Seagulls

Green Harbor, Uncategorized

Seagulls is a short story set in the Green Harbor universe. It can be read as stand-alone story.  It features two sexy men, instalove and lobster rolls.

Caw Caw Caw!
Jeffrey hated the seagulls. He remembered not to look up as they circled his lobster roll. Seagulls ranked near the top of things he hated about growing up in Green Harbor. The dampness and the winters were close behind. But here he was, sitting with his mother on a dock on a warm sunny day in July, sharing the pleasure of eating lobster rolls dripping with cannabis butter. His shitty, little home town had transformation into a luxury resort town centered on cannabis tourism.
“Ignore the gulls, Jeffrey, enjoy the roll. Betty swears by them. Did I tell you she’s got me going to yoga? There is a wonderful young man who teaches there; I think she said he’s famous? Anyway, we stretch and laugh, and at the end, everyone farts.”
“I’m eating, mom.” Jeffrey choked on his bite and looked at his mother, horrified. He cleared his throat and was whipping his eye when he noticed a speck of something falling beyond his mother’s head.
“Oh no,” he said, standing up and grabbing some napkins. His hands were just a second shy to catch a big splat of birdshit landing on the forehead of the sexiest man he had ever seen. Jeffrey’s napkin-clad hand reached to clean up the damage.
“They got ya.” Jeffrey said, trying to act casual as if he cleaned bird poop off devilishly handsome men’s heads’ regularly.
“Those fuckers got me good, and I dropped my lobster roll.” The sexy stranger returned, his low voice rattling Jeffrey’s knees. Jeffrey had to look away from staring into his deep amber eyes. Were those specks of blue? He was about to step back to focus on breathing when the stranger put his hand on Jeffrey’s arm. His warm grip tight on Jeffrey’s skin, a current of electricity passing through them. The man was smiling at him, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I’m Parker. Thanks for coming to my rescue. I was looking up, I’ve never seen seagulls before, and I thought they were magnificent. But now I’m not so sure. Do you know where I can clean up?”
Jeffrey looked around the waterfront, found a men’s room behind the lobster roll food truck, and motioned for Parker to follow him. Jeffrey quickly turned back to his mother, who winked at him as the pair wandered off.
~
“I didn’t even get to finish my lobster roll,” Parker said, walking out of the men’s room, all cleaned up.
“Do you want another one? We can go back. Or, like, I’m sure you have something important to do.” Was Jeffrey stammering, Parker wondered as they walked back out onto Water Street.
“I have plenty of time, and I want to see the town. But you, you probably have something to get back to?” Parker hedged, guessing that a hot man eating a lobster roll with his mother on a Sunday afternoon was not a man who had a family to get back to.
“Downtown or nature?” Jeffrey asked,
“Downtown.”
“Food or Fun first?” Jeffrey said, pausing to look in a storefront window. “Huh, this used to be an art studio.” Jeffrey looked closer, the store front was now an apartment, but there was a painting in the window, facing out.
“I was there when this was painted, or at least this bit up here on the right.” Parker stepped closer, looking over Jeffrey’s shoulder. The painter had captured the view from the other side of harbor, north and out to sea. A small storm has cleared, the light shining from a setting sun to the northwest,. The area Jeffrey pointed to was the ocean, with yachts that looked like confetti, sprinkling the horizon. Parker watched Jeffery get lost in a memory.
“Rodney was the first gay person I came out to.” Jeffrey said. “His partner was the painter and while we talked, Albert stood just inside that window and painted that corner.” Jeffrey had kept talking, but Parker had stopped listening, he was so focused on watching Jeffrey standing there on the street, lost in a memory. Parker stepped in behind him and placed comforting hands on Jeffrey’s shoulder. Jeffrey turned around, and Parker watched a tear roll down his face.
“This is a happy tear, I swear. He was so kind to me, and I totally forgot all about him until this moment.” Jeffrey tried to laugh, a second tear running from the corner of his eye. Parker reached his thumb up to wipe the tear, and as his hand grazed the length of Jeffrey’s face, his thumb got caught on Jeffrey’s upper lip. Parker stepped in closer, the only sound his own heart beating. Jeffrey’s eyes looked up into Parker’s. Parker felt Jeffrey’s lips, smooth and warmed from the sun. Parker parted his and slid his tongue out, passing Jeffrey’s on the way. His hands went to Jeffrey’s shoulder, pulling him in closer, not daring to let this connection end.
“Young men, we don’t mind you kissing, but please don’t block the sidewalk.”
~
“So sorry,” Jeffrey said, backing up. “Mrs. Gould? Parker, this is Mrs. Gould, my old next-door neighbor and this is Parker, um…” Jeffrey didn’t know how to continue, this was a man I just met, and I’m now making out with?
“Hello Jeffrey, your mother said you would be coming back.” Mrs. Gould said, continuing to walk ahead of them. “Good to see you.”
Jeffrey watched Mrs. Gould power-walk down Water Street, bobbing around the resort guests. He looked back at Parker.
“Wow,” Jeffrey said, “Let’s keep walking and see what else in town makes me cry.” Parker laughed, patted Jeffrey on the back and continued to walk with him.
The two spent the next several hours exploring a Green Harbor Jeffrey could never have imagined growing up. They joined people taking a paint, puff and pass class, painting a still life with clams. They played in an arcade, spent an hour in the karaoke club and laughed and kissed the afternoon away.
“Pretty crazy here,” Parker said as they settled back down on the dock where they met, chancing fate one more time with two lobster rolls.
“These are amazing; Today was the perfect day.”
“Well, aside from the bird,” Jeffrey replied.
“No way, that bird was how we met, that will be the story we tell the grandchildren,” Parker said, intending to be funny, but the shock of it reverberated through him as he watched his life unfold in a series of snapshots, him and Jeffrey slow dancing in the moonlight, kids, grandkids. Parker shook himself; he didn’t believe in love at first sight, he wasn’t sure if he believed in love. He was expecting to see panic on Jeffrey’s eyes but was met with a smile.
“I love you.” Jeffrey paused. “Almost as much as I love these lobster rolls.” He took another bite and smiled. Parker relaxed and accepted the assist, finishing off his roll.
~
Jeffrey settled back into the bench. He reached his arm up and back, resting it first on the bench until Parker snuggled into him and Jeffrey relaxed his arm over Parker’s shoulder.
“I never asked, what brings you back to Green Harbor?” Parker asked. Jeffrey tensed up, hoping to avoid this conversation.
“My mom. She runs a hair salon in town, but she wants to retire, and she is worried about the other old ladies, like Mrs. Gould, who depend on her.”
“Oh.” Parker got quiet, and Jeffrey could feel Parker pulling away until he was standing in front of him. Jeffrey looked up, confused.
“Um, I shouldn’t be here, with you.” Parker turned to walk away.
“Wait, I don’t understand. A minute ago, we were joking about having grandchildren together, and now you are walking away?” Jeffrey reached for Parker’s hand, not letting him go.
“You don’t get it. I’m here to take over that salon. I am supposed to start next week, but I wanted to get here early and find out where I’m living.”
“You are going to take over an old lady salon?” Jeffrey asked.
“No, I’m going to take over a thriving resort salon that just happens to have a local older clientele.”
Jeffrey shook his head, staring down at his feet. He hadn’t been into his mom’s salon in years. Even on this visit he’d just gone to her home. She didn’t say a thing about the expansion.
“We are talking about the same salon?”
“The only one in town, I made sure of it before I agreed to the job.”
“I have to go and find my mother,” Jeffrey said, dropping Parker’s hand. “You are right; you shouldn’t be here. You can go back to wherever you came from because I am not giving up my mom’s salon.” Jeffrey said, his anger rising both at his mother for setting him up and at Parker for turning him on.
~
“Honey, I knew you wouldn’t want to move back here.” Jeffrey’s mom said, patting his knee as he sat in the same spot he used to watch Saturday morning cartoons. “You hated it here. But I wanted you to see how much this town has changed me. Plus does a mother need an excuse to have her son come visit her?”
“No Mom, but I don’t like being played.”
“I didn’t play you. Well, maybe a little. But I’m done working, and I can afford to retire, and I want to have some fun in my life. This Parker is a good stylist, he’ll do fine for the resort clients, but I worry about Mrs. Gould and the other village elders; will Parker be good to them?”
Jeffrey stopped shaking his knee and reached forward for the cup of tea his mom always made him when he was frustrated about something in Green Harbor, whether it was the kids in school or the teachers who didn’t get him. Peppermint tea from her garden always calmed his nerves. He hadn’t been back in Green Harbor for 24 hours, and already he was drinking the tea.
“Tell me about your day with him. Was he nice?” Jeffrey’s mom reached into her knitting bag and resumed work on a sock she was working on.
“He was very nice. It was the perfect day. We played like resort guests and danced and sang and ate lobster rolls. But then we sort of broke up when I realized he was here for my salon.”
“It isn’t your salon, Jeffrey. It could have been, it could still be, but right now, it is my salon.” Jeffrey’s mother seldom took such a tone with him, but when she did, in moments like these, he knew not to push back.
“You are right, sorry Mom. It’s just that, I’ve never felt like this with a guy before. I wasn’t trying to be somebody he would like. I was myself, and he liked me. But I thought he was a tourist and that he’d go away, and I’d go away and that we’d have today, but then everything got complicated. I’m going away, but he’ll be here. In the salon where I grew up. I’ll never get over him.” Jeffrey said, laughing and putting his face in his cupped hands.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. Jeffrey got up, walking across his mother’s small living room. He peeked through the hole and saw Parker on the other side, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Jeffrey opened the door.
“Hi, can I come in?” Parker asked, stepping forward as Jeffrey opened the door.
“Hello, Mrs. Fredrick, lovely to finally meet you in person. You never mentioned your son,” Parker said.
“I know, but now you two have met. If you aren’t here to see me, young man, I’ll be leaving you two for a bit, Betty’s been trying to get me to catch the 4:20 yoga with her.” Jeffrey’s mom passed Parker on the way out.
“Can we walk? I’m not sure I can have this conversation in the room I played hot wheels in.” Jeffrey said, ushering Parker out and back toward the downtown. They wandered in silence for a while, walking past the tourists to the Adirondack chairs lining the shore.
“Jeffrey, I don’t know about you, but today was one of the best days of my life. Being with you felt exhilarating and natural at the same time. I feel like I’ve known you all my life, and I can’t wait to spend my life getting to know you. I can’t explain it, but I can’t let you walk away. Am I crazy or did you feel it too?”
Jeffrey looked out at the ocean, at the seagulls he hated and the water that is everywhere, he thought about the winters, with the nights and slush puddles, and then he imagined his life knowing that Parker was in Green Harbor but he wasn’t. Even thinking it caused his heart to ache. He looked into Parker’s eyes, he leaned in and kissed him, lingering slowly before pulling back.
“How about we try working together, how about we try seeing where this goes?” Jeffrey said, smiling into Parker, their foreheads resting on each other.
“Really? But you hate it here?”
“This isn’t the Green Harbor I grew up in, this town has come back to life, and the people here are happy, just maybe I can be happy here too,” Jeffrey said,
“See, that stupid seagull brought us together. Good bird.” Parker said as he leaned in and kissed Jeffrey back.

Writing across the rabbit holes

Uncategorized

As I am sure is true in sci-fi and horror, the romance genre ability to subdivide at times feels like one of those bio films of watching bacteria grow.  Fast and oddly connected.  Successful authors can cross imaginary lines and take their audience with them into new and fascinating corners of the card catalog.  Successful authors know their craft.  They understand how to use character’s voices to drive clear motivation away from instant resolutions.  As craftspeople, they know how to craft worlds that somehow seem familiar but all-together new, with enough subject matter expertise to always be authentic.         

Sarina Bowen broke out into the Romance genre with a series called the Ivy Years, set on and off the ice for a college hockey dynasty.  She followed that up with the Him –her first mm romance, the setting is still hockey, but it is a new team and a new cast of characters to fall for through the next several books.  In her next series, she sprinkled in players from the Ivy Years as we watch the Brooklyn Bruisers on their path to the Stanley Cup. 

For many of Bowen’s loyal and new readers, Him was their first MM romance.  This was a leap of faith for them into a wholly unknown territory.  Bowen had an established history of having smart characters fall in love by talking to each other.  For Him Bowen maintained a consistency of voice to craft rich dialog and familiar enough characters, but broke from the expected and explored the idea of what it means to be a hero when there is no heroine. 

Her more recent series shift away from sports entirely and into apple cider and beer making.  (There is a narrow Venn diagram of readable works about romance and alcohol.)  Bowen needed to move readers with her.  One way she did that was to use her world to create emotion — the moment before the buzzer blows, feeling the stick pulling back, making impact and watching the puck miss the net is not that different from the perfect clarity of a fall evening on a hill in Vermont, overlooking the sun setting into the mountains to the west, eyes drawn to the back of a pickup as a lover driving away.

As I think about my own writing, I will need to keep developing a consistency of voice that can hold my universe together while still allowing me to branch out.  I long for the finesse of world building in service to the central conflict.  I’ll be paying attention to these elements as I continue to revise and write. Tagged HockeyMFMMRomanceVice

Patience and Optimism

Uncategorized

Ever since I hate read Harriet the Spy in fourth grade, I’ve been perfectly ok with walking away from books that don’t bring me joy.  I’ll give a book a paragraph, a page or even a chapter, but I strongly believe that when you read for pleasure, that time should be pleasurable.

Over the years, I’ve noticed that while I will walk away from one-offs, I am much more willing to work through a first book if there is an already established series.   In many ways, the first book in a series is like a pilot television show, an early promise to introduce the cast and set, leave you with a taste of the world you will enter with them, there are no expectations that characters are fully fleshed out, that dialog is always on point, or that that the seemingly random interactions make sense to a larger narrative arc.  

This was a lesson I learned with Lorelai James, a best selling romance writer.  I started Rough Riders with the first book, Long Hard Ride.  The concept was forced, the heroine the literary equivalent of a paper-cutout, the intimate relationships were hot but odd.  It is likely that James, who had been writing mysteries under another pen name, began Rough Riders as a test to see if she could switch genres.  Whatever challenges plagued the narrative arc were more than made up for by James’s tone and writing style.  Cowboy romance novels were not a sub-genre I’d dipped into before, but James was able to pull me in and surround me with rodeo culture without ever making me feel like the newcomer helped pave the way for my continued investment.

Lorelai James (author) Long Hard Ride (book) handsome white cowboy on cover, shirt open.

First in the Rough Rider Series

Book two took an unlikely turn with two main love stories,  one featuring a mature heroine and hero, and the other the young brother of our hero from Long Hard Ride.  In Rode Hard James begins to find her balance between storytelling and sex scenes while writing stronger, more complicated and complex leading ladies.   Book three, Cowgirl Up and Ride, brings us to Sundance, Wyoming where the remainder of the 17 novels are set and James picks up her pace in terms of building out a universe with complicated family lines, land disputes and plenty of single people looking for love.

The formula of the cowboy hero can withstand only so much variation.  Characters have to be young, handsome, strong from spending the day lifting bales of hay or hours in the saddle and James doesn’t stray far from the mold.  James uses her heroines to bring diversity to the universe.  We don’t see the same type of mold for the women of Rough Riders. Each woman is unique and her struggles for independence and autonomy provide the consistent narrative arch against which she must find a love worthy of her.   Our hero must then find a way to let down the tough guise exterior and make himself vulnerable enough to be loved. 

Good Read reviewers would have you believe that the series really pivots on book three, but of the series, that turned out to be my least favorite couple.  Again, knowing there was more to the series allowed me to push on and stick with James and I was rewarded with Tied Up, Tide Down and what remains my favorite of the series, Rough, Raw and Ready –one of a handful of MMF romances that are worthy of being novels and not half-baked erotic stories.  

From there on in, James continues to use a consistent voice, variations on a character theme, and distinctly relevant conflicts to create a world of characters that will remain among my favorite in the literary world.  But I wouldn’t have gotten there without a bit of patience and optimism, fuelled by James’s wonderful writing style and a deep back catalog for me to work my way through.

Tagged CowyboysMFMMFRomanceSeries