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As my mother's 24/7 caregiver, November being National Family Caregivers Month has always been important to me. Not because I want personal recognition for what I do but to help show people that caregiving is more than just medical assistance, it can also be emotional, physical, psychological, that it effects every aspects of a person's life, it can be temporary, short term, long term, chronic,. I would give anything to make it so my mother did not need the assistance but that isn't possible so I do this so she can have the best quality of life and still live in her own home. So I realized that there are stories out there that have caregivers and whether it's a big or small part of the plot doesn't matter, they help show people what caregivers provide all within very entertaining romances and reading experiences.
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Slay Ride by Davidson King
Summary:
Saint Brothers #1
Christmas is a time for joy, family, and friends to gather around the tree and fill their hearts with love. Unfortunately, there are some people who don’t deserve happiness during the holidays.
Mason keeps to himself. His best friend, JJ, is the only one he chooses to be close to, plus his job keeps him busy. Excitement isn’t something he needs or wants in his life. One night, that all changes when he’s cornered, and his life is threatened. His saviors? Well, they turn out to be just as dangerous, and the mysteries surrounding them soon flip Mason’s world upside down.
Gabe and his brothers spend their lives making sure those who deserve death get what’s coming to them. The one person they never see coming is Mason. What for them should have been a simple rescue turns into even more chaos than they ever thought possible.
Enter the Saint brothers’ dark and twisted world on a slay ride that will have you on the edge of your seat, swooning for the bad boys, and trying to survive the fall of revenge.
**This was originally a short story that was part of the Christmas Anthology O Deadly Night Vol 1. It has since been expanded to a full-length novel. No Cliffhanger!
Original Review October Book of the Month 2023:
How is it possible that someone who can create such dark, twisted, and ethically ambiguous characters so expertly is walking around free and innocent in the world without creating such havoc and mayhem in their wake? Just kidding. Davidson King, though innocent may be a bit of a stretch in certain areas😉😉, obviously is a woman of two minds: 1. the lovely heartwarming person so many know and call friend and 2. the twisted, evil storyteller who loves to put her characters and readers through an emotional rollercoaster.
And HOLY HANNAH BATMAN! what a holiday rollercoaster Slay Ride is.
I say "holiday" because the story takes place as Christmas nears and for me even having just one scene makes a story or film a holiday entertaining good time. Of course, it doesn't hurt that as much as I love the Hallmark-y feel good holiday creations, a dark and twisted holiday tale of mayhem is right up my alley.
I don't do spoilers so I won't touch on particulars but I will say I thought Slay Ride had a little more, well not "off page" violence but the scenes of revenge and vengeance were perhaps not as descriptive as some of King's other works. That's not to say she glossed over anything because there is no doubts as to what is happening/happened to the characters, what drives the Saint brothers to do what they do. Personally, I think there are times when a story is better when certain elements are left to the reader to fill in with their mind's eye, especially when there is a question of ethics, do two wrongs make a right? For this reader, the need for justice and closure is definitely warranted and welcomed.
*Shhhh, don't tell anyone but between us, I would have loved to see certain characters suffer a bit more.*😉😉
As for the mains, Mason and Gabe? What a lovely duo they make. Sometimes we need that one special person to make everything fall into place, to wake up one's heart, to provide the missing puzzle piece. That is exactly what Gabe and Mason are to each other. There is no real "cute meet" for the pair, awkwardly flirtatious perhaps but not really cute and what happens next is most definitely not cute by any stretch of the imagination but it does set everything and everyone on a collision course that changes all involved.
Slay Ride is a dark and dangerous tale of revenge and vengeance but it's also a tale of friendship, family(blood and found), love, and loads of heart. Another great example of pure storytelling that may not be for the feint of heart but I for one am already looking forward to the next installment of the Saint Brothers, hopefully Shep and JJ's journey but whichever brother decides to clue Davidson King in on their path I'll be first in line to read.
Summary:
Perspectives #5
Can a jaded porn star with a painful past and a shy nurse who’s been burned before learn to believe in themselves and find their happily ever after?
Rick Fowler enjoys his job as rising Internet porn star Adam Swift, but it’s not exactly a career he can bring up on first dates. His few attempts at dating have all been disasters, so he’s keeping his head down and working on remaining sober. When his toxic, perma-cranky Uncle Gerard—the man who took Rick in when he was fourteen—needs round-the-clock care, Rick steps up.
In-home nurse Vinson Larrazzo is always up for a challenge. He definitely finds one in the rude Gerard Fowler—and Gerard’s shockingly gorgeous nephew Rick, who is just as grumpy. And since Vinson’s first priority is always his patient, he ignores his strong—and highly unprofessional—feelings for Rick.
But their chemistry is undeniable, and a snowstorm gives them get the perfect chance to explore it. Vinson has faith they can make it work, but to have a future together, Rick needs to find enough faith in himself to own his mistakes and let go of the past—even if that means confronting his uncle about an incident that put Rick on his dangerous, damaging road to addiction. And the fallout of those secrets might be more than Rick’s relationship with Vinson can bear.
Note: This 74,000-word novel is part of the ongoing “Perspectives” series, but it can be read as a standalone.
Slay Ride by Davidson King
His Faith As He Finds It by AM Arthur
MASON
“The world is a dangerous place, not because of those who do evil, but because of those who look on and do nothing.” ~ Albert Einstein
CHAPTER ONE
“You’re coming out tonight. Please say you are,” JJ, my best friend in all the world, pouted as he asked. Was I so predictable that he knew I wanted to say no before he finished his sentence?
“I’m closing tonight.” I probably could convince my manager at Books and Bistro to let me go early. She’d be happy to know I had a social life, but I was not a people person, and being around strangers was a special kind of torture. They were always a disappointment, super judgmental, and most of them simply wanted something from you. JJ was the exception.
After my parents died in a house fire when I was ten, JJ’s parents took me in. I had no other family, so his became mine. JJ knew me better than anyone.
“Okay, so you’ll be a little late. It’s a Christmas party at Scheherazade, invitation only, and I snagged us some. Please, Mason?”
With a heavy sigh, I nodded. “Okay, I can meet you in front of the club at eleven.”
JJ hugged me so tightly, I swore my bones cracked. I wasn’t a big guy. At five foot four, I weighed one hundred and twenty pounds. I loved food but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bulk up, so I stopped working on it. Add in my dull brown eyes, and I really wasn’t anything to write home about. I had good hair, though—a perfect auburn color.
I loved my job at Books and Bistro and was on the fast track to becoming a manager. I just knew it. What more did a person need besides books, food, coffee, and comfy couches to read on? Nothing.
“Okay, love you, gotta run.” JJ rushed out of my apartment, likely late for his job. He had gotten a position at some law firm and was loving it. When he’d gone off to college, I’d decided not to. I’d been working at Books and Bistro ever since I graduated high school.
“See you later,” I shouted to the now-empty space.
My place was perfect for me, and honestly, I didn’t actually have to work. My parents had left me a life insurance policy, and my grandparents had set up a trust fund for me as well. I gave JJ’s parents the entire insurance settlement after my folks died, even though they said they didn’t want it. It was the least I could do.
I’d bought an apartment outright. It overlooked the river on one end and the city on the other. I had three bedrooms, a kitchen, and a comfy living room, so in truth, it was all I needed.
Yeah, I hated people, but I hated being lonely just as much…I was a conundrum, no question about it. Books and Bistro was like a second home for me—it filled my loneliness tank and kept my head above water.
My life was pretty good, and I couldn’t complain too much about it.
As soon as JJ and I entered Scheherazade, I deflated. I had never set foot inside the exclusive place, but what had kept my curiosity piqued was the expectation that the interior based its name on its origin. It did not. They clearly only liked the name Scheherazade and not the story behind the character.
“I know that look,” JJ shouted over the stupidly loud music.
“What look?”
He rolled his eyes. “You thought this club would be like the book One Thousand and One Nights, didn’t you?”
He did know me so well. “It’s just that I’d hoped maybe there’d be some Persian design, at least. But this place is no different than Club Rain or that other one that was a carbon copy of every other place you’ve dragged me to.”
“You’re being a bah humbug!” JJ playfully shoved my shoulder.
“There aren’t even any Christmas lights up. How is this a Christmas party?” He waved me over to follow him to the bar. The bartender wore a Santa hat, and JJ gave me a pointed look. “See?”
“Wow, you sure showed me,” I deadpanned.
JJ ignored me and ordered us each a holiday drink, and I scanned the entire area. There were so many bodies swaying, rubbing. I mean, was it dancing or sex?
“Drink.” He shoved a glass in my face. It was red, and the straw was designed to look like a candy cane.
I sipped the fruity and slightly minty drink and continued people-watching.
“Let’s dance.” JJ grabbed my arm, but I quickly pulled away.
“Absolutely not. I can barely walk without falling on my face. Why would you want me to go out there and murder people with my flailing limbs?”
“Dra. Mat. Ic!” He chugged his drink and placed the empty glass on the bar. “I’m dancing. Watch me and make sure no creeper tries to manhandle me.”
“You’d like it,” I joked.
I watched as the crowd pulled JJ in until he was part of the gyrating machine that embodied the entire club.
I could people-watch all day. No, I wasn’t a fan of mankind, but I loved coming up with stories in my head about them. I saw a woman between two men. Desperate to find her one true love, she willingly subjected herself to depravity to find him.
A man kissed another man near the DJ booth. They were aggressive in their touching, and I could picture them in a few hours, tumbling onto a bed, wrapped in each other and silk sheets. Making promises they’d surely end up breaking just so they could reach their climax.
“Jack and coke,” a deep, smooth voice beside me said, pulling me away from my internal storytelling.
Well. Damn. He was tall and built without being mountainous. He had a sweep going on in the front of his perfectly styled brown hair. Did I mention he was wearing all leather?
I was staring, and maybe sniffing, because holy hell, he smelled good.
His eyes met mine, and while lust pooled in my gut, fear began to settle in too. His eyes were dark, fathomless. As if they’d never seen light and vowed never to let it in. The furrow in his brow and his permafrown were quite off-putting. My brain was yelling at me to look away, but his eyes were like tractor beams, hypnotizing me with their intensity.
“What are you drinking?”
He was talking to me. Speak words, Mason.
“Uh, I’m not sure.”
He cocked his head. “You’re drinking something, and you have no idea what it is?”
I shrugged. “My friend bought it. I think it’s some holiday special.”
He turned to the bartender when his drink was handed to him. “Another holiday whatever that is, for this guy too.”
He bought me a drink? “Thanks. I’m Mason.” Yay for words.
“Gabe.” He sat on the stool, drink in hand, and scanned the room. While I never knew what I was looking for, Gabe seemed to be searching for something or someone in particular.
“Your Fruity Festivus,” the bartender said, and Gabe raised his brows.
“Thanks for humiliating me.” I narrowed my eyes at the giver of alcohol and took my drink. The bartender didn’t give a shit about embarrassing me.
“Is it good?” Gabe asked.
“Want to try it?” I held it under his nose, and he sniffed.
“Nah, I’m fine.”
Gabe returned to his searching, and I returned to my internal storytelling.
“Motherfucker.” The anger and disdain in Gabe’s tone had me leaning away from him. He jumped off the stool and turned to me. “I gotta talk to someone. I was thinking we’d maybe fuck later?”
Seriously? “Did you just ask me for a fuck? With no finesse at all?”
He peered over his shoulder at me. “No time to waste, am I right? So, yeah, I’ll be back in like five minutes.”
He didn’t give me a chance to answer. He was working his way through the dance floor toward some guy. As soon as he was on him, I noticed four others joined Gabe. Who the hell was this man?
His Faith As He Finds It by AM Arthur
1
Rick Fowler let out a long groan and resisted throwing his head back in ecstasy as Avery sucked his dick like a goddamn Hoover, because that might ruin the shot. Subscribers loved being able to see all aspects of the action, and from Dell’s position kneeling next to Avery with the camera angled up, Dell probably had a tight shot on both the dick-sucking action below and Rick’s face above.
Okay, so technically, it was the face of his porn personality, Adam Swift, but whatever. They’d been filming the scene for about two hours, and they had to be getting close to the actual fucking. But this was also Dell’s first time not only as cameraman, but also directing the scene. Their producer and regular director, Chet Green, stood off to the side, simply watching his nephew work.
Rick’s orgasm teased him from very close by, so he instinctively reached down and dragged Avery up into a kiss. Avery was fun in bed because he was an aggressive kisser, but also a total bottom. He had long dreads that felt great against Rick’s body, a thick, tree-trunk-like build, and gorgeous ebony skin. This was their third scene together since Avery joined the studio back in the spring.
Of course, Rick had only worked for Mean Green Boys for about fifteen months, counting his medical hiatus last Christmas. It would be nice to spend this Christmas on his feet, rather than healing from a gunshot.
He flinched at the memory, hoped the camera didn’t get it, and put his head back in the game. Kissing Avery was no hardship, and Rick reached down to stroke Avery’s thick cock.
“This is perfect, you guys,” Dell said. “Ready to move to penetration?”
They broke apart, and the clinical words made Rick chuckle. Chet would have said, “Okay, boys, time to fuck,” but Dell was still shy about certain things. Plus, he was younger than his models, so telling two guys older than him to go ahead and fuck had to be sort of strange.
Rick rolled across the on-set bed and reached for the condom they’d purposely left out to be seen and used. A few months ago, Dell had proposed they start showing their models putting on condoms in the finished product, and Chet had agreed to give it a try. After the first scene went up with no real negative feedback, they edited it in with more frequency. Rick thought it was kind of hot.
Safe sex is sexy.
And after too many years of dangerous, unprotected sex, Rick was all about safety.
Avery grabbed the lube from under the pillow. His signature move was fingering himself while his partner gloved up, so this time, Rick waited, condom in hand, while Dell filmed Avery stretching and lubing himself—something Rick also found incredibly hot.
They also dirty-talked it up, with Avery begging for Rick’s big cock, and Rick saying he couldn’t wait to fuck him. Once Avery was ready, Rick rolled on the condom, and they all moved positions so Avery could ride him, facing away so Dell could film Rick playing with Avery’s hole. Dell had them fuck in a variety of positions, with brief pauses to add lube, for close to two hours, and by the end, Avery was panting, Rick really wanted to nut-off, and Dell finally called for the money shot.
Thank Christ.
Rick pulled out, turned Avery onto his back, stripped the rubber, and then jerked off over his chest. His come painted Avery’s pecs and throat, and Rick leaned down to lick some of it up. Then he sucked Avery off, satisfied to see Avery’s come join his after an impressive spurt. Rick gave Dell time to pan the camera over the mess, and then climbed up to kiss Avery until Dell called, “Cut and wrap.”
“Phew.” Avery held up a hand that Rick happily slapped in a low-five. “Dude.”
“Did I go too hard?” Rick asked as he flopped onto his back next to Avery. He didn’t have the biggest dick in the company, but he’d gone hard and for a long time.
“Nah. Just need to catch my breath.”
Dell appeared with chilled bottles of water for them. “Thank you, guys, you were amazing. I can’t wait to edit this.”
“Awesome,” Rick replied, grinning lazily at his sort-of friend and definite boss now. He and Dell had a complicated history, but they’d put a lot of animosity and blame behind them these past few months. “I call the shower!”
Avery squawked in protest, but Rick scrambled off the bed, grabbed his gym bag off the floor and raced upstairs. Mean Green shot in the basement of Chet’s home, and there was an upstairs full-bath just off the foyer where the models showered after scenes, sometimes together and sometimes apart. Rick wouldn’t mind if Avery joined him; he really liked the guy, even if he didn’t have a clue what his real name was.
Since he’d topped, it only took a minute to rinse off, and then he got dressed. Once he was in the foyer, and Avery darted inside the bathroom, Rick checked his phone. Missed call and voice mail from an unknown number. Most of the time, those were solicitations of some sort, but after all the mysterious calls Jon had gotten last year from his psycho stalker in the weeks before the attack, better safe than sorry.
He played the message.
“I’m trying to reach Mr. Rick Fowler on behalf of Mr. Gerard Fowler. My name is Tiffany Rice, and I’m a patient advocate here at PinnacleHealth Hospital in Harrisburg. Can you please call me back at your earliest convenience?”She rattled off a return number and hung up.
Rick stared at his phone, his stomach sloshy with acid. He hadn’t spoken to his Uncle Gerard in almost a year. Not since Christmas Day last year, and with Christmas looming in six more days, he hadn’t expected to hear from Gerard until then. But the hospital was calling him, which meant something was wrong.
As much as Rick did not want to get involved in that man’s life again—Rick had worked too fucking hard to rebuild his life these past few years—they were the only free family they had left. Rick’s dad (Gerard’s brother Gordon) was currently serving twenty-to-life for fraud and theft.
He also didn’t want to have this conversation in the foyer, where one of Chet’s live-in boyfriends could overhear, so Rick put on his coat and scarf, and then went outside to his car. Gunned the engine. While it warmed, he made the call.
After a redirect, “This is Tiffany Rice,” chirped over his phone.
“I’m Rick Fowler, returning your call about Gerard. Is he dead?”
“Oh no, dear, nothing like that,” Tiffany replied.
Damn it.
Rick would cry no tears at that man’s funeral. “Then what’s going on?”
“Mr. Fowler was in a work-related accident that caused both of his legs to be crushed beneath machinery. While surgeons were able to save his legs, the severity of the injuries have left him in an immobile state. He won’t be able to walk and care for himself for some time.
Oh no, no way in hell. “I am not moving in with him. Send him to rehab.” Rick didn’t care if his words were callous. Sent to live with his paternal uncle at fourteen, Gerard had made him beg for every scrap, work even to sleep in his own damned bed, and Rick owed the man nothing.
“Mr. Fowler is currently in a rehab facility, but he is extremely belligerent and verbally abusive to the staff, and there have been enough complaints that they are seeking alternative care. He can continue physical therapy at home for now, and we all feel that’s the best option for him.”
“Sucks to be him then, because I won’t do it.”
“I understand this must be a difficult decision for you to make—”
“It’s actually a really easy one, Miss Rice. You say he’s being abusive to the staff. Can you imagine how he treated a sixteen-year-old boy?”
She was quiet a beat. “Another solution is putting you on his record as the welfare guardian, while hiring a nurse to see to Mr. Fowler’s daily needs. That care is covered by his workplace insurance.”
Rick watched Avery leave the house and walk down the snowy sidewalk to his own parked car, uncertain about having any part in this. “I won’t have to actually take care of Gerard if I hire a nurse, right?”
“Correct, but you will be held responsible by this agency for his continued recovery so make those hiring decisions with care. I can send you some helpful resources.”
“Fine. How long do I have to get this situation figured out?”
“Rehab has agreed to keep him through the New Year.”
New Year’s Day gave him less than two weeks to figure this shit out, and no backup to help him. Except…he glanced up at the house with its many lights blazing, several front windows outlined in holiday string lights. The Christmas tree visible through the gauzy curtains. Chet treated his models like family, and he always said he’d help if any of them had a problem.
No, it wasn’t fair to dump this on Chet.
“Fine, I’ll do what I can,” Rick replied. They went over a few more details of what he needed to sign and when before the fucking call was over.
Then he stared at his windshield at the suburban neighborhood around him. Quiet streets full of loving families, pets, and Christmas traditions. Rick hadn’t had any sort of real holiday traditions since he was fourteen—the year his dad went to prison and his mother killed herself.
The year he was shipped to Harrisburg to live with an uncle he barely knew, and who treated Rick like a burden from day one. A burden he couldn’t be bothered to protect from a predator all those years ago. Rick hadn’t lived in or gone near that damned house in years, and he didn’t want to go over there this week, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He wasn’t a soulless bastard like Gerard, so he’d make sure the old man got his nursing care and then go back to his life.
It was more than the old bastard deserved.
* * *
Vinson Larrazzo tugged at the collar of his button-down, glad he’d forgone a sweater, because his parents’ house was freaking hot. Relatives clogged the big downstairs living room, dining room, and kitchen for the annual Christmas Eve potluck. The official start-time was two, but people had been arriving since noon, which was when Vinson came over to help his mother set up and put finishing touches on the decorations.
He much preferred the quiet of two hours ago to the bustle of now. He stood off to the side of the living room with a cup of spiced rum punch in his hand, trying to blend into the wallpaper. Probably shouldn’t be drinking the rum punch with his meds, but he’d need the help to get through this shindig.
Social anxiety disorder sucked.
It helped that he had a job he loved where he interacted with as few people as humanly possible—except for the occasions when the family of his patients randomly stopped by to visit, but even then, when Vinson was working, he was calm. In control. And he was very much not working now, so he gulped at his punch.
“Uncle Vinson!” his seven-year-old niece Jaida launched herself into his arms, nearly upsetting the punch, but he’d drank enough that it barely sloshed to the rim. “Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas, pipsqueak,” he replied and gave her a one-armed hug. Jaida’s little brother Jonah wrapped himself around Vinson’s leg. “Hey, kiddo.” Jaida and Jonah belonged to Vinson’s sister Ella, who was two years older than him and married to one of his best friends, Carmen Esteban. Vinson had four other sisters, all older and married with kids, and they made up the bulk of the guests, along with assorted friends and neighbors.
Ella and Carmen came over and hugged Vinson hello, offering holiday wishes. Last Christmas, Ella had conspired with his sisters to have eligible female guests lined up to interact with Vinson, and it had been complete and utter hell, but at least he knew that wouldn’t happen again. He’d made it very clear to his family that while he appreciated their interest in his love life, right now he simply chose not to date. Period.
Next to him, Carmen looked a touch nervous, and that was never a good sign.
“What’s going on?” Vinson asked once Ella and the kids had moved on to say hi to others. He’d known Carmen since high school, and he knew that expression. “What did you do?”
“It wasn’t me,” Carmen replied. “I, uh, might have eavesdropped on a conversation between Ella and your mom about neighbor guests who have a gay son.”
Vinson groaned, then tipped back the last of the rum punch. “For goodness’ sake, it never ends.”
“Dude, you’re the one who went to Big Dick’s with me and got a boner dancing with all those shirtless dudes. Besides, your fam seems totally supportive of you being gay. Well, not your dad so much, but everyone else.”
Vinson hadn’t had a great relationship with his dad since Vinson was a teenager, when he showed more interest in a medical career than in one day taking over the family restaurant, Larrazzo’s Kitchen Table. Founded by Vinson’s great-grandfather, it had been a Harrisburg institution since 1954. Family owned and operated, now with three of sisters working there with their parents.
But Vinson wasn’t a restaurateur, and the only son of Giovanni Larrazzo wanted nothing to do with the restaurant, sports, or any of the “manly” things he’d tried to teach Vinson when he was a kid. Add being bisexual—something Vinson had known since college but never told anyone—on top of that? Disappointments galore.
After his sisters’ combined attempts to set him up on dates with women last year turned into an epic failure, Carmen had thought outside the box and dragged Vinson out for a night at a local gay club. Unable to admit to his best friend that he knew he was attracted to men, Vinson went along with it. He wasn’t looking to date, but it had been ages since Vinson had let go and had fun, so why not? And after two shots of tequila, Vinson had felt brave enough to start dancing with a hot, shirtless guy, and it wasn’t long before he had an erection to match his dance partner’s. But after the guy started suggesting they go somewhere to get off, Vinson had fled with Carmen.
He wasn’t into hookups, period.
After the club outing, Carmen had intimated to the family that Vinson might be gay, not straight, and Vinson simply went with it. Trying to explain being bisexual was too complicated when he didn’t have any interest in dating. Right now, Vinson was dedicated to his career and his patients.
No time for romance with any gender. Single was safer.
“You know, it really is okay to put yourself out there again,” Carmen whispered. “It’s been what? Six years?”
Vinson gave him a sharp look, and Carmen put his hands up in surrender. No one else in the family knew why his brief relationship with Monica had really ended, and it needed to stay that way.
Around two-thirty, once Mama deemed everyone had arrived, the family gathered as best they could around the kitchen island and its wonderful buffet of food. Vinson quickly refilled his punch before Father said the blessing over their meal and the hands who’d made it, amen.
Vinson silently sipped his punch and slipped back out of the kitchen before the horde descended on the food. He had less use for religion than he did for the family restaurant.
Folks greeted him as Vinson passed by, on his way to the staircase to hide for a while. He studied the framed photos and collages lining the wall going up, until his gaze landed on the last good one of Nonno, taken a few months before his cancer diagnosis. Nonno had passed away when Vinson was sixteen, and the experience had left a lasting mark on Vinson’s life.
The photo was surrounded by so many others: the various graduations of six children, their parents’ wedding photo, the wedding photos of all his sisters, and many of their myriad families. Married with children, the lot of them. Everyone except Vinson.
“There you are,” Mama said from the bottom of the stairs. “I wondered where you disappeared to.”
“Letting the crowd thin before I get food,” he replied as he descended the three steps he’d gone up. At the bottom, though, he noticed a woman his mother’s age standing with guy Vinson’s age, and he stifled a groan.
“Vinson, honey, you remember the Pattersons, don’t you?” Mama asked. “They lived across the street until a few years ago.”
“Of course.” Vinson vaguely recalled playing kickball in the street with a much-younger version of the guy. “Katherine and Jarrod, correct?”
“Very good,” Mrs. Patterson replied. “It’s so nice to see you, Vinson, and looking so well.”
“Thank you, ma’am. You look stunning, yourself.”
“Oh, such a charmer. My, my, you and Jarrod must have years to catch up on. Let’s leave them alone, Rosabel.”
Mama patted his arm, then disappeared with Mrs. Patterson. Vinson rocked back on his heels, sipping his punch as a stalling tool.
“Full disclosure,” Jarrod said, “I think our moms are trying to set us up.”
Vinson nearly snarfed his punch. “No kidding.” He observed Jarrod, who was fit and tall, and filled out his jeans and reindeer sweater nicely. A pretty package that Vinson should have found interesting, right? Except all he found himself doing was picking out the flaws: Jarrod’s bad posture, the bit of green stuck in his teeth, and the cloying odor of his cologne.
“So, how’ve you been?” Jarrod asked.
“I’ve been well, thank you. You?”
“Good. I’m actually a paralegal at an up-and-coming law firm out in Lancaster.”
“County?”
Jarrod grinned, showing off more of that distracting green bit. “The actual town of Lancaster. Have you been?”
“Many times. Difficult not to when we live so close.”
“Oh, well, I’d never been until I got the job. It’s cool, a lot of Amish folk.”
Vinson raised an eyebrow at a statement so obvious it hurt.
“So what do you do?” Jarrod asked.
“I’m a home care nurse, specializing in long-term and palliative care.”
“What’s palliative care?”
“It’s similar to hospice, but different, too. We offer alike services, but we do round-the-clock care in-home, whereas hospice only does part-time in-home care. Full-time hospice is done in a facility.”
“Oh. Damn, so like, you help people die?”
“I keep them comfortable and provide resources for their surviving family members, during both fatal and non-fatal illnesses or injuries.”
“Wow.” Jarrod seemed both horrified and impressed. “Well, somebody has to do it, so good on you.”
Vinson hated when people praised him for his profession, as if he was somehow sacrificing some part of himself to it, when it fulfilled him in a way the restaurant never had. Yes, it was sad to see patients die, and it was even worse to see how some family members reacted to their grief, but Vinson wouldn’t change careers for the world.
One patient, out of the dozens and dozens he’d had, still haunted him after he’d watched the small family come together, and then be ripped apart. Last fall, he’d taken on the daytime care of Henry Pearson, a man dying of end-stage pancreatic cancer. Henry had just discovered a long-lost grandson he never knew existed named Isaac, and Henry had moved into Isaac’s house for his final few weeks.
Vinson had enjoyed watching Isaac create memories with his grandfather, as well as with his new boyfriend Jon. Jon was Henry’s much-younger best friend, and their trio had been a beautiful little family—until Henry passed the day after Thanksgiving, and Jon exploded in a rage. That sort of reaction wasn’t uncommon, even when death was imminent, because no one could predict how they’d experience the death of a loved one.
While Jon had fled from his grieving boyfriend that day, he and Isaac had eventually made their way back to each other and were happy.
Not all stories ended as happily.
An uncomfortable silence fell over them, and Vinson was not upset when his cell rang with Ross’s ringtone. “Excuse me,” Vinson said, then went upstairs to the second floor to answer it. “Hey, Ross, Merry Christmas.”
“Back at you, my friend.” Ross Cleary was his mentor and friend, and they worked for the same clinic. “I hate to drag you away from the party, but I got a lead for you.”
“Drag away, you know I hate these things.”
“Okay, so Rick Fowler needs some folks to split twenty-four-hour care for his uncle with two crushed legs. I just looked at the schedule, and if I shift your Florian visits around, you can start the day after New Year’s on third watch.”
Third watch was four pm until midnight. Vinson didn’t mind evenings, but with this kind of care, it also meant dinnertime meals. “Will there be family members involved?”
“Not directly. This Rick is the patient’s only family, and he apparently has an antagonistic relationship with him, so Rick wants nothing to do with his uncle’s recovery.”
Vinson bit back a growl. He hated it when patients in need were rejected by their own family, no matter the reasons. It made him agree before he really thought it out. “Okay, I’ll sign on for third watch. Open-ended?”
“At least two months before we can probably downgrade to a single daily shift, but that all depends on his recovery.”
“Ross, if this guy is so bad off, why isn’t he in a rehab center?”
A long pause prefaced Ross’s answer. “Because the patient was kicked out of rehab for verbally abusing the staff.”
Vinson groaned and leaned his forehead against the upstairs wall. “You couldn’t have led with that, dude?”
“You can handle it. I’ve seen you work with the angriest, most bitter patients on the planet. You can handle one grumpy old coot who isn’t even dying. He just needs time and attention, and if you’re lucky, he conks out every night at eight.”
One can hope.
But his schedule had been fairly light recently, so knowing he had a long-term gig, plus the twice weekly visits to see Mrs. Florian, should get him through the next few months just fine.
“When do I meet my patient?” Vinson asked.
Davidson King, always had a hope that someday her daydreams would become real-life stories. As a child, you would often find her in her own world, thinking up the most insane situations. It may have taken her awhile, but she made her dream come true with her first published work, Snow Falling.
When she's not writing you can find her blogging away on Diverse Reader, her review and promotional site. She managed to wrangle herself a husband who matched her crazy and they hatched three wonderful children.
If you were to ask her what gave her the courage to finally publish, she'd tell you it was her amazing family and friends. Support is vital in all things and when you're afraid of your dreams, it will be your cheering section that will lift you up.
A.M. Arthur was born and raised in the same kind of small town that she likes to write about, a stone's throw from both beach resorts and generational farmland. She's been creating stories in her head since she was a child and scribbling them down nearly as long, in a losing battle to make the fictional voices stop. She credits an early fascination with male friendships (bromance hadn't been coined yet back then) with her later discovery of and subsequent love affair with m/m romance stories. A.M. Arthur's work is available from Carina Press, SMP Swerve, and Briggs-King Books.
When not exorcising the voices in her head, she toils away in a retail job that tests her patience and gives her lots of story fodder. She can also be found in her kitchen, pretending she's an amateur chef and trying to not poison herself or others with her cuisine experiments.
Davidson King
EMAIL: davidsonkingauthor@yahoo.com
AM Arthur
Slay Ride by Davidson King
His Faith As He Finds It by AM Arthur
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