Excerpt from Sucked Away

Excerpt from Sucked Away

“Whaboutyou?” I slurred, my eyelids drooping despite my effort to stay awake.

“I'll stand guard. Someone has to. We don't know when Sedgrave might attack again.”

Too true, I thought as I drifted off to sleep.

It wasn’t really an end. More like a very gory beginning.

Josh leaned over my shoulder, watching my progress as I typed the last few lines of my newest book. I had a feeling my publisher would be blown away with the sudden transformation in my writing. It wasn't a work of fiction like my past efforts; it was my real-life story. Granted, I wouldn't be telling anyone that. They'd lock me up in a padded room and swallow the key. I couldn't blame them for that response. Even I had trouble believing the sudden change my life had endured.

Endured was the right word. My first week as a vampire had been full of clinging tree faeries, slobbering werewolves, frozen houses, and vampire-sacrifices. I'd survived it, but just barely. I now spent my days and nights cooped up in my studio apartment, trying to reassemble my life. It wasn't going well.

I had a lot of ground to cover. Granted, I had been nearly tortured to death—a difficult feat considering how hearty we vampires are. I'd been whipped, skewered, and burned, but the worst of it wasn't what had happened to my body. The ritual, which we thought required my life, had taken my memories—my very essence. So I guess in some ways it had taken my life, it just did it in a way none of us expected. I had regained a lot of my history, but not all.

“This is fabulous,” whispered Josh from his position just above my right shoulder. Though he spoke softly enough, it startled me, pulling me from my own thoughts.

“Thanks,” I murmured.

“Hardly,” sighed my cat from his position on the desk, next to my antiquated computer.

Tereus was a gray Scottish Fold. Though I'd named him Muffler when I first got him, he had asked me to call him Tereus after I discovered he could talk. It turned out my cat was really a very old and powerful fae, trapped in a cat's body after he impregnated a friend's sister.

“You want a fabulous book read Les Miserables.”

“Don't listen to him,” urged Josh. “Hugo rambles.”

Josh was the one member of Mikhail's seethe that I thought of as a friend. The others I put up with out of self-preservation. I had no chance of survival if I wasn't part of a seethe. They provided support and safety during rough times, which already proved to be a necessity in my life. I just didn't like it. I'd been a lone wolf—forgive the phrasing—for such a long time, I wasn't sure if I could conform to a group again.

“C’mon. You should start getting ready for tonight,” said Josh, still keeping his voice soft; he knew how easily I was startled.

He gently placed his hands on my shoulders and guided me away from the computer. Josh had spent many hours, days even, helping me recover. He'd even gotten me wireless internet so that he could work from my apartment. Though Josh had been a jazz pianist when he was human, he was presently trying his hand at trading stocks online. So far, he was barely paying his own bills.

Granted, he had fifty years of savings he could tap into if necessary.

I forced my shoulders to relax under his hands. I felt a little better after getting the story down on paper, but not well enough to face this night. It was my Joining—a short ceremony to finalize my initiation into the seethe, followed by “one hell of a party,” or at least that's how Josh had described it. Whoever had been put in charge of my Joining had decided to make it a masquerade. Josh was very excited, while I was considering ways to run away. This would be my first time out of my apartment since the attempted sacrifice; attempted, as I didn't technically die.

Nevertheless, a powerful warlock had been freed.  

I watched Josh move to my closet and pull out the dress someone had purchased for me. I took it and silently went to my bathroom to put it on. Josh stayed, knowing I'd need help with the laces. I slipped into it, the girlish part of me reveling in the stiff fabric that draped from my hips in heaps of emerald loveliness. The bust was tight and strapless. I held it on as I came out of the bathroom and allowed Josh to lace up the back, which left my pale skin half revealed to the small of my back. Just as he finished, a small, half transparent puppy burst through my closed door.

It bounced around the room, ignoring Tereus as the cat jumped on to the bed and hissed at it. It came up to where Josh and I stood and tried to bite the lower folds of my dress. We both turned away and ignored it. The ghost dog had been haunting Josh ever since we dug up its twisted mistress, who had chosen to be buried with her dog.

“You look beautiful. I got something to go with it. Now this is just to borrow for the night. So don't lose it,” he added before opening a felt box.

I felt just like Julia Roberts as I stared at the overwhelming display of silver, diamonds, and emeralds lying on the cushion.

I smiled reflexively. “It's gorgeous! Josh, where did you get it?”

“I know a guy.”

I smiled again, the movement feeling unnatural, and turned around so he could help me into the ornate necklace. Josh—or a sick display of diamonds—was the only person who could make me smile.

“Now let’s get your hair and makeup done before your date arrives.”

I tensed at the thought. I couldn't help it. Nik had insisted on escorting me to my Joining. He claimed he had the right, considering how much work he put into keeping me alive. Never mind that he'd wanted to kill me himself when I was first turned, or the fact that Josh had asked me first.

I’d a long list of enemies at the time, and Nikolai considered me a threat to the seethe's safety. He wasn't wrong, but Mikhail had chosen to protect me, mostly just to piss off Richard, the Lacey seethe's primus. Evidently, when you're a couple hundred years old, that's enough motivation to risk countless lives. I didn't get it.

“It'll be okay,” Josh said as he pushed me toward the bathroom.

My curling iron was already plugged in and hot. I sat on the toilet lid while he curled my hair. The ghost dog ran into the bathroom, lost control on the linoleum, and skidded through the edge of my tub. I couldn’t tell if it had any control when it interacted with the world around it or not, but occasionally it couldn’t go through a wall or chair leg. Today, evidently, it was the floor that it connected with.

“Where'd you learn to curl a girl's hair?” I asked, immensely grateful that he could.

“I studied a few years of college theater. I know my way around a bobby-pin.”

I laughed. It felt good. I hadn't spent much of the autumn laughing. In fact, this might have been the first time. It wasn't that I was depressed. Rather, I couldn't remember what was funny and what wasn't.

Josh wanted me to allow Jordan and Chloe to visit—my only two friends from my human days. The problem was, I knew if I saw them I wouldn't be able to carry on a normal conversation, not to mention I would probably kill them. Josh had made the annoyingly accurate point that if I didn't start getting out, I'd never recover the rest of my memories, or gain any control over my blood lust.

Even so, there was another problem, and one I refused to mention to Josh. To see Jordan and Chloe, I would have to see Nik. They were now both Nikolai's sheep: Jordan because he'd stumbled upon us after I'd been horribly wounded, and Nik had to control him; Chloe because Jordan wanted her to be in on the secret. They now spent half their time with Nikolai in his mansion.

It would take a lot more than my love for Jordan and Chloe to get me into Nik's mansion again.  I absolutely loathed Nik. It wasn't just his wanting to kill me when I first came to the seethe. In fact, I was mostly over that. After all, he had saved my life many times since that initial introduction.

It was something else entirely.

I knew that he had, at one time during his long life, sacrificed one of my ancestors in an attempt to raise Sedgrave, the maniacal though charismatic, warlock who could create daywalkers. And that was just a parlor trick; Sedgrave’s real skill was manipulating politics—a much more subtle and terrifying gift.

Still, Nik had tried to bring him back to life, and had never mentioned it to any of us when we were actively trying to prevent that from happening. I hadn't told anyone that I had seen him in one of my freaky ritual visions. In fact, no one even knew I had been transported back through all the other attempts at raising Sedgrave.

I couldn't figure out how to bring the subject up. In lieu of coming up with a plan, I had chosen to avoid him—until tonight. I couldn't get out of it. The party was for me, and I couldn't tell him he couldn't escort me. He'd saved my life after all; he'd earned the right. Besides, if I refused him, he'd want to know why, and I wasn't ready for that conversation.

“You doing okay?” Josh asked as he finished tucking the delicate curls of red hair into a beautiful design.

“I guess. Don't really want to do this.”

“I know. But you need to. You need to start going out, being around people.”

“People?” I asked.

“You know what I mean.”

“Josh... I can't even remember what my mother looked like... or if I liked chocolate chip cookies when I was human. I'm not sure I even know who I am anymore... and you want me to go out and... mingle?”

Josh grabbed my knee and spun me around on the toilet lid until I faced him.

“Then spend time with those who do know you,” he urged. “We'll remind you.”

“Who, other than you, knows me in the seethe?”

“Nik.”

I waved my hand, dismissing the idea. Josh took me by the shoulders and gave me a gentle shake.

“What is this thing with you and Nik?”

“It's nothing,” I answered quietly. 

“That's a load of bullshit. Whatever it is, you need to talk to him. Get it out in the open. He can't figure out why you've avoided him for the past two months.”

I stood up, pushing Josh out of the bathroom so that I could put my own makeup on. I wasn't sure why I needed makeup when I would be adding a mask, but Josh seemed to think it was necessary. I was halfway through the process when Josh opened my front door.

“Fine, be stubborn. I'm out. Nik will be here soon. See ya there.”

To Continue reading Sucked Away, Book 2 of the Series that Just Plain Sucks visit amazon. 

To read the  final book in the series, watch for Well, That Sucked, coming out Fall of 2015.

Most of all, whether you liked this story or not, please consider writing an honest review to better help other readers make an informed decision. Thank You. 

Excerpt from Sucked In

Excerpt from Sucked In

…Audrey leaned forward, his intoxicating smell filling her lungs and making her head spin. She knew she should be afraid. But she couldn’t make herself feel what she didn’t feel, just as she couldn’t drive away the feeling of love that welled up inside her. Just like she knew she should be afraid, she knew she shouldn’t love him. After all, he was a vampire.

But it was too much!

He was too handsome, too brilliant, too talented for her to not love him. Any woman that knew him like she did would love him tobaca;aoivnakd;ahvna;shcOIenfw

“Muffler!” I shrieked as my ridiculous gray cat sauntered across my keyboard. Instead of scurrying away, he turned to look at me, planting his behind right on the D key. A sudden paragraph of Ds sprouted on my flickering screen. I rolled my eyes, lifted the cat off my desk, and stood up. Instantly, his chest began rumbling with a purr I was sure could be heard in the next apartment. With a sigh, I dropped him on the floor. I had been in the zone—which, of course, meant I needed to be interrupted.

I was right.

A recognizable ratta-tat-tat filled my apartment.

“Two bits,” I called out by way of acknowledgment, nudging a still rumbling Muffler from my legs where he was making intense circle-eights. Jordan, my best friend, entered.

“Writing?” he asked, glancing at the screen. His blond brows furrowed as he noticed Muffler's contribution.

“Cat,” I explained.

“Ah.” Without asking, he moved into my closet of a kitchen and began rummaging through the ancient fridge. He pulled out a soda; it was still a little early for beer. I ignored him and walked back to my computer, which was tucked into the far corner of my studio apartment. Jordan dropped onto my bed, which often acted as a couch, and cracked open the can of Mountain Dew.

“So what are you up to?” I asked, as I stood in the small space between my computer desk and my bed. I was used to Jordan stopping by randomly, but this felt different.

“Well…” He hesitated. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?” I asked, flopping into my desk chair and taking a decidedly relaxed pose.

Jordan was clearly upset and I wanted to make him feel at ease. He took a long swig of his soda in an effort to buy himself some time. I waited patiently. There weren’t many people for whom I would be patient, but he was one of them.

“Uh… I’m taking Chloe out on a date tonight.”

“On a date date?” I asked, unable to hide my shock and concern.

Chloe was a dear friend of ours. In fact, Jordan, Chloe, and I had been the three amigos for a number of years. I’d met Chloe at the nearby grocery store where I worked and had quickly introduced her to my best friend—never imagining they would become an item. It wasn’t a complete surprise, but if I was being honest with myself, I’d hoped any symptoms of romance I’d noticed were the result of my overactive imagination.

As much as I wanted them to be happy, I knew this would change things. We would no longer be the three amigos: We’d be a dating couple and the third wheel.

“Yeah,” Jordan said. It sounded more like a question, as though he were asking for my permission. I hated that he felt this way. I had known Jordan since high school; a decade now. We found out much later that we’d both had crushes on each other, but never had the guts to pursue it. Despite the revelation, we never did attempt to date. In some ways, I wondered what we might have missed out on, and yet I was happy to know I would never lose his friendship. Our love was unconditional. I didn’t want him to feel like he had to ask for my blessing to date another woman, even if she was my friend.

I schooled my features into a smile. “That’s awesome. I was wondering when you were going to ball up and ask her out.”

Jordan’s pale lips turned up into a smile as his face burned red. It was a stark contrast to his extremely blond hair. “Yeah… well…” he stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck, which was also turning red. It was a gesture he often used when feeling awkward or uncomfortable. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it. I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Upset me? Why would it upset me? My two best friends together. What could be better?” I lied through my teeth. Thankfully, Jordan had never been able to see through my lies. Perhaps he simply wanted to trust that we were close enough that I would never stoop to a lie. I had thought so too, until today.

“So what are you up to?” he asked, changing the subject suddenly.

“I have the day off,” I began.

Though I had worked at the grocery store since before high school graduation, three months ago I cut my hours back to part time so I could spend more time writing. I'd sold my second book, and my publisher was becoming more demanding. My books weren't hugely popular, but I did have a small mob of devoted readers. Between the part time job and the royalty checks, I managed to keep a roof over my head and food in my fridge—most of the time. It didn't allow for much else, including socializing. Things like movies and dinner cost money.

“But I’m going out with Isaac tonight,” I added quickly.

Isaac didn't seem to mind paying for our dates. He taught a few night classes at the local university and made decent money, so I didn't mind letting him pick up the tab. We had gone out a handful of times over the past month, but so far we seemed to be stuck in a holding pattern.

I never felt like I knew him better at the end of our dates. He shared just enough to not seem distant, but not enough for the relationship to progress. I, on the other hand, shared everything. Jordan always teased me about talking too much, and I knew it was true, but didn't put much energy into changing it.

Jordan glared in my general direction. Despite the fact we had never dated, he continued to be my staunch protector. Any guy I dated, or even ogled, he considered to be a psychopath. Overprotective he may be, but I knew—beyond a shadow of a doubt—that if I was ever in trouble Jordan would come to the ends of the earth to save me, cliché as it may be.

I waited until he got the glare out of his system.

“Yes, I know how you feel. I'll be careful. It's not like I've jumped into the sack with him or anything!”

“That's just it! I'd almost feel better if you had. It's not normal that he's so careful with you. Normal guys try to kiss their girlfriends. Try to grope them.”

I stared at him.

“Wait! You want him to grope me?” I was completely lost. Everyone says women don't make sense, but this conversation seemed to be pointing in the other direction.

“No! I just wish he was a little more normal. There's something off about him. I know you see him as a gentleman, but it goes beyond that. And I—I just want you to be careful… on your guard.”

I nodded reluctantly, knowing full well my face showed my dissatisfaction. Jordan’s assessment of Isaac made me think he didn’t like me. It's so easy to feel discouraged.             

“Look,” sighed Jordan, clearly wanting to make me feel better. “He seems to really like you.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I half agreed. Between Jordan’s appraisal and Isaac’s general distance, I was beginning to wonder.

I didn’t want to end it. What I knew of Isaac I really liked; besides, he wasn’t too hard on the eyes either. But despite my inclination to continue the relationship, I knew I wasn’t in love with him. For that to happen, he would have to open up.

“You don't think so?” Jordan's tone turned into excitement, almost relief.

I was too upset to give him the dirty look he deserved. “He just seems cautious. Like something's in the way of us—you know—becoming exclusive.”

“He's probably married,” Jordan said flatly.       

“He's not married!” I snapped, annoyed with my friend’s willingness to think badly of Isaac. I threw a pencil at him and managed to bounce the eraser end off his shoulder.

Jordan shrugged, ignoring my missile.

“I don't know what it is,” I said. “Maybe he's just not that interested in me.”

“No, he's interested in you. I’ve watched him. His eyes follow you as if in the midst of your friends, you might get snatched up by a monster. He looks ready to, at a moment’s notice, throw you over his shoulder and run.”

I know some part of me should have been disturbed by Jordan's description, but instead I just felt like giggling. A hot guy was watching me? Score! Not the most intelligent response, I know. Evidently Jordan saw the first hint of laughter in my eyes. He gave me a look that said “you’re kidding me, right?”

“You shouldn't be excited about that,” Jordan said, his voice was clear and deliberate, as if he were talking to a child. “Look, I know I tend to judge the men you date a little too harshly, but I'm serious. Isaac really gives me the willies. I'm not saying break up with him. I'm just saying be careful.”

I pursed my lips, trying to genuinely heed his words. Finally I nodded, figuring that was the best I could do.

Jordan sighed, knowing his message had only half sunk in. I just couldn't take him seriously. This was Isaac, after all, a complete gentleman. When he kissed me goodnight, it was always short, with his hands in very safe locations. Sometimes I just wanted to grab him and show him what could be done with a tongue.

Before either of us could say anything else, Chloe burst into my apartment. I hadn’t heard her ascend the flight of stairs necessary to get to my door. She didn’t knock. I knew better than to expect such a courtesy. She still wore her black grocery-store apron, but that didn't last long. She dropped her purse on the small table next to my door, nearly hitting the cat, yanked the apron off, and flung it onto her purse.

This was her usual ritual when entering my apartment after a long day of work. She went to my bathroom and immediately scrubbed her face; another ritual that allowed Chloe to keep her ebony skin clear and beautiful despite working in the deli department where the deep-fat fryer was king.

When she emerged, she retrieved her purse and apron. “Ready?” she asked, her eyes focused only on Jordan. I didn’t think it was due to any aversion, but more from the fact she was nervous and uncomfortable.

I felt like a fly on the wall of my own apartment until Jordan turned toward me. “You’ll remember what I said?”

I nodded. I’d do anything to get them out of my home. 

To continue reading  Ashley's story, check out Sucked In, Book 1 of the Series that Just Plain Sucks

To read the next book in the series, check out Sucked Away, Book 2 in the Series that Just Plain Sucks

Most of all, whether you enjoyed these books or not, please consider writing an honest review to help other readers make and informed decision. Thank you.

Excerpt For Life Sucks

Excerpt For Life Sucks

Josh’s short fingers ran over the piano as if they were skimming the top of a cloud. His instructors had always told his mother he would never be a great pianist because his fingers were just too short. He had proven them wrong, and right in a way. He had become a superb pianist, even accepted into the New England Conservatory of Music, the oldest conservatory in the United States. He had lasted a whole seven months before dropping out.

The short pianist glanced out over the thinning crowd and tried to mask his frustration. He detested noisy drunks, and tonight the place was packed with them. They weren’t here for the jazz. They were here for the booze. Of the fifty or so patrons still lining the bar or sitting around small tables or lounging in the booths, only about ten of them were still listening to his music. Granted, it was Wednesday. He may be skilled enough for the New England Conservatory, but he wasn’t well-known enough to rank the weekend gigs. Still, playing at jazz clubs, like the Birdland, paid the rent.

It was sad to see the place so empty. It could seat 500, and often did on a Saturday night with a star on the stage or a great orchestra in the pit. Not that Josh ever got to see the place full when he performed.

Josh pulled his gaze away from the rowdy soldiers obscuring the long bar with olive-drab dress uniforms. They were enjoying their evening, some so drunk they were having difficulty staying on their stools.

His fingers nearly missed their next cue as he forced his angry thoughts away. Josh had been watching soldiers, dressed in their smart uniforms, pass him by on the street or celebrating in clubs for nearly two years. They shouldn’t bother him anymore.

But some emotions are hard to subdue, Josh told himself as he forced his eyes back on the black and white keys.

He wrapped up his current song and seamlessly transitioned into his own rendition of Moonglow. The slinky tune flowed from his mind, through his fingers, and into the keys. Josh had to admit it was better with a vocalist, but he was skilled enough to keep the melody flowing with only his ten short fingers. Still, it wasn’t enough to keep his mind distracted from the unruly soldiers at the bar. He wanted to be among their ranks. They were risking their lives to keep back the red tide of communism. If the Soviet Union could manufacture an atomic bomb, years ahead of when the U.S. expected it, who knew what the North Koreans could be capable of. Their communist ways had to be stopped before they spread any further.

I should be over there! Josh thought as his worked through a complicated key change.

His mother’s favorite saying came to mind: “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.” His wishes weren’t any good against the military’s regulations: People who had the vision of rhinos don’t get to join the army.

Josh scrunched up his nose to shift the large glasses, a habit that often produced a scolding from his mother. She hated it when he did that, but when his hands were busy with piano keys, he couldn’t exactly stop to adjust the heavy object resting on his nose. Another hour and the old bartender would begin encouraging the guests to leave. He had one more hour of peace.

Like himself, Josh’s mother was not proud to have her only son working as a jazz pianist rather than representing his country in the fight against communism. This meant most of his time away from the clubs was spent with that one sour old woman. Josh’s father had died in the Second World War, making Josh’s lack of military involvement all the more painful to his mother. It wasn’t his fault the U.S. military didn’t trust him to strap his glasses to his face. Then again, they could break. What would he do then?

Josh sighed again, his eyes drifting back over the audience and resting on a woman with dark black hair, the bangs cropped short in the latest style. Every woman seemed crazy for Audrey Hepburn and her current hair style. Personally, Josh couldn’t see the draw. She was pretty, sure. But he preferred women with a little more flare. Now Barbara Stanwyck, she was a real woman. Josh felt his heart quicken at the thought of her, and forced his attention back on his music.

He knew from experience that thinking about women never made his music better.

Women. Another favorite subject of his mother’s. She couldn’t fathom how a man could remain single while all his competition was on the other side of the planet. Josh couldn’t seem to explain to her that no woman, however desperate, wanted a red-haired, four-eyed man who barely reached their shoulders. They wanted their men tall, robust, and, preferably, in olive-drab. However talented he might be, his talents were only found on a set of ivory keys.

Josh let out another sigh. Why must his thoughts run to his mother and her numerous complaints? Before he could fathom an answer, he noticed the soldiers and their dates pointing at him, their faces turning into scowls. He knew what they were saying:

“Why wasn’t he fighting?”

“Such a coward!”

“I’m sure those glasses are fake.”

He had heard them all, and a thousand more jarring phrases. No one would stop to ask him if his eyesight was really that bad. No one would ask to look through his glasses to see for themselves. They just assumed he was dodging the draft and leave it at that.

Josh couldn’t really blame them. Had their roles been reversed, he probably would be saying the exact same thing. In his meager opinion, there weren’t any excuses good enough to keep a man from fighting for his country. But his opinion didn’t matter. It was the opinion of the army doctor that mattered in this situation.

And so Josh continued to play, his fingers plunking out You Oughta Be in Pictures on their own accord as his eyes brought his attention back to the beauty sitting at the table alone. When she noticed his attention, she smiled at him and winked.

Josh’s fingers tumbled over the next two measures, missing half the notes. The woman giggled, catching his mistake. Thankfully, the other patrons were too drunk to notice.

It wasn’t long before the soldiers left with their dates, and shortly after that, the bartender called for the removal of those few still sipping their drinks. Josh ended his song with a trill, his eyes on the winking dame as she tossed a few coins onto the table and made her exit with the others.

“Whew. Never thought they’d leave,” grumbled the bartender.

“Yep,” agreed Josh out of habit. They had the same conversation every night at closing.

Josh stood up and stretched out his arms and shoulders. Whether his mother wanted to admit it or not, playing for hours on end was hard work. Maybe not as hard as the work done by soldiers and mechanics, but it still left him exhausted.

“You needing food?” asked the bartender.

“Sure. Thanks, Walter.”

Josh closed up the instrument, locked it, and plunked the key down on the bar. Walter would lock it away in the cash register. The Birdland hosted some of the most prestigious artists in New York, but whenever Walter couldn’t get someone more impressive, he filled the slot with Josh. They had a good understanding, and Josh relied on the continuous gigs to fill his pocket and pay his mother’s rent.

He climbed onto a barstool and dug into the food Walter provided him, which consisted of whatever was left over from the kitchen. It didn’t always result in a normal meal. Today his plate included a few cheese ball appetizers, a small dab of liver paste (without any crackers), one lobster puff, three Anchovy fillet bits, and four stuffed olives. Josh tried his best to stomach it all with grace, but he couldn’t fathom why anyone would order anchovy fillet bits. He smeared the liver paste over the small fish, figuring the two nasty things would be easier to eat all in one rather than separately.

He was wrong.

Finally, when his plate was clean, he pushed it back towards Walter, who was eating his own dinner, and slid off the stool.

“See yah on Tuesday,” he said by way of parting, as he scooped up the dollar bills on the table, left as his pay for the night.

Walter was lucky enough to have better artists for the next couple nights, leaving Josh free to perform at other clubs. The other clubs didn’t pay as much, but they did provide more exposure. Besides, Josh couldn’t afford to take a whole week off just because Walter didn’t need him.

Josh stepped out of the bar, slipped out of his tailed tuxedo jacket, and carefully folded it over his arm. The thick June air was too warm for the heavy jacket. The streets were mostly empty. Wednesday-night workers were already home, most likely asleep in their beds.

It would be another hour before Josh was home in his bed; he had a long walk back to his mother’s apartment. Most of the buses and trollies didn’t run at three in the morning. Josh unbuttoned the top of his white shirt and breathed another sigh of relief.

He didn’t mind the walk home, so long as he wasn’t hassled along the way. Occasionally, some tired or drunken bloke chose to yell at him. It was never an uplifting statement.

Josh was just beginning to hope he would enjoy a quiet walk home when he heard a rumble from down a side street. A glance down the smaller street showed him the group of soldiers, returning to Broadway Street after walking their dates home. They shuffled forward, leaning on each other for support.

He lowered his head to look at the dirty pavement and picked up his pace.

“Hey, look! Iz the player from the Birdlan’,” said one of the men. “C’mon back, lil man.”

Josh ignored them and forced his short legs to speed up. But the tall soldiers, despite the alcohol flowing through their veins, easily caught up with him. The speaker draped his arm across Josh’s narrow shoulders.

“Why yah runnin’?” their spokesman asked.

“Late night. Gotta get home,” Josh mumbled as he tried to duck out from under the man’s arm.

“Got a lil lady to get home to? That why you’re not servin’?”

“No.” Josh couldn’t bring himself to tell a fib, even if it might save him from their disparaging remarks.

“So you just a coward?” asked one of the other men, giving Josh a hard knock on the shoulder.

Josh winced and rubbed his arm. “Doc’s won’t let me. Bad eye sight.”

Before he knew what they were doing, the men had led him down a rather narrow side street. Once again, he tried to duck out from under the soldier’s arm, but the drunk man was faster.

“Where ya goin’? Stay with us tonight!”

“I gotta get home,” said Josh, trying to muster up the courage to look up at the man and make his point clear.

He got his eyes up to the man’s chin before they dropped back to his shoes on their own accord. He was hopeless.

“I don’t much believe in getting’ outa service, meself,” grumbled one of the other men, taking ahold of the collar of his shirt and pulling him up until the fabric of the shirt cut into his armpits.

“Me neither. They wouldn’t,” began Josh, but he couldn’t get his argument out.

The man holding his shirt dragged him across the sidewalk and into a dark ally.

“It’s not my fault,” cried Josh, panic beginning to set in.

His heart raced and his chest tightened until he wasn’t sure he could breathe anymore. Were they really going to beat him up?

As the group bumbled into the ally, their drunken movements caused the whole mob to go down. Josh fell with them, instinctively covering his head with his arms. The men bashed into him as they rose, each one grumbling at him as though he had caused the fall. Before Josh could try to rise himself, he felt a foot drive into his back.

Josh cried out with the impact and scrambled to his feet, his tuxedo jacket falling from his arm. He glanced around, trying to find it in the dark. While he worried over his garment, wondering where he would get the money to repair or replace it, two hands grabbed his shirt again.

“You know how many men I’ve seen die?” asked the largest of the men, his body swaying as though he stood on the deck of a rocking boat.

Josh looked up at him, pushing his glasses back up so he could see the man’s face properly. The soft face was puffy and red, his beady eyes watering as he blinked down at Josh.

“I-I don’t know, sir,” said Josh, trying to calm the situation. “I’ve tried to enlist. Really I…”

The large man cut him off by shoving him into the grimy wall of the ally. Josh barely kept his feet as his glasses slid back to the tip of his nose. He pushed them back up as he regained his footing. What was happening? Why couldn’t they understand?

“Sure yah have!” growled one of the other men.

“I’m very near sighted. I can’t see without my glass…”

“Oh you mean these?” asked the man on his right as he reached forward and grabbed the glasses off Josh’s face.

The world turned blurry, and Josh lunged forward for his glasses, jumping towards the wrong blob. Now, each man now looked identical.

“Wrong one,” said one of the men.

Josh saw him make a move, which he translated as a throw. Josh turned, guessing they had thrown his glasses to another member of their posse. He spotted a man jumping up into the air, and lunged towards him. Josh felt as though he was back in school, the footballers playing keep away with his glasses, only now he was even blinder, and the bullies were war-hardened soldiers.

“So close,” chuckled the man who had caught his glasses.

He easily kept them out of Josh’s reach, not even needing to stand on tiptoe. Once again, like the thousand times before, Josh cursed his short stature.

“Not quite,” laughed another man as he caught the glasses and easily avoided Josh’s efforts.

“Over here,” called one of the shorter man.

Josh hadn’t seen them throw the glasses to the shorter man, but he couldn’t be sure either. They continued the game until they grew bored. Finally, one of them dropped the precious glasses on the ground and stomped on one of the lenses, the heel of his dress shoe shattering the thick glass.

Josh heard the sound of the glass breaking and felt a fire boil inside him. Without thinking through it or worrying about his lack of eyesight, he pulled his fist back and decked the soldier in the face.

To read more of Josh's story, Life Sucks, check it out on amazon!

For a preview of Sucked In, Book 1 of the Series that Just Plain Sucks, come back May 9th.

To continue the series, check out Sucked In, book 1 of the Series that Just Plain Sucks.

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