The novel you are about to read is a work in progress. What I am posting here is the raw, unedited draft – complete with typos and mistakes… The finished project will be vastly different. I started this project in 2011 and it stopped working on it abruptly to let it cook for a while…
While I’m writing a much better version, you can read the old draft while the new one is being completed. Essentially, you get to read a version free, and if you liked what you read, you can purchase the complete polished version from book retailers everywhere.
I begin writing this before I wrote and published my first book. The writing is far from my best… but there’s a story here, kids. The title is a working title. And again, I stress this is a very rough draft, cringeworthy (at least to me) to read in some places, but I thought this would be a fun way for you to read a developing work, and then read a finished product.
Enjoy...
Chapter Five
Before going to bed on Wednesday morning, Chloe tried something she’d never done before. She prayed. She wasn’t sure who to pray to, so she prayed to Jesus. In Jesus’ name, she prayed to be a normal girl: to wake up in the evening before class with a heartbeat and an appetite for hamburgers. She woke up thirsty for blood. But she was undaunted. She didn’t burst into flames when she prayed or when she called upon the name of the man she was taught was her nemesis. That could have meant a number of things. Maybe praying once wasn’t enough. She would try again later.
She fixed herself pretty for class and left early, making a detour to Pine Street to see if the Catholic Church was open. It wasn’t. She would return. Maybe talk to a priest. Not about her condition, but just to talk. Just to ask questions. Just to see what would happen. She wondered if Mason ever prayed, and made a mental note to ask him.
In spite of his break down at Biden’s the previous evening, Fat Larry returned to Rehoboth. The young man he’d been eyeing was there again, and tonight Larry had enough Aqua Velva’s to drink to strike up a conversation. It was going extremely well. The young man’s name was Bryan. He was an investment banker for a firm based in Annapolis. Annapolis was two hours away: a safe enough distance to ensure that Bryan would not be returning to Rehoboth frequently once his business was carried out.
They’d agreed to leave the bar, in separate cars, but Bryan insisted on a condition. He was not romanced by the idea of seedy sanctuary, so The Atlantic Encounters Motel in Lewes was out of the question. He insisted on Fat Larry’s apartment. This was against Larry’s rules. He never brought anyone home. He always lied about his institution of employment. He never mentioned Strode. He always checked in at Encounters under a different name, and no one there ever questioned it. But Bryan was younger and more attractive than the usual Johnny: a conquest. And tonight, Larry was going to be foolish.
Larry was foolish because Bryan wasn’t Bryan. And he wasn’t an investment banker from Annapolis. Bryan was Ronald Carlton, a waiter at Lazy Suzan’s in Rehoboth. And Larry was bringing him home to Rockford. And Larry was not prepared for this, so when Bryan/Ronald asked him about the paystub on the kitchen table from Rockford Community College, Larry lied and said he was teaching a specialty semester course there that would end in March. And when Bryan/Ronald asked about the Strode magnet on the fridge, Larry lied and said it came in the mail. And when Larry began to balk at the idea of spending the evening with the young man, Bryan/Ronald seduced him.
