Ghost Writer (Raven Maxim Book 1) by Tiana Laveen Page B
Authors: Tiana Laveen
Tags: Fiction
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tinge of pain gripped Sloan’s heart upon recalling those untroubled days. He missed them… the freedom, being completely careless and carefree, a time when life was still simple. A time before he’d become embroiled in the aftermath of loss and consequences. Before he’d gotten a big nasty dose of reality, the one that woke him up and never let him slumber in peace again.
“Yeah.” He nodded, raising the glass to his lips again, knowing damn well the well had run dry. “I remember those days. Good times.”
“A Sloan,” his old work friend David chimed in from the other side of Mike. “There’s some nice looking ladies here.” He winked at the man in a silly sort of way. “If I were single, I’d mingle.”
“What?” Sloan shrugged. “You’re taking lessons from Mike here on tormenting me? Look, guys, I just moved here, all right? I’m tryna work.” He tossed up his hands. “My publisher is waiting for my book, breathing down my damn neck. I got only half the electricity running in the house, and only one of the johns flushes without backing up. I have barely gotten any sleep from all the unpacking, stripping the walls, cleaning, tossin’ shit out and painting, and my son, the forever child, keeps asking me for money.” He smiled lightly. “The last thing on my mind is getting a broad.”
“But you need it.” Mike grinned.
This conversation seemed to have no end in sight.
“What I need is a good night’s rest.” He chuckled. “My new bed finally arrives tomorrow. Sleeping on that air mattress Michelle let me borrow just isn’t cutting it.” He ran his hand over his sore shoulder, still feeling the sting from the restless snooze.
“I’m trying to imagine your tall ass on a little air mattress, Sloan!” David chuckled so hard, he could hardly get the words out. “Didn’t your daughter buy that for her kid? I bet it looks like a damn horse tryna get settled on one of those twisty balloons the clowns roll up into all sorts of shapes!” Sloan casually threw up his middle finger in the bastard’s direction, but this only caused more guffawing.
“Have you tried any dating services? eHarmony isn’t half bad!” Owen chimed in, shaking his shoulder length salt and ginger hair as if he’d been caught in the rain.
“Nah.” Sloan turned and gave a lazy glance to the band that now played a depressing tune he could have done without: ‘If You Leave Me Now’ by Chicago. “It would be awkward. It’s not really my thing. I mean…” He shrugged. “What would I say in a personals ad, anyway?”
“What do you mean what would you say? You’re a fucking writer.” Owen laughed dismally, as if this were a no-brainer. “I’m sure you could write a woman’s panties right off her body. Your pen is your new penis.” At this, the other guys got to laughing as well, causing a wave of silly warmth to hold him close. He laughed at the words, too… Thoughts of his picture in that magazine Mike had thrust in his face hit him, as well as the things he’d expressed in the interview. That man that had stared back at him from the page looked confident; his librettos were crisp, concise. It seemed like the Sloan Steele of that interview knew what he was doing…
I sure know how to play a role now, don’t I? I was so good at pretending in that interview, I almost convinced MYSELF it was true…
…And why do they keep trying to get me to date? Yeah, I know how long it’s been, but time is relative, right? My marriage has actually been over for a long time; to be exact, over two years, divorce finalized six months and two weeks ago. Will I ever forget the timeline? Doesn’t seem like it. I can barely recall how old I am, but I know the exact date of when everything fell apart…
This is bullshit. The whole dating scene is bullshit.
I don’t have time for that… Besides, I have bags under my eyes and I am exhausted. This renovation is killing me, but I’m determined to finish it as soon as
“Yeah.” He nodded, raising the glass to his lips again, knowing damn well the well had run dry. “I remember those days. Good times.”
“A Sloan,” his old work friend David chimed in from the other side of Mike. “There’s some nice looking ladies here.” He winked at the man in a silly sort of way. “If I were single, I’d mingle.”
“What?” Sloan shrugged. “You’re taking lessons from Mike here on tormenting me? Look, guys, I just moved here, all right? I’m tryna work.” He tossed up his hands. “My publisher is waiting for my book, breathing down my damn neck. I got only half the electricity running in the house, and only one of the johns flushes without backing up. I have barely gotten any sleep from all the unpacking, stripping the walls, cleaning, tossin’ shit out and painting, and my son, the forever child, keeps asking me for money.” He smiled lightly. “The last thing on my mind is getting a broad.”
“But you need it.” Mike grinned.
This conversation seemed to have no end in sight.
“What I need is a good night’s rest.” He chuckled. “My new bed finally arrives tomorrow. Sleeping on that air mattress Michelle let me borrow just isn’t cutting it.” He ran his hand over his sore shoulder, still feeling the sting from the restless snooze.
“I’m trying to imagine your tall ass on a little air mattress, Sloan!” David chuckled so hard, he could hardly get the words out. “Didn’t your daughter buy that for her kid? I bet it looks like a damn horse tryna get settled on one of those twisty balloons the clowns roll up into all sorts of shapes!” Sloan casually threw up his middle finger in the bastard’s direction, but this only caused more guffawing.
“Have you tried any dating services? eHarmony isn’t half bad!” Owen chimed in, shaking his shoulder length salt and ginger hair as if he’d been caught in the rain.
“Nah.” Sloan turned and gave a lazy glance to the band that now played a depressing tune he could have done without: ‘If You Leave Me Now’ by Chicago. “It would be awkward. It’s not really my thing. I mean…” He shrugged. “What would I say in a personals ad, anyway?”
“What do you mean what would you say? You’re a fucking writer.” Owen laughed dismally, as if this were a no-brainer. “I’m sure you could write a woman’s panties right off her body. Your pen is your new penis.” At this, the other guys got to laughing as well, causing a wave of silly warmth to hold him close. He laughed at the words, too… Thoughts of his picture in that magazine Mike had thrust in his face hit him, as well as the things he’d expressed in the interview. That man that had stared back at him from the page looked confident; his librettos were crisp, concise. It seemed like the Sloan Steele of that interview knew what he was doing…
I sure know how to play a role now, don’t I? I was so good at pretending in that interview, I almost convinced MYSELF it was true…
…And why do they keep trying to get me to date? Yeah, I know how long it’s been, but time is relative, right? My marriage has actually been over for a long time; to be exact, over two years, divorce finalized six months and two weeks ago. Will I ever forget the timeline? Doesn’t seem like it. I can barely recall how old I am, but I know the exact date of when everything fell apart…
This is bullshit. The whole dating scene is bullshit.
I don’t have time for that… Besides, I have bags under my eyes and I am exhausted. This renovation is killing me, but I’m determined to finish it as soon as
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