Previous Entry Share Next Entry
FAKE First Year Together: Justice (June), chapter 12, Part TWO
BikkyAngrySad
brit_columbia
My chapter was too large for a single post, so once again, I had to break it into two halves. This is part two. Part one can be found in the post just before this one.


Jill stood stock-still, quaking, as the shower curtain was yanked back, revealing her pitiful hiding place.

"What the–?" exclaimed an apparition in a strange, floor-length overcoat. He looked like Moses in a duster. Especially if Moses had recently been sleeping on the streets of New York and had lost all interest in personal grooming.

Jill held her finger to her lips. "Shhhh! Please! Shhhh!" There was no way she wanted that Irish asshole in the next room to know about her existence, especially since she now remembered who he was. For some reason, however, she wasn't scared at all of Moses here.

He stared at her in utter astonishment with his mouth hanging open for several long seconds, while Jill hunched her shoulders in misery and tried to look as young and imploring and harmless as possible.

Finally, the guy shut his mouth with a snap, and the surprised look faded from his features, to be replaced by bright-eyed curiosity. "Who da hell are you?"

"I'm...uh, Jennifer," she whispered. No need to tell this person her real name.

"Hiya Jennifer. I'm Andre. Nice to meet you. So...." He stuck out a hand. "Why you in da shower stall?"

Jill felt she had no choice but to shake the proffered hand. At least she was in a position to know that he had washed it with soap and water. "Shhh! Please, not so loud!" she whispered. "I don't want your friend out there to know I'm here."

Andre's eyes took on a shrewd look, but his voice dropped, thank God. "Oh, you work for Mike, too?"

"No, I've never met him. But I don't want to. He's a... bad man." She let go of Andre's hand and blinked at him beseechingly.

"You got dat right. Take some advice from Andre and don't never work for Mike. He own you forever if you do."

"Just don't tell him I was here, okay? I'll keep real quiet until you guys are gone."

"Don't be scared, Jennifer. Old Andre know how to keep his mouth shut."

A shout rang out from somewhere near the bedroom. "Andre! Let's get a move on, man! How long does it take to empty your bladder?"

"Yeah, Mike, be right dere!" Andre called back. Then he looked back at Jill and blushed, suddenly shy. "You hear me take a piss, don't you?"

Jill shook her head earnestly. "No, no, I don't think so! I wasn't really... listening. I was too worried," she whispered. "I was like this." She demonstrated by holding her hands over her ears and hunching her shoulders.

Andre grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, sure," he said. "Whatever. You cute when you lie. I go now. I no tell Mike, relax, you safe."

"Thank you," she whispered, and gave him her brightest smile.

"Hey! You look just like Maria."

"Andre! Now!" Mike's voice seemed to be moving closer to the bathroom door. In another few seconds, he'd be banging on it.

Jill gave Andre a wide-eyed look and pulled the shower curtain back across.

Andre opened the door and stepped out, saying, "Sorry, Mike, I ready now! Let's go," in a hearty voice.

"What are ye looking so guilty about, man? You've not been snoopin' about in there, have you?"

Jill heard Andre repentantly owning up to snooping just a little as they moved back down the hallway. She stayed where she was until she discerned the sound of the heavy apartment door closing, followed by the sharp click of the lock. Even then, she stayed where she was for another fifteen minutes, just in case they came back.

Now she had a name for the Irish voice she had heard on the phone that day last week when she had decided to listen in on Rianne's extension. It was the same guy who was here today with Andre. Mike, he was, AKA 'Doritos puppet-master'. Rianne was frightened of him, Jill knew. Her aunt's voice had been all but shaking when Mike had given her her orders.

Jill sat down on the edge of the tub and looked down at her carelessly-painted toenails in her cheap blue sandals. That phone call had allowed her to be in the right place at the right time in Chinatown. Rianne knew she had been listening of course because she got all screechy-mad after, and kicked her out. But Rianne didn't know how much she had overheard, although she may have guessed when she watched the news that night and realized that her own niece had been one of three teens caught up in a case of police brutality. All courtesy of 'Mike'. Jill smiled to herself and wondered how much this information might be worth, and to whom.

 :.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.::.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:

"What do you mean, there's no fucking laptop?" The transit cop glared at mustache and skull cap.

Bikky was kind of amazed that skull cap's hat had stayed on his head all during the brawl on the stairs. Was the friggin' thing glued on, or what? The little group had finally gotten off the escalators and was now occupying a corner of the platform. Bikky had resolved to keep his mouth shut, and Kenny was doing the same, although Dave periodically whispered hushed questions and observations to them. He seemed to have returned almost to normal, which was a relief, assuming it held.

"Hey, Bikky, did ya notice that I dumped the second box? Pretty cool, or what?"

Bikky didn't answer but Kenny hissed back, "Woulda been cooler if you'da did it before they switched the escalator off, dumbass!"

"Well, how the fuck was I supposed to know– Yeow!"

"Shut the hell up!" whispered Bikky fiercely. He tapped his ear and pointed to the three men.

"Sorry, dude," said Kenny, and all three of them strained to listen.

"Look, man, there was shit all over the stairs," mustache was saying. "People goin' up and comin' down at the same time as we was tryin' to pick it up."

"We got everything that was on the stairs or the floor, even the brat's nine million fuckin' loose pages of shitty math homework!" skull cap insisted with a resentful look in Bikky's direction.

Bikky opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, then closed it again. Maybe skull cap had been traumatized by math homework in his youth. Maybe he never had a Ryo who would sit next to him and make him do it, patiently explaining fractions and decimals until the cows came home. Or, maybe more accurately for New York City, until the night shift workers came home. Never mind cows! Cows were for old cowboy movies. Bikky had not so far met a cow close up, but he could sense that there were going to be horses in his immediate future unless he could get himself and his buddies clean away from Abernathy's minions. And also somehow not turn up on YouTube later.

"Look, either some shithead found it on the stairs and ripped it off, or there never was no laptop!" mustache pointed out, glancing nervously at his watch.

Hmm, thought Bikky. Guy's worried about time...

"Or they stashed it somewhere in Queens," snarled the transit cop. Oblivious to the nods and grunts from his two confederates, he produced his cell phone and punched in a number.

"Lieutenant," he said tensely. "Yeah." A pause. "No, they don't have--" His side of the conversation went on hold for what seemed like five or six minutes while the person at the other end of the line blew a gasket. Actually, it sounded like he blew every gasket in Manhattan.

This thought caused Bikky to turn toward Dave. "What the hell is a gasket, man?"

Dave stared at him. "Uhhhh... it's a basket full of, er, gas! Right Kenny?"

"What? Are you guys nuts? Who the hell cares?"

Another train screamed into the station on the platform opposite them. It made so much noise that the transit cop just snapped his phone closed mid-call and jammed it into his pocket. When he returned his attention to the three boys, his eyes flashed with anger and frustration. "I'm gonna ask you again," he snarled. "Where is the goddamn laptop?"

"My mom said laptops are a waste of money and she ain't gonna buy me one 'cause I'd just kill it with gaming," offered Kenny boldly.

"We don't have a laptop," mumbled Dave, some of his fear returning. "Right Bikky?"

"We know you don't have the goddamn laptop anymore," the cop said. "Tell us where you put it, or who you gave it to!" His phone rang again, and he snatched it out of his pocket. "Uh-huh... Uh-huh...Got it," he said. "Lemme call you back." When he turned back to the boys, he didn't bother with Dave or Kenny, but instead focused his attention solely on Bikky. "Earlier today, you were at 9144 Desarc Road in Queens. Maybe I should send a team there to tear that house apart. You think the little brat who lives there will hand over the laptop?"

"No!" Bikky came alive and jumped forward, suddenly tossing all fanciful thoughts about cows and gaskets out of his mind. This wasn't a poker game; this was real life danger for innocent people way across town. "I left that house with the laptop! With the laptop, you hear me, assholes? It was in my book bag right up until you took us on the escalators. When this asshole here–" he indicated skull cap with a sweep of his hand– "tore the hell out of my book bag and sent my homework flying, my laptop fell out of the bag too. Now it's been friggin' ripped off by God knows who, and whose fault is that?"

Both mustache and the transit cop turned accusing eyes on skull cap, who loudly protested his innocence. Behind his back, Bikky wildly waved his fingers at Kenny and Dave. They both got the message and shot off running in different directions. Transit cop's head whipped back and forth like he was watching a particularly fast tennis game before he yelled at mustache and skull cap to give chase. Mustache glanced at his watch one more time, and departed at a mildly energetic trot after Dave. Bikky smirked in satisfaction. He had a feeling that no one would be seeing mustache again any time soon. As long as Dave didn't stop to have a nervous breakdown or a catatonic attack, he was gonna get home okay.

Skull cap, on the other hand, had taken off after Kenny like a dog on a cat's ass. If Bikky had had anyone to bet with, he would have laid five bucks on Kenny right then and there. He had only known Kenny for six months, but the kid was a hell of a good problem-solver. If he didn't get clean away, he would find a way to get skull cap either beaten senseless by an old lady with an umbrella, or arrested. The thing about Kenny was that he had guts. The only person on the planet that he seemed to truly fear was his mom. Bikky was not quite ready to admit that he feared her, too.

When the transit cop looked back at him, it was with a little more uncertainty than he had shown before. But he quickly mastered himself and scowled at Bikky. "Looks like it's just you and me, punk."

"Nope. You and me and YouTube," said Bikky.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"My friends got you with their cell phones," Bikky told him. "You and those two assholes that Mr. Abernathy wanted you to work with." He watched as all the color drained out of the cop's face.

"You shitty little rat, don't you threaten me."

Bikky's eyes narrowed. "I'm a minor, asshole. I'm thirteen years old. I know the routine. You gotta call for back up, and you gotta call youth services because kids automatically get representation."

The cop must have been a pretty good poker player. "I gotta, I gotta," he sneered, edging closer to Bikky. "Maybe all I gotta do is take you behind one of those pillars and–"

"–and get your face on Youtube, like I said," interrupted Bikky, backing away. "Does your lieutenant know you're working with Abernathy's guys?"

"They're undercover!" growled the cop. His hand started creeping toward the taser on his belt.

"Like shit!" Bikky snarled back. "The guy with the tats is a total junkie."

"Bullshit!"

"He shoots in the black ink. Check his arms if he ever comes back."

The cop was silent, but continued slowly circling around Bikky. He subtly unsnapped his taser holder.

"You don't wanna do that," warned Bikky, feeling alarm starting to rise within him. He heard the scream of another train approaching, and his eyes darted this way and that. No one would be looking his way when a train was coming in. No one could hear him. This would be the best time for the cop to tase him, and they both knew it. Bikky swallowed nervously. Would the asshole actually do it? He sidled toward the edge of the short track railing, hoping he might get an opportunity to either jump onto the train, or lose himself in the crowds pouring out of it.

He found himself being subtly backed toward the edge of the platform. The massive rushing power of the train was at his back, and his cry for help was swept away by the rising shriek of its brakes. Terror, the likes of which he hadn't felt in a long time, swept over him. No way out. He was gonna get tased and/or backed into a fast moving train.

He watched the cop suddenly whip the taser out of his belt, but before he could aim it, it was like something hit him from behind. Eyes wide with surprise, the cop staggered right at Bikky, who instinctively flung himself flat with his hands protecting his head. A couple of long seconds later, he raised his head and looked up. The guy in the wheelchair was reaching down and patting his shoulder.

"Bikky!" he said "Are you okay? Bikky!"

Bikky stared at him, wondering if this day could get any more surreal. "Um..." he said. "Yeah. Think so." He moved his legs experimentally. He'd kind of felt asshole-cop stumbling over him, but not really coming down on top of any part of him. "What... what happened?"

"The gentleman you were talkin' to wasn't paying as much attention as he should have, and he unintentionally fell against the train," said the guy in the wheelchair. He seemed to be tucking something into his pocket as he spoke. Bikky couldn't be sure, but it sort of looked like the cop's taser. "Although it's possible that I may have accidentally bumped him. Perhaps. Can't really be sure about that, bobbing and weaving as the man was."

This guy was wearing sunglasses, which Bikky thought was really strange considering that the light wasn't really the greatest down here on this old platform. Maybe he was blind or something. Wait a minute, no he wasn't. This was the same guy who had caught the laptop in mid-air, like a star outfielder saving the game! But what about that damn cop? He was a dick, but Bikky hoped he wasn't seriously hurt.

"The cop hit the train?" Bikky rose onto his hands and knees and looked down the length of the platform to where a small crowd gathered around a fallen man. "How did he get all the way over there?"

The man shrugged. "I believe the train was still movin' when he struck it, and it spun him about somewhat."

"Is he... dead?"

"I doubt it, lad. Just a bit stunned." The guy in the wheelchair looked at the small crowd, too. "See that? His legs are twitchin'. Those kind people are helping him to sit up. In fact, I'd say he's comin' around." He pursed his lips and cocked his head sideways at Bikky. "Perhaps you ought not to be here when he does."

Bikky jumped to his feet, entirely seeing the point of that, but not yet ready to go. "Hey, man, I need my laptop back," he said urgently, his eyes darting all over the man's person. He was in a slant-wheeled manual wheelchair that didn't have a motor. It looked kind of like one of those athletic wheelchairs that Special Olympics athletes used, but Bikky couldn't be sure, never having paid all that much attention to the Special Olympics before. The man had a kind of black canvas pouch on his chest, like a backpack worn the wrong way around. That was probably where he had stashed the laptop.

"Hey!" Uh-oh, it was the cop. "Get that kid! Don't let him get away!" He was on his feet now, none too steady, but still spitting mad, and pointing an accusing finger at Bikky.

"Don't let him see you take it," muttered the wheelchair guy through his teeth. "Let him report you left without a laptop. Now go!"

"But I need that laptop!" Bikky insisted in a low voice.

"I'll see that you get it."

A middle-aged man in a track suit was starting towards Bikky. "That kid?" he said, looking over his shoulder at the transit cop.

"Yeah! He's wanted for theft. Stop him!" The cop tried to stagger forward, nearly losing his footing in the process.

"But... I don't know your name!" Bikky said desperately, dancing from foot to foot, his eyes darting between the track suit and his new friend.

"It's Tahawney. And you're Bikky MacLean of Wilson Lloyd Junior High. Get your ass home before it's too late. Go, go!"

Bikky whirled and ran, pausing only to snatch up his book bag from the collection of confiscated goods before bounding up the escalator stairs.


~end of Justice Chapter 12~


Additional Author's notes:  As you may be aware, I've recently begun struggling with the issue of POV, after never giving it a thought throughout the whole of A New Day, and in fact for the first six or seven chapters of Justice. I had been wanting to keep it in a somewhat limited third person with mostly Dee and Ryo's POVs, but I've realized that I have to allow myself to go into other POVs at will because of the size of my plot and cast. For those who were hoping for more Dee and Ryo interaction in this chapter, I'm sorry to disappoint. I had a whole bunch of plot points that I needed to move along. It's like I'm playing chess with my characters, and much as we would all (yes, me included!) like to adjust the game so that Dee and Ryo can tumble into bed, it just wasn't possible considering the time frame of this chapter. Everything happened within the space of about four hours, and Dee and Ryo were at work during the whole time.

Regarding the subway station scene: I've never been to New York City, so I was working from photographs on the Internet in the construction of the action scene  on the subway platform and escalators at Lexington and 53rd. If you would like to see what it looks like, please go here: http://www.nycsubway.org/perl/show?97032 (Many thanks to Bill E. for taking and posting this most helpful photo) This picture is from a collection of pictures of Lexington and 53rd, which you can find here: http://www.nycsubway.org/perl/stations?219:3192

Thank you, as always for reading my work. I appreciate your time and attention! The next chapter will appear in the second or third week of Feburary. It's one-third written at this time.

 


Tags: ,

  • 1
Thank you, Brit! The ending of this chapter is awesome. I can't wait for more suspense and your plot to start unfolding!

Yay, Twiyah's here! I was thinking of you at 2:00 a.m. right before I staggered to bed. Thank you for coming back to read and comment on my chapter.

This story was starting to cry out for a little action, as we haven't had any since Dee and Ryo chased Ja Romeo out of a nightclub. I'm glad you found it suspenseful. I was trying to create suspense.

Heh, and I was just starting my typical sunday morning with three mugs of coffee and internet :D as usual!

See, I know your Sunday routine! But in order to have a chance to cross-post with you in real time, I have to stay up until about three thirty a.m., which is sometimes too hard to do. I couldn't even count the number of times I have literally fallen asleep in my computer chair. Then I wake up disoriented some time later, and stagger off to bed without even taking off my mascara!

Don't apologize for the lack of sex, we read you for your plot and characterization too. This chapter had a lot of good progress on all the major threads of the story and a really tense action sequence. I have a theory about who wheelchair guy is and I'm looking forward to seeing if I'm right.

Thanks for commenting, ranuel. I know there's a core of readers who appreciate the plot and characterization, but I think certain others care more about sex and less about plot. I've almost stopped reading M/M books because I've read too many that are 98 percent sex and relationship issues vs. 2 percent plot. It seems that most M/M books out there are like that! Am I wrong? I hope I'm wrong, but that's what I see.

Thanks for describing my action sequence as 'tense'! That's a great compliment. A New Day didn't have a whole lot of action in it, and I wanted Justice to be different.

I'm glad you have formulated a theory about wheelchair guy. There are one or two small theory-producing clues in this chapter.

I think the market for M/M novels is homosexual men and men do go for more sex and less story in their porn.

I had the theory before reading this chapter and there are things in it that make me think I'm right but I couldn't argue to someone else WHY. It's just a feeling.

Actually it's M/M for women that I'm complaining about, although I know exactly what you mean about M/M for men. What's written for women is full of mean having emotions and feelings (AND sex) and men talking about their emotions and feelings (but not sex). With all those feelings and all that talking, there's really no room left for a plot. I think I'm complaining about the romance genre in general.

I am always a little surprised when I stumble on a romance novel with a good plot, interesting characters, and hot sex but even though they are rare they do exist. I haven't tried any of the commercial m/m ones though. Manga and fanfic are more likely to be good.


I didn't even notice until your postscript that Dee and Ryo had barely any screen time this chapter, everything was so tense and thrilling! New York City is a much smaller world than you would think, isn't it? Everywhere we turn, someone else has made some kind of connection with someone else - Jill's aunt and Abernathy, of all two people. Go fig!

Now, the man with the wheelchair. What's up with that? My guess is it's Tom's online friend, but that's total guessing on my part. And Bikky and his poor sucker friends got pitched into the chase of their lives! Bikky shouldn't have gotten off that train to save his friends, even if it was the right thing to do. Very, very close call that the laptop didn't get shattered.

Was also amused by Bikky's wandering thoughts "Hmm, what's a gasket anyway?" and "Oh no, not horses!" He's such a kid, still. And stop worrying about POVs! When you have a sprawling, multi-thread epic, it's perfectly acceptable to switch around. The one thing you don't want to do is switch from one character to another when they're both in the same scene (unless one of them gets knocked unconscious and is therefore rendered unable to narrate).

Thank you for all the encouragement! Yeah, I've decided I can't be as hung up on POV as I have been. Now that I'm aware of it, I really notice if a writer shifts POV too frequently. It happens in published books as well as fanfics, too. Sometimes in quite good books. I'm trying to decide the precise degree to which it is forgivable.

Well, Tahawney wasn't a very important character prior to this chapter, but now he's got both a name and the all-important laptop, so he's much more on people's radar now.

I almost didn't include Bikky's wandering thoughts on the grounds that they might be distracting in an otherwise tense and dramatic scene, but I decided to leave them in precisely because he's a kid. It's hard for writers to resist the temptation to write their characters as 'older' than they really are. We've all read books that feature twenty-year-old characters who reason and act with the accumulated life experience of a forty-year-old. Despite Bikky's early life circumstances which forced him to become stronger, braver, and more cunning and manipulative than other kids his age, he still has 'kid' thoughts, impulses and feelings.

As NYC being a smaller world than one would think-- I don't know! In books, quite astonishing confluences of characters and circumstances have to take place in order to wrap up the story in a reasonable number of pages. But in real life, MY life is exactly like that, but maybe it's because I get out and about a fair bit and move in different networks. In my smallish city, six degrees of separation is more like two or three.

In my smallish city, six degrees of separation is more like two or three.

Actually, I think you've got more of a leg to stand on than you think you do. I remember when I first moved to Washington, DC, which seemed to me such a vast metropolis at the time. Then I realized that every time I went to a party, I kept bumping into the same people. This was because I was getting invited out by the coworkers at my libertarian job Cato, who knew people from other libertarian-ish places like the Competitive Enterprise Institute, or the Institute for Humane Studies, or Term Limits USA... etc. And those people in turn hung out with other similar people of similar age set/background/beliefs. So even though Washington is 'big', I was part of a smaller network running through it that resulted in frequent three-degree-or-less connections.

Something similar is going on in New York. It's big, yes, but you've got all these layers designated by economic class and lifestyles. The artsy people bump into each other all the time, because they show up at gallery openings and plays, and Bikky's 'class' are similarly linked by low-class habits (street basketball, rap music circuit, homeless shelters). For all the city has so many people, this particular set of people bump into each other often. And cops are part of this world too, because their job puts them there. So it's not surprising that Abernathy would be acquainted with a woman that obviously breaks the law on a regular basis.

My long-winded explanation for why your story is still good when you already know darn well that it's good. An unasked for, too! But I had to get it off my chest when I saw your reply.

(And about headhopping in published fiction... yeah. I'm paraphrasing Orwell when I say, if it sounds good, write it. Because when you're really good, the rules don't apply.)

You must be right. Even in big cities, people are linked by their interests and their inclusion in (or exclusion from) certain socio-economic classes. And I bet the size of the place probably doesn't matter all that much if there's a central, affordable and efficient transportation system. And actually, another rising factor to consider with regards to how linked/separated we all are is social media.

Another awesome chapter! I was hanging onto the edge of my proverbial seat to see if Bikky and his gang would actually get away or not, especially when it was taking a turn for the worse there with the backing towards the subway! eep!

Anyway, I'd have eaten as much of the chocolate goodies as I could consciously feel good doing so (aka, stopped once the 'yuuum, this is good' was overcome by the 'omgwhatamidoingeatingthis' feeling). 8D

Thanks, Dauphkantus! I'm happy you enjoyed the chapter.

Actually, I did end up sharing my goodies, which was probably for the best. I was halfway through gobbling the first one, when my husband called me from the gym. I honestly think he has some kind of sixth sense. He was calling to announce he was bringing a buddy home for dinner. He asked me what I was going to cook and if I had anything for dessert!

Anyway, I had to give up most of my bounty, but at least I got to taste everything.

Oh, as always, for sure! And this was soon enough after the last one that I even remembered what was going on, without having to reread! ;D

Heh, he may not be good for hiding them, but it seems he's perfectly fine in getting you into giving them to others to eat them ;D
At least you got to taste all the delicious precious before they ate it. omnomnomnom

Oh, and thanks as ever, for stalking me! ;D I don't think I've ever told you how I appreciate knowing someone reads my random reports.
^_^

Now that my course is over, I'll be able to post more often, so people won't have to do as much re-reading. Also I think my little "So Far In Justice" blurbs help to remind people of key points (Thanks Peacewish for that helpful suggestion). When I think how I went through 44 chapters plus epilogue of A New Day without any such helpful reminders, I wonder that any of my readers stuck with me. But according to FFdotNet, that particular story still gets between 400 to 600 hits per month, every month, which is down from its heyday of over 1000 per month, but I feel is still pretty good.

Yeah, you're right that my husband sucks at hiding things from me, but he's always been pretty adept at getting me to feed him!

As for the last bit, you're welcome. I'm always interested to find out how you're doing. Are you snowed in right now? If so, I hope you have food.

Ah, neat! And yeah, it's the awesome story that's like nothing else out there. We'd put up with most anything for that 8D

Lol! Makes sense. ;D

Aww, I'm so loved. We ended up with about 7 inches, but nothing all that horrible. It's just the steep angle of our driveway and the snow melting and refreezing that might cause some issues getting out and about over the next few days. No biggie really.

Wow, that icon is perfect for you and your job!

LOL.

Perfect only for some sentiments, but definitely not for my job- I have to frustratingly fix computers that don't work right, after all ;D
Not always a smooth process, to say the least. xD

Yay! Andre's back! He's like everybody's favorite great-uncle, only one that they're less inclined to hug.

I loved the action sequence(s) in the subway! You had me genuinely scared for Bikky when he looked like he was going to be tased, and his rescue by Tahawney came completely out of left field. Speaking of which, I was glad to find out that he wasn't another baddie; it's good to know that at least one person in NYC outside of his friends and the 27th isn't out to get him! My own, personal, crazy theory is that Tahawney is somehow the guy who looks like Ryo from that photo of Abernathy's. Maybe it's just his Irish name, I dunno.

Your descriptions of pastries are making me drool! I recently found out about a place that makes *amazing* mini eclairs, but it sounds like your chocolate mousse layer cake could give them a run for their money!

Yeah, if anyone hugged this particular great uncle, they could end up with fleas!

Thanks for loving the action sequence. I'm always a bit nervous writing action sequences, because I want them to flow and be dramatic, and I'm much more comfortable with dialogue.

All three of those pastries were outstanding. I'm not going to go to that dangerous place again anytime soon. If you end up getting mini eclairs, please post about it in pastry-porn detail so I can enjoy them vicariously!

:O I always feel so behind when I visit and see that two chapters are up. :P Wheel Chair guy is epic! But I really want to know who he is!

"Mike, he was, AKA 'Doritos puppet-master'." I had to stop for a minute after I read that nickname... I was laughing so hard. By the way, my roommate now thinks I'm crazy... thanks.

Bikky just keeps digging himself deeper and deeper into this hole and I hate to think how hard it's going to be to get out of it again. Is he just being a teenager, or is there some other reason that he never tells Ryo anything?

Tom's internet friend is creeping me out. Just sayin'.

I'm going to go read the next chapter now, so maybe I'll get some answers!

-Neengy

Oh my God! The plot is picking up speed! This chapter was very exciting. Thank you for writing!

/Stina

Thank you for commenting! It makes me happy to know that people are enjoying my work.

  • 1
?

Log in