Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Cheap Sunglasses Excerpt

Okay, so I hope it's no surprise that I'm working on the next book in the Cheap Series. It's been a long time coming. I've needed to work on more books, and I am. I'm not sure when I'm going to write Cynthia's story for the Over series, but I will write that too. Working 40 hours a week takes some getting used to, and I'm still settling in my new apartment. I just finished National Novel Writing Month, so I have a lot more written for Cheap Sunglasses. Good, solid stuff. 

Here's one of the scenes. It's from chapter two. Dan and Clara, two important characters for the book, have such a strong presence. I love writing them! (Dan is Mae's love interest ;)) Keep in mind that this is part of the rough draft!!
 

Clara looks rough by the time I pull into the parking lot of the apartment where she has been staying—what she told me at the time—a day after she called me. It was a long ass drive, nearly ten hours. I didn’t want to give her roommate the money for her bail, but Grandma nearly chewed my head off when I told her my plan to make her wait until I got to Kentucky. Instead, I’m giving her friend back the money she paid to bail Clara out.
It wasn’t easy to explain what happened to our grandmother. She wanted to come and be the one to pay Clara’s friend back, but her health isn’t exactly one-hundred percent.
Clara stares at me from the steps when I get out of my truck. She hugs her knees and her mascara has a big black streak down to the middle of her cheek. I wonder how long she’s been sitting there, crying, waiting for me to get here today. She must have been wiping her face a lot. She has the good sense to look completely embarrassed when I sigh and get out of my vehicle.
I sigh. “Hey, sis.”
“I hate you for not just wiring the money,” Clara says. I sit next to her and put my arms around her. “I would have been out of there a day sooner if you would have just wired the money. Instead, I had to spend an extra day with an intimidating older lady with zero teeth, who kept calling me ‘Rich Blonde Bitch’. I thought she would shank me in my sleep.”
I see the friend who bailed her out peaking though the window. Her eyes widen when she notices me make eye contact with her before she darts behind the blue curtains with the letters “UK” on them. Well, I’d think the people in this area would support Louisville. I’m sure she wants her money, but she can wait until I finish speaking with my sister.
“That’s the love I get for driving all the way up here to make sure you’re okay?”
Clara sounds like she wants to cry when I’m sure she’s already been crying. I want to fucking break this pussy’s nose for getting her so upset. It’s hard to remind myself that I can’t keep busting a motherfucker’s head every time my little sister gets hurt. I almost got put in juvie for that in high school. At least Clara is okay. She rests her head against my shoulder now. I guess she is relieved I’m here even though she will never admit it.
“He’s not worth it,” I say instead of scolding her like I spent the entire drive up here preparing myself to do.
“No shit.”
This girl isn’t my sister. She looks like her, but I’m not sure if she has had her personality completely washed or what. Clara would never let her mascara run or sound defeated. Her hair looks like it hasn’t been brushed in a few days. Her tone has a small bite to it, but it isn’t laced with a strong sarcastic tone like it used to be. My sister can be a mean ass. She isn’t acting like one right now.
“What the fuck happened, Clara?”
She huffs and pulls away from me, raking her hands through her hair.
“You’re not living in the dorms like you said you would,” I state matter of factly when she doesn’t answer me.
“I’m not. I dropped out of school.”
“What the fuck?”
I stand because I’m in shock. She’s been lying the whole time? This definitely isn’t my sister.
I’m swearing in front of her. I usually try to watch my mouth in the presence of women. Fuck that. Clara is old enough to hear me when I’m truly pissed, and the alternative would be to beat her boyfriend’s ass.
“Clara, what the hell…”
“Let me talk, okay, Dan? If you keep interrupting me every five minutes, I don’t think I’ll be able to get everything out.”
I clench my jaw shut because I want to understand what is going on before I act rashly and end up in jail with this Jason asshole threatening to press charges against me too.
“Last few weeks… they’ve been rough. I’ve been feeling like I’m not very smart, so that’s why I dropped out of school. I got mostly D’s because I hate studying. Jason said he would get me a job working at a bar for his friend in Louisville and that I wouldn’t need to worry about proving my age. Jason was right, I guess. The guy didn’t ask many questions, like how old I am, during the interview. About a month after that Jason started pressuring me to move in with him, and I nearly did… only things at the strip club started going downhill and after I got fired last week for smashing a glass into a customer’s crotch—“
“Clara, hold the fuck up. You worked in a strip club?”
She bites her lower lip and turns bright red. “Um…”
“Please tell me my sister didn’t drop out of college to fucking strip in front of men for money.”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I didn’t, Dan. I just served drinks and then volunteered for a humane society on the side—”
“I can’t fucking believe this!”
I really, truly can’t believe it, and I need to get away before I do something fucking stupid. I rake my hand through my hair and pull out my wallet. I don’t know this town, but I’m about to figure it out, but I need to do what I came here to do first.
“Here,” I say, tossing two fifties at her.
“Whoa, Dan… that’s way more money than—”
“You look like shit. You don’t have to work in a strip club to get money. All you have to do is come to me.”
She’s crying now. She knows she fucked up, and she knows I’m about to leave so that I can get my head on straight.
“I’m going to find a grocery store,” I say. “And then I’m going to make us all dinner.”
She launches herself off the steps and into my arms, and I catch her because I would be an ass if I let my sister fall onto the ground face first even though I’m very angry at her.
“Can you make a pizza? Ohh, with breadsticks and everything?”
Jesus. She wants me to cook for hours. But, this is my little sister.
“Yeah,” I say. “Of course I will.”

Saturday, October 10, 2015

Writer's Brain

So, I kept on hearing of this thing called pregnancy brain while I did research for Bri's pregnancy while I wrote Head Over Heart. The thing where a woman becomes completely scatterbrained while she's pregnant growing a tiny human? Yeah, that.

I feel like something similar to that is happening to me lately (and I'm not pregnant, felt I should clarify). I am so stressed out with having my next novel be perfect that I'm forgetting just to write the damn thing. Add that in with possibly dating and work and a new apartment and trying to figure out how the hell I keep on doing everything on my own, and we've got one scatterbrained writer. I forgot to take the damn trash out earlier. Yeah. It's a problem... and I bought hangers but still haven't hung up my clothes.

Either that or it's because planets are in retrograde but I can only use that as an excuse for so long.

Or I'm lazy?

Yeah, we'll go with that since my mind is going a mile a minute. I think I've had too much coffee.

Stay tuned for more random blog posts. I'm trying to get back into the swing of it.

Thursday, September 17, 2015

Life Craziness

So, smack dab in the middle of my life with having my job back and working on Cheap Sunglasses, I decided to move. I have Winnie with me and a new fish (who needs a name... I can't keep calling him fishy). Thumper is now living with a friend because my landlord said I could only have one rabbit. Yeah, landlord. I moved into a two bedroom apartment. With steps. I've always had a thing about wanting to live somewhere with stairs. My "H" key on my keyboard has also decided that it doesn't like me, and it broke off my computer. I'm finally getting used to it after I threw a hissy fit for a day. I still haven't gotten everything into my office yet because I need a desk first, and I'm still trying to figure out how I'm going to get other things moved. I'll write a post, eventually, that is more focused later.

Oh, and I'm changing the cover for Cheap Lies. 


Monday, July 13, 2015

Be Careful, Exes... Novels happen.

Disclaimer: I'm on a serious Taylor Swift kick lately.

On August 9th, 2012, I posted this status on Facebook:

...lmao. I told the UPS guy I got my divorce papers today, and he was like "Oooh, Lord! Praise Jesus!"

I wouldn't exactly put it that way, but yep. lmao!

Getting divorced is one of the hardest things that I’ve ever had to go through. It wasn’t just that I loved my ex-husband. Sometimes I’m not even sure if it was actually love anymore, even though it probably was. I will admit that our relationship wasn’t the healthiest. I did depend on him a lot, but I was in school. He told me it was okay for me to focus on school while I finished out my English degree, even though he made me feel guilty about it while we went through the divorce.

(FYI sorry if there are run-on sentences. I’m in the middle of Camp NaNoWriMo and this is an exercise to keep myself from editing…and maybe it’s creative nonfiction).

I’m practicing this thing where I act more positive. So, here’s a list of things I’ve learned about myself since the divorce:

I am stronger.

I’m an angst whore. I know this contradicts the whole positivity thing but I’ve learned a good cry over fictional characters can be therapeutic. You’re inhuman if a tremulous love story doesn’t tear you up. It makes for really awesome New Adult Romance. The divorce inspired Cheap Guitars, the debut novel I finished a year after we got divorced. I don’t think I would had I not broken up with him.

If I hadn’t gotten divorced, I might not have watched The Vampire Diaries, and I might not have met the amazing girls who turned me onto reading angst. XD For my fanfiction readers, All This Time would’ve never been written.

I have had the wonderful privilege of being a step mom to an amazing kid. He still jokes around and calls me Mom. I’ll always be there for him, no matter what happened between me and his father. I definitely want kids, but I’m just not sure when I’m going to have my own. I’m just glad I didn’t have any with the ex.

I’ve been hardened when it comes to relationships falling through. Well, maybe not from the last semi-serious one because I fell in love with him so fast, but I am able to turn any negative/ill feelings I have toward someone quickly now (and writing helps that too).
I learned I am able to take care of myself despite not yet being totally by myself. Living with Mom isn’t the end of the world. I am finally ready to learn to drive. I have an amazing job, something I might not have ever thought about doing had I stayed with him. I might not have even ever published had I stayed with him… or made the awesome friends I have now.
I sincerely enjoy being able to do what I want, when I want, on my own time. I’m not even sure how well I would do in a relationship anymore because I have gotten so used to doing things my own way. I love coming home after work and spending hours on the computer writing my romance stories. You would think it’s hard to write after going through something as traumatic as a divorce. It’s not. I can still be a hopeless romantic, albeit a careful one.
Exes best be careful if they piss me off. Romance novels happen.
My girlfriends can really come through when I need them. They inspire me. They make me laugh so hard I can’t think straight. It wasn’t long after the marriage ended that I started having giggle fits that lasted so long I had trouble breathing once the girls got me going. They give awesome advice, like go watch mindless reality television until my brain needs to reboot so that I can kick start my brain and write again. It works. They give my exes HILARIOUS names that will probably make it into a story at some point. (Geekless, Doorknob, or something I really can’t say in a blog, anyone? XD—actually, this is where Dickie came from for Richard in Cheap Guitars.)
Besides, I’m so glad I’m no longer married to a Doorknob who decided it was okay to use curtains his first ex-wife made—and that hung in our living room—into vests for the groom and groomsmen in his third wedding.

I’m about to start giggling so hard at myself that I can’t move again. Lmao, on that note, I think I’m gonna call it a night on this post. If you have any funny stories about getting over a divorce or break up, feel free to share them with me!

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

FREEEEE

Okay, I think I have thoroughly annoyed all Twitter followers and FB friends, but I thought I would also announce here that Cheap Guitars is currently free in ebook form. I think Amazon might be lagging behind, but on my computer, I see it listed as free. This novel debuted last year in March and it was what I like to call my "learner novel" where I got to fuss and complain over the formatting, ran into several editing errors, and have finally gotten it all worked out. I'll talk about that process some other time, but I just wanted to share.

If you want to wait a day or so to DL it, that's okay too. I'm going to format it so it has a proper index that is interactive in the ebook, and so that it shows up under "new adult" as well. Also learning issues I had when I first published it. You all may laugh hysterically at me. I encourage it!

Here are the linksies:
Amazon:http://www.amazon.com/Cheap-Guitars-Book-1-ebook/dp/B00IQEP9IK/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1435682799&sr=8-1&keywords=cheap+guitars+mara+a+miller

Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/cheap-guitars-mara-a-miller/1119970403?ean=9781498960502

iTunes: (just look it up in the program on your computer or an app in your iPhone, iPod, or iPad)

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/cheap-guitars

Head Over Heart is out on sale now too!

Monday, June 8, 2015

Cheap Lies, a prequel

With Head Over Heart coming out at the end of this month (really, here's the Amazon link: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00U5GU91E?*Version*=1&*entries*=0), it also has a nice little HEY CHEAP LIES IS COMING OUT at the back of the book.

I'm classier than that. And, guess what? It's here too.

Cheap Lies is the prequel to Cheap Guitars, and my entire Cheap series, really. I don't want to spoil anything if you haven't read CG (and what the hell, man? XD), then I don't want to spoil one of the major events in the story. Gwen, however, is Brandon's sister, and it follows her just the few short moments before she makes a decision that changes everyone else's lives. It also has Gwen, and Mae Davenport, in college in New York.

Those girls are crazy.

I love them.

Without further ado, here it is:

Prologue

Take a chill pill.
Gwen threw the lid from her bottle of Sailor Jerry’s onto the coffee table next to the small bag of Valium. She stared at the bag, shook her head, and poured herself three shots into her brother’s set novelty Star Wars shot glasses.
Brandon had no idea how much she wanted those pills.
She knocked back her first drink.
It would be easy for her. She did it all the time before when she needed to calm her nerves while she still lived in New York. She depended on those tiny white pills once, and it would be no problem for her to start again.
Ignore everything, including the pills, she told herself. She didn’t need either. What she wanted to do was to relax and enjoy her time alone in the house, something not easily done when she lived with her younger brother and her daughter.
Jay: Baby, I’m coming back home.
Gwen: No, ur not.
Jay: Don’t u love me?
“Screw this,” Gwen said. She threw her phone. It landed somewhere on the floor next to the coffee table.
She told Jay to stop texting and calling her. He never quite grasped that she sometimes needed time to herself. She couldn’t get him to understand why they ended their relationship. It made Gwen sick to her stomach.
She needed to finally let Jay know the truth, but she didn’t know how to without his anger getting the best of him. He couldn’t come back to Kentucky. Since he left, it was like she could finally breathe. She had her freedom back. Amy was happier, and so was Gwen. It would be amazing if Elise and Brandon could work out their crap, but what could she really do for them? If Jay finally knew the truth about Amy’s birth certificate then maybe he could move on. That is, if he didn’t turn into a raging bipolar asshole.
Gwen sadly expected nothing less from him.
Loud, frantic knocking made her spill her fucking drink.
“Fuck!” she yelled, standing.
The knocking continued. Gwen didn’t want to answer the door. She told everyone not to bother her. Neal respected her wishes. Brandon tried calling her, but she couldn’t stand him and his drama with Elise any longer. That’s when she kicked him out of his own house. Neal, their younger brother, at least had the decency to know when she needed an adult time-out; one that included a lot of soap opera binging and drinking.
No one knew about the pills.
“Who is it!?” she yelled, not sorry for sounding bitchy for one moment.
“Charlie!”
Shit.
Gwen quickly grabbed the pills and stuffed them in her bra. Why the hell had Charlie decided to show up? They hardly talked much anymore. He barely looked at her whenever she worked at the auto shop and usually barked orders about whatever he needed like some kind of Neanderthal.
“What?”
“Whoa,” Charlie said. “Brandon wasn’t kidding when he said you’re in a bad mood.”
“And you think pointing this out to me right away is a good reason why…?” she asked.
Charlie hardly aged a day in the past six years. If anything, being out of the army softened him up, but he still had thick, muscled arms. Gwen would willingly bet her next paycheck from the shop that he still had a six pack too. He wore his hat from the army now and bits of his brown hair rebelliously escaped. He no longer wore the buzz cut. Gwen almost wished he would because that might make him less appealing, she thought, as she looked up at him. He stood a solid six feet compared to her tiny five-foot-four and ass that didn’t seem to want to relinquish the baby fat.
He took the hat off and shuffled his feet. Gwen couldn’t remember a time she ever saw Charlie get nervous, but his hair had gotten too long, and slid through his fingers like butter. She wondered what he would do if she ran her fingers through it. Was it really soft like she thought?
“I wanted to talk.”
“I’ve lived back in Kentucky way longer than you have,” Gwen said, unwilling to tone down her snark. “You barely say five words to me unless it’s to bark orders about ordering a part for a car.”
“I—I know that.”
Stammering? Gwen thought. Her shoulder dropped; she hadn’t realized how stiffly she stood in the entrance.
“What’s up, Charlie?”
“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “Brandon and Elise keep acting like morons, but I keep wondering if we aren’t doing the exact thing.”
No,” Gwen said. “Don’t go there.”
“Gwen, I’m in love with you.”

She slammed the door in his face.

Monday, May 25, 2015

Blargh (AKA Random Thoughts)

I probably should get over that-my extreme dislike of titling my work. I won't actually tell anyone where I got the title Cheap Guitars, but Head Over Hoof was inspired by Alanis Morrissette's song, Hand Over Feet. Half the time I feel like they're silly titles. I'm struggling over what I'll name my next novel-I'm planning to write a stand alone despite my better judgement-and I'm just not sure what I want it to be yet.

It'll come to me. I might have to go through an entire pot of coffee, but it'll come to me.

All that aside, tonight I told someone I'm a published romance writer. Writer, not author. There are three romance writers who I dearly love. Nora Roberts inspired me to start writing, and it was through reading every single one of her books I could get my hand on when I was younger that I started to truly love the romance genre. Jasinda Wilder's personal story struck a chord when I realized she was an indie writer. Colleen Hoover made me cry like a big baby--wait, yeah, Jasinda Wilder did too. A book never really made me cry until I read Slammed or Wilder's numerous series of books. (Some people might just tell you I'm a big old baby though).

I'm saying writer because I don't really feel like an author yet. Colleen Hoover does this, and I expressly agree with her. I don't feel like an author yet... exactly, although I just hit the 14,000 word mark on my next book in the Cheap series and I might be babbling in this blog post until I'm sure how I want to start chapter five. I've read her blog several times, and she said it's because she's afraid her success isn't going to go away. I highly doubt that'll happen. In my case, it's because I'm just starting out, and I'm afraid like I'll sound like a big pompous ass if I brag about how many books I'm planning to publish. (Side note: I'm obsessed with the phrase "pompous ass" lately.)

Or maybe I'm just REALLY antsy because my third book is about to be released and I should call myself an author now, even though I'm not on a best sellers list yet. That wasn't ever my original goal... I originally just wanted to hold my own book in my hand. That's happened. I'm about to do it a third time. I don't really need to be on a best sellers list even though it would be pretty awesome 'cause then that would mean I could actually turn this into a career.

I seriously want to look back on this in a year and laugh at myself. 


Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Dyslexia, Civil War Research, & Old Friends

I'm not sure how many people realize this, but I have dyslexia. I spent years putting my shoes on the wrong feet and refused to really read until I moved to Estill County where they had a reading program that forced me to pick up a book and stare at it in the fifth grade. I can't remember how long it was, it could have been twenty minutes? The thing is that you can only spend so much time staring at words on a page before they actually start to grab your attention. Before I knew it, I became addicted to the Goosebumps series.... and eventually started writing. I must have been about eleven or twelve when I really started to write. Funny thing; I really wanted to publish a vampire novel for the longest time, and that character developed while I was still a kid. She's still in a finished novel on my hard drive but I just haven't been able to edit it because it's hard to read my old work. Spelling errors and grammatical atrocities aside, I just don't feel like the story line would be believable enough to grab a reader's attention the way some of my romance novels have. I still have weird spelling errors that pop up when I'm writing on paper and I interchange cursive and print. I have friend who is also dyslexic and he said he does the same thing. I've seen some of his handwriting and it looked similar even though it was kind of a chicken scratch and I had to stare at it a little longer than usual. I had to actually train myself to spell certain words like "necessary" (I still botch it up) and pretty much any word that has more than one of the same letter. It's been so long I can't really give any other examples than "necessary" because I still have to stop and think about that one. I suppose, though, that everyone has one little word they get stuck on from time to time but for me it could be five minutes staring at the thing before I give up and fiddle around with autocorrect on my phone in a note.

Ask me to do a math equation, and I'll laugh in your face. I am awful with anything except multiplication and I usually need a calculator for it. It's a wonder I got through algebra in college. It's not easy to admit weaknesses like this, but I spent years in special education classes until I got into high school, and as much as they drove me crazy, I still probably wouldn't be able to form a single sentence without it looking horrible. It also helped that my mother is a poet and gave me books whenever she finished reading them. I really think if it hadn't been those early reading sessions in school that I probably wouldn't have ever bothered with any of it. This isn't an easy thing to talk about but it happened and now on the computer I obviously have no problem writing. Handwriting, eh, iffy.

So... add in a character who isn't as educated as the woman he wrote the letters to in Cheap Tricks, and you've got a really frustrated writer. Now it's hard for me to even imagine how a word would be spelled phonetically anymore and I think it's because I spent so many years training myself not to do that. It confused me more while I was working on Cheap Tricks the other night. I know there are at least 8 distinct dialects in Tom Sawyer so I figured why not catch Kentucky dialect in Timothy's letters to Mary?

(Just as a spoiler, Sophie, who was in Cheap Guitars? She's the main character in the book and the central plot revolves around her trying to save her grandmother's farm. If you've read the first one, you know she's an archaeologist, and because she finds some old letters and a few other Civil War Era artifacts, she talks her grandmother into keeping her property a bit longer until they can figure out what to do with it. Neal is a main character too. ;))

I've been excited this WHOLE time for the Civil War love letters that are going in this novel, and I decided to work on them first because I need to get them out of the way. It's just...sitting there and trying to think of how to spell a word wrong--I have some actual love letters that were written during the Civil War that I googled--left me confused and with a blood vessel threatening to burst in my brain. I'm exaggerating, I'm good for that. Anyway, my solution?
Gave them to a friend who's spelling is atrocious.

Seriously.

He un-edited it for me. I'm laughing so hard at this but he did me a huge favor and his fiancee kept laughing at me on Facebook last night. It was a much needed laugh. I've known this guy since elementary school and now I'm becoming closer to his fiancee. I've caught him using a few words like "knowed" several times whenever we talk but this really is a part of the dialect where I live. I've gotten into debates on how to pronounce "oil" with a few of our mutual friends and for the longest time it irritated whenever he spelled "hey" as "hay". I've long since let that go. I don't want to get into the it's because I have more education than he does--no. That's not what I'm aiming at in this blog post. I feel like that dialect might go away if everyone keeps on going after a higher education in this area and as a former anthropology student I don't want that to happen. You also can't force eighteen year olds into college if they really don't want to go. A lot of the people in this area are--I think--Irish and English descendants and a few times I've wondered if their ways of talking are closer to how they spoke back in the 1800s. It's come up in several conversations I've had with people who know the area better than I do. I grew up here, kinda, but I wasn't born here. Most of my family is in Ohio and Pennsylvania and I'm part Czech (gypsy as Mom likes to call it) and Sioux. There's a little German, Irish, and viking in there too. If I'm really tired and I'm spending some time with Kentucky friends I catch a small accent but it's still mostly all Philly girl. I feel like I wouldn't do the story justice if I don't catch the dialect correctly in the letters But back to this, they were isolated (being in Appalachia) and so it didn't really change.

So, that was part of my Civil War research. Thanks, pal, if you read this. 

I also have a few things I've kept from my research when I worked on All This Time that I'm using again but really I am just trying to map out what happens in the war with a lot of googling. It's so much fun, and this novel is coming out so much faster. Please get excited with me! I have a feeling Cheap Tricks will be better than Cheap Guitars. I've learned a lot about writing since I published it. :)

Also, get excited. Head Over Heart's release date is getting closer. June 30th, baby. 

Saturday, May 9, 2015

Busy, busy

Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry I'm not keeping up with my blog regularly. A lot of things have been going on, like that I had a job at Barnes & Noble but then quit and moved back to Kentucky, I've been reconnecting with old friends, and I just finished Head Over Heart. It's still on preorder, but the official release date is now June 30th rather than May 31st because my editors and betas are mostly college students and I felt it was unfair to make them rush to edit so fast. It would have been unfair to readers, too, because the work wouldn't be absolutely polished. It doesn't take us long to get everything under control because 10 people are actually looking at the document for me right now, and I love every single one of them.

I'm going to try to post more on the blog, I promise. I'm just trying to get resettled in Kentucky. I missed it here. Too many things were going on at home and I felt that I needed to come back, but in the end I realized that Kentucky is home, so I'm not too torn up about coming back. I'm trying to get my old job back--and probably will have it back soon. With Head Over Heart in the editing stage, I've also started Cheap Tricks. :) I also have some friends who I might go see, that I haven't seen in a while, as soon as I'm sure when the company will be doing interviews again. I've also ordered the Cheap Sunglasses cover and its beautiful, but I'm refraining from my usual cover reveal before story is ready to be published.

The awesome thing about being unemployed is that I'm writing way, way more though.

In fact, here's a paragraph I just wrote for Cheap Sunglasses:


Monday, March 2, 2015

Head Over Heart Preorder

So...I decided to do this thing where I put Head Over Heart up for preorder on Kobo, Amazon, B&N, Scribd, Page Foundry, and iBooks. 

Here's the official cover. 

Right now, unfortunately, I'm not sure how to do a preorder for the physical copy of the book. That's a little tricky. I might be able to do something with that and PayPal. It's not completely ready yet. I'll announce the release date closer to the release date but I'll let you know that it's in May. I'm excited about it. It's the continuation of Bri and Aidan's story. I can't tell you how much I love these characters. It hasn't been an easy process writing this installment of my Over series. I actually had about 50,000 words written and then decided to completely scrap it because I became so miserable with it. This is why I love self-publishing, though. I really only have to answer to myself as far as it comes to when and how I tackle my work. It's been almost a year since I first released Cheap Guitars. I feel like releasing my third original novel is a huge milestone.

Summary: 

She gave college the second try. She made friends. She ignored Aidan McCoy's baggage and followed her heart.

In this sequel to Head Over Hoof, Briana decides she's done with Tennessee. She wants to move. She's done with Aidan and wishes she never responded to Cynthia's roommate ad because she's certain she can't trust either one of them. Her Aunt Lora stops her move out of the state by challenging her ability as a fit guardian over her brother. She stays but refuses to let any of her friends know where she is, especially Aidan.

Lora's behavior starts to stress Bri to unhealthy levels and she starts to miss Aidan. Will she be able to put her heart first, or is she right in her assumption that she can't trust him?

Links:

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Head-Over-Heart-Book-ebook/dp/B00U5GU91E/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id972535783 (or just log in on iTunes)

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Friday, February 13, 2015

The Girl or the Gun

In spirit of Valentine's Day, here's a little short story I wrote in college (and one of the short stories that led to one of the best conversations I've had with my Uncle Mark, ever).. :) Who knows...might turn into an actual novel eventually. 

This is also consequentially the short story that got me rejected from an MFA program. (I laugh about it all the time.) :P I've tweaked/edited it a little since, and I know it needs more work.


The Gun or the Girl
Year 1992
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
            Arnie sat alone in his bedroom with his 1873 Colt Peacemaker. He loved this gun because it was one of the first repeating handguns ever made. He hadn’t paid much attention to it in a while so he needed to clean it.
            The Colt was very special to Arnie because his brother, Steve, gave it to him in when they were in their late twenties. Steve learned to drive a truck when he was eighteen. It was while he was working in New York that he got the gun. 
            “You won’t believe it!” Steve said enthusiastically, walking in the door. Arnie hadn’t seen him in a week. His fly away auburn hair frizzed under his baseball cap and he hadn’t shaved since December. “John Wayne gave this to me! I ran into him while I was dropping off a shipment near Broadway.”
            Steve proudly opened a cardboard box to reveal the gun.
            “I love you deeply,” Arnie said, putting his tools down near the couch. “But you’re full of shit.”
            Steve always loved telling stories to his wife, Cora. Cora was a good natured girl that humored his brother when she shouldn’t have. It was that, and her passion for animals, that caused Steve to fall in love with her when he was twenty-five. They met in a pet store where she helped the owner raise baby parrots.
            Cora was on the verge of getting evicted. Steve felt sorry for her. They got pregnant with their daughter after three months.
            Cora refused to marry Steve at first, and that caused a huge rift between her and their Mom. Arnie tried talking Mom into trying to accept Cora into the family but she just wouldn’t do it, even after Steve and Cora declared a common law marriage. It was in ’85, when Steve and Cora had a real wedding after their son was born, that Mom finally gave in and accepted her into the family.
Steve told exaggerated stories.
Cora loved his story about a “street fight” he got into once.
“So me, and my buddy Jimmy, start rough housing.”
Arnie rolled his eyes.
It was a sunny afternoon on the Fourth of July. They had the family barbeque planned for months in Mom’s back yard. The smell of grilled hamburger and chicken wafted through the air, making his mouth water. Cora bounced the baby on her knee while she smiled wide and gave her husband her full attention.
“Jimmy, the knuckle head that he is, gets pissed off and starts a real fight after I mention he owes me twenty bucks for cigarettes two weeks ago. He punched me in the gut too hard, I get pissed off, grab Jimmy by the shoulders, and bite his ear off!”
“Ew, Steve!” Cora gasped, her eyebrows scrunching together in disgust.
Arnie burst out laughing despite how distractingly beautiful Cora was with her perm, long brown hair, and very little make up.
“You are so full of shit,” he said. “You were fifteen. Me and Mom broke that fight up and Jimmy busted you really good in the jaw.”
Steve glared at him.
In 1990, Steve died in that fucking rig. Two months after Cora and Steve had a second boy.
It wasn’t just the gun Steve gave Arnie which he cherished. Two years before Steve died, they had some work they had to do on the car after another driver flew past him by running a red light. They got it running while they were teenagers, but Steve often helped Arnie give it tune ups.
“I think you fried your clutch,” Steve said after a few minutes of failing to get the car to move.
“Great. I can’t believe that moron pulled in front of me.”
“I can’t believe you tried to stop in the wrong gear,” Steve said. “This car is a baby. I told you it was when I decided you’d be the one to keep it.”
Arnie threw a greasy towel at his head. “You gave it to me because it’s too flashy for Cora and the kids.”
“Are you kidding me? Cora loves this car. She’s always asking me to get it from you so we can go for a drive.”
Arnie wanted to answer his brother, but he shook head at Steve and threw a greasy rag at his brother’s head. “Well, while we’ve got it open, does it need anything else?”
Rag still on his head, Steve fiddled around some more with the engine.
“Oil change. Your spark plugs look rough. Did you let Mom drive o Vegas again?”
“Well, she couldn’t take the station wagon.”
Steve shook his head and threw the rag off his head on the side of the car. “Arnie, come on. I’m going to have to take the car from you. I go out of town for two weeks and everything on the car starts falling apart. I didn’t almost get my jaw unhinged trying to get Jimmy to stop being an ass and help us just so you could let it rot like this.”
“Calm down. It just needs a little maintenance. What’s wrong?”
Steve sighed and closed the hood of the car.
“I’m just tired of being on the road all the time.” Steve walked over to the driver’s door and leaned against the car, as Arnie had been the entire time. The hood was up and one of the tires were also flat from the near-accident which caused Arnie to need Steve in the first place. I haven’t told Cora, but I really think I want to stop driving a truck.”
“What would you do? You used to love driving trucks.”
“Yeah, Arnie… but driving all the time takes time away from Cora and the kids. You’re there a lot for them but it doesn’t feel right to have my brother be there for my wife when I can’t be.” Steve’s hair was still long, and he brushed it out of his face. As adults, both Arnie and Steve kept mustaches and had gained a little weight, Arnie more so than Steve.
Arnie clapped his brother on the back.
“Steve, you know I love Cora. You couldn’t have chosen a better girl. But you need to think this through before you quit your job.”
“I don’t want to raise my family in the city. I think I want to move out of Philly.”
“What?” Arnie wasn’t sure if he was stunned or not.
“Yeah… Cora always talks about how she used to live in in the south a year before she decided she wanted to move up north. We don’t want the kids in a city environment. I want to raise them on home cooking and—“
“Steve, I love you, but good luck getting that past Mom.”
            Steve had always been a big dreamer. Arnie just never thought he would dream about something so different.
“I’m just thinking about it. It doesn’t mean I’m going to,” Steve said.
“If you moved down there, I’d never be able to keep this car running,” Arnie said.
Steve laughed and pulled out a cigarette. “Yeah, I know Arnie. That’s why I’m thinking the whole moving idea is a bad idea, even though I want to do what Cora wants.”
            Arnie took in a deep breath and set about cleaning the pistol, inspecting the bores. They were tarnished and rough-looking. The entire gun looked dull and neglected. His cleaning kit sat on his bed, each bore brush and cleaning cloth neatly lined up against his pillows.
            He couldn’t help but remember his brother. Losing Steve hit everyone hard when it happened four years ago, but Arnie had to stop and remember to breathe slowly as he picked up a bore brush and inserted it into the gun. He hadn’t touched it since Steve’s funeral.
            “Arnie?”
            Arnie sighed when his mother knocked on his bedroom door. Mom was in her early sixties and sounded like a fishwife when she raised her voice. Arnie frequently had to endure her nagging. Mom let him live at home. Arnie didn’t have to pay rent, but he still insisted on helping her pay the utilities. Mom owned some property, and she rented it out to roomers who sometimes came to her for cigarettes and beer. Some of the guys she let rent from her weren’t the best people, and so Arnie wanted to live with her at home so he could make sure she was safe. Mom always refused to work a practical job because she didn’t have the skills. She inherited the property she owned from Arnie and Steve’s dad once he died. They lost their dad when they were young.
            “Arnie? Come out here for a minute. Lauren called.”
            “All right, I’m coming, Mom.” Arnie sat on his bed for a moment longer and studied the gun before he closed the barrel and set it on his nightstand.
            “Well, hurry! I haven’t got all day. I have to go over to the house in Doylestown and ask the tenants there why they haven’t paid rent yet this month.”
            Breathing heavily, Arnie stretched, popping his back. He unchained his door and opened it. “I told her I’d call her when I was ready.”
            “What have you been doing?” Mom looked Arnie up and down.
            Arnie didn’t think of himself as much to look at. He was slightly overweight. His belly hung over his jeans. He scratched the bald spot on the crown of his head as he looked at Mom.
            “I, uh, got out the Colt.” Arnie shuffled his bare feet on the cool tile of the floor.
“Oh, you brought that out?” Mom put her hand on Arnie’s shoulder. “Are you okay? It’s getting pretty close to January.”
“I’m fine.” Arnie shrugged Mom’s hand off his shoulder. “Is Lauren still on the phone?”
            “No,” his mother said. She brushed her short curly hair behind her ears. “Where are you taking her tonight?”
            “I don’t know; somewhere fancier than the usual diner.”
            Arnie’s mother took in a sharp breath. “Are you finally going to propose?” A wide smile spread on her face. Her hand shot to his arm. “It’s about time!”
            “It’s just her birthday. I might just decide I don’t want to drive far and take her to the Spaghetti Warehouse.” Arnie thought about shaking Mom’s hand off, but he didn’t.
            Arnie felt like he was in a good place with his girlfriend. Cora introduced Arnie to Lauren at a Tupperware party. Cora temporarily sold it in an attempt to have something to do a year after Steve died. Neither one of the girls were the slight bit interested in Tupperware now. Cora focused more on painting, her real passion, and Lauren was attending community college while she worked as a night desk receptionist at the hotel Arnie worked at as an electrician. Arnie stalled starting a family after Steve died. Maybe it was because he was afraid the same thing would happen to his family if he got married—he’d have a few good years with his wife, have a few kids, and then die on them.
            “That’s still a really nice restaurant.” Except, Arnie thought to himself, his entire family ate there regularly. “It’s about time you give me grand babies. Have you both gotten more serious?”
            Arnie thought about that for a moment. He peaked back into his room and looked at the black box which sat next to his Peacemaker. He didn’t have his bedroom door opened so he could hide the box. If Mom saw it, she’d become so excited, Arnie would be afraid she would have a heart attack. “Ah, I like her.”
            “Oh! That reminds me,” Mom said. “Cora is bringing the kids over this weekend.”
            “Aw,” Arnie said. “I have to work a little overtime at the hotel this weekend.”
            Arnie thought he sometimes worked too much, but his relationship with Lauren wasn’t what suffered. His relationship with Cora and his niece and nephews suffered. He tried to spend time with them as much as possible. The kids were the closet thing Arnie had left of Steve, besides the Colt, and it broke his heart they didn’t have a father.
            “It’s okay.” His mother pushed her glasses onto her face. “Well, I’ll leave you to get ready. Lauren asked me to tell you to make sure you pick her up at seven-thirty.”
            Arnie told her he would get her at nine. He looked at his watch. It was six-thirty. Lauren consistently tried to move time around on him. She had a controlling personality, and most of the time Arnie let it go. He was nowhere near ready to go out, though. He needed to shower and finish cleaning the gun.
            “All right,” he said to his mother. He kissed her on the cheek. “Why are you going to collect rent so late?”
            His mother flashed a semi-evil half-grin. “Don’t ask, dear.”
            Arnie didn’t ask.
            Thirty minutes later, Arnie had on a nice t-shirt and slacks. He had the box in his right pocket along with his keys and wallet. His mother’s house was large. With three floors and five bedrooms, and a large basement and attic, it was sometimes an arduous walk from one end of the house to the other.
            Arnie was almost out the door when the phone which sat on a table near the front door started to ring.
            “Hello?”
            “Arnie! I was hoping to catch Nadine,” Cora said through the phone.
            “Mom’s gone out. I think she’s breaking into a tenant’s house to collect some rent collateral.”
            “Again? I hope she doesn’t hurt herself. Shouldn’t you be out there with her?”
            Arnie laughed. Mom only broke into a tenant’s house once when she thought they brought drugs into the place. She didn’t care about privacy laws, and that sometimes got her into trouble. It was another reason Arnie still lived with her. He didn’t want to control Mom, but he also didn’t want her to do something stupid.
“She probably is just issuing an eviction notice.” Arnie said. “Is everything okay? I’m supposed to head over to Lauren’s.”
            “Oh! Is it the big night?”
            Arnie stuck his hand into his pocket and fingered the box. He hadn’t meant to tell Cora he wanted to propose to Lauren.
            “Arnie?”
            “I’m still here, Cora.”
            “It’s okay. I know it’s the big night. You don’t have to say anything, because I know it must be scaring the hell out of you. Just take a deep breath before you do it and don’t worry—you aren’t making a mistake!”
            “Thanks, Cora.” Arnie said. He heaved a huge sigh of relief. “I needed to hear that.”
            “I’m already mom and dad. I can be sister and brother too.”
            Arnie laughed. “Okay. I have to go. I might not be around to see the kids this weekend, but love you all.”
            “Good luck! Love you too.”
            Arnie hung up the phone.

            “I thought you were NEVER going to get here!” Lauren said as soon as Arnie knocked on her door.
            He looked at the flowers in his hand; a dozen roses. Lauren didn’t even give the flowers a second thought as she flitted past him. Arnie caught a whiff of her vanilla perfume and coughed. Lauren always wore too much. Her tall black heels clacked noisily down her apartment steps as she walked to his red ’75 Corvette convertible.
            Arnie loved his gun and his car, even though it wasn’t his only one. Arnie also owned a Chevy Malibu he drove for every-day errands. When Arnie was sixteen, and Steve was fourteen, Steve helped Arnie restore the Corvette after they found it in a junk yard. The radiator was busted in from a telephone pole, the owner of the junkyard said, and it hadn’t been touched since. The hood had been a crumpled mess. For a year and a half the boys scraped and begged for money from Mom so they could work on it. Arnie got his first job working at a diner down the street to earn cash too. Arnie would never forget Steve’s face when they finally started the engine. It purred. Steve immediately wanted to try to repair another car. Maybe that was why Steve ended up driving a truck.
            “Oh, this car?” More heel clacking. “I love this one!”
            Lauren must not really like flowers, or else she was just too excited to get out to really notice them, Arnie reasoned with himself. He placed the flowers on a table near the front door and closed it. Using a key he had to her apartment, he locked it.
            “It makes you look gorgeous.” He walked down the apartment steps. Arnie actually felt a bit of indifference toward her light blue dress.
            “Don’t flatter me,” she laughed. “I need a night out on the town. I had a rough day at work.” She ran her hand through her hair. Lauren usually worked the night shift at the hotel, as Arnie did. “I can’t believe they ordered me to come in this morning.”
            “You shouldn’t let the managers push you around. I was actually thinking we would go somewhere nicer tonight,” Arnie said as he opened the passenger door. Lauren sat down.
            Arnie got in on the other side, and then started his car up.
            “So where are we going?” Lauren asked.
            “I was thinking the Spaghetti Warehouse,” Arnie said.
            “Oh, really? But there are so many carbs there… I’m not sure if I want to do that.”
            “They have salads.” Lauren was very self-conscious about her health, and Arnie tried to appreciate that about her. He looked down at his gut as he shifted the car in reverse and put his feet on the gas and released the clutch.


            He kept fiddling with the ring box in his pocket the entire time they ate dinner. Lauren finally relented to the Spaghetti Warehouse because of the classic Cesar salad, while Arnie ordered the five layer lasagna and the sampler plate. Lauren kept giving him confused looks every time he fiddled with something in his pocket, and it made Arnie more nervous about popping the question.
            “So…” Lauren started.
            “Ah, hell, I’m just gonna ask.” Arnie pulled out the ring and opened it. It was a nice ring, with a large diamond in the middle. He had placed a down payment on it. The engagement ring was the first part of the whole set, as the wedding ring sat in place underneath it. It was something Cora recommended when he started looking since that was what Steve bought for her when they got married. “Lauren, will you marry me?”
            Arnie froze up while he held the ring up to her. Lauren dropped her salad fork, staring at the ring. For a moment he thought she was going to say no until she snatched it up out of the box. She held it between her index finger and thumb, her eyes wide as she looked at it.
            “Oh—Arnie, of course I will!”

            After dinner, Arnie and Lauren decided to go back to his house to spend some time together. Lauren couldn’t wait to tell Mom, and Arnie tried to tell her she also had Bingo and a senior citizen’s meeting, but he decided to go home anyway.
            Lauren held his hand as they walked up the steps to his bedroom.
            “You’d have to move out of your Mom’s house,” she said, wrapping one of her arms around Arnie’s tighter.
            “I’ve got some money saved, but not much. I thought maybe we could rent a while.”
            Arnie knew Lauren would want him to move out of his Mom’s after they got married. Thinking about it now, though, made his hands sweat. He wasn’t sure how his mother would do if he left her alone.
            Lauren shook her head. “I hate renting. I just throw so much money with rent.”
            “Mom wouldn’t mind letting us stay here. She doesn’t make me pay rent.”
            “I really, really don’t want to live with your Mom, Arnie.”
            Arnie opened his bedroom door. His light was still on as he ended up rushing around to get ready before his date with Lauren. He got nervous right after his talk with Mom. The Colt was still on his bed.
            “Oh, you have that out,” Lauren said as she walked into his bedroom. She sat on a chair toward the end of the bed which sat next to the wall.
            Arnie quickly picked up the gun and shut the barrel. He picked up the bore brush kit and closed it and shoved the bullets into his nightstand. “It was a gift from my brother.”
            “Yeah… isn’t it old? Worth something?” Lauren sat up straighter in his chair. Arnie sat on his bed and placed the gun on the nightstand on top of the bore brush kit.
            “Yeah. It is. Did I ever tell you the story Steve told me when he got it?”
            “No, you didn’t.” Lauren stood and sat next to him on the bed. She placed her hand on Arnie’s knee. “Could you?”
            “Steve was always full of it. I think you would’ve liked him. He said he got this gun from John Wayne.”
            “No way!” Lauren laughed loudly. She startled Arnie when she slapped him on the shoulder. “So it’s old then?”
            “It’s an 1873 Colt Peacemaker,” Arnie said. “Classic.” 
            “But isn’t John Wayne dead?” Lauren asked.
            “Yes. Steve didn’t pay attention to that stuff. John Wayne may have owned it,” Arnie picked up the gun and showed it to her. “Steve probably just found it in a pawn shop, and the person who had it didn’t realize what it was worth.”
            “That’s so fascinating. How much do you think it’s worth?”
            Arnie shrugged, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the way Lauren was phrasing her questions. People had asked him how much the gun was worth before, after Steve gave it to him. For a while, Arnie did let people see the gun. That was before Steve died.
            “It’s invaluable.”
            “Maybe we could sell it—and the Corvette. Can you imagine what kind of money we could get toward the wedding and a down payment for a house?”
            Arnie suddenly stood up. “You know I worked on that car with Steve.”
            “You really need to let his death go. It’s pathetic.”
            Arnie’s back stiffened. He felt some of his hair stand on the back of his neck.
            “Are you really telling me you want me to sell the two things I have left from my brother?”
            “Oh, come on, you have pictures of him or—“
            “I’m not marrying you!” Arnie hated raising his voice, but he didn’t know any other way to grab Lauren’s attention. “Give me the ring back.”
            “What?” Lauren’s eyes widened. “I’m trying to be practical.”
            “Cora and Mom want me to be on my own but they’d never suggest I get rid of my gun and car. We’ve been together a year and you haven’t realized that?”
            “I’m not Cora.” Lauren stood up and crossed her arms.
            “Yeah, you sure aren’t. Give me the ring back.”
            “Fine! Whatever.” Lauren yanked the ring from her hand. “It looks stupid anyway.” She threw it at his chest. Her heels clacked against the floor as she walked down the hallway.
            Arnie was breathing hard. He didn’t know when he started breathing hard. He looked at the gun. Had he really just broken up with Lauren?
            He needed to go somewhere.


            It was only 9:30. He could go see Cora. Arnie hoped the kids were still up—Zack, Cora’s youngest, looked just like Steve.
            He knocked on Cora’s door. Children squealed and a dog barked as the dead bolt on the front door unlocked.
            “Arnie? I thought you were on a date with Lauren?” Cora asked. She had her hair piled atop her head in a messy pony tail. Kyle, three years old, stood next to her. He smiled wide when he looked up at Arnie.
            “Could I spend time with you and the kids?” Arnie asked Cora.
            “No problem! Are you okay? Did she say no?” Cora asked. She stepped out of the way to let Arnie inside.
            “She just wasn’t what I thought I wanted.” Arnie bent down and immediately picked up Kyle, hugging him tightly as his other nephew and niece attached themselves to his pant leg.
            “I—what do you want? Because, Arnie, I think I’m going to follow Steve’s dream and move out of the city.”
            Arnie looked up at Cora sharply, a deep, painful burn suddenly building in his chest.
            “How long have you been thinking about doing this?” he asked.
            “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time… I don’t want you to say anything to Nadine! She’d be so mad… but I think I might have found a job down there. I started looking when you told me you wanted to get married to Lauren.”
            Arnie looked down at Kyle, still clinging to his pants.
            “You can’t move, Cora, what about the kids?”
            “I really think they are going to do better. The job I found, it’s working with horses, and—“
            “It’s an incredibly stupid idea!” Arnie said, raising his voice. He raised his voice so loud, Kyle jumped back, tears welling up in his eyes. His niece stood there too, startled.
            “Um, kids,” Cora said. She knealt down to them, and gave them a hug and a kiss each. “Can you go up to bed? Mommy will be upstairs in few minutes to tuck you into bed.”
            “Okay, mommy,” Arnie’s niece said. “I love you, uncle Arnie! Night!”
            “Night, kids…” Arnie almost couldn’t get the words out. He almost couldn’t look at his brother’s kids.
            “Arnie, I don’t know what is going on with you… and you can stay the night, but I think you need to call Lauren in the morning and try to fix things with her. If I want to move with my kids, I will, because I want to have the chance to give them a better life, something I don’t think I can give them in the city. You can sleep in the basement, in on Steve’s old pull out sofa.”
            Arnie wasn’t sure what to say to his sister in law. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing there, trying to be there for his dead brother’s kids and his dead brother’s wife.
            “Cora, haven’t you ever thought about us—“

            “Don’t, Arnie!” Her voice broke. “Just don’t. Good night, I have to tuck the kids in.”The Gun or the Girl
Year 1992
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
            Arnie sat alone in his bedroom with his 1873 Colt Peacemaker. He loved this gun because it was one of the first repeating handguns ever made. He hadn’t paid much attention to it in a while so he needed to clean it.
            The Colt was very special to Arnie because his brother, Steve, gave it to him in when they were in their late twenties. Steve learned to drive a truck when he was eighteen. It was while he was working in New York that he got the gun. 
            “You won’t believe it!” Steve said enthusiastically, walking in the door. Arnie hadn’t seen him in a week. His fly away auburn hair frizzed under his baseball cap and he hadn’t shaved since December. “John Wayne gave this to me! I ran into him while I was dropping off a shipment near Broadway.”
            Steve proudly opened a cardboard box to reveal the gun.
            “I love you deeply,” Arnie said, putting his tools down near the couch. “But you’re full of shit.”
            Steve always loved telling stories to his wife, Cora. Cora was a good natured girl that humored his brother when she shouldn’t have. It was that, and her passion for animals, that caused Steve to fall in love with her when he was twenty-five. They met in a pet store where she helped the owner raise baby parrots.
            Cora was on the verge of getting evicted. Steve felt sorry for her. They got pregnant with their daughter after three months.
            Cora refused to marry Steve at first, and that caused a huge rift between her and their Mom. Arnie tried talking Mom into trying to accept Cora into the family but she just wouldn’t do it, even after Steve and Cora declared a common law marriage. It was in ’85, when Steve and Cora had a real wedding after their son was born, that Mom finally gave in and accepted her into the family.
Steve told exaggerated stories.
Cora loved his story about a “street fight” he got into once.
“So me, and my buddy Jimmy, start rough housing.”
Arnie rolled his eyes.
It was a sunny afternoon on the Fourth of July. They had the family barbeque planned for months in Mom’s back yard. The smell of grilled hamburger and chicken wafted through the air, making his mouth water. Cora bounced the baby on her knee while she smiled wide and gave her husband her full attention.
“Jimmy, the knuckle head that he is, gets pissed off and starts a real fight after I mention he owes me twenty bucks for cigarettes two weeks ago. He punched me in the gut too hard, I get pissed off, grab Jimmy by the shoulders, and bite his ear off!”
“Ew, Steve!” Cora gasped, her eyebrows scrunching together in disgust.
Arnie burst out laughing despite how distractingly beautiful Cora was with her perm, long brown hair, and very little make up.
“You are so full of shit,” he said. “You were fifteen. Me and Mom broke that fight up and Jimmy busted you really good in the jaw.”
Steve glared at him.
In 1990, Steve died in that fucking rig. Two months after Cora and Steve had a second boy.
It wasn’t just the gun Steve gave Arnie which he cherished. Two years before Steve died, they had some work they had to do on the car after another driver flew past him by running a red light. They got it running while they were teenagers, but Steve often helped Arnie give it tune ups.
“I think you fried your clutch,” Steve said after a few minutes of failing to get the car to move.
“Great. I can’t believe that moron pulled in front of me.”
“I can’t believe you tried to stop in the wrong gear,” Steve said. “This car is a baby. I told you it was when I decided you’d be the one to keep it.”
Arnie threw a greasy towel at his head. “You gave it to me because it’s too flashy for Cora and the kids.”
“Are you kidding me? Cora loves this car. She’s always asking me to get it from you so we can go for a drive.”
Arnie wanted to answer his brother, but he shook head at Steve and threw a greasy rag at his brother’s head. “Well, while we’ve got it open, does it need anything else?”
Rag still on his head, Steve fiddled around some more with the engine.
“Oil change. Your spark plugs look rough. Did you let Mom drive o Vegas again?”
“Well, she couldn’t take the station wagon.”
Steve shook his head and threw the rag off his head on the side of the car. “Arnie, come on. I’m going to have to take the car from you. I go out of town for two weeks and everything on the car starts falling apart. I didn’t almost get my jaw unhinged trying to get Jimmy to stop being an ass and help us just so you could let it rot like this.”
“Calm down. It just needs a little maintenance. What’s wrong?”
Steve sighed and closed the hood of the car.
“I’m just tired of being on the road all the time.” Steve walked over to the driver’s door and leaned against the car, as Arnie had been the entire time. The hood was up and one of the tires were also flat from the near-accident which caused Arnie to need Steve in the first place. I haven’t told Cora, but I really think I want to stop driving a truck.”
“What would you do? You used to love driving trucks.”
“Yeah, Arnie… but driving all the time takes time away from Cora and the kids. You’re there a lot for them but it doesn’t feel right to have my brother be there for my wife when I can’t be.” Steve’s hair was still long, and he brushed it out of his face. As adults, both Arnie and Steve kept mustaches and had gained a little weight, Arnie more so than Steve.
Arnie clapped his brother on the back.
“Steve, you know I love Cora. You couldn’t have chosen a better girl. But you need to think this through before you quit your job.”
“I don’t want to raise my family in the city. I think I want to move out of Philly.”
“What?” Arnie wasn’t sure if he was stunned or not.
“Yeah… Cora always talks about how she used to live in in the south a year before she decided she wanted to move up north. We don’t want the kids in a city environment. I want to raise them on home cooking and—“
“Steve, I love you, but good luck getting that past Mom.”
            Steve had always been a big dreamer. Arnie just never thought he would dream about something so different.
“I’m just thinking about it. It doesn’t mean I’m going to,” Steve said.
“If you moved down there, I’d never be able to keep this car running,” Arnie said.
Steve laughed and pulled out a cigarette. “Yeah, I know Arnie. That’s why I’m thinking the whole moving idea is a bad idea, even though I want to do what Cora wants.”
            Arnie took in a deep breath and set about cleaning the pistol, inspecting the bores. They were tarnished and rough-looking. The entire gun looked dull and neglected. His cleaning kit sat on his bed, each bore brush and cleaning cloth neatly lined up against his pillows.
            He couldn’t help but remember his brother. Losing Steve hit everyone hard when it happened four years ago, but Arnie had to stop and remember to breathe slowly as he picked up a bore brush and inserted it into the gun. He hadn’t touched it since Steve’s funeral.
            “Arnie?”
            Arnie sighed when his mother knocked on his bedroom door. Mom was in her early sixties and sounded like a fishwife when she raised her voice. Arnie frequently had to endure her nagging. Mom let him live at home. Arnie didn’t have to pay rent, but he still insisted on helping her pay the utilities. Mom owned some property, and she rented it out to roomers who sometimes came to her for cigarettes and beer. Some of the guys she let rent from her weren’t the best people, and so Arnie wanted to live with her at home so he could make sure she was safe. Mom always refused to work a practical job because she didn’t have the skills. She inherited the property she owned from Arnie and Steve’s dad once he died. They lost their dad when they were young.
            “Arnie? Come out here for a minute. Lauren called.”
            “All right, I’m coming, Mom.” Arnie sat on his bed for a moment longer and studied the gun before he closed the barrel and set it on his nightstand.
            “Well, hurry! I haven’t got all day. I have to go over to the house in Doylestown and ask the tenants there why they haven’t paid rent yet this month.”
            Breathing heavily, Arnie stretched, popping his back. He unchained his door and opened it. “I told her I’d call her when I was ready.”
            “What have you been doing?” Mom looked Arnie up and down.
            Arnie didn’t think of himself as much to look at. He was slightly overweight. His belly hung over his jeans. He scratched the bald spot on the crown of his head as he looked at Mom.
            “I, uh, got out the Colt.” Arnie shuffled his bare feet on the cool tile of the floor.
“Oh, you brought that out?” Mom put her hand on Arnie’s shoulder. “Are you okay? It’s getting pretty close to January.”
“I’m fine.” Arnie shrugged Mom’s hand off his shoulder. “Is Lauren still on the phone?”
            “No,” his mother said. She brushed her short curly hair behind her ears. “Where are you taking her tonight?”
            “I don’t know; somewhere fancier than the usual diner.”
            Arnie’s mother took in a sharp breath. “Are you finally going to propose?” A wide smile spread on her face. Her hand shot to his arm. “It’s about time!”
            “It’s just her birthday. I might just decide I don’t want to drive far and take her to the Spaghetti Warehouse.” Arnie thought about shaking Mom’s hand off, but he didn’t.
            Arnie felt like he was in a good place with his girlfriend. Cora introduced Arnie to Lauren at a Tupperware party. Cora temporarily sold it in an attempt to have something to do a year after Steve died. Neither one of the girls were the slight bit interested in Tupperware now. Cora focused more on painting, her real passion, and Lauren was attending community college while she worked as a night desk receptionist at the hotel Arnie worked at as an electrician. Arnie stalled starting a family after Steve died. Maybe it was because he was afraid the same thing would happen to his family if he got married—he’d have a few good years with his wife, have a few kids, and then die on them.
            “That’s still a really nice restaurant.” Except, Arnie thought to himself, his entire family ate there regularly. “It’s about time you give me grand babies. Have you both gotten more serious?”
            Arnie thought about that for a moment. He peaked back into his room and looked at the black box which sat next to his Peacemaker. He didn’t have his bedroom door opened so he could hide the box. If Mom saw it, she’d become so excited, Arnie would be afraid she would have a heart attack. “Ah, I like her.”
            “Oh! That reminds me,” Mom said. “Cora is bringing the kids over this weekend.”
            “Aw,” Arnie said. “I have to work a little overtime at the hotel this weekend.”
            Arnie thought he sometimes worked too much, but his relationship with Lauren wasn’t what suffered. His relationship with Cora and his niece and nephews suffered. He tried to spend time with them as much as possible. The kids were the closet thing Arnie had left of Steve, besides the Colt, and it broke his heart they didn’t have a father.
            “It’s okay.” His mother pushed her glasses onto her face. “Well, I’ll leave you to get ready. Lauren asked me to tell you to make sure you pick her up at seven-thirty.”
            Arnie told her he would get her at nine. He looked at his watch. It was six-thirty. Lauren consistently tried to move time around on him. She had a controlling personality, and most of the time Arnie let it go. He was nowhere near ready to go out, though. He needed to shower and finish cleaning the gun.
            “All right,” he said to his mother. He kissed her on the cheek. “Why are you going to collect rent so late?”
            His mother flashed a semi-evil half-grin. “Don’t ask, dear.”
            Arnie didn’t ask.
            Thirty minutes later, Arnie had on a nice t-shirt and slacks. He had the box in his right pocket along with his keys and wallet. His mother’s house was large. With three floors and five bedrooms, and a large basement and attic, it was sometimes an arduous walk from one end of the house to the other.
            Arnie was almost out the door when the phone which sat on a table near the front door started to ring.
            “Hello?”
            “Arnie! I was hoping to catch Nadine,” Cora said through the phone.
            “Mom’s gone out. I think she’s breaking into a tenant’s house to collect some rent collateral.”
            “Again? I hope she doesn’t hurt herself. Shouldn’t you be out there with her?”
            Arnie laughed. Mom only broke into a tenant’s house once when she thought they brought drugs into the place. She didn’t care about privacy laws, and that sometimes got her into trouble. It was another reason Arnie still lived with her. He didn’t want to control Mom, but he also didn’t want her to do something stupid.
“She probably is just issuing an eviction notice.” Arnie said. “Is everything okay? I’m supposed to head over to Lauren’s.”
            “Oh! Is it the big night?”
            Arnie stuck his hand into his pocket and fingered the box. He hadn’t meant to tell Cora he wanted to propose to Lauren.
            “Arnie?”
            “I’m still here, Cora.”
            “It’s okay. I know it’s the big night. You don’t have to say anything, because I know it must be scaring the hell out of you. Just take a deep breath before you do it and don’t worry—you aren’t making a mistake!”
            “Thanks, Cora.” Arnie said. He heaved a huge sigh of relief. “I needed to hear that.”
            “I’m already mom and dad. I can be sister and brother too.”
            Arnie laughed. “Okay. I have to go. I might not be around to see the kids this weekend, but love you all.”
            “Good luck! Love you too.”
            Arnie hung up the phone.

            “I thought you were NEVER going to get here!” Lauren said as soon as Arnie knocked on her door.
            He looked at the flowers in his hand; a dozen roses. Lauren didn’t even give the flowers a second thought as she flitted past him. Arnie caught a whiff of her vanilla perfume and coughed. Lauren always wore too much. Her tall black heels clacked noisily down her apartment steps as she walked to his red ’75 Corvette convertible.
            Arnie loved his gun and his car, even though it wasn’t his only one. Arnie also owned a Chevy Malibu he drove for every-day errands. When Arnie was sixteen, and Steve was fourteen, Steve helped Arnie restore the Corvette after they found it in a junk yard. The radiator was busted in from a telephone pole, the owner of the junkyard said, and it hadn’t been touched since. The hood had been a crumpled mess. For a year and a half the boys scraped and begged for money from Mom so they could work on it. Arnie got his first job working at a diner down the street to earn cash too. Arnie would never forget Steve’s face when they finally started the engine. It purred. Steve immediately wanted to try to repair another car. Maybe that was why Steve ended up driving a truck.
            “Oh, this car?” More heel clacking. “I love this one!”
            Lauren must not really like flowers, or else she was just too excited to get out to really notice them, Arnie reasoned with himself. He placed the flowers on a table near the front door and closed it. Using a key he had to her apartment, he locked it.
            “It makes you look gorgeous.” He walked down the apartment steps. Arnie actually felt a bit of indifference toward her light blue dress.
            “Don’t flatter me,” she laughed. “I need a night out on the town. I had a rough day at work.” She ran her hand through her hair. Lauren usually worked the night shift at the hotel, as Arnie did. “I can’t believe they ordered me to come in this morning.”
            “You shouldn’t let the managers push you around. I was actually thinking we would go somewhere nicer tonight,” Arnie said as he opened the passenger door. Lauren sat down.
            Arnie got in on the other side, and then started his car up.
            “So where are we going?” Lauren asked.
            “I was thinking the Spaghetti Warehouse,” Arnie said.
            “Oh, really? But there are so many carbs there… I’m not sure if I want to do that.”
            “They have salads.” Lauren was very self-conscious about her health, and Arnie tried to appreciate that about her. He looked down at his gut as he shifted the car in reverse and put his feet on the gas and released the clutch.


            He kept fiddling with the ring box in his pocket the entire time they ate dinner. Lauren finally relented to the Spaghetti Warehouse because of the classic Cesar salad, while Arnie ordered the five layer lasagna and the sampler plate. Lauren kept giving him confused looks every time he fiddled with something in his pocket, and it made Arnie more nervous about popping the question.
            “So…” Lauren started.
            “Ah, hell, I’m just gonna ask.” Arnie pulled out the ring and opened it. It was a nice ring, with a large diamond in the middle. He had placed a down payment on it. The engagement ring was the first part of the whole set, as the wedding ring sat in place underneath it. It was something Cora recommended when he started looking since that was what Steve bought for her when they got married. “Lauren, will you marry me?”
            Arnie froze up while he held the ring up to her. Lauren dropped her salad fork, staring at the ring. For a moment he thought she was going to say no until she snatched it up out of the box. She held it between her index finger and thumb, her eyes wide as she looked at it.
            “Oh—Arnie, of course I will!”

            After dinner, Arnie and Lauren decided to go back to his house to spend some time together. Lauren couldn’t wait to tell Mom, and Arnie tried to tell her she also had Bingo and a senior citizen’s meeting, but he decided to go home anyway.
            Lauren held his hand as they walked up the steps to his bedroom.
            “You’d have to move out of your Mom’s house,” she said, wrapping one of her arms around Arnie’s tighter.
            “I’ve got some money saved, but not much. I thought maybe we could rent a while.”
            Arnie knew Lauren would want him to move out of his Mom’s after they got married. Thinking about it now, though, made his hands sweat. He wasn’t sure how his mother would do if he left her alone.
            Lauren shook her head. “I hate renting. I just throw so much money with rent.”
            “Mom wouldn’t mind letting us stay here. She doesn’t make me pay rent.”
            “I really, really don’t want to live with your Mom, Arnie.”
            Arnie opened his bedroom door. His light was still on as he ended up rushing around to get ready before his date with Lauren. He got nervous right after his talk with Mom. The Colt was still on his bed.
            “Oh, you have that out,” Lauren said as she walked into his bedroom. She sat on a chair toward the end of the bed which sat next to the wall.
            Arnie quickly picked up the gun and shut the barrel. He picked up the bore brush kit and closed it and shoved the bullets into his nightstand. “It was a gift from my brother.”
            “Yeah… isn’t it old? Worth something?” Lauren sat up straighter in his chair. Arnie sat on his bed and placed the gun on the nightstand on top of the bore brush kit.
            “Yeah. It is. Did I ever tell you the story Steve told me when he got it?”
            “No, you didn’t.” Lauren stood and sat next to him on the bed. She placed her hand on Arnie’s knee. “Could you?”
            “Steve was always full of it. I think you would’ve liked him. He said he got this gun from John Wayne.”
            “No way!” Lauren laughed loudly. She startled Arnie when she slapped him on the shoulder. “So it’s old then?”
            “It’s an 1873 Colt Peacemaker,” Arnie said. “Classic.” 
            “But isn’t John Wayne dead?” Lauren asked.
            “Yes. Steve didn’t pay attention to that stuff. John Wayne may have owned it,” Arnie picked up the gun and showed it to her. “Steve probably just found it in a pawn shop, and the person who had it didn’t realize what it was worth.”
            “That’s so fascinating. How much do you think it’s worth?”
            Arnie shrugged, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the way Lauren was phrasing her questions. People had asked him how much the gun was worth before, after Steve gave it to him. For a while, Arnie did let people see the gun. That was before Steve died.
            “It’s invaluable.”
            “Maybe we could sell it—and the Corvette. Can you imagine what kind of money we could get toward the wedding and a down payment for a house?”
            Arnie suddenly stood up. “You know I worked on that car with Steve.”
            “You really need to let his death go. It’s pathetic.”
            Arnie’s back stiffened. He felt some of his hair stand on the back of his neck.
            “Are you really telling me you want me to sell the two things I have left from my brother?”
            “Oh, come on, you have pictures of him or—“
            “I’m not marrying you!” Arnie hated raising his voice, but he didn’t know any other way to grab Lauren’s attention. “Give me the ring back.”
            “What?” Lauren’s eyes widened. “I’m trying to be practical.”
            “Cora and Mom want me to be on my own but they’d never suggest I get rid of my gun and car. We’ve been together a year and you haven’t realized that?”
            “I’m not Cora.” Lauren stood up and crossed her arms.
            “Yeah, you sure aren’t. Give me the ring back.”
            “Fine! Whatever.” Lauren yanked the ring from her hand. “It looks stupid anyway.” She threw it at his chest. Her heels clacked against the floor as she walked down the hallway.
            Arnie was breathing hard. He didn’t know when he started breathing hard. He looked at the gun. Had he really just broken up with Lauren?
            He needed to go somewhere.


            It was only 9:30. He could go see Cora. Arnie hoped the kids were still up—Zack, Cora’s youngest, looked just like Steve.
            He knocked on Cora’s door. Children squealed and a dog barked as the dead bolt on the front door unlocked.
            “Arnie? I thought you were on a date with Lauren?” Cora asked. She had her hair piled atop her head in a messy pony tail. Kyle, three years old, stood next to her. He smiled wide when he looked up at Arnie.
            “Could I spend time with you and the kids?” Arnie asked Cora.
            “No problem! Are you okay? Did she say no?” Cora asked. She stepped out of the way to let Arnie inside.
            “She just wasn’t what I thought I wanted.” Arnie bent down and immediately picked up Kyle, hugging him tightly as his other nephew and niece attached themselves to his pant leg.
            “I—what do you want? Because, Arnie, I think I’m going to follow Steve’s dream and move out of the city.”
            Arnie looked up at Cora sharply, a deep, painful burn suddenly building in his chest.
            “How long have you been thinking about doing this?” he asked.
            “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time… I don’t want you to say anything to Nadine! She’d be so mad… but I think I might have found a job down there. I started looking when you told me you wanted to get married to Lauren.”
            Arnie looked down at Kyle, still clinging to his pants.
            “You can’t move, Cora, what about the kids?”
            “I really think they are going to do better. The job I found, it’s working with horses, and—“
            “It’s an incredibly stupid idea!” Arnie said, raising his voice. He raised his voice so loud, Kyle jumped back, tears welling up in his eyes. His niece stood there too, startled.
            “Um, kids,” Cora said. She knealt down to them, and gave them a hug and a kiss each. “Can you go up to bed? Mommy will be upstairs in few minutes to tuck you into bed.”
            “Okay, mommy,” Arnie’s niece said. “I love you, uncle Arnie! Night!”
            “Night, kids…” Arnie almost couldn’t get the words out. He almost couldn’t look at his brother’s kids.
            “Arnie, I don’t know what is going on with you… and you can stay the night, but I think you need to call Lauren in the morning and try to fix things with her. If I want to move with my kids, I will, because I want to have the chance to give them a better life, something I don’t think I can give them in the city. You can sleep in the basement, in on Steve’s old pull out sofa.”
            Arnie wasn’t sure what to say to his sister in law. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing there, trying to be there for his dead brother’s kids and his dead brother’s wife.
            “Cora, haven’t you ever thought about us—“
            “Don’t, Arnie!” Her voice broke. “Just don’t. Good night, I have to tuck the kids in.”