by Laura Leone
"Honey, if it's causing this much trouble, I should just agree to whatever the rabbi wants—"
"No. Because it doesn't matter to me. And you shouldn't have to do this for my father—who only goes to temple twice a year, for goodness sake!" She waved her hand. "Anyhow, it doesn't matter, because the rabbi gave in."
"He's going to marry us?" When she nodded, he squeezed her waist. "Great! When are we doing this?"
"The final Sunday of next month."
"So it'll be what we've talked about?" he asked. "A short, simple service, followed by a great big party?"
She sighed. "Well, the service is going to be longer and more elaborate than I would like. That's the concession we're making to my father."
He shrugged. "I don't mind."
She said, "You know, I'm still willing to see a priest if you want to be married in the Church, too."
He shook his head. "All that matters to me is marrying you, Sara. I haven't been to Mass or confession in over a dozen years, and I'm not really interested in going."
She touched his cheek. "All right."
"Adam's going to be nervous about the service," he said, "especially when I tell him that part of it will be in Hebrew." The boy was excited about being Ryan's best man at the wedding, but also anxious about doing everything right. "Maybe you could come out to Bernice Village with me a couple of weeks before the wedding and walk him through it, so he'll know what's going to happen? I think that would help."
"Of course."
During his final night living on the streets, Adam had been beaten and threatened with death by gang members who thought doing things like that was lots of fun. After getting his call for help, the two of them had found him injured, frightened, and ready to rely on Ryan. He had stayed with Ryan for a week, during which time Ryan had found the courage to explain truthfully, albeit vaguely, why Adam couldn't live with him legally. That kind of honesty had strengthened the boy's trust, and Adam had finally agreed to talk with Isabel at Safe House and to let Ryan take him to Bernice Village for a visit. Although nervous about it, Adam had agreed to try living at Bernice Village, and he had moved in there shortly before Ryan had moved into Sara's apartment. Since then, Adam had been able to establish contact with his imprisoned father—who, Ryan was pleased to learn, actually did care what happened to the boy. Adam was adjusting to life at Bernice Village and gradually becoming a more stable kid. Ryan drove out there once a week, without fail, to spend time with him.
"Hey, you know what all this money I'll be getting means for us?" Sara said.
"We can go on a honeymoon, after all?" They'd been planning to skip it, given her uncertain career situation and his modest income.
"Oh! Yes! I hadn't even thought of that! A honeymoon." She shifted her position so she could put her arms around his neck. "That'll be wonderful. But, actually, I was thinking that this money means we can move. Buy a place."
"Ah." He looked around the crowded apartment. They'd been incredibly happy living together here, but it was much too small for them. Sara needed a room for her office, and it would be nice to get the rest of their stuff out of storage. "Yeah, I guess we're ready."
"I'm more than ready. I want to start looking right after the wedding."
"Right after the honeymoon, you mean."
She smiled. "Of course."
"I have some news of my own," he said. "I'm getting a raise."
"Really? That's wonderful! Because you've worked so hard?"
Sara wasn't the only one whose work sometimes came between them for a little while. But they were learning together how to stay close while making space for each other.
"Well, Isabel says she's very pleased with the work I've been doing." He smiled wryly. "But I think it didn't hurt that I brought in such a big chunk of change this week."
Her eyes widened. "Your plan worked?"
He shrugged. "I guess I haven't lost my touch."
"Hey, you told me there'd be no touching involved."
He goosed her. "I'm speaking figuratively."
After working for Safe House for a while and realizing how much more funding they needed, it had occurred to Ryan that he had a number of former acquaintances (a euphemism which made Sara roll her eyes) who were filthy rich and perhaps in need of tax write-offs. Maybe the dissolution of Catherine's escort agency had even freed up some of their cash. That fellow Trevor had created such a big, juicy scandal that, even without the indictment several months ago, it would have been impossible for Catherine to keep operating. A business like hers relied on discretion. Sara hoped that Catherine would lose everything and serve hard time; Ryan thought it more likely that she'd wind up selling her memoirs for a lot of money and landing on her feet. Since his real name wasn't anywhere in Catherine's records, no one had bothered him when building a case against her. And Catherine herself had turned her back on him forever the last time he'd seen her, which was all that mattered to him.
Anyhow, with Catherine no longer in a position to charge outrageous fees for illicit services, Ryan thought some of her former clients should have enough spare change to make generous donations to a good cause. After discussing it with Sara, who found his plan so audacious she couldn't stop laughing, he'd made a list of his former "regulars" and paid them visits to discuss Safe House. Several of them seemed to suspect this was an elaborate form of blackmail, and one of them had even thrown Ryan out of her house. However, Alice Van Offelen, whom he'd always thought seemed like a nice lady, had been so moved by Ryan's pitch and so interested in the work at Safe House, she had made a huge financial commitment to the place this week. Moreover, Isabel had told Ryan today that Alice was interested in getting involved in additional fundraising efforts for Safe House.
If Isabel suspected how Ryan knew someone like Alice, she didn't say anything about it. Neither did Ryan, since he had no intention of embarrassing Alice—who would nonetheless, he suspected, feel self-conscious whenever they met.
"Well," his fiancée now said to him, her arms around his neck, "if turning on the charm with an old client raised a lot of money for Safe House, then I guess it was worth it. As long as she understands that you're retired from a certain line of work."
"She does," he assured her. "But, since my raise will be coming out of her donation, she's still the source of some of my income. Kind of ironic."
"Are we inviting her to the wedding?" Sara asked with a too-innocent expression.
"I don't think so," he said dryly.
"What about the Fergusons?"
He shook his head. "No. I mean, you were right, and I'm glad I called them." The Oklahoma couple who had employed his mother, and who had unsuccessfully tried to help him as an abused kid, had been touchingly thrilled to hear from him when, at Sara's urging, he'd contacted them a few months ago to tell them he was alive and well. They knew he had disappeared years ago and had always worried about his fate. "They seemed really pleased when I told them I was getting married, working, and starting college, but it's not as if we're going to become close now."
She nodded. "It's also not as if we need to add to the guest list." Between Sara's relatives, her friends, and the co-workers Ryan was inviting, it was going to be a huge party.
He tightened his arms around her. "So, since we're not poor anymore... Hey, I just realized, I'm marrying very well, aren't I?"
"You earn it," she said dryly.
"I certainly do. Anyhow, since I'm getting a raise and you've just made a big new book deal, let's go celebrate."
"Ooh, yes! Let's go somewhere expensive and eats lots of decadent food. And then we'll come home and..." She nuzzled him. "Well, I know I've neglected you this week."
"Gosh, I never noticed."
"Oh, please, Ryan. When you feel sexually deprived, you're about as subtle as Macy when he wants a biscuit."
"Yeah, well, I figured out a long time ago that subtlety doesn't work with anyone in your family. Least of all you, when you're obsessing about your work or your career." When s
he started unbuttoning his shirt, he said, "Hey, what are you doing? I thought you were going to buy me an expensive dinner first."
"I just changed my mind about the order of events."
"Oh." He watched her unbutton his pants. "You mean I have to work for my supper."
"Very funny, Ryan." But she was smiling.
"Come here."
He pulled her mouth to his. And then they were all done talking for a while.
The End
Acknowledgements
Special thanks to thank Valerie Taylor for walking through the story ideas with me. I’m also grateful to Mary Jo Putney for her support and encouragement. Many thanks to Theresa Medeiros, Susan Wiggs, Kathleen Eagle, Anne Stuart, and Barbara Samuel—with friends like these, who needs fairy godmothers? To the understanding folks of the Space Coast Writers Guild, I offer my apologies for spending the whole weekend locked in my hotel room trying to finish this book. As for Karen, Julie, and Lee Ann... I told you that those books I brought on our trip were legitimate research.
About This Book
One night years ago I watched a much-lauded French-Canadian film called Being At Home With Claude, starring Roy Dupuis (best known to Americans as "Michael" in the 1990s TV series La Femme Nikita). Dupuis plays a street hustler in Montreal who's being interrogated by the cops after killing his lover, a regular middle-class, law-abiding gay man. I didn't particularly care for the film, but I was intrigued by a question it touched on: What was it like to be a regular person in love with a male prostitute?
Not being a gay man, I wondered about this from a heterosexual woman's perspective. Then I found myself wondering how a regular, sensible, law-abiding, middle-class woman would even meet a male prostitute, let alone get to know him well enough to fall in love with him. And one day I finally realized that what I was thinking about was a possible story. (I often mull something over for quite a while, in the endless maze of bizarre musings that float in and out of my head all the time, before realizing that I'm actually starting to work on a story idea.)
So I started researching male prostitutes. The first upscale heterosexual male escort I asked for a research interview said he'd agree, but only if I paid his usual hourly rate. (I couldn't afford it.) The next one I queried never responded. I also contacted an upscale male escort agency that refused to give me an interview; but their website gave me a lot of ideas for how Catherine, the owner of the agency in my novel, runs her business and what kind of prices she charges. (I was flabbergasted!)
After these failed attempts, I settled for doing my research strictly via non-fiction books and websites. (Some old friends, seeing the books I brought on our vacation that summer, were pretty worried about me until I explained why I was reading a "how to" guide for hustlers.) And I learned a remarkable amount this way. After a while, I decided there was indeed a story for me to tell. Which is not to say that Ryan is "typical" of the people I read about—fictional protagonists are often singular and unusual. I envisioned Ryan as someone with understandable mentality and believable reactions based on his experiences, but he is not intended to be any sort of "representative personality" in terms of his walk of life. He is himself, a character who (as they all do) moved in with me for a while, and only moved out again once I had told his individual story.
(As I said recently in an interview, if asked to give One Reason That I Write... it's essentially to get "people" out of my home. Characters move in with me uninvited, they're underfoot for months or years, and the only way I get rid of them is eventually to tell their stories. That's what exorcises them, what finally gets them to move out of the house.)
Meanwhile, logistically, I grew to realize that Sarah needed to be someone who was around the house (er, her house) all the time, so that she'd see Ryan often, and also so that she'd notice (without actually being nosy) all the odd bits and pieces of his daily routine. I also thought she should be in the middle of a crisis of her own, perhaps a professional one that cut her to the quick, rather than her just existing to serve as the hero's audience. On all counts, I thought making her a writer was the best solution. But I resisted for a while, because I was afraid people would think I was pulling a "Mary Sue," a phrase applied derisively when people believe an author's story is a wish-fulfillment fantasy about herself.
However, I recalled one of my basic beliefs about writing fiction: I don't matter, and what you think of me doesn't matter; only the story matters. So I got over myself, and I made Sarah a writer, which is what the character by then desperately wanted to be. As it happens, the also made writing about her world a lot easier for me than writing about Ryan's world, since I didn't have to research it; Sarah's world of writers, writing, and publishers is one that I know well.
—Laura Resnick
About the Author
Laura Resnick is the author of many books, short stories, articles, and columns. Her urban fantasy series from DAW Books features the supernatural misadventures of Esther Diamond, a struggling actress in New York. The series, which has received enthusiastic praise from Library Journal and Publishers Weekly, has been compared by reviewers to Janet Evanovich's #1 NYT bestselling Stephanie Plum novels and Charlaine Harris' bestselling Sookie Stackhouse books. The Esther Diamond series includes Disappearing Nightly, Doppelgangster, Unsympathetic Magic, and the upcoming Vamparazzi.
The author's epic fantasy novels from Tor Books, include The White Dragon, which made the "Year's Best" lists of Publishers Weekly and Voya, and The Destroyer Goddess, which Publishers Weekly describes as "a marvel of storytelling."
Before she began writing fantasy, Resnick was the award-wining author of fourteen contemporary romance novels (which she wrote under the pseudonym Laura Leone) published by Silhouette Books, Kensington, and Five Star.
Laura currently writes an opinion column for Nink, the monthly journal of Novelists, Inc. Her book Rejection, Romance, and Royalties: The Wacky World of a Working Writer is a collection of her previous essays about the writing life and the publishing industry.
You can find her on the Web at: www.LauraResnick.com.
Other Books by Laura Resnick
(A sample chapter of each underlined title is included in this book. )
Romance Novels (written as Laura Leone)
Fallen From Grace
Fever Dreams
Nights of Fire
Esther Diamond Series
(Urban Fantasy)
Disappearing Nightly
Doppelgangster
Unsympathetic Magic
Vamparazzi
The Chronicles of Sirkara
(Traditional Fantasy)
In Legend Born
The White Dragon
The Destroyer Goddess
Non-Fiction
A Blonde In Africa
Rejection, Romance, and Royalties: The Wacky World of A Working Writer
Fever Dreams Excerpt
by Laura Leone
Copyright 1997, 2004, & 2011 by Laura Resnick
The storm killed the electrical power, and Señor Gutiérrez didn't think they'd get it back before morning. The señora posted kerosene lanterns around the inn and upon the few simple dining tables outside on the covered veranda. The heavy rain gradually settled into a gentle downpour, drumming lightly on the roof and freshening the night air.
Washed and wearing dry clothes, Madeleine, Miguel, and Ransom enjoyed a simple dinner in the now-cool evening air. When Señor Gutiérrez joined them after their meal and started asking about the car and where they had come from, Miguel readily admitted to working for Veracruz. He boasted of Ransom's exploits, too, until Ransom cut him short with unusual curtness. Neither Miguel nor the old man were daunted by this, and Miguel spent the next hour regaling the señor and his family with amusing stories about working for the inhabitants of the palace.
Madeleine had no trouble guessing the reason for Ransom's curtness. Three men had stopped for dinner at the pensión just as he came downstairs after his shower, and she could tell that s
omething about them worried him. Despite not having called ahead, the men were angry that the wealthy foreigners and their driver were getting a hearty meal while they had to settle for beans and rice. Ransom had come to the aid of a flustered Señora Gutiérrez, putting the men in their place with a few clipped words.
However, Madeleine was sure that their rudeness wasn't the reason Ransom had told her not to leave his sight until the men had gone, and why he looked at them every few minutes with an expression that should have frozen their livers. She also noticed that he made sure they saw the gun holstered at his side. Surely those men would have to be suicidal to cause any trouble here tonight.
Fortunately, the men left soon after finishing their meal. When Madeleine felt ready for bed, Ransom took her to her room, checked the windows, then gave her his pager and told her to keep her door locked.
"Do you think those men will come back?"
"Not really," he said, pausing in the doorway. "But I don't want to take any chances."
"Do you think they're bandits?"
He shrugged. "Maybe. Or kidnappers. Or drug runners."
"What makes you th—"
"They were armed, and—"
"They were? I didn't see—"
"I did," he said.
"Oh."
"And..." He shrugged again. "Call it instinct."
She nodded pensively. She had learned to believe in his instincts.
He hesitated. "Will you be all right?"
"Yes."
"Okay."
She spoke again as he turned to go. "Ransom?"
"Yeah?"
Their eyes met. There were a dozen things she ought to say to him. After a long moment, she settled on, "I'm glad you're here."
He looked surprised for a moment. Then he grinned. "So am I, God help me." He was laughing softly when he closed the door.