack slid the baking sheet into theoven and straightened up. “The chief’s daughter is working for a PI agency inBrentwood. A queer PI agency.”

Tim’s brain was still trying toprocess the first part of Jack’s statement. “Wait. Fred Roth has a daughter?”Glendale’s police chief was a stern, forbidding sort. Tim couldn’t imagine anyoneagreeing to procreate with him.

Jack chuckled. “Yeah. Her name isAvery. She’s about our age. She used to be a librarian, but she’s gone to work asa researcher for these PIs who market themselves to the LGBTQ community. Andtheir office is in the Flats, almost in Santa Monica. Might make a good storyto use as your feature.”

“Is Fred’s daughter…what? Lesbian?”

“I have no idea. Anyway, he wastelling me about this agency because they’re looking for a new PI. As you canimagine, there aren’t many queer cops around who’d be instantly eligible to getlicensed as a PI.”

Tim frowned. “Does Fred want you toleave the department?”

Jack laughed. “No! But he’s alsotrying to help his daughter out. He didn’t want to not tell me about theopportunity, in case I was interested. I’m not, but now I’m glad he told me foryour sake. I know two of the three founding owners, because they were victimadvocates with the DA’s office before they jumped ship to become PIs, and theyused to help me out with our victims’ families.”

“Are they good people?”

“Absolutely. Kevin Brodie andJamilah Daly. Kevin was LAPD homicide and Jamilah was with the Irvine PD beforethey became social workers.”

The thread of his potential story wasalready starting to sort itself out in Tim’s head. “And they’re both gay.”

“Jamilah is. Kevin’s the onlystraight one in the agency. There’s a third owner, a guy I know only byreputation, whose name is Rob Jones. He was LAPD too, with Homicide Special forten years.”

“Huh. All these former homicidecops are content with infidelity cases and missing dogs?”

“The chief said they’ve workedseveral murders. Remember that Dodgers player that died last summer? Theysolved that one.”

“No shit.” Tim was intrigued. Whenhe was intrigued by a story, it was easier to write. “I guess I’d better callfirst thing tomorrow to make an appointment with them.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Jack pulledthe wings out of the oven. “Let’s eat.”

 

The following afternoon at three,Tim parked on the street a block from his destination and walked to theaddress. He stopped for a moment to take in the building, a one-story Craftsmanhouse with a wide front porch. There was a discreet plaque beside the frontdoor that read Angeles Investigations.

He pushed the door open and wentin. The reception area took up the entire front of the house. To the left was aseating area that featured a seven-foot Christmas tree decorated with a garlandof red ribbon. The ornaments were small birds, perching on the tips of thebranches.

On closer inspection, they were allbirds of prey. Tiny hawks, eagles, owls, and ospreys, glaring balefully at Timas if he was a field mouse. He turned in surprise to the other side of theroom, where a blond man wearing a headset was smiling at him.“That’s…different.”

The guy’s smile widened. “Isn’t itcool? You must be Mr. North.” 

“Yes. Call me Tim.”

The man held his hand out to Tim.“Ryan McKinney. Welcome to Angeles Investigations.”

“Thank you.”

Ryan sat down. “Let me tell Jamilahyou’re here.” He typed something, then squinted at his screen. “She’ll be rightout.”

Before Ryan even finished speaking,Tim saw a tall, slender Black woman with short locs exit one of the officesdown the hall and walk toward him. She held out her hand when she reached him.“Hi, I’m Jamilah Daly. Welcome.”

“Tim North. Thanks for seeing me onshort notice.”

“No problem. Our business slowsdown around the holidays. Come on back.”

She led him to the first door onthe right, which opened onto a spacious conference room. “Have a seat. Can Iget you anything to drink? We have water, soda, and coffee.”

“Water would be great, thank you.”

“You got it. Be right back.”

Tim looked around as he waited. Ahulking machine—copier? Printer? Probably both—rested in the far corner. Alarge watercolor of cliffs and a beach hung on the wall opposite the windows.The room was designed to be a neutral, calming space. Tim assumed that the PIsprobably met with clients here.

Jamilah returned with a bottle ofwater and a big, blond man who instantly made Tim think of Jack—not in looks,but in demeanor. If Dennis the Menace were a 6’4” homicide detective, he’d looklike this guy. His face was friendly and open, but his eyes screamed cop.He reminded Tim of the birds of prey on the Christmas tree.

The man offered his hand to Tim.“Kevin Brodie.”

“Tim North. Thanks for letting meinterview you.”

“We’re happy to.” Kevin sat acrossfrom Tim. “How did you hear about us?”

Tim explained the chain from Jackto Fred Roth to Avery. “Is Avery a PI?”

Jamilah said, “No, she’s one of ourtwo researchers. She’s still deciding whether she wants to get licensedeventually.”

“What do your researchers do?”

Kevin said, “A lot of PI work isdone from a computer. Background checks, skip tracing, property searches, allthat. Both of our researchers are former UCLA librarians, so they know how todig for information.”

“Is that standard practice for a PIfirm? To hire librarians?”

“Not that I know of. But it freesus up to spend more time in the field.”

“Jack said that you’re both socialworkers as well as ex-cops. How does that help you in this job?”

Jamilah said, “I think it gives usan edge in empathizing with our clients. It’s important that people tell useverything they know regarding their case, and Kevin and I are very goodat getting people to tell us everything they know.”

“How did it come about that youwanted to serve the LGBTQ community?”

Jamilah shrugged. “Rob Jones—ourco-owner in the agency—set that as his mission from the beginning. Ourcommunity has unique needs and nuances that other PI firms might notunderstand. We don’t limit ourselves to serving the queer community, but we’rehere for them when they need us.”

Tim nodded. “What percentage ofyour cases come from our community?”

Jamilah and Kevin shared a look.Kevin said, “That’s a good question. We’ve never looked at that specifically,but just as a rough guess I’d say sixty percent.”

“That’s great. What kinds of casesdo they bring you?”

“Everything. Infidelity,surveillance, missing persons, death investigations—anything you can think of.”

They talked for nearly half an hourabout the PI’s backgrounds, about how the agency came to be, about whatoccurred during a typical day. Tim was opening his mouth to ask anotherquestion when another man entered the room. Mid-fifties, salt-and-pepper hair,cop eyes. He held out his hand to Tim. “Hi, I’m Rob Jones. Thanks for doingthis story.”

“Thanks for allowing me theopportunity. I don’t have a guarantee that it’ll be published, but Ithink the paper will be receptive. Do you have any direct links to Santa Monicathat I could mention?”

Kevin pushed back from his chair.“We do. It’s time for you to meet our researchers.”

 

Kevin led Tim out the back door ofthe building, across the parking lot, and into a two-car garage with anapartment above. Half of the garage had been converted into office space, usingmobile cubicle dividers. There were two desks. One of them belonged to a womanwhom Tim assumed was Avery Roth. The other was occupied by a guy who looked alot like Kevin—nearly as big, hair slightly darker and longer. Kevin said, “TimNorth, these are our researchers, Avery Roth and Jamie Brodie. Jamie lives inSanta Monica.”

Avery said, “Oh, you’re JackBrady’s boyfriend! It’s great to meet you.”

“You, too. Do you know Jack?”

“Sure. I’ve spent a lot of time atmy dad’s office over the years. I remember when Jack joined the force. Tell himI said hello.”

“I will.” Tim turned to JamieBrodie, then winced as light from a window hit his eyes. He turned slightly,away from the light. “Where do you live in Santa Monica?”

“Mid-City, on 17thStreet.”

“You’re both librarians, right? Howis this job different from the work you did at UCLA?”

Avery said, “It’s way moreinteresting!”

Jamie added, “And meaningful.Tracking down criminals is more useful to society than helping students earnadvanced degrees in the social sciences. Although, I suppose, the studentswouldn’t agree.”

Tim took a closer look at Jamie.“Were you a cop, too?”

“No.” Jamie gestured to Kevin. “ButI lived with this guy when we were both single, and my husband is an ex-cop.I’ve kinda absorbed it by osmosis.”

Avery said, “Jamie has a history ofstumbling over bodies. Even when he was a librarian, he helped the police withinvestigations.”

“No kidding? That sounds likeanother story idea.”

Jamie grimaced. “Nah.”

For some reason, that made Kevinlaugh. Tim realized that he had one more question. “Who had the idea of decoratingthe tree with avian predators?”

Avery said, “That was all Jamie’sdoing.”

Jamie shrugged. “It fits us. From adistance, we’re a tree with pretty birds. Up close, we’re something else.”

Something else, indeed. Tim said, “You’re right, it fits.Is there anything else you all would like me to include in the article?”

Kevin said, “Not that I can thinkof. Will we get to read it before you submit it?”

“Yes. I’ll write it this eveningthen send it to you for corrections. If you think of something else to include,I can add it then.”

“Perfect.”

Avery said, “Good luck. I hope wehelp you get this job.”

Tim smiled. “Thanks. It’s great tomeet you all.”

Kevin said, “You, too. If we canever help you out with anything, let us know.”

“Likewise.”

Tim said goodbye to Avery and Jamieand followed Kevin back to the main building. As he left the office, he tookone more look at the Christmas tree.

Birds of prey. Like the tree, Angeles was morethan advertised.

If he got this gig with thenewspaper, Tim thought he might be visiting Angeles again.

 

Advent Calendar - Day 11 Fiction by Byron Beach

 

I--we--are so lucky to have so many willing victims contributors to this year's Advent Calendar. The generosity of reader-friends with their time and talent is truly one of the nicest things about the calendar. 

This morning we have another coda from Byron Beach. This time we're taking a sneak peek at what Adrien English and Jake Riordan just might be up to... 

YoungMr. Gracen Explains it All.

 

Thestaccato rhythm of Jake's fingertips tapping nervously against the steeringwheel filled the car, pricked at Adrien like a persistent mosquito. Adrien knewhis husband better than anyone, he understood that Jake’s thin veneer of tranquilitywas in danger of cracking.  This meeting hadkept getting delayed and pushed off. First for Jake’s work, or his travel thenfor any number of vague excuses but after more than two months, time wasrunning out. Christmas was next week and nothing in the legal world everhappens in the week before New Year’s, so if they were going to get theirdocuments in place Adrien had to force it to happen. A key to theirrelationship was their ability to navigate each other's boundaries. Knowingwhen to push, when to gently nudge the other outside their comfort zone, andwhen silence was the best medicine. Adrien had pushed, but now, this was a time for silence with Jake.

Theyexited the 210 East and Jake guided the Subaru past the holiday decorations onLake Street. Turning at a 30-foot gold modernist Christmas tree with stainlesssteel and gold balls, and he dived down into the concrete darkness of the UnionBank building's underground parking lot. The dimness momentarily stole Adrien'ssight, a niggling reminder that maybe it was time for glasses. They say theforties were the starting point of failing eyesight. Well, better eyesight thanthe heart, he mused. Adrien felt fitter than he had since he was a kid. He swamregularly, and his personal trainer, Scout, ensured his cardio sessions werepunctual. Plus, Jake had evolved into an ardent health freak, championing thecause of green smoothies and disturbingly frequent vegan meals.

Asthey exited the car, Jake muttered in a curt tone, “You'd think they'd havebetter parking facilities. It's so cramped; our doors will get dented.”

Adriencast him a glance, a hint of grin on his face. They were just here to discusssome paperwork, not make definitive decisions, it should be easy, but Adrienknew that Jake didn’t grow up with this and probably didn’t understand in ameaningful way what he was walking into. As they moved around the car, Adrienslipped his hand into Jake's, squeezing it reassuringly. "Thanks fordriving, my mind is preoccupied," he said, peppering a quick kiss onJake's neck.

"Anythingfor you, baby," murmured Jake, "Let's go check the fallout."Adrien, shook his head in amusement. 

“Adrien,thanks for coming in. And I presume this is your husband, Jake?” StantonGracen, Old Mr. Gracen’s movie star handsome grandson and the new managingpartner at Hitchcock & Gracen, greeted them. He gave Adrien a warm smilethat echoed their first meeting and reenforced Adrien’s feeling that the familylaw firm was now in more progressive and friendly hands for couples like them.  Shaking Jake's hand, he remarked.  “Jake, I’ve heard plenty about you from Lisa.It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 “Niceto meet you, Mr. Gracen. Considering what Lisa might have shared, I assure youit wasn't all my fault,” Jake replied, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

 Gracenlaughed, “Call me Stan. And you're underestimating Lisa's admiration for you.”

 Heled them into the modern conference room, with its avant-garde lightingfixtures and a panoramic view of the San Gabriel Mountains. "Would youlike any coffee or water?" Stan offered gesturing to an oddly lavashspread of coffee, tea, muffins, fruit and sugar cookies in H, G and &shapes covered in red and green sprinkles.

“Howmany lawyers are we expecting?” murmured Jake looking over the table.

Adrien,shook his head then thanked Stan, requesting only water, knowing that Jakewould need something to fidget with during the ensuing conversation. While hisadministrative assistant brought in bottles of Hint water, Stan produced ahefty pile of folders as Adrien and Jake took their seats at the sleek glasstable.

 “Todayshould be straightforward, although there will be quite a few signaturesrequired. Based on our discussions, Adrien, I've prepared all the necessarydocuments. But before we delve into them, I suggest we discuss an overall viewof everything. Does that sound okay?”

 “Thatsounds fine," responded Adrien, casting a reassuring smile at Jake, whoseemed be sizing up his chances of escape by making a desperate run from theroom. Adrien squeezed Jake's hand under the table, feeling him relax slightly,while Stan looked on with a knowing smile.

 Stanresumed his professional persona. “As you know, Adrien, your grandmother lefther estate to you with the final half to be disbursed after your 40th birthday.Just to clarify, this only pertains to the trust fund set up by yourgrandmother and has no relation to the irrevocable trust your fatherestablished for your mother, for which you are the residual beneficiary." 

Adriennodded his understanding as Stan continued his overview. But Jake, visiblytensed, stiffened further in his chair.

 "Sinceyour first disbursement, twenty years ago, the funds have been wisely, and Imight say, quite successfully, invested in a diversified portfolio," Stancontinued in his soothing tone. "The portfolio includes blue chip andtechnology equities, bonds, industrial real estate, and some legacyinvestments, such as the ranch in Basking. The only liability is the note yousigned when Lisa transferred ownership of the Porter Ranch house. Today, wewill resolve that note and transfer the ownership to both of you."

 Jakecut in abruptly. “No, that's Adrien's house; it should be in his name.”

 Adrieninterjected, "Jake, we've discussed this. It's ours — well, ours andScout's and Tompkins'. No point in distinguishing when our lives areintertwined." He added, "In fact, that's the main point of today. Wemake decisions together. This is an equal partnership, with noreservations."

 Jakestarted to shake his head, but Stan chimed in with a softer tone, "Jake,in this, I agree with Adrien. Adrien has always been adamant that he wanted toshare this inheritance as community property. Having dealt with numerousestates and sadly complicated family dynamics, I can assure you the mostsuccessful and happy couples work as teams, with neither partner holding thefinancial upper hand."

 "Sobuckle up, Riordan. I'm doing this for both of us. We're in this for the longhaul," Adrien said, laughing, as Jake closed his eyes in disbelief as ifthat would make it all go away.

 Stan,reverting to his formal tone, proceeded with the estate details as Jakelistened in tense silence. “We’ll start with the industrial distribution warehousesin La Verne, which are part of a limited partnership” Stan’s tone turningalmost gleeful “And this is the neat part, as a passive partner your incomefrom these can be quite happily is offset by depreciation and losses from otherinvestments decreasing the tax-load on the current year’s net profit.” Stansmiled like a kid opening presents as Adrien nodded in agreement and Jake frozecloser to absolute zero. He continued “The current value of your partnershipshare is around sixteen million, but more to the point the after tax distributedcashflow is ___”

 Later,deep into their second round of double frozen margaritas at Mijare’s, Jake'spetrified expression began to thaw. "You should've told me,” He repeatedshaking his head. "You really should’ve told me. My parents scrimped andsaved to buy their house for $59,000, even taking a second mortgage for Danny'scollege. Who am I to have all this?" 

"You'rethe same gallant man I fell for when you strutted into my bookstore, convincedI was a killer," Adrien said gently. "Money doesn't change anything,apart from being able to finish the remodel of the ranch and building you a trueand proper workshop at Porter Ranch." He paused for a moment, and with asoft kiss and a raised eyebrow, adding, "We could also consider a New Year’svacation? Just you, me and a feather, in an overwater bungalow in Tahiti, withno swimsuits or commitments?"

As reluctant smile spread across. Jake’s face heleaned in for a kiss whispering "Merry Christmas, Baby.  Anything you want--just ask your millionaire hubby."

*Apologies to Byron! I accidentally cut off his last line. OUCH. 

Advent Calendar - Day 10 - GIVEAWAY!

 

Today we have another giveaway from Cloak and Dagger (my author merch shop). 

I'm giving away four copies of the 110-piece Secrets and Scrabble jigsaw puzzle "Invitation to Come Aboard." Nora would probably NOT approve of these playful, flirty pirates, but oh well. 

To be eligible for the entirely random giveaway, just comment below on your favorite character within the Secrets and Scrabble universe--and why that character has won your heart.

The giveaway will remain open until after Christmas! 

Advent Calendar - Day 9

 

Good morning! Happy Monday! 

A couple of years ago, the SO and I stumbled across this quirky little 1940s PI Christmas movie. It's actually quite difficult to find satisfying mystery movies set during the holidays. They're either too sachrine-sweet or they go over the top and blow the hell out of the holidays. 

Cover Up strikes a nice balance of suspense, romance and holiday charm. It's perfect for when you're not quite ready for It's a Wonderful Life or burn out enough for Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.