Welcome back to our favorite little event, Mid Week Tease!
Authors: this is a great opportunity to spotlight a few lines or even a paragraph or two from a new release or backlisted title. Check out Sandra Bunino’s teaser post to sign up and participate next week. Readers: you get to sample some delicious snippets! We’ll do our best to tease, titillate and tantalize you into the weekend.
My mid week tease this week is from a short story I wrote called Even Honey Expires. It’s a free read here on my website dedicated to the sweetheart drummer for Sin Pointe, Will Cordero, and a thank you to my readers. I should say that I wrote this at Halloween time last year and so it has a semi-paranormal flavor to it whereas the other Sin Pointe books do not. But you know what? It’s Will. And it explains a little about why he is the way he is. I hope you enjoy this bit of him and his girl, Honey…
Will stood hips to oven handle, his face soaking up the rosemary-fragranced steam fogging his glasses and brother’s dog tags. It warmed Honey’s small apartment. One hand stirred circles around a large pot. The baby portabellas bobbing around in Memaw’s butter sauce had to be perfect tonight because everything else he had planned was rotten.
He left their last supper in the kitchen to check that she was still asleep on the living room floor. There was his perfection. Tangled in blankets, earphones in her ears. Beautiful, sweet, tangled mess. His wife. Only his, no one else’s. But her feelings had changed according to the thoughts she’d scribbled down and then tossed in the shredding box. Damn himself for picking that day to knock a few items off her “De-Clutter-fying” list, impatient to have her all to himself.
Stretching his belly over the floor beside her, he rested his chin on his stacked fists and breathed in her strawberry hair.
A song began in his head. It belonged to her immediately.
He hummed the melody and whispered the impromptu words. “I never should have made you lie. The only girl who ever saw me can’t stand the sight of me. But you won’t cry. No you won’t cry.”
She brought a hand up and nails with weeks old violet chipped polish rubbed at her nose. The black cord of her earphones caught on her jewelry-less wrist. No bracelet to go with her non-existent necklace matched the rings they kept hidden in her sock drawer.
He untangled the cord, freeing her bare wrist. She could sleep anywhere. On a pile of suitcases at LAX, through his last concert. Jealous, he whispered, “I won’t make you lie anymore, Honey.”