So, I had the idea for this a couple of weeks ago and started working on it today. \u00a0It’s going to be a contemporary romance, which I do a lot, but I’m doing it first person, all male, POV…something I’ve never done.<\/p>\n
I like doing new stuff and so far, this is fun. \u00a0Hopefully you’ll like it. \u00a0Dunno when I’ll be done with it, though. \u00a0Title, etc, will be posted if I finish it.<\/p>\n
I ain\u2019t no hero.<\/p>\n
If you\u2019re familiar with my story, either heard about me on the news or read about me in some gossip rag somewhere, then you maybe you think otherwise.\u00a0 Or maybe you\u2019re one of the smarter ones and you realize the truth of it\u2014realize that under it all, I\u2019m a bastard\u2014and a lucky son-of-a-bitch, too.<\/p>\n
But I ain\u2019t no hero.<\/p>\n
Some people, though, they insist on saying otherwise.<\/p>\n
If you want, you can have a seat, order yourself up a drink and I\u2019ll tell you the truth of it.\u00a0 I\u2019m in the talking mood.<\/p>\n
The story ain\u2019t always a pretty one, though.\u00a0 It can be downright ugly.\u00a0 Sometimes it\u2019s funny and sometimes, it\u2019s nothing but dirty.\u00a0 If you\u2019re looking for sunshine and roses, you might want to look on elsewhere.<\/p>\n
Still here? Okay, then.<\/p>\n
My name is Bobby.\u00a0 Bobby Cantrell, and please, do not call me Robert, or even Bob.\u00a0 Robert was my father\u2019s name and that bastard, may he rot in hell, was one of the first people in life to make me understand was pure mean was.\u00a0 It was a lesson that had to be learned, I guess, and he taught me well, but I want nothing to do with him, not even his name.\u00a0 My mom called him Bob and by default, I became Bobby.<\/p>\n
She\u2019d called me that for as long as I can remember and the sound of my name in her sweet voice is one of the few happy memories of my childhood, so Bobby is who I am.<\/p>\n
We grew up poor and broke in the eastern heart of Kentucky, right up until I turned thirteen.<\/p>\n
We up and left, Mama and me, not long after my father departed this earth and we moved around. A lot.<\/p>\n
Mama died when I was nineteen.\u00a0 Cancer took from me and anger settled deep, deep inside me.\u00a0 It took me a long, long time to realize just how angry I was, too.<\/p>\n
That anger just about ruined my life.<\/p>\n
It controlled me even up to the day my life finally changed<\/em>.<\/p>\n And it changed just twenty minutes after I\u2019d finished up a job interview\u2014I didn\u2019t get the job.<\/p>\n But then again, I hadn\u2019t really expected to.<\/p>\n There were\u2026elements, we\u2019ll say, from my past that men like me undesirable to just about every single damn employer out there.<\/p>\n Oh, I\u2019m smart enough.<\/p>\n Contrary to how it might sound.\u00a0 I might sound like some slow, country bumpkin who just fell off the back of a turnip trunk, but my brain works just fine.\u00a0 I even enjoyed school\u2014hell, why wouldn\u2019t I?\u00a0 It was an escape from school and I even had a free, hot meal every day.\u00a0 It took me a while to realize just why<\/em> I had a free, hot meal\u2014charity.\u00a0 My mama hadn\u2019t been too proud to ask for help for her boy.\u00a0 When my father found out, he hurt her something awful, but she didn\u2019t back down.<\/p>\n I never hated him more than I did\u2026sorry, my thoughts are prone to wandering, but you\u2019ll figure that out soon enough, if you haven\u2019t already.<\/p>\n Anyway, I enjoyed school, or I did\u2014up until I didn\u2019t.\u00a0 I may or may not explain that.\u00a0 We\u2019ll see how it goes.<\/p>\n But it wasn\u2019t my brain that kept me from getting a job and it wasn\u2019t that I wouldn\u2019t hard.\u00a0 Even my past employers would admit that I was one of the hardest workers they\u2019d ever had.\u00a0 I wasn\u2019t a thief\u2014I wouldn\u2019t take a damn thing I hadn\u2019t worked for and that was sometimes a problem.\u00a0 More than once, it had me out sleeping in the cold, or burning in the blistering heat of the sun when I couldn\u2019t afford to pay the rent.\u00a0 Too many times I\u2019d gone to bed hungry because I had no money to pay for food and I can\u2019t tell you how many often I\u2019d ended up cleaning up in some public restroom just because I had no place to take a shower.<\/p>\n It looked like I was about to be out on my ass again, too.\u00a0 I was already a week behind on my rent and the cheap-ass apartment I was in wasn\u2019t run by some guy with a heart of gold\u2014a heart of flint would be more fitting.<\/p>\n There I was, striding down West Muhammed Ali, moving through the crush that was already forming around the so-called party venue<\/em> that was Fourth Street Live.\u00a0 It was Mardi Gras.\u00a0 Louisville, Kentucky was not<\/em> New Orleans, but that didn\u2019t stop any party-lover from getting their drunk on.\u00a0 Girls was out there in skirts barely larger than my palm and shirts\u2014if you could call them that\u2014that barely covered the legal bits.\u00a0 I\u2019m a healthy, warm-blooded male.\u00a0 Yeah, I looked. And I wanted to grab them a damn coat.\u00a0 It was freezing. I was shivering in the threadbare coat I\u2019d found in a secondhand store a month ago. Under it, I had on a flannel and T-shirt and I was still<\/em> freezing.\u00a0 How could they stand to be out there in heels and mini-skirts and what was supposed to be a shirt?<\/p>\n I guess the alcohol helped.<\/p>\n One of the women looked up at that moment and caught my eye.<\/p>\n A slow smile curled her lips.<\/p>\n A hint of appreciation twisted through me, but I just kept on walking.<\/p>\n That place had a dress code and dollar limit that I couldn\u2019t afford.<\/p>\n I couldn\u2019t even buy myself a six-pack of the cheapest shit beer on the market.<\/p>\n Up ahead, a couple of cop cars sat, lights flashing.<\/p>\n