Here’s another unedited snippet from my next paranormal romance “How to Love a Pink Demon.” It picks up from last week. Let me know what you think!
XOXO,
SS
“Have you developed a drug problem, then?”
Miles looked at him like, really? He’d never even been drunk.
“Well, what it is then?”
I think I’m waiting for someone. Someone I need. Someone very meaningful.“Wish I knew, old boy,” he winked at his agent.
Rich, who was quite intuitive despite his brash, take no prisoners demeanor, knew enough to let things lie – about that. “So, this underwear deal involves a bit of travel.”
Miles just rolled his eyes.
Miles ended up taking the underwear deal, half just to get Rick top shut up about it. The other half was the salary and the exposure. But the dreams – and the short tempered episodes that followed – didn’t stop.
He grew more restless as time passed. His temper frayed alarmingly, and he got into several altercations with anti-fans. You know, the jealous men who like to pick on the big movie action star to prove he’s really just an overhyped pussy. Unfortunately for them, Miles was as tough off screen as he was on.
He barely had to fight. One good swat, a shove even, and they were on the ground, clutching whatever body part hit the dirt first. Thankfully, his anger fizzled as quickly as it flared, and the scraps were quickly over.
Of course, some of this was just a ploy so they could sue. But that’s where being a star came in handy. There was always a bevy of eager witnesses willing to step forward and protest on his behalf.
When the first one cried, “I’ll bloody sue you!” One of his female fans was quick to say, “Like hell, you loser! You started that fight on purpose, and I saw you hit him first, unprovoked!”
The second fared no better, and that time a male fan came to his defense.
“I’ll take you for everything you’ve got!”
The man scoffed, camera phone already recording. “Yeah, right, mate. Try again. Next time you try to get your ass kicked for profit you might wanna forgo the actual ass kicking, especially when you started the bloody fight!”
But his people were starting to get twitchy, squawking about his brand and his image and such. Bah. Who gave a good wet shit? Miles didn’t want to lose his temper, he couldn’t seem to help it.
Sleep deprivation aside, most days it felt like he was crawling out of his skin. And every day the feeling got a tiny bit worse. At least the fights, short as they were, were a distraction. A way to let some of the air out of the tires.
“They weren’t lying,” he told Rich, who came to retrieve him from the local bink following the latest dustup.
He waved at his fans and scooped up a little girl who threw herself at his legs. He accepted her enthusiastic kiss on his cheek before he gave her back to her blushing mother. Then he turned to give the rest of the crowd two thumbs up to show he was fine. They waved back happily, shouting encouraging words and support as he blew them a kiss and grinned his thanks.
“I didn’t bloody start the fight.”
His old friend snorted. “Well, you sure as hell finished it. What if they sue? Brady’s called me a dozen times already.”
Brady was his manager.
“I told him there was video, and I thought he was gonna pop something.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Miles felt compelled to say, again.
“Said every schmuck behind bars in need of a lawyer.”
Miles just laughed.
But after some deliberation, it was decided – by everyone but him – that he would give good old Sydney a rest.
“Won’t hurt you to go walkabout for a bit,” said Rich. “My girl Tommy lives in Chicago, and I’ve asked her to sort you out. You can play tourist, run along the lake, eat some deep dish pizza, and get your head on straight until you need to be in New York for the undies.”
“Stop fucking calling it the undies,” Miles begged. “Please. You make it sound like an award show for a disease. A shitty one that itches.”
“Whatever,” said Rich at his most pompous. “This is the second incident in as many weeks. Another one and we won’t be able to spin this shit. Your brand’ll be in the toilet, and you know perfectly well you’re up for a bloody franchise. We’re this fuckin’ close! But if you don’t calm down, no one in their right fuckin’ mind’ll –”
“Alright! Enough. I’ll go.”
Sherrod Story - Here lies your book boyfriend...naked. 