Levity works the streets of Welcome Boulevard, begging people for money. It keeps food in his belly, a leaky roof over his head, and he gets to do it with his best friend, Clove. No, it’s not the ideal life, but he does what he must to survive.
Salvatore Grillo is a man who is used to getting what he wants. He’s a loyal brother to his autistic sister, runs numerous business empires, and knows how to make people to bend to his will. It’s not often someone comes along and shakes things up. And then Levity smiles at him.
Levity’s idea to pull in more money draws Salvatore’s attention, and while being the focus of a crime boss should be terrifying, Levity is intrigued by the man. Not to mention, Sal is as gorgeous as he is powerful. The two gravitate toward one another and soon are wrapped up tightly in each other’s worlds. When enemies try to break through their doors and their lives, Salvatore has to do everything in his power to save not just himself but Levity too.
Not knowing who is behind all the chaos or when they will strike makes their happily ever after almost impossible. Time’s running out for Sal and Levity. Will they survive, or will their story end before it’s even begun?
WOWZER! WOWZER! WOWZER! OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD! HOLY HANNAH BATMAN! and a hundred other phrases and exclamation points that say one thing: HOLY CRAP KING'S DONE IT AGAIN!!!
Okay, now that I got my blood pumping under control I'll continue.
Being a member of the author's Facebook group I've seen her talking and posting about They Call Him Levity for awhile now but I'll be honest, I never actually read any of her Tuesday Teaser posts because I knew it would make the wait for release that much harder. Davidson King did not disappoint. My anticipation may have been high which can be a little scary as there is always a chance of not standing up to one's hopes but I was 99% sure that wouldn't be the case as King has quickly become one of my absolute favorite authors and her knack for storytelling has always outshined my imagination.
Salvatore and Levity are wonderful together, from their first meet you know it's going to be a bumpy ride but also an incredibly entertaining journey. Levity just has a way about him that you know people gravitate towards him and in doing so he'll never be completely alone. Salvatore's love for his sister lets you know that he'll do whatever he needs to to keep those he loves safe. When you put that kind of devotion together, it's never going to be unwelcomed or boring. That level of chemistry, not only for each other but those around them is what makes this story burrow in to your heart.
They Call Him Levity has pretty much everything but science fiction, post-apocalypse, and the kitchen sink. There is drama, romance, friendship, heat, mystery, love, action, passion, and of course plenty of heart. Will Welcome Boulevard replace Haven Hart at the top of my Davidson King shelf in my reading psyche? Time will tell, personally I can't see it quite quenching that level of storytelling hunger within me although if I'm being honest it most likely be so close that it will come down to the fact that Haven Hart came first and nothing can quite top your original introduction to an author's work. But boy do I look forward to the trials and tribulations of those on Welcome Boulevard and I got a feeling there will be lots of mayhem lurking on every corner.
RATING:
One
Salvatore
“What do we have here?” The small box, wrapped in glittery purple paper and a gaudy bow, was placed on my desk. My sister, Jacquelyn, beamed at me, her slender teenage body vibrating with anticipation.
“It’s your birthday, Sal! I got you something. Open it, pleeeeeease?” She jumped, her wavy brown hair bouncing.
A quick glance at my watch told me I had twenty minutes before Marcel would arrive to take me to my meeting. “Of course, I’ll open it.”
The second my butt hit the chair, Jacquelyn squealed with delight, picked up the present, showering my blotter with glitter, and handed it to me.
“I’ll be cleaning glitter out of my suit all day.” I made sure to smile brightly so she knew I wasn’t upset, just joking around.
Jacquelyn was my younger half sister. My father, Agostino, married her mother, Belinda, eighteen years ago, and shortly after that, Jacquelyn was born. At the age of four, we were told she was on the autism spectrum, and while I don’t mean to toot my own horn, if it wasn’t for me, she’d likely have been thrown into a facility by Belinda. The woman had no patience or love for her daughter, and my father didn’t have the time.
“I made it.” Jacquelyn took the seat across from me, her grin never wavering.
“You know how I love when you make me things, Jac.”
She nodded enthusiastically. “I do. it’s why I decided to make you a gift instead of buying you one.”
I tore open the wrapping, glitter spraying everywhere, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t have stopped the smile that spread across my face if I’d tried. Jacquelyn had made an acrylic photo cube, and on each side was a picture of her and me at some point in our lives. The first was when she was born, then her at five when she’d ridden her first pony; another side was when our father had handed the businesses over to me and we’d all gone to dinner. Each picture showed her and me and the bond we’d forged in her seventeen years.
“Wow, Jac, this is the best present I’ve ever gotten.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes. “You say that every year.” She darted over to me and kissed my cheek. “Are we going to celebrate tonight?”
Originally, Belinda had wanted to have a big party at the house for my birthday, but if she couldn’t acknowledge Jacquelyn’s achievements and milestones, she could fuck off when it came to mine.
“Yep, you and me, kid. I made reservations at Luciano’s, where we will eat until our buttons fly off our pants.” Gripping her hand, I stood and pulled her into a strong hug. She hated light touches, and every embrace had to be a bearlike grip.
“I’ll be ready!”
No sooner had she left my office, did Marcel enter.
“Ready to go, Boss?” His eyes flickered to the gift Jacquelyn made me, and a small smile played on his mouth. “Nice gift.”
“Right?” I tossed the wrapping-paper glitter bomb into the trash and placed the cube next to my blotter, where I’d always see it.
“Can’t wait to see what I get this year.”
I smacked his shoulder as I exited my office. “You love her for her craftiness.”
“Seriously, she could sell her creations.” Marcel and I walked across the foyer and out the front door to the car.
“She’s insanely talented.” We got in, Marcel taking the driver’s seat and I the passenger’s.
Marcel slipped something out of his jacket pocket. “I still have the money clip she made me four years ago.” It was made from three kinds of metal and had a looping M on it.
“I’ll have to talk to her. Maybe it’s something she’d be interested in doing.”
We were quiet as Marcel pulled the car onto the highway, he concentrated on the road, a smirk in place indicating he was deep in thought.
Marcel was an attractive man. Flawless dark skin, bald in the way so few could get away with, and occasionally a perfectly sculpted beard. But he was clean-shaven today. We were close to the same height and build, but he was my second-in-command and always made sure every place I went to was safe. I trusted him like a brother.
“What’s on the agenda today? I know we have to see Grit this morning, what else? I have a dinner date with Jacquelyn this evening; I can’t miss it.”
“No worries, you won’t. Grit this morning, and you’ll be done by three, promise.”
Nodding, I moved my gaze to the window. The huge mansions shifted, and smaller houses came into view. The longer we drove, the more dilapidated the scenery became, until we were pulling up to our meeting place.
“There he is,” Marcel said as he got out of the car.
I followed, seeing Grit seated on the bench outside Stella’s Diner. Where Marcel’s baldness was hot, Grit’s wasn’t. But he was a different kind of man, too.
“Ahh, sir, hey!” As Grit stood and walked over, a wave of body odor engulfed us, and I tried not to wince. It wasn’t his fault he was homeless or that getting a shower was hard to come by. I paid him, but I wasn’t in charge of how he spent his money. I was aware of some who worked for me who used their cash to keep clean, fed, and housed based on what I’d been told. What Grit did was a mystery.
“Good morning, Grit. Hungry?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I could eat.”
“I’m on it.” Marcel hopped into the diner, and I stayed with Grit on the bench.
“All right, Grit, how’s the week looking?” I sat with my foot resting on my knee and far enough away to avoid Grit’s waving hands.
“Right, so, the MVs, they did pretty good last week, and this week looks even better.” His yellow and black teeth made an appearance when he grinned.
MV stood for Misfit Vagabonds, a name coined years ago by my father. “That’s not telling me much, Grit. There are ten of you working along Welcome Boulevard. How much are each of you bringing in?”
He shrugged and scratched behind his neck. “We got about three grand last week.”
That wasn’t ideal. Others were pulling five, but Welcome Boulevard was a hard strip. Cops were on that area a hell of a lot more than the others.
“And this week, you said it will be even better?” “Yeah, we got another guy, Clove’s friend. Might help to have a new face.”
I never okayed anyone new. It worried me that an undercover cop might try and infiltrate to take down the whole panhandling operation my father and I had spent years trying to perfect.
“This guy, I dunno. Grit, new faces make me worry.”
He was already shaking his head before I could finish. “Nah, I know him. Just been busy with other things for a while. But he’s legit. I swear.”
Marcel came out of the diner with a to-go bag and handed it to Grit. “Here you are.”
Grit took the bag, inhaling the aroma. “Thanks, Marcel.”
“No prob. Any good news?”
“I’ll tell you in the car. Grit, I’ll see you next week. Let’s see if this new individual can raise your numbers. Collection will be the same time and place.”
Grit stood, his to-go bag held close to his chest. “You got it.”
“Be safe.” Marcel walked over to the car and I followed. “Someone new?” he asked once we were settled and driving to our next stop.
“Someone Clove knows.” As soon as I said Clove, Marcel’s face lit up. I wondered if he realized how obvious his adoration for that guy was; he certainly couldn’t keep it a secret from me.
“I’m sure if Clove knows him, he’s good.”
“We’ll see how the week goes.”
Two
Levity
Clutching the paper bag in my hand, I made my way up the decrepit stairway toward our apartment. It wasn’t much, but Clove and I used any and all money we made to keep some sort of roof over our heads and food in our bellies. Before today, I’d had a decent gig going—cleaning up garbage in an alleyway behind a questionable nightclub. But cops had raided the place, and it was shut down. The owner used to slip me fifty bucks every week, and without that job I wasn’t bringing in anything.
Thanks to Clove, who got me another job, a risky one, I’d make more and meet new people.
Our apartment had no lock—we had to use a rope to stop people from coming in whenever they wanted—so I knocked and waited for Clove to let me in. When both of us were out, it was trickier to lock up.
“I smell muffins!” Clove cheered as he untied the rope and opened the door.
Laughing, I shook the bag, and the baked goods jiggled. “Marcy gave me four.”
Once inside, I handed Clove the bag and retied the rope.
“She fucking loves you, man. Only you could pay for two and get four.”
Smiling, I sat on the milk crate next to him and accepted the strawberry muffin. “What can I say, I’m charming.” It was true; I was a people person. I adored meeting new faces, hearing their stories, and learning their journeys. I bit into the muffin and hummed. “So good.”
Clove was devouring his blueberry muffin, nodding in agreement. “The best.”
Clove and I had been friends for four years, and he was the eyes in the back of my head. I had been walking along the street and had seen some asshole push him against the wall, calling him a bum and piece of shit. I hated entitled people who snubbed their noses at anyone not on their level. While I didn’t know what had sparked that altercation, something inside had pulled me over there to help. Ever since then, we’d been inseparable.
“We gotta be at our post in an hour.” Clove brushed the crumbs out of his beard and tied his long brown hair up in a bun on the top of his head.
“Okay.”
The sink in our tiny bathroom only trickled, but we had toothbrushes and were able to snag sample soaps, mini shampoos, and conditioners, so we cleaned up and headed out to our post on Welcome Boulevard.
“You.” A bald man that appeared as if he’d rolled in the mud pointed at me. “All you do today is watch Clove, got it?”
“Sure thing.” I smiled, and he rolled his eyes.
“Here’s where you’re all at today.” I learned that the guy’s name was Grit, and he was in charge of this area. He alone answered to the main dude in charge or whatever. I didn’t care, and I was good at taking orders.
Once Clove and I got our position, we went over. “Zoom drives by here a lot; he’s the cop lookout. When he says scatter, we gotta run.” He pointed behind him to where a manmade path led down to a ravine. “When we’re at this post, we run that way.”
“Sounds good.”
Clove placed his ratty backpack under the guardrail. I watched as he took out a folded piece of cardboard and opened it up. It read “Homeless, please help.”
“Not very original,” I said, flicking the sign.
Clove huffed. “We’re at a traffic stop, not like we can write a poem.”
I figured Clove had been doing this gig for long enough to know what worked, so I sat on the guardrail and observed as he did his thing.
Cars stopped, the people inside pretended not to see us, never daring to make eye contact, as if doing so would make us pant like a puppy thinking we’d get a treat.
Three hours later, under the hot sun, Clove had made maybe fifty bucks…and I was bored.
A red jeep came to a stop by the light, and I saw their rims had little Yoda faces in the middle, and I laughed. I strode over, much to Clove’s dislike, and gestured for them to roll down the window.
The driver gave me a disgusted look, which wasn’t new to me, so I made a point to smile and mouth, Please. He finally complied.
“What? I don’t have cash on—”
“No, it’s fine, just wanted to say I love your rims! Yoda, genius.”
He appeared startled, as if he wasn’t expecting me to pay him a compliment.
“Thanks, my wife got me a gift certificate and I chose those.”
I nodded my approval. “I see a lot of cars, more wheels than most, these are the greatest I’ve seen.”
The man smiled. “Thanks. Um…” His eyes darted toward the light—it was a long-ass light. “Here.” He held out a ten-dollar bill. “All I got.”
“Oh, thanks, I really just wanted to compliment the rims, though.”
He snorted. “Yeah, thanks, but take it anyway.”
I grabbed the bill and thanked him just as the light turned green and he drove off.
Shrugging, I gave it to Clove and sat back down on the guardrail.
“What the hell was that?”
I shrugged. “I liked his rims.”
Clove eyed me, then the traffic. “Do it again.”
“Do what again?”
“I dunno, whatever you just did.”
I peered along the street, and nothing grabbed my attention. “I don’t see anything else cool enough to comment on.”
Clove slapped me with the cardboard. “Lie!”
The light turned red once more and, biting my lip, I searched the cars. Finally I saw a bumper sticker that read, “Honk if you hate stupidity.”
Strolling over, I could see the woman in the driver’s seat turn from me. I tapped her window, and she waved me away like I was a gnat. But I tapped again.
She rolled her window open a crack. “Leave me alone.”
“Honk.” And she furrowed her brow.
“Pardon?”
“Honk. Your bumper sticker says honk if you hate stupidity. I don’t have a car, so…honk.”
A small smile played on her lips, and she burst out laughing. “Funny.”
I shrugged. “You have a lovely laugh.”
She pursed her lips, then opened a small console and pulled out a five-dollar bill. “For you, thanks for the laugh.”
“Wow, thanks. Have a good one.”
I walked over to Clove and handed him the five.
“Dude.” He took it. “I think you’re on to something.”
“What would that be?”
“You made fifteen bucks in under ten minutes.”
I could add so I nodded. “What’s your point? Aren’t we supposed to make money?”
“Yeah, but I made nothing in that time.”
I pointed to his sign. “Do you know how many drivers see signs like that? There’s nothing original about it, and at the next light is another person with the same kind.”
“We aren’t the Rockettes—we’re begging, not performing.”
Sighing, I lolled my head back, my face absorbing the sun. “Okay, do your cardboard thing, then.”
There was silence, so I turned to see him chewing the side of his mouth while scrutinizing his sign. “So, like, what should I put on it?”
“Maybe like, ‘Wanna hear a joke?’ ”
“Pfft. I don’t know any jokes.”
I thought for a moment as cars whizzed by. “You got a marker in there?” I gestured to his bag. He went over and took one out. “Gimme your sign.”
He handed it and the marker over. I wrote on the other side and returned them to him.
“Do you want to hear a random fact?”
I smiled. “Yeah. I know a shit-ton of useless facts.”
He slapped the cardboard against my chest. “Have at it, then.”
“Can’t, Grit said I had to observe only.”
Clove spun in a circle, arms out. “You see him?”
Lifting off the guardrail, I took the sign. “Fine.”
I held it up for a few minutes, Clove grinning at me from where I was sitting before. At a red light, someone rolled their window down. It was a middle-aged man with a bushy mustache. “Let’s hear it.”
I got a little closer. “Random fact. A shrimp’s heart is located in its head.”
“No shit?”
“Scout’s honor.” I held up my hand.
“Huh. My kid’ll like that. Here.” He held out two singles.
“Thanks, have a good day.”
Slipping the money into my pocket, I gave a gobsmacked Clove a bright smile just as another driver said, “I want to hear a random fact.”
I made three hundred dollars that day, and damned if I didn’t have a hell of a lot of fun.
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.
EMAIL: davidsonkingauthor@yahoo.com
