The Preferred Excerpt

         
         I had been near unconscious since I stepped foot into school and I was dragging, literally, my feet scrapped across the floor, and my backpack was on the ground behind me. When I reached my locker I yawned and just kept on walking. Several steps later I realized I’d passed it. I huffed dramatically and stuck my bottom lip out before turning back to it. I had no idea how I was going to get through the second half of the day.

As I was unloading my books, I caught a glimpse of Carrie and her gang in my peripheral vision and immediately knew what was coming. I turned away from them and in the direction of my next class when Carrie stepped in front of me.

She stuck her left hand out to the locker and blocked my way. Tucked under her other arm was the second book in the Star Light Series: Moon Light. I knew it well, because it was McKaela’s favorite series. Carrie and the gang all carried around their copies as though it was a holy book. I would’ve been surprised that they knew how to read if this weren’t such a prestigious school. Then again, most of their parents were benefactors.

I glared down at her, careful to remain expressionless and waited as she looked me up and down. She finished her appraisal and seemed pleased with what she saw, because she sneered at me.

“So, here’s the school’s very own, real life, hero,” she looked at her minions. “Don’t you think she deserves a round of applause girls?” She clapped. The rest followed suit, except for Angela who was currently trying to cover her softball sized goose egg with her bangs. “It serves you right for what you did to Angela. You know what they say about Karma?”

“And all this time I thought your name was Carrie….What do you want, Karma?”

Her pulse throbbed at her temple. “We need to talk,” she said after several awkward, silent moments.

“Why?”.

“Jessie is mine—you can’t have him,” she told me as calm as could be. I had the impression though that it was a carefully measured calm, like how many inches she’d removed from her skirt to make sure it’d be just shy of showing her panties.

My face twisted. “What are you talking about?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “I know that Jessie asked you to Kyle’s party on Friday,” she snapped. She looked over at her crowd and reined herself in, then smiled at me.

“You do know that you and Jessie aren’t dating anymore, right? Remember he broke up with you months and months ago.” Okay, I’ll admit the second months was uncalled for, but she was irritating and I was tired.

Her face turned a deep red. I took that as an opportunity to try and escape, but I guess she wasn’t finished with me yet because she encircled my arm with her purple taloned fingers as I tried to get by.

“You listen to me,” she said as her nails dug into my skin, “Jessie is mine and if you don’t stay away from him I will make your life a living hell.”

“And that would be different from this how, exactly?”

“Stop!” Carrie shrieked.

I jumped.

Carrie released my arm and moved Moon Light to her left hand, tucking it against her chest. “You can joke around all you want, but unless you want your nose to be broken you’ll back...”

“Hey, Carrie,” Michael said, surprising me, as he brushed by, “you have something in your teeth.”

Carrie squealed, her hand went up to her mouth and she pushed me out of the way and ran down the hall toward the girl’s bathroom. I watched her go, impressed by her speed considering the five inch heels she was wearing then looked in the opposite direction at Michael’s retreating form. I could just make out the top of his blond head in the crowd. I opened my mouth to thank him, but he was too far away to hear.

I was surprised he wasn’t at lacrosse practice with Jessie and Ben and even more that he had just intervened on my behalf. Then I remembered a moment at the car wash when I’d tripped over a hose. He’d caught and righted me before I’d even had a chance to flare my arms and then he was gone, just like now.

I started toward class when I heard McKaela call out to me from the direction Carrie had run. She carried her backpack in one hand and waved at me with her other. She then pointed to the boy walking next to her. Not that she’d needed to.

He had at least nine inches on her and the difference was palpable. He wore a cocky expression on his face that was near completely covered by jet black hair. He was wearing a black wool coat over his white shirt, which was unbuttoned a few buttons revealing a wife beater underneath. His blue tie hung loose and to the side and he had chosen the plaid pants that most the boys never wore except when the rest of their options were dirty. It seemed like a bold choice for his first day. I’d gone as neutral as possible on my first day. Not that it’d helped.

I glared at his tie and hoped I wouldn’t embarrass myself by straightening it. Not that he would’ve noticed if I had, it seemed, by the way every single person in the hall was turning and staring at him and the way he was somehow managing to make eye contact with all of them. It was like some alternate reality, watching him. Like watching a rock star make his way through a crowd, winking and blowing kisses as he went. One of Carrie’s minions swooned.

I didn’t get it. Sure, he was attractive enough, I supposed, but the amount of cockiness seeping off him was enough to make any sane girl want to run and hide. As a matter of fact, I’d lost my mind and still wanted to run and hide.

McKaela stopped in front of me and smiled. I noted that she didn’t seem sad like she had yesterday and I was even more pleased that she appeared unaffected by the new kid.

“You’re nose looks so much better,” she said slightly in awe.

“Yeah, I iced it,” I said lamely, while purposefully keeping my eyes off the superstar interloper.

She looked up at him then back at me and blushed. “Oh, sorry. Eva, this is Mal, Mal this is my best friend Eva.”

I turned to him and immediately cringed at the pervy look he was giving me. McKaela took a text message. I smirked at the red, white and blue, “Vote for Brightman” sticker that was peeling off the back of her phone.

Mal threw his head to the side sending his bangs out of his eyes and my mouth dropped open despite myself. His eyes were purple. I leaned forward searching for contacts, but there weren’t any.

Who has purple eyes?

“How do you spell your name?” he asked catching me off guard.

I took a step back. “Um... E.V.A.”

“Good,” he smiled a wide toothy grin, un-proportionally pleased, “most people spell it A.V.A. these days. Your way is much better.”

“Thanks.” I tried to smile, but had the feeling it looked weird. That feeling increased when his smile faded ever so slightly and his expression became befuddled.

Garlic (Excerpt)

       Being a bestselling author of a vampire series is easy, especially when the series is based on your own life, what I hate is the book signings. The line of desperate women—drooling, calling my series Garlique, and asking for personal inscriptions reading: yours forever, thanks for last night, and (my personal favorite) yes indeed the female interest in my last book was based on your beauty, Love Bryan Ares.
        
         Gag me. 

My chauffeur drove my Bentley up to the curb of the Barnes and Noble on 2289 Broadway and stopped. There was a line down the block and around the corner. Women aging from teenager to well over middle age started screaming as my publisher, Marcus Herman, walked over and opened my door. 

            “You’re late.” He was all smiles, but his tone was angry. He blocked his eyes from the sun despite his sunglasses and stood back.

            I stepped out of the Bentley and into the topping ninety-five degree plus humidity weather that’s common of New York summers. I straightened my suit, squinted into the sun then waved to my fans. The cries of joy grew louder and covered the sounds of angry drivers honking at my chauffer to move the Bentley.

“I’m here,” I shot back feigning a smile of my own.

          “I was taking bets,” he said giving me a knowing look as he ushered me past my fans and into the store.

A cool breeze hit me as I entered and I sighed in relief. Marcus had clearly made a fuss after last time, but I wasn't naive enough to think it had anything to do with my comfort. The smell of coffee found its way to my nose from the coffee shop in the corner and a life size cutout of myself stared at me from beside the signing table. I grimaced. The store was empty except for staff. A squeal made its way out of the mouth of a woman wearing slacks and a heavy sweater who was heading determinedly through the store and in my direction. I looked at Marcus, eyebrow raised.

“If you dislike the attention so much why do you publish?” he asked me.

I shrugged. He had me there. “How long is this thing going to take?”

“Just a couple of hours,” he assured me.

“Mr. Ares,” the manager squeaked again as she came up. Her name tag read: Jan. 

Fabulous.

Marcus shook her hand first. He then leaned toward me and whispered, as the woman took my hand in hers, “Or until the line is gone.”

I masked a cringe with a smile.

“We are just so excited to have you here, I’m Jan, the manager,” she told me stepping into my personal space, then craned her neck up to look me in the eye. “I’m a huge fan. All of our employees are very excited to meet you. Your books are wonderful. This one is your best yet.” She continued shaking my hand fervently.

I lifted her hand to mouth and kissed it, then took a step back and dropped it. Her face blanched. I smiled. Marcus elbowed me.

“I hope this isn’t too presumptuous of me,” she said, no doubt feeling encouraged by the kiss, “but you are so much better looking in person than in your picture.”

“Thank you, the pleasure’s all yours,” I said.

Her brow furrowed, then she laughed and said, “You mean mine?”

“Exactly,” I said.

She continued, “Did you see your review in the Times today. It was glowing.”

Marcus leaned over and whispered to me again, “Wasn’t the reviewer the woman you met on the nude…” He stopped speaking abruptly and glanced at Jan.

I cocked an eyebrow and smiled down at her. She wrung her hands together then looked uneasily between Marcus and me.

“Why don’t you show us where he’ll be sitting,” Marcus offered quickly, trying to help her out of her stupor.

She giggled. “Right, oh my goodness,” she said in an octave I was sure was only meant for dogs. “I’m so nervous.”

Marcus held out his hand gesturing for her to lead the way. “No need,” he assured her.

         She smiled then turned heading back toward her employees. “Of course not,” she said, “we’re all human after all, right?”

I rolled my eyes and Marcus smirked.

“Right,” he told her.

*****

“I love Garlique,” a titillated fan said to me an hour into the signing, “It’s the most wonderful series.”

I didn’t look back at Marcus, but I could sense him smirking and I managed a smile by thinking of how I was going to make him pay later.

“Garlic,” I corrected her.

Her smile dropped and she looked at me expectantly. “What?”

Marcus bumped into my chair and my stomach slammed into the edge of the table.

         “Oh, yikes,” he said. “Sorry about that.”

I grimaced. “Thank you,” I addressed the woman and handed her book back to her. When she left I crinkled my nose at the pungent smell of garlic that trailed her and looked back at Marcus before I waived my next nightmare forward.

He handed me a thermos. “You’re getting testy,” he said. “Drink this.”

“Type A?” I asked in a hushed tone.

He nodded. “1983, your favorite.”

He took the seat next to me. I flipped the straw up and took a long pull, my teeth tingled at the first touch of blood on my tongue and I felt myself starting to relax. A few more sips and I was downright placid. Marcus knew me well. I closed the thermos and took a drink of water from the glass provided me by Jan and waved the next woman over. She was in her mid-twenties, with a low cut blouse, dark brown hair, and curves in all the right places. I sat a little taller, so did Marcus.

“Well, hello,” I said reaching out.

She smiled as she bent over to hand me her book. “Can you please sign it to: My Victoria?” She batted her lashes at me.

I took her book and grinned. “I’d be happy to,” I told her. I signed her book and slid it back into her hands. As I did a small piece of paper found its way into my hand.

“Thank you,” she said batting her lashes. “This is my first time to New York. I was lucky you were doing this.”

I leaned forward. Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a loss after all. “Oh, yeah. How long are you in town for?”

“Depends,” her voice sultry and deep, then she mouthed, “call me.” She stood tall, winked at Marcus and walked off.

Marcus and I watched her strut off in her purple miniskirt and I sighed as the next person in line came to my table not bothering to wait until I waved her forward. I looked up and was temporarily startled when I saw two men standing in front of me, badges held out.

“Brian Ares,” one of the cops said. “I’m Detective Boss, and this is Detective Harris.”

         Marcus stood up. “What’s this about?” he asked. 

Detective Harris spoke this time, “It’s a private matter.” He gestured to the line of shivering, scantily clad women behind him.

I peered around them at the next woman in line and shuddered at the frizzy, sweaty mess that seemed to be the only person not affected by the air-conditioner.

“Right now?” Marcus asked. “It can’t wait until after the signing?”

I stood up. “It’s okay Marcus,” I told him. “Anything I can do to help the NYPD.” I buttoned my jacket grabbed the thermos and strode away with the detectives and Marcus behind me.