Hey there,
First official book is out and it already has a handful of great reviews, seven to be exact. I’m pretty happy about that, one or two in there really get what I was going for, that’s great. But as my publisher tells me ‘it’s a marathon, not a sprint’, so more will come in given time and effort and I need to get back to the daily grind of writing and editing.
Oh yeah almost forgot, I finished Green Sunday part 2 yesterday. It is done, just needs a little proofreading from yours truly, then off it goes to get edited and back to me for another proofread and then into your hands hopefully and I haven’t even got my author copies of book one yet haha.
I should be really excited, it feels like an eternity I’ve been waiting to start that Dexter spin-off/spiritual successor/inspired book and I’m finally going to be let loose on that. It feels almost sanctified, like all I’ve done has been building to this, the wacky loose comedy and violence of Green Sunday and the stark disturbing dreaminess of Ladies Close your eyes and the stark reality of The one that came back coming together to make this next series, bringing all those elements together to make a whole stronger than all of them.
I say I should be happy about it but bummed out from a day of sucking at Gwent haha.
I am happy, but there’s always that sliver of melancholy that sneaks in when you finish anything you put your heart and soul into. It’s like a reward in a way.
Anyway, the next chapter of TOTCB or an excerpt of is below, you can find the full chapter on the inkitt page with the link below as usual. Still having it edited so if you sign up to my mailing list you can get yourself a free copy when it’s finished.
See you…
God’s away on business
–
It was happy hour.
Porter was sitting at the bar with an untouched pink flamingo cocktail in his hand. His other hand held his chin as he leaned with his elbow on a damp beer mat. It was dark outside but still warm.
“Phone for you Porter!” Patrick said at the back of the bar. Porter didn’t even hear it ring. The bar was full, locals mostly and a couple of college kids that looked lost.
Porter walked around the bar trying not to fall over a guy in a hockey jersey who couln’t find his feet.
The phone was on the end of the bar itself, all the way in the back.
Patrick wasn’t waiting he left the receiver on the side and Porter picked it up and put it to his hear.
“Porter”
“Dear god, you sound terrible”. A quick snippy new Yorker accent rattled around in his ear like a bad penny circling the drain.
“Wrong number, god’s away on business”
“It’s Phil” He sounded, his voice rising at the end like that should mean something.
“…”
“Phil Robertson from Channel eight action news.” He said it almost like a chant, ‘I think therefore I am’.
Porter licked the corner of his mouth.
“You remember me you prick” Phil smiled on the other end.
“I remember, what is it?”
“You been watching the news at all?”
“I don’t have all day” Porter was used to long stories from people who liked to talk but not on the phone.
“Sure you do, who are you kidding? All you micks do is sit around that bar waiting for someone to bludgeon you with a chair leg”
“Is it a job?”
“It’s a job.”
“Yeah?” Porter was waking up now. His eyes were half open and he slipped a carton of cigarettes out of his pocket and pushed one between his lips. He looked up and saw his brother signalling for him to put it away with a soggy bar towel twisting between his hands.
“Usual rate plus expenses”
Porter grimaced and put the whole pack down. He glared at his brother who smiled like a cherub, tossing the bar towel over his shoulder. Slapping himself in the face with it on accident to the great joy of a local tout
“Better not be anything to do with a sextape, I’m done with celebrity bullshit.” Porter felt antsy, he needed to put something in his mouth. He reached for a handful of bar nuts and started crunching them into the receiver.
“No it’s nothing like that, are you hearing a crackling sound?”
“No”
“Must be on my end. There’s this kid, he was on the news, it was leaked by someone on the inside. We don’t know who and we can’t get in touch with anyone from the embassy who’ll talk to us”.
“The job?”
“Ok ok, I just want you to track him down so we can set up an interview that’s all. He’s in San Antonio but that’s all I know, that’s not too far from you right?”
“Right”
“So you’ll do it?”
“Yeah, I’ll do it”
“Great, great, the kids name is Johnny Bartlett and his sister’s name is Peggy Carson. You might do better going through her. Supposedly this kid has been missing for over four years. Do you need me to spell any of that, are you writing this down?”
“No”
“You sure?”
“Yeah”.
“Ok keep me posted, I’ve already got a crew set up in north san antone. The address is K335 Northwest Loop 410, it’s along the freeway, you can’t miss it”.
“That all?”
“Just find’em and get’em there, that’s all”
“Right” Porter said as he hung up the phone.
–
Darkly Dreaming Demographic. 
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