Tuesday Talk

How about a day where characters from different books are interviewed? I'll start with an old, old post with Jag Arizon from WITH EXTRA CREAM and his best friend, Leron Wilder, from HOT TIN ROOF. The men are jaguar shifters from the Kind species--big cats infected with vampyre blood--their growl is as big as their bite! Each story is now available in a box set at Changeling Press and most other ebook outlets. Changeling has the better price and they'll have your format or lead you to all the places you can purchase a copy.

I’ve never missed MCs as much as these guys. Hmm… A story to reunite them all one last time? I don’t like Christmas so they don’t either. Maybe Valentine’s Day? Too late for that and, no, buying flowers, candy or dressing up to go out for dinner isn’t their thing at all! 4^th of July with lots of  fireworks? That’s an idea I’m going to float around in my head. Oh Lord, it's floating...

Meet Jag and Leron:

“Hello. My name is Jag.”

“Dude! Why you talking like that?”

“Shut up, Leron. J. Hali asked me to do this. I brought you along for moral support. Don’t give me no shit.” He shook his head. “I knew I should have asked my lady to come with me.”

“You sound like a freaking robot. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Can you do better?” Jag was pissed.

“Yeah, here you go: What’s up people? Glad you stopped by. See, something natural like that.”

“Oh, right, that was so much better.”

“Hey, Jag, can I tell them about my book – HOT TIN ROOF?”

“That’d be great, man. They know about me and Barbara from WITH EXTRA CREAM already. Go ahead. Cripes, what the hell, Leron…why’d you change to your beast?”

Because I can. I like this freedom. How long is J. gone for?

“Who knows and get out of my head. She’s usually around. Wait, what if she doesn’t come back?”

So what? Hell, if she comes back she might want to be writing about Trent or something else totally. She’s always going on about those freaked out angels.

“Hey, did you lose words in the edit thingy?” Jag asked.

Leron nodded his large feline head and changed back to his vampyre form. “Yup. Not too bad though.”

“Damn, man. Cover your ass. What if someone walks in?” Jag’s brows raised and he peered at the mirrored glass around the small room.

“Who’s coming in here? It’s hardly big enough for us.”

Jag relaxed a little. “Tell us about your story.”

The smile that covered Leron’s face was pitiful. Jag laughed long and hard at his friend.

“She’s hot, Jag. Everything I want in a mate is wrapped up in that one gorgeous bundle. She’s tall as hell, too. I like that. What if she doesn’t want me?” Leron’s eyes bugged out. “Hell and damnation, I just thought about that.”

“I don’t know if the people care how she looks, dude.”

“Screw ‘em then. I’m not telling them anything if that’s the case.”

Jag’s clothes disappeared, a growl to wake the devil erupted from deep in his chest and thundered through the tiny interview space. Fur traveled up his naked torso, Rosette-spotted hair raced up his arms. Claws protruded from large paws that slammed to the floor and shook the room.

Talk about the story or I’ll bite your ass off.

“Oh, it’s okay for you to screw around in my head?” Silence. “Christ, you’re serious?”

Yeah. I promised J. I’d do this for her. I’m gonna do it right.

“Okay already. Let me see…how about I do one of those blurb things she’s always writing?”

That’ll work.

“You’ll be sorry you didn’t let me describe my babe. She’s hot.”

Shut up and post the blurb, Leron. Damn, Trent wouldn’t have been this bad.

“Why don’t we just send them over to Changeling Press? They can read blurbs and more plus they’ll find links to other places to buy us…err…the books.”

Jag had resumed his human-like appearance. “Sounds cool.”

“Thanks. Now they’ll have to see Cory anyway.”

“Jeez, it’s not like she’s as good looking as Barb.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.”

All hell broke loose. An unearthly sound traveled halls of the small studio as jaguars clashed together in battle. The room’s walls vibrated. A crashing sound was followed by explosive pops and smoke as electrical equipment tumbled from racks.

Unbeknownst to the male combatants, two women watched from the other side of the glass.

“Should we break it up?”

Barbara smiled at Cory. “Let them fight it out. We get to fawn all over them afterward.”

Visit Changeling Press:  https://tinyurl.com/y8gobdob

The Extra Cream box set includes: WITH EXTRA CREAM, HOT TIN ROOF, COUGAR BY THE TAIL and ZADER’S MENAGERIE.

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele

The Final Bit!

The End...

MOTHER'S LIGHTHOUSE

The men stood, nodded toward Jordy, and left.

On their way home, Zel mumbled, “I’ll walk with your mom later.”

“Watch her closely. She almost caught that girl. Lord knows what she would have done.”

“You need to tell Jordy who you are, Rap. If he knew your mom was stricken with a condition that attacks many, perhaps he’d end spooking folks with his story.”

“How many people do you think leave here believing that tale, Zel? Do they relay it to others?”

“Probably all of them. And I’m sure each embellishes it in their own way. Not much happens around here to get people excited.” They reached the road leading to the point. “I’m sorry she locked you in, babe.”

“I’m glad you came to my rescue when I didn’t return.” Rap stopped, he pulled Zel into his arms and kissed him long and hard. Wind picked up. Frothy waves smashed against rocks flanking the lighthouse. “My cousin will be back next month. It will give us time together.

“Will you think about growing your hair back out for me?”

Rap exhaled. “Mom’s forgotten who I am again. I thought she detested me being gay and loving a man yet, strangely, she remembers us and strings our names together whenever she escapes and babbles to townspeople.” He planted another light kiss on Zel’s cheek. “Know what? Jordy can weave his story.” He gazed lovingly at Zel. “If I grow my hair out again, will you use it to climb the ramparts?” Eyes grew as stormy as the sea, “Will you scale battlements to save me?”

Slits appeared in glowing eyes as waves washed around their feet.  Zel whispered, “I am the dragon who will slay for you. Again and again.” He hugged Rap. “We’re the stuff folktales are made of —

Rap and Zel.”

THE END...

or is it?

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele

Bit by Bit...the end looms!

MOTHER'S LIGHTHOUSE

“Right?” Zel attempted to lighten the mood. “Jordy’s barely owned this place for a couple months and he knows more than the locals.” Grinning, he added conspiratorially,“Hair growing outrageously is not only a bit much, it sounds supernatural.” Zel, fluttering fingers in the air, whispered, “Woo ooh, woo ooh.”

“Stop, it’s not in the least funny.” The blond sipped beer. “Next thing you know he’ll have dragons circling the ramparts.”

“Every time he tells the story, I actually love the part about long, flowing hair." Zel's voice softened. "It reminds me of someone I once knew.”

“Not the bit where a child has been consigned to a wheelchair or a stranger completely vanished. That’s not funny.” He stared into his ale. “A mother locking a child up, it’s, well, they don’t know how horrible that could be.”

Zel grew serious. “I worried about you when you didn’t return after our last semester. I figured things worsened for you.”

“I’m glad I told you about the affliction. Finally got medication under control but not before there were whispers and rumors all around town.” He peered at Zel. “That tower is a damn curse.”

“I think the lighthouse is beautiful.” Comment met with stony silence. Zel hunched shoulders. “Wish your cousin didn’t have to leave suddenly.”

“Poof, she vanished.”

Wishing his friend would smile, Zel added, “She was a tremendous help.” Fishing out money to cover their meal and a generous tip for their server, Zel commented, “Waitress does look as if she had the fright of her life last night.”

“Jordy’s tale doesn’t help.” Running a hand through flaxen curls, Zel heard the man whisper, “Don’t forget to set the alarm tonight.”

(to be continued)

What really occurred at the point?
Why did the cousin leave?
Who or what does the alarm deter?

Stay tuned Friday for the last installment.

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele

Bit by Bit

Another piece of the puzzle...

MOTHER'S LIGHTHOUSE

"When she came to town. A bit of a raver. Said someone scaled their home, duped Rappy into cutting her golden tresses, and then shimmied down the side disappearing into the night. That's when she locked the girl inside.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Mother hasn’t been seen in a while. Some say she passed and it’s her ghost which runs madly around the tower screeching. Folks who’ve heard say it sounds like a weird variation of her daughter’s name.”

“Maybe mom’s alive and her girl died. It wasn’t a ghost I saw.”

“Perhaps.” Jordy swiped the countertop. “They got new people working the light.” Jordy rearranged some bottles on a shelf. “Couple of young men, I hear. Hope they know what they’re in for living up there. Gets real nasty during a storm like the one brewing outside right now.”

She attempted getting her boss back on topic. “No one ever encountered a child; does this Rappy even exist?”

“Only a mother’s tale.”

“Sad.” The waitress walked off to deliver drinks.

Handsome blond sitting with Zel huffed. “Unbelievable!” He peered unhappily at Zel. “The tales folks spin.”

“Right?” Zel attempted to lighten the mood. “Jordy’s barely owned this place for a couple months and he knows more than the locals.” Grinning, he added conspiratorially...

(to be continued)

Did Rappy exist?
Is the mother dead?
What does Zel conspire with his friend?

Stay tuned for the next installment...

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele

Bit by Bit

A short story in bits and pieces...

MOTHER'S LIGHTHOUSE

A nor’easter brewed outside. The rickety pier groaned under assault from waves slamming

ashore as wind battered loose shutters, and rain pelted a tin roof. Rat-a-tat tat. Rat-a-tat tat. Jordy, rotund with a ruddy face, leaned forward admonishing his newest employee. “Stay from up around that lighthouse, lassie. A traveler went missing recently.”

Zel and his friend sat at a table listening attentively to a rumor they’d heard Jordy tattle before.

“Never been so afraid in my life.” Waitress’s eyes widened. “Did they find him?”

“Her. Not hide nor hair.”

Gripping her tray, liquid sloshed as glasses rattled together. “What happened?”

“No one knows.” Barkeep shook his head. “That poor family. So many trials and tribulations in their lives. Especially the daughter, Rappy. She lived there with her mom. Heard she possessed outrageously long, golden hair.” Jordy’s voice lowered. “Relegated to a wheelchair, she never came out.”

“Lived? You never saw her?”

“No. No one visited the point.” Jordy heaved a sigh. “Met the mother once...

(to be continued) 

What happened to the girl?
What did the mother tell Jordy?
Is Rappy's hair really long--is she alive?

Stay tuned for the next installment.

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele

Sex in the pantry, paint everywhere!

WHEN HE PLAYS

A Brief Knights story

Coming February

“I painted with love until she died. I never expected to meet him.”

Weston Tucker overhears a young man lament finding adequate living space or having to return to his father’s home. He notices perfectly manicured fingers pull out a credit card few can name on sight alone. Young and far too handsome, Wes thinks to knock the evidently spoiled brat, whose family name he recognizes, down a peg or two. With paint stained fingers, he proffers his card offering a room in return for having the inside of his home painted.

“He’s crotchety, mean, disdainful. He smells damn good, he’s soft, gentle, and oh so very nasty!”

Hunter Gold’s job as an escort for Brief Knights has to end or his father threatens to cut him off. At the same time, his roommate leaves Hunt in a fix for housing. A few more escort assignments are booked but he takes on a job painting for a recluse to have a place to live and a small salary until he can straighten things out and find a real job. Hunt never dreamed of becoming enamored of the enigmatic loner.

A young escort, a painter with a secret, and sex in the pantry. Paint everywhere!

A standalone MM/May-December Romance, with an HEA, and no cliffhanger.

EXCERPT:

He woke up in near darkness. Dusk had settled and Wes found himself ravenous.

Clock read seven-forty. Foregoing a bath, he showered quickly. Standing in front of his mirror, he ran hands over his still damp body. He’d lost weight over the last month because he failed to eat properly. The small light he turned on revealed pale skin as he brushed his hair. Yanking it back, he fashioned it into a loose plait.

He heard the back door shut. Judy leaving for the night. “Good.”

Opening a bottom drawer, he snatched out underwear and a top. Putting both on, he stroked his dick, loved how it came to life beneath soft material. Masturbation had become a major part of his lone existence. Teeth worried his bottom lip, fingers teased nipples as he continued fondling himself. “Not yet.” Later, when he could really relax in bed and enjoy it. “A bite to eat first.”

Donning a robe, he slipped out his door and padded, barefoot, down to the kitchen. His home hadn’t been this quiet for the last two days. He’d meant to pay attention to whether or not light shone beneath the door to Hunter’s room. Hopefully he remained off his foot. He opened the refrigerator and scrutinized its offering. Leftover lasagna and… Lo and behold, Judy prepared meatloaf. Since he was a kid, it remained a fave for sandwiches. “Mayo, mayo. Damn.” He left the fridge door gaped and went to check the pantry. Grabbing a jar, he turned to see Hunter gazing at him. Fuck, fuck!

Wes’ robe stood wide open and he wore white lace panties with a matching camisole.

Hunt approached and removed the jar from his hand. He dropped it to the floor and Wes heard it roll into the pantry. He pushed Wes against the kitchen counter. “Damn, who knew. You are fucking hot.”

Wanting this, not wanting it, shocked Hunt wasn’t shocked, but not so damn far gone he forgot who the fuck he was. Wes leaned into him and whispered, “This will happen.” He evaded Hunt’s grip, twisted him to face the counter. “But it won’t be like you think.”

♂♂♂♂

Snatching Hunt's sweats down, Wes ground against his butt. "Do you have a problem?"

“No, fuck no.”

“Good.” Wes had released his cock, it rubbed along Hunt’s crease and he loved it. Elastic from his panties abraded tops of Hunt’s thighs. “Because I’m going to fuck you.”

“Yes, please, please, yes!”

“Listen at you beg.” He stroked his length back and forth between the apex of Hunt's legs until he felt a dribble of precum slide down the inside of his thighs. “You want it?”

“Wes…” Wes what? Was not going to be ‘Wes, stop’. Hunter had hoped for a day he’d find a man like the one getting ready to take him like a pussy. A thin, feminine man, one with soft hands, one who looked beautiful but could ride his ass and fill it with semen until he shot loads of his own cum. “I…oh Jesus!”

“Do. You. Want. It?” Heard Wes spit in his hand and work it along his cock. “I don’t hear you.”

“Yes, God, do it.”

“You bareback anybody else?”

“No, no.”

“You never will. This is going to be mine.”

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele

Red Panties and a Nightgown!

PLAYED FOR PAY (Brief Knights 1)

Coming January 18th

Special pre-order price of $0.99

“I’m paid to escort. Nothing more. Anything extra is my choice and if it does happen—he will pay for it.”

Banyon Jameson loves his lifestyle. He likes money, makes lots of it as an escort, and he enjoys time with a variety of men in beautiful places. Ban, twenty-six, prides himself on being manipulative with an ability to talk his way out of most situations, especially those involving sex.

“I’m willing to pay my escort for ‘extra’ services, but it’d be a big mistake to fall for this pretty bastard wearing red silk panties.”

Stanton Kavanaugh, late forties, extremely wealthy, and told he’s handsome. Those very close know he’s gay, Stanton just doesn’t advertise it to the world. None have knowledge of his predilection for young, beautiful men. Single, eligible, he pays for companionship to ease loneliness engulfing his life and it works until Banyon Jameson answers his phone call to Brief Knights.

A young escort, an older man, and a pair of red silk underwear!

Can be read as a standalone, has an HEA, and no cliffhanger

MM/May-December Romance

EXCERPT:

        A face that more than matched the voice. “He is one hot, big son of a bitch,” Hunter uttered as Ban checked out Stanton Kavanaugh. “If you decide no, or he’s unhappy with you, I’ll gladly step in.”

“Trust me, he’ll be happy. “Ban sipped brandy slowly taking in the client. Styled, almost black hair with gray touching temples was longer and slightly curling at the neck. He hoped for blue eyes which would grow appreciatively darker when…

“Ban?”

Big but not out of shape large. He faced Hunt. “Huh?” Taller, heavier than Hunter, he didn’t appear to carry loads of muscle which suited Ban fine. “Wish he’d stand and stretch or something.”

“Go meet him already. He’ll rise when you shake hands. I gotta go.”

“Let me watch, see if he has any idiosyncrasies.”

“I’m fine standing here drooling. Don’t know the last time I met a man larger than me.”

“Shut up. You like them scrawny. You just need one to take control.”

“Fuck you.” Hunt chuckled. “You’re right though. Those types all think I want something entirely different because I’m big and muscly.”

Soft lighting above the booth’s table showed Stanton Kavanaugh’s suit jacket fit flawlessly. A few shades lighter than navy complimented a sun-kissed tan. Long legs stretched out and a single strap monk shoe peeked from beneath the table. Hard to tell color. God, let them be brown. Blue would be too matchy-matchy, black spelled overdressed when paired with royal blues unless the occasion was formal.

One finger repeatedly tapped a glass in front of him. A nervous twitch.

Making his way back to the man’s face, Ban sighed and didn’t care it audibly slipped out. “That face plastered on a billboard and a large portion of gay men will flock to it as if he’s the messiah.”

“Twinks.”

“I dislike that word.”

“I know. Hoped to make your skinny ass mad enough to get over there. Don’t have all night waiting for you to be comfortable.”

“I’m good, you can scoot.”

Hunt eyed Ban. “You sure?”

“If he kills me, I won’t care if he lets me kiss those breathtaking lips first.”

“Ban, ring me in the morning?”

Something they always did for each other. “Promise.” Escorts led a perilous existence. Never knew what psycho might get hands on a credit card and order up a hunk to slaughter. Ban preferred his body parts stay where they were. “I’ll be packing for the weekend when I get in.”

“That sure, huh?”

“I am.” Ban’s interest in this client had blossomed as he studied him. Looking confident and composed, the finger tap sent a contrasting message.

“Alright, man, see you then.”

Two rows of tables separated the bar from window booths. Banyon threaded through and stopped a foot from the table. “Stanton Kavanaugh?”

“You and your friend decided I look sane and harmless?”

“I’m Banyon.” No last names. If a client got hooked on an escort, it’d be difficult to locate them without it, though, not impossible. He tilted his head. “Sane? Probably. Harmless? I seriously doubt it.”

“I see. Have a seat.”

He didn’t get up. Darn!

♂♂♂♂

Beautiful! Stanton had observed both young men wondering which would walk his way. He’d prayed for the shorter brunette. Slender, fit, not muscular, and pretty didn’t quite do justice as a description. His outfit screamed fashionable. Midnight blue trousers, a white V-neck covered by a sedate gray jacket with sleeves effectively pushed up showing just a bit of shirt cuff. Navy wingtip with gray suede. Damn, I hoped for more flashiness. Stanton didn’t fear effeminate men, felt no way less of a man because of his attraction to them.

Still, this fucker is sharper than hell. And I love it! Stanton took pride in his attire and appreciated men who dressed well.

Sooty lashes any woman would covet, blinked over brown eyes the color of barrel aged whiskey.

Magic will happen anywhere he puts those lips.

“I play black jack, maybe catch a show. Generally, I’m not going to do a damn thing. This trip is for me to relax unwind. Are you interested?”

“At your service.”

“I haggle over contracts for a living and prefer it not be such a drawn-out process in my private life.”

“I get that.”

“Might the likelihood exist for a bonus?”

“That possibility always exists.” Piercing eyes glinted with steel. “If I choose to.”

Realizing his fingertip rapped against a glass, Stanton curled and flattened his fist on the table. “I’d send a limo under normal circumstances but I’ll see you at LAX. Nine sharp.” He pulled out his wallet, extracted a card that contained his name and number only. Stanton pushed it across the table. “Contact me when you arrive. Doesn’t matter which gate.”

“Tonight?”

“Call me Kav.” Not using his first name kept things on a business level. He stood and stepped to where Banyon sat. “I won’t bet on who is harmless in this equation.” His next move was counterproductive to maintaining the sort of relationship he sought. Caressing his escort’s face, running a thumb along pouty lips, Stanton disclosed, “You’re fucking beautiful and I don’t doubt you could hurt a man badly.”

If he chooses to. Banyon didn’t need an old… Goddamn it.

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele

Brief Knights

Brief Knights is an escort agency chocked full of hot men for men! I currently have 3 stories in the series and we'll see how it goes. My plan is to role all 3 out in the next 3 months. But you know the saying: The best laid plans of mice and men... Following cover stories/teasers may change before publication:

PLAYED FOR PAY - January

“I’m paid to escort. Nothing more. Anything extra is my choice and if it does happen—they will pay for it.”

Banyon Jameson loves his lifestyle. He likes money, makes lots of it as an escort, and he enjoys time with a variety of men in beautiful places. Ban, twenty-six, prides himself on being manipulative with an ability to talk his way out of most situations, especially those involving sex.

“I’m willing to pay my escort for ‘extra’ services, but it’d be a big mistake to fall for this pretty bastard wearing red silk panties.”

Stanton Kavanaugh, late forties, extremely wealthy, and told he’s handsome. Those very close know he’s gay, Stanton just doesn’t advertise it to the world. None have knowledge of his predilection for young, beautiful men. Single, eligible, he pays for companionship to ease loneliness engulfing his life and it works until Banyon Jameson answers his phone call to Brief Knights.

A young escort, an older man, and a pair of red silk underwear!

MM Romance

♂♂♂♂

WHEN HE PLAYS - February

“I painted with love until she died. I never expected to meet him.”

Weston Tucker overhears a young man lament finding adequate living space or having to return to his father’s home. Wes notices perfectly manicured fingers pull out a credit card few can name on sight alone. Young and far too handsome, Wes thinks to knock the evidently spoiled brat, whose family name he recognizes, down a peg or two. With paint stained fingers, he proffers his card offering a room in return for having the inside of his home painted.

“He’s crotchety, mean and nasty. He smells so damn good, he’s soft, gentle…”

Hunter Gold’s job as an escort for Brief Knights has to end or his father threatens to cut him off. At the same time, his roommate leaves Hunt in a fix for housing. A few more escort assignments are booked but he takes on a job painting for a recluse to have a place to live and a small salary until he can straighten things out and find a real job. Hunt never dreamed of becoming enamored of the enigmatic loner.

A young escort, a painter with a secret, and sex in the pantry. Paint everywhere!

MM Romance

♂♂♂♂

PAID TO PLAY - March

“I’ve slept with a few clients. I might sleep with him if I like him, but he won’t keep me interested for long.”

Scott Ketchum has never found anyone who keeps him interested for long so he continues to work as an escort for Brief Knights hoping to snare a man who will care for him in ways he’s only dreamed. Not as soft as he looks, he’ll pamper his client, and Scott’s not interested in being on top. Ever. Problem—he’s bossy as hell and won’t take any crap.

“For the right price, my escort will put out. It’s my money and I always get what I pay for.”

Reed Chandler got where he is through grit and cunning. When he moves to Los Angeles to oversee an acquisition purchased on a whim, he found himself surrounded by a gaggle of blond, muscled beach bums looking for an easy way up. Realizing his stringent requirements for a partner will never be met, he books a professional escort for a month, someone who will put out if the price is right. After all, it’s his money and Reed always gets what he pays for.

A young escort who plays games, an older man who never loses anything he wants to keep.

MM Romance

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele

When it rains...

It pours!

Some stories just pour out. I mean it pours and pours!

Brief Knights is an escort agency - and it popped into my mind somewhere, sometime ago. The first of three short stories burst out of me like that alien did in the movie. Pop--it was there. PAYED FOR PLAY is making rounds to betas but it's a go for this month.

WHEN HE PLAYS has the same crashing forth alien tendencies--it just won't stop. (Story still in progress and unedited)

“I painted with love until she died. I never expected to meet him.”

Weston Tucker overhears a young man lament finding adequate living space or having to return to his father’s home. Wes notices perfectly manicured fingers pull out a credit card few can name on sight alone. Young and far too handsome, Wes thinks to knock the evidently spoiled brat, whose family name he recognizes, down a peg or two. With paint stained fingers, he proffers his card offering a room in return for having the inside of his home painted.

“He’s crotchety, mean, and nasty. He smells so damn good, he’s soft, gentle…”

Hunter Gold’s job as an escort for Brief Knights has to end or his father threatens to cut him off. At the same time, his roommate leaves Hunt in a fix for housing. A few more escort assignments are booked but he takes on a job painting for a recluse to have a place to live and a small salary until he can straighten things out and find a real job. Hunt never dreamed of becoming enamored of the enigmatic loner.

MM Romance

EXCERPT:

L

ooking in his refrigerator was depressing as hell. Nothing. Not even an egg. How had he let things go for so long? Why hadn’t he replaced his housekeeper? It’d been two months and Weston Tucker lacked energy to even contact an agency and go through the bullshit of interviewing again and wondering if they’d invade his privacy. Rummage through his personal things. “Damn.”

Snatching open his pantry door, he stepped in and scanned shelves. Less salt, low fat, or no fat soup. Really? He suspected the daft woman was in collusion with every health nut in the fucking nation. Patting his stomach, Wes decided he was in no way overweight. If anything, he was too damn thin. Five-foot nine, one hundred and fifty-five pounds hardly qualified as overweight. Skinny is what his last friend… Fuck him too.

“Screw the whole goddamn world.” He walked to his bathroom and peered in the mirror. “I’ve got abs. Somewhere.” Procrastination. Go buy food or hire someone and wait to eat. “Eat nasty ass soup.” Attempting to get oil paint off his hands proved impossible.

Paint.

Walls stood patched, primed, and ready.

He also fired the house painter.

“Jesus!” Rambling from room to room, he had eyed various points requiring attention. An older, large home not far from the beach in Ocean Park, California, it was beautiful when he bought it loving the idea some 1920s silent screen star owned it until the day she died. Wes supposed it wasn’t so bad now. Paint inside and out, minor repairs. “Food first.”

He scrubbed absentmindedly at his hands again. This paint had nothing to do with his house. His newest oil painting dried as he unsuccessfully searched out something for lunch.

“Good Lord, I’ve got to go out!” Leaving his home gave him a fit of nerves. “I’ve become a freaking recluse.”

Heading toward his inside garage entrance, he grabbed keys to the SL on his way by the kitchen counter which looked redone in a new, exciting material—clusterfuck of mail. He prayed his car not only had gas, but that it would start. Wes hadn’t driven it for…it’d been three, four months. “It’s new, jackass. Better start.” It did.

Backing from the garage, he knocked over a trash receptacle.

Could the day get worse?

Finding an empty space in front of the Fresh Food Mart on Lincoln Boulevard outside of Santa Monica caused Wes to believe things may be looking up. He considered going another mile or so to the burger place he loved and loading up on enough burgers and fries to last until he found a new housekeeper. “Crying out loud, shop already.”

Cooking steaks and chops posed no problem so he bought five packages of each. There were also bags of frozen, microwavable veggies and french fries. Not a damn thing resembling rabbit food in the shopping buggy, Wes headed to the only open checkout lane.

Two men in front of him chatted amicably. Both young, one looked like those goths he’d seen everywhere lately. The other man—a blond Adonis. Absolutely gorgeous. Surveying items in his basket, Wes unsuccessfully attempted ignoring the conversation.

“Look, if your father writes you off, you’ll be destitute.”

“Shit, Scott, I wouldn’t say that. There’s always Brief Knights. In fact, I have two bookings which should hold me for a short while.”

“Yeah, but do you want to pay yours and Ban’s share of rent another month?”

“Could but would rather not. I’ve got to deal with Herm Gold at some point.”

Herm Gold! Ears pricked up.

“He handled my coming out in high school but the agency will never be to his liking. I need to find interim housing. Buy time. In any case, I must come up with something by week’s end. I do not wish to move home.”

Familiar with the name Gold, Wes eyed the man stick a black credit card into the reader. Pretty ass is hardly suffering. If only… God, no. Leave the past where it belongs.

In the past.

Items bagged, Blondie yanked the faulty sack up and chaos ensued. Everything dropped straight to the floor. A jar of olives broke sending brine everywhere. “Aww, fuck.” He looked at Wes’s feet. “Sorry, man.”

“No problem.”

“Shit, your shoes will be a mess.”

Wes studied his feet. They used to be good shoes. Leather soiled with a rainbow of colors from splatters of paint looked worn and unpresentable. “I have others.” He peered at the blond, saw the resemblance and had to avert his eyes. Before his brain could halt his mouth, he blurted. “I have a room for rent.”

“What?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” He wiped at his feet with a paper towel the clerk handed over. “I’d be willing to let you have a room if you paint my house. Actually, it’s a bungalow and it’s separate from the house.”

“That’s all? Paint?”

“Well, it’s rather large.”

“Dude, a private place? I’d paint the fucking Washington Monument as long as it keeps me from under my father’s thumb.”

Digging a business card from his wallet, Wes passed it to the man. “Weston Tucker.”

“Thanks a lot. I’m Hunter Gold. Can I stop by this afternoon?”

“Yes.” From the corner of his eye, Wes caught the dark-haired man lasciviously glancing up and down his body. Facing him, West said, “Perhaps your friend will help you move your things over the weekend.”

The guy winked. “That’d be my pleasure.”

Coming out. Why hadn’t he added it up. Wes just invited a very gorgeous, very young gay man to camp out at his place. He went back to dabbing shoes.

Not having been on a date in ages, nor seeking companionship, Wes groaned and peered up to see if there were signs either man heard. He had a thing for young, muscular studs. The blond was perfect in every way, but this man should be hands off forever. “Yes, well, you have my address and I’ll be in all afternoon.”

Could it get worse? Of course.
“You’re awesome. Hey, I’ll call you WT. Weston is too damn formal if we’re going to be roomies.”

God help me!

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele