Hey all!
It's time for the mid-month sneak peek, and I realized I haven't shared a good stand-alone bit recently. In chewing on what I could share, I came to this scene from my WIP. If you're not already getting chapters from the Patron tier, my current project is a spinoff of Good Intentions called GRAND THEFT SORCERY. This scene is later in the book, past the point where my Patron supporters have seen. It doesn't have our protagonists or our main villain, but I felt like it stands nicely on its own.
GTS is set in Los Angeles and is tied directly to the events of the Good Intentions series. It follows Evan Murphy, a young LA repo man who stumbles into magic and supernatural feuds, and well... eventually, he has an impact on the LA nightlife. They may not see him in action, but pretty soon, Evan is everyone's problem.
As an update, my first draft of the book has reached the climax point. I'm usually pretty quick with revisions and editing, so I'm confident the book will drop sometime in the autumn!
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“Darling, don’t be silly. Of course it’s not too soon for a pandemic movie. You simply must take this role.” Aaron tilted the phone from his mouth to flash his table companion a charming smile. Once hooked in by his good looks and urbane charm, mortals could look right at his canines and never notice them. Jasmine batted her dark eyes and sighed as if to prove it.
At least some mortals knew how to take their cue.
“I dunno, Aaron,” Summer told him over the phone. “All I see is another streaming service flop. The director has a rep for tantrums and the script reads like a writer’s room flowchart. I’m supposed to cry over all these characters that mean nothing to the audience. Why would anyone care?”
“You’re an actress. You’re Summer Roxbury. You’ll make the audience care. It’s what you do. Look, you saw the studio’s offer. The pay is great. It’s work.”
“It’s trash. I thought we were going for that regency romance? That was a good role!”
“For twenty percent less and you’d be unrecognizable in all the costuming. I like regency just fine, but this is business. Take the plague movie. When have I ever steered you wrong?”
Summer grumbled. Apparently she did, in fact, remember when he had steered her wrong. He’d have to work on that. “I’ll think about it. Let me call you tomorrow.”
“Do that. Goodnight.” Aaron hung up and shook his head. “Give them a little success and they get so wound up about the next thing.”
“I knew you rep Summer Roxbury, but I didn’t expect a demonstration,” said Jasmine.
“Darling, I made Summer Roxbury. I named Summer Roxbury, too. Who would’ve every given a second thought to Suzie Rogers?”
Again, Jasmine took her cue with a grin. “Who?”
“Hah! Exactly. See, you’re witty, pretty, vibrant. You could make a big splash in this town.”
“Wow. That’s…” Jasmine tugged on her black curls, but her eyes showed a little too much wit for Aaron’s purposes. “That’s exactly what you’d want to hear from an agent, I guess. Right out of a script.”
“Because it’s true. Trust me, darling.” The soft red flare in his eyes along with the power of his voice went as unnoticed as his long canines, but he saw the desired effect. Jasmine sighed and shook herself without further reticence. That was better.
His phone buzzed with a text. He expected Summer, but saw a note from Ice instead: “Solomon is in a mood. First person to bring him a good drink clears the books with me.”
Aaron planned to keep Jasmine to himself, but he owed Ice more than one favor. An offer like that couldn’t be ignored—and clearly hadn’t gone out to Aaron alone. He flashed Jasmine a new smile. “We should get out of here and talk at my place. You took an Uber here, right? No car to leave behind.”
“In the shop, yeah. This isn’t some ‘casting couch’ thing, is it?” Jasmine frowned.
Aaron bit back a curse. When did this part get so tedious? He blamed the internet. “Nonsense. This is business. It’s not the eighties anymore.” Unfortunately, he added in silence.
“Are you sure? You’ve hardly touched your food.”
“Doesn’t suit my appetite, if I’m honest. I only come here for drinks.” Aaron swept Jasmine from the table despite her wariness, smiling and nodding to familiar faces in the restaurant on their way out. Along the way, Jasmine said something about being close to getting her SAG card. He paid little attention.
Melrose carried less traffic at the late hour, but the parking lot beside the restaurant was still packed. Aaron slowed to scan for his car.
“I thought they required the valet service for this lot,” said Jasmine. “Seemed fancy.”
“Oh, they know me here. Besides, it’s a custom BMW M3. I can’t trust that to a valet.”
He missed Jasmine’s dubious frown. He also missed the frozen portimao blue metallic paint job of his car in his first scan—and the second. Aaron strode past the first row of cars. He saw Teslas, sports cars, luxury SUVs, and not a single BMW. “Where is my car?”
“The lot isn’t that big,” said Jasmine.
“Yes, thank you, you’re such a help.” He turned and scanned again.
“Maybe you forgot—?”
“I didn’t forget my fucking car!” Aaron snapped, eyes flaring red and canines out.
Jasmine shrieked, punched him across the face, and ran. Aaron reeled more in shock than pain, particularly at the jagged sensation of her punch. At a touch, he discovered three nasty cuts left behind by the keys interlaced in her fingers. Even if vampires didn’t bleed, he’d have to fix his cheek.
The two valets looked on with wary scowls. He stood alone in the parking lot, abandoned, punched, and carless. “Shit. Shit! Shit!”