TheZot

Chris just watched Joe dumbly as he walked past him and into the living room. It was like he owned the place. That felt natural. It also annoyed him a little. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Sitting," Joe called back. Chris moved to follow and found Joe in the recliner. "What are you doing there?" Chris asked. "If I sit on the couch, I'm going to be next to you," Joe answered. "If I'm next to you I'm going to touch you, which means I'm going to be kissing you, and from there

I've actually run out of bits, so it may be a few days before the next part. Or not, as it's at ~1K words, but I'm not sure when I'll get it done, exactly.

I was thinking from somewhere around Rome for his family, though I'd not given it much more thought than that. If I knew the slang went back far enough, I'd have everyone refer to his mysterious grandfather as coyote, since that opens the door for so much extra added fun. I'm just not sure it dates back to the '50s, which would be about when Chris' grandmother got pregnant. He shows his native background pretty strongly. Not a surprise, since depending on granddad he's either half or a quarter (with a quarter hispanic), and there's some overlap in general build and some coloring with the Italian. He's certainly got the nose, regardless. Joe doesn't care. He just finds it all really sexy.

Hopefully that'll still be the case when the missing bits get added in. Juggling the different storylines and still keeping things moving at a good pace may be something of a challenge. Ah, well, that's what makes it fun. Joe knew the electric company guy was lying, something we've established he can do. (Chris too) Interestingly, even if the electric company guy has the same talents, he'll come to the wrong conclusion. After their little encounter he'd assume Joe was onto him, even though Joe actually has no idea. Nothing quite like being inadvertently responsible for what happens next. I get the feeling that the underlying theme of this novel is "certainly without correctness."

[The beginning of this harkens back to the missing chapter 45. Chris ran into his ex, and the guy she'd cuckolded him with, and caught enough of the last encounter between Joe and Alex to realize they'd split, just not the exact circumstances. Short section too -- seemed like a good place to stop, and I've not had a lot of time to write] It was late, and Chris was lying on his couch wondering how things had managed to get where they were. He wasn't a bad guy. He was pretty sure of that. He was a good cop, he loved his kid, he was nice to animals. Dogs, at least. It just wasn't enough. He hadn't been good enough for his mother's family, just a half-breed with a mystery grandfather. He was an Indian enough for most everyone else, and the weak little wuss to the rest. A pathetic little kid with a pair of drunks for parents, not good for anything. He'd been a lousy husband and a failure as a lover. So there he was, lying on the couch in his grandmother's house. Alone. Hell, even his imaginary friend was alone. He was getting dumped in his dreams. It was pathetic. The banging at his kitchen door brought him back to reality. The clock over the stove read 11:35. Nobody banged on his doors that late at night. Steve had a key, and there wasn't anyone else who would have any reason to. Chris opened the door. Standing on the other side was Joe, hand raised to knock a second time. Chris had a flash of irritation. Dumping Alex still rankled. "Joe," he said. His voice was flat. It was reflex, but he gave Joe a quick scan. Rumpled shirt, tousled hair, and thicker beard shadow than he'd ever seen. He had a small bulging duffle bag. He looked haggard, his eyes bloodshot. He was trembling a little. Joe didn't say anything. He just dropped the duffel and latched onto Chris, hugging him hard. The ride in the cab had been nerve-wracking. He'd gone from the club to his apartment, then over to Chris'. Twenty five minutes in the back of a cab, riding along with the shadow of a corpse, the roof covered with tiny chittering spiders. He'd been tempted to stay in his apartment when he'd gotten there, where he was safe, where reality wasn't all twisted. He couldn't do that. Alex knew where his apartment was, could get inside. It would only take a kiss, a single touch, to stop him. If he did that, he'd be lost, and so would Toby. "You're shaking," Chris said. The embrace had taken him by surprise, as had the fierce power behind it. Something was very wrong. He wrapped his arms around him. His right hand was stroking Joe's back in unconscious comfort. "Are you okay?" he asked gently. Joe loosened his hold a little, enough to allow him to speak. He was going to say something, he really was. He saw the concern in Chris' eyes. Then he found himself kissing Chris. The kiss was gentler than Joe had expected. He felt safe, all wrapped up in Chris. It was different than the last time. When he'd kissed Chris he was hit with guilt for cheating on Alex. This time he knew Chris was Alex, and more. The more was washing around him. This was more solid, more real, than kissing Alex ever had been. It was better. He didn't ever want it to stop. The kiss had surprised Chris too. The first time Joe had kissed him it had taken him by surprise, and ended before he could really think about it. This time he had warning. He could have stopped it. He just didn't want to. The moment Joe's lips had touched his the thinking part of his brain had turned off. The kiss was more right than anything else he'd ever done. The dreams he'd had of Joe and Alex, the reality with Megan and a half dozen women before her, none of that could compare to this. It filled his head and overwhelmed his senses. He could hear someone whimpering a little. Chris was pretty sure it was him. Joe finally broke the kiss to take a breath. He let himself relax. The tension from the ride had drained away with the kiss. He felt more stable, more ready to face Chris. Chris wasn't quite so ready. His eyes were still closed, and his body still felt the warmth where Joe had just been. Joe took a deep, shuddering breath. He was feeling everything he'd ever felt for Alex, without the doubts, without the feeling that something was lacking. He only hoped Chris felt the same way. He grabbed his duffle as Chris finally opened his eyes. "Moving in?" Chris asked. It just slipped out of his mouth. The question was half-sarcasm. It was half real, too. Joe just smiled and walked into the living room.

[so much cliffhanger material, so few words to make it work. This is definitely going to need a good edit and rewrite. It's very rough, and didn't quite go where I had planned on it going (mostly, but not quite) but it's solid enough to work with. Later.] The remainder of Monday had been miserable. Joe had tried drinking in his apartment, but that hadn't worked too well. He was feeling abandoned, and lonely, and drinking made that feel worse. It helped numb the pain some, but not enough. Tuesday Joe was a zombie. He spent the day cleaning out what remained of Alex in the apartment. There wasn't much

Some of the missing bits that need to go into the first revision deal with Chris and how he feels about himself. Bluntly, not all that good, he's carrying around a big wad of insecurity and a lousy self-image for a variety of real and not real reasons. (I have to go back and write chapter 45, where he runs into his ex. She's a piece of work, but Chris is as much at fault for his marriage failing as she is) I need to find the appropriate slang for Chris' background. His mother was from one of the Native American groups in arizona, and his dad was mostly Italian immigrant. Grand-dad on his mother's side is a mystery that we may or may not ever address. Probably not, but you never know. Anyway, I'm mostly basing my presumption that he caught a lot of shit in one form or another as a kid on the fact children are often cruel, and people as a whole tend to be racist bastards. (Or, really, group-ist bastards, but we do like to group by outward physical characteristics since it's easier) I'm assuming things were not-good if you were small, scrawny, poor, and had crappy parents. Seems a reasonably safe bet.

I decided to go with the "throw it all at the wall and see what sticks" scheme for this story. I'm trying enough new stuff that I didn't want to try and keep a single thread of mystery going through it. It's been interesting keeping things straight, though. All the characters know what's going on, they just all disagree. (Gotta love that "certainty without correctness" thing...) And it turns out that they were all wrong to one degree or another, too -- even Chris. That surprised me, but it worked, so I'm going with it. One of the things I'm going to have to do when I'm done with this first draft is see what of the things I was trying in it didn't work, and decide whether it needs chopping out or fixing up. (Stylistically, I mean. I'm pretty happy with the basic plot elements. They need elaboration and reordering, but that's normal for rough first drafts)

I think, in a story like this, that's part of the mystery. It can't be too much of a mystery, though. At some point relatively early on it has to be clear what general genres are involved, or I risk having a reader back off with a big "ewww!" after investing a lot into the story. I know I've had that happen once or twice when someone's sprung something unexpected halfway through a story I otherwise really liked and just killed things for me. So, yeah, romance/supernatural thriller. Which I expect everyone's figured out already.

[beware the bear, man!] Joe drove home by reflex, his brain numb. He'd had the presence of mind to call in sick for the rest of the week. That was about all he could manage. He hadn't said why to Joan, but she knew. He could tell. He just sat in his car when he got to his apartment. He should go in, maybe go lie down. Maybe go drink. Drinking had a certain appeal. It was safe enough, in his apartment. The monsters never came out when he did. He'd made sure of that. There were enough charms and talismans and pieces of art with alleged powers to keep the hosts of heaven at bay. Not that he was worried about angels. Snuffles looked back at him from the passenger seat. He was safely belted in. Joe had even dropped the shoulder strap down as far as it would go. Probably silly, but it made sense at the time. "Well, I guess it's just you and me, buddy," he said to the bear. "We both got abandoned. Still, the castoffs should stick together, right?" The bear didn't answer. "Ah, the strong, silent type, huh? I like that in a guy. They can't lie to you that way. 'Course, Alex never lied to me. I should've known. Just because they don't lie to you doesn't mean they're telling you the truth. "I loved him, you know. I really did. I even told him. I never told anyone that before. Look how good that turned out." Joe snorted. "He never said it back. I should've know. God, I was stupid. Just some guy he had, just a dance partner. I was only there for the good times." He unbuckled the bear and sat him on the steering wheel. "I won't abandon you, guy. You're mine, now, and I promise, I won't leave you behind. Old and grey together, huh?" Joe leaned in and gave Snuffles a kiss on the nose. The bear smelled faintly of smoke and Alex. That was okay. He'd be a reminder of mistakes past. "Time for your new home, buddy." Joe unbuckled himself and walked up to his apartment. As he got closer a guy approached him from the other end of the corridor. Relatively young and darkly tanned, he was wearing a blue jacket and a baseball hat, and carried a clipboard. "Excuse me," the man said as he approached. The smell of smoke from Snuffles got stronger. It was enough to set off the headache that had been brewing. Stress always made Joe's head hurt, and it didn't take much to trigger one. The smell and lunch were enough to make his stomach churn some, the nausea just adding to his misery. "What?" Joe snapped. He regretted it, but didn't feel up to apologizing. "I'm with the electric company," the man said. That was a bald-faced lie. The guy was probably working some sort of charity scam or collecting for something. At least a few times a year someone in the complex would get caught by one of those. His next-door neighbor had been burned by one over the Christmas holidays, and at least twice in the time he'd lived there people had been robbed by fake repairmen. Normally Joe would just brush this guy off. It wasn't worth the hassle, and there probably wasn't any way to prove he was up to something. Today his head hurt, his stomach ached, and his boyfriend had run away. "Bullshit," he said. "I know exactly who you are and what you want. I'm not impressed, and I'm not caught, and you can go f**K off." Joe unlocked the door to his apartment. The man didn't leave as he did. Joe could feel him watching. When he heard the footstep as the guy moved in, Joe whirled around. "You! Go away! The teddy bear is loaded and I'm not afraid to use him!" He brandished Snuffles at the man. He was sure it looked ludicrous, but it probably looked insane as well. The man backed away, surely convinced Joe was mad. "Never f**K with a man with a bear," he said. Joe slammed the door shut behind him.

[Yes! I know how to menace Joe now! Not that it's in here, but that's fine. Dashing for the home stretch now, I think. Three or four big scenes and we're done. Woohoo!] "They gave me the key because the apartment was vacant, and has been since February." Joe was paying almost no attention. It wasn't just that the apartment was empty. It was that it was huge. He was looking into a good-sized living room, at least the size of his own. There was a large kitchen off it, and there had to be at least two bedrooms. There was no furniture. No bed. No couch. No nightstand. No walls. Almost no light. "This

I like cliffhangers as a tool, I've just never been very good at them. They force continuity between chapters, which is good. One of the issues that Yankee had was that the chapters all just... ended. There wasn't clear linkage between them. That can work out fine, but it gives the reader time to rest, and that's not always a good thing. 'Course, as I've been kinda bogged down the past few days this cliffhanger may hang for a while. I've not got much queued up.

This was the chapter where I realized that I didn't have two story threads -- I had three. And two of them were getting short-changed. We've spent most of the time on Joe's side of the story, which is fine. We've spent a lot less time on Chris' side of things (which is the part that's been getting the most neglect) and on the psychopathic killer side of things. Which has been getting more play, as you can see. Notes for the next draft, I guess. Need more of Chris' side of things, and more of the suspense side of things.

The evil author thing is spotty and unreliable. I'm still working on it.

[Y'know, I think I like this cliffhanger thing...] "I'm surprised you came here willingly," Steve said as he slid into the booth across from Joe. "Yeah, well," Joe said, "it seemed like the best place. I ordered already." "Not a salad, I hope," Steve said. "Learned my lesson," Joe said as the waitress came over. "Hey, hon," she said. She put a pitcher of Coke and a pair of water-spotted glasses on the table. "Pizzas are up in a minute." "Thanks," Joe said. He gave her a big smile and a small wink. The waitress blushed. "Decided to bat for my team?" Steve asked. "Nah," Joe replied. "But it beats dying of food poisoning. So anyway, what did you want?" "I wanted to talk to you about Chris. What did you want to talk about?" "I wanted to talk to you about Alex," Joe said. "Good. Same subject," Steve said. "What? No, they're two different people. Close, but not the same." "Joe," Steve said, "I don't think so." "What do you mean by that?" "What I mean is that Chris and Alex

[Right, you'll notice that chapter 45 is missing. I'm working on that, and it's turning out to be more involved than I thought. I'll post it when it's done, but in the mean time... 46!] Monday morning Joe was a wreck. His conversation with Alex had not gone anywhere near where he thought it was going to, and now he was questioning his whole relationship. He thought things had been going fine. Sure, Alex was a little flighty, but he hadn't expected him to just

Well, we'll find out pretty darn soon. Then the big question will be "is the serial killer really Chris' great-grandfather?" Indeed I do. I haven't been teasing you on purpose -- that's just been a handy side-effect. Alex's quantum state collapses in part 50 or 51, depending on whether I feel cliff-hangery or not.

Nope.

And quite a blush it was, given Chris' general coloring and the time of year. (Mixed Italian and Native American, and mid-June respectively) It might've been visible from space...

Okay, so I was wrong. What I need comes after this. And before, and during it. Yay for overlap!

[The first of a few short ones. Probably ought to be collapsed together into a single chapter when they're done. There's also going to be an out-of-order thing going in, since I realized this evening that I need something before this, but I don't have it written. Ah, well, discontinuity works] Joe had begged off coming over to Steve's that weekend. More than anything else he wasn't ready to face Chris again. When he was alone he could keep things under control

It was on purpose. Joe's noticed that they were sort of different in the past (similarity wouldn't be surprising to him, since he thinks they're twins, regardless of whether it actually works that way) but he's going to take it as him getting the two of them mushed together in his head. I should add that as part of the text.

Argh! Dammit, you're right. I'll have to go and change that. Bet I would've missed that the second time through, too. Thanks!

[Note I'm using the 2005 moon tables, but the dates are needing fixing. http://aa.usno.navy.mil/data/docs/MoonPhase.html. More notes at the end] Steve sat watching Chris as he ate his lunch at his desk. He hadn't said anything when Joe had dropped Toby off, he hadn't said anything when Chris asked him for a lift to the gay bar he'd seem Joe and Alex at, and he hadn't said anything the whole morning as they both dug through a mountain of paperwork and research. He was finding it hard to keep not saying anything. Chris had been chipper that morning. He hadn't been chipper in months. Possibly years. That was strange enough for a normal day, but yesterday hadn't been normal. It'd been total crap, the kind of day they both hated to have. He was still feeling it. Chris, though

They have been, haven't they? I'd not given it all that much thought. It makes sense though. We've already established Joe notices scents, and it is a very primitive thing. No surprise that it'd hit Chris. 'Specially as they did both spend the evening dancing, and neither of them showered after. Scents would be... somewhat in evidence.