I'm finished drafting Raining Down Redemption and I feel like sharing a little teaser from the first chapter. Granted, things can change in the editing/publishing process, but who doesn't like a little preview of what's to come?
So, without further pause, here is a tidbit of Chapter One from Raining Down Redemption.
CHAPTER ONE
Jordan
The energy in this arena is electric—it
makes the blood in my veins pound to the rhythmic chanting of the awaiting
crowd. They call my name alternating with our latest hit single, the one I
wrote for Jemma. God I miss that girl. We take the stage, the fans scream,
lights flash a bright white and rain down scorching heat making me remember
just how hot the Phoenix summer heat can be. Except it’s the middle of January.
We run through our set list and almost two hours later I’m drenched in sweat,
my clothes stick to every inch of my body but it’s over.
White Shadow’s Recovery Tour is over.
Our PR rep suggested the title since I finally
chose to stay clean twenty months ago, and in truth, the band needed something
to promote change. It’s been a bumpy road, but it feels incredible. I can’t
believe after almost eight years, I’ve completed fourteen months of shows
without drugs or alcohol. That had never happened before I met Jemma.
Backstage, all six of us hug, slap
shoulders and can’t contain our smiles. A successful concert will do that to
you—bring out the most girlish feelings in the manliest of men. I’ve put these
guys—my friends—through hell over the years, but with this tour fences have
been mended and we’re stronger than ever.
“Food?” Carson, our keyboardist suggests.
It’s tradition now that I’m clean. We find an all-night diner, talk about the
show and stuff our bellies. Tonight is no exception. Except we’re back home in
Phoenix and there is only one place we all want to go: Eggseptional. Best
pancakes in the state of Arizona and after a show like the one we just killed,
we jump in the van and take off towards the hole-in-the-wall diner on Fifteenth
not discussing the matter further.
The six of us spill out of the van and
trudge through the almost empty parking lot. The diner looks the same, tucked
into a corner of an old black and white brick building with the 1950s neon
diner waitress flashing above the entrance. Once inside, the air is thick with
old grease and the salty scent of bacon and I feel at home. The guys and I used
to come here all throughout high school and up until we scored our record deal.
We slide into a large booth near the back
and study the menu even though I’m pretty sure we all know what we want. You
come here three times a week for three years you get to know the menu fairly
intimately.
“Yep, buttermilk pancakes and the Rocky
Mountain scramble are calling my name,” Drake says as he rubs his belly. “What
are y’all having?” The guys mumble their responses as Grant glances up and
blows out a low whistle.
“Look at those legs,” he says with his
eyes nearly popping out of his skull. “Damn, I’d like to…” The waitress turns
and my brain stutters, like it has trouble keeping pace with my racing heart. “Holy
shit, is that Reggie?” Grant clears his throat as he glances to me. “Shit, man.
I didn’t know. Sorry.”
I wave him off and inhale a huge gulp of air
that catches in my throat. “It’s fine, bro.” I cough and pound my chest with my
fist. “We haven’t seen each other since graduation.”
“You two were inseparable though.”
“That was a hell of a long time ago.” The
years between us have been really good to her; she’s filled out looking more
like a woman than a teenager. When she glances to our table she stops dead in
her tracks, her smile fades, eyes widen and her knuckles grip the pitcher of
water she’s holding. Her long brown hair is tied at the base of her neck, her
cheeks carry a hint of rose pink and her lips, God I can still remember how
they feel—how they taste. She slightly shakes her head side to side as if chasing
away a memory. Her slender hand tucks a stray hair behind her ear and lingers
on her jaw as she makes her way to our table.
The simple gesture, so familiar shakes me
to my core and I feel like I’m eighteen again sitting with Reggie behind the
football field bleachers. We’re holding hands and talking about the future. Mine
hopefully included a record deal, hers less in the limelight, but she wanted to
be a teacher. My hands grip the fabric of her jeans at her hips as I pull her
between my legs. She practically purrs at my touch and when our lips crush
together all coherent thought is lost. She tastes like spearmint and summer heat
and when her hands trail down my arms stopping at the top of my thighs I
declare it time to head back to my place. My girl is too good to take behind
the football field.
Eight years ago it was like Reggie was
built just for me—we fit together perfectly—like two puzzle pieces coming
together. It killed me when she let me go shortly after graduation. Looking
back now, I understand why she did and I’m glad for it. It would not have been
fair to her having me gone, high and screwing any girl that came my way. Some
times I wonder how I’m still alive after all the shit I’ve done.
***
Did you like it? Do you want more? I can't wait to share it all with you! (where is the thumbs up emoticon when you need it?)
