Every book, play, movie, and song has an outtake. Something that just didn’t make it in. Either because it slowed the work in question down or it simply did nothing for the piece. Either way, they all have them. And in some cases the outtake is funny, which makes it more of a blooper than an outtake.
As I’m working on the third book, Avenged, in my Dark Road series, I thought I’d take a timeout and share an outtake with you from Book One, Addicted. It isn’t funny, but I do happen to think it was insightful. If you’re one of the many fans of Gervasio, you’ll see why. And yes, he’s the bad guy, but I promise, I won’t judge.
And away we go!
“Where the hell was she? His angel had been prompt with everything else in her life. What could’ve prevented her from leaving the school? He couldn’t walk inside. He’d been too recognizable. One of his facial features made him hard to forget, unless he’d drugged them ahead of time. He ran a finger over the scar down the right side of his face. Patiently he’d waited since the Fourth of July party. All of the other girls he’d ever taken, he hadn’t spent so long away from them. Usually he had them again within a matter of days, maybe a week. But his angel, she was special. She was unique.
Bella traipsed out of the school, backpack over her shoulders. Beautiful as ever. Long sleek midnight black hair braided all the way down to her ass. He recalled how soft and luxurious it felt against his skin. And the smooth silkiness of her freshly shaven legs. He’d held them apart as he nailed her. Too bad she hadn’t been awake for any of it. A depraved smile tugged on the corners of his lips as memories flooded his brain. This time would be different.
Who the fuck was the guy she’d stopped to talk to? Gervasio snarled and gripped the steering wheel. It was the only way he’d stay put and not jump at the opportunity to rip the guy’s throat out. Instead, he inhaled deeply and eyed the motherfucker. Details. He had to be to able to articulate them so his crew could find out who the shit-bag was.
Roughly six foot, maybe two or three inches over. Give or take. Short brown hair. Dressed in slacks and a polo. Fucking nerd. Probably wore loafers. Not that he could tell from this distance. Certainly not Latino. No tan at all. Great, some white piece of shit. Had to be in his late teens. Maybe in college. And based on how the close the guy stood to his angel, he wanted Bella for himself. Too bad it wouldn’t work out well for the fucker.
Gervasio dug his cell phone out of his back pocket and pulled up the camera. Both the guy and his angel headed in his direction. Taking a moment, he used the phone for something other than a call. Snapping a photograph of the dickhead alone, he texted it to his second in command and then punched in a number.
Two rings. “Yes sir?”
“I send you picture. Do search. Want to know who he is. I take care of rest.”
He closed the phone and tucked it in his back pocket. Time for his plan to bet put into action. Without a second thought, he ignited the engine of his black sedan, a Chrysler 300C to be exact, and took off.”
Has his creep factor changed at all?
Thoughts? Feelings? Opinions? Feel free to share. I’m open to it all.