Beneath The Stain
by Amy Lane
Blurb:
In a town as small as Tyson, CA, everybody knew the four
brothers with the four different fathers-- and their penchant for making good
music when they weren't getting into trouble. For Mackey Sanders, playing in
Outbreak Monkey with his brothers and their friends—especially Grant
Adams--made Tyson bearable. But Grant has plans for getting Mackey and the
Sanders boys out of Tyson, even if that means staying behind.
Between the heartbreak of leaving Grant and the
terrifying, glamorous life of rock stardom, Mackey is adrift and sinking fast.
When he's hit rock bottom, Trav Ford shows up, courtesy of their record company
and a producer who wants to see what Mackey can do if he doesn't flame out
first. But cleaning up his act means coming clean about Grant, and that's not
easy to do or say. Mackey might make it with Trav's help--but Trav's not sure
he's going to survive falling in love with Mackey.
Mackey James Sanders comes with a whole lot of messy,
painful baggage, and law-and-order Trav doesn't do messy or painful. And just
when Trav thinks they may have mastered every demon in Mackey's past, the
biggest, baddest demon of all comes knocking.
Review
* * * *
When you read an Amy Lane book, you’re guaranteed three absolutes:
angst, heartbreak and elation when love conquers all. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to
read one of Amy’s books so I jumped at the chance for this because dear,
awesome Amy combined two things I love -- boys who desperately need hugs and
music.
Beneath The Stain (first of all, love this title) has such a
hopeful start despite some of the more unsavory circumstances surrounding our
guys here. Mackey may be the youngest of the group but he’s the most pensive of
them. He observes and feels deeply, pouring all his emotions into his songs.
There’s just something about him that captivates people and makes them want to be
in his presence. Grant and Mackey share a bond that’s so intense but in their
small-minded town, could be destructive. But they latch on to each other,
stealing moments whenever and wherever they can because it’s all they can give
each other. Mackey, for all his youth understands Grant’s predicament to a certain point. In
turn, Grant is so comforting and nurturing. Their relationship is simply sweet.
Forbidden love, no matter what form, burns with such an intensity and these two
burn brightly.
Being that this is Amy Lane, we don’t get to keep that happy
feeling for long. You have to lose this great love to really know it. And when
it’s lost, it can destroy. As the band’s fortune rises, Mackey continues to
suffer from his heartbreak unbeknownst to the rest of his bandmates. At his lowest, their new manager Trav comes in affecting
some sweeping changes. Some things go over well, some don’t. Mackey is the hold
out. But what Trav comes to understand is the deep-lying loyalty these
bandmates have towards one another, especially Mackey and that Mackey is the glue. But what holds
Mackey together? Is it something that Trav himself can fix or does he need to
help Mackey revisit his painful past in order to recover and move on?
Amy Lane is a very prolific writer who has the brilliant
knack of describing love in all its extremes and in betweens. I knew she had worked her magic on me again when
I woke up the next morning thinking about Mackey and Grant, eager to get back
to them as soon as possible. You see, it doesn’t matter that her stories
feature gay characters because the emotions that she writes about are
universal. And it’s perhaps because her characters are gay and could
potentially have more to endure
socially, that those emotions are amplified. She nails down those feelings, describing them
in ways you’ve never thought of before. The
fact that she can create such vivid imagery of falling in love or yearning for someone or the grief of having your heart broken so specifically is
an incredible feat. This is one of the
many reasons why I like to return to her books every so often because for me, I’m
not just reading a story, I’m experiencing it. These characters feel very real
to me which is why I also have a very special affection for many of
Amy’s boys. And now I can add Mackey, Grant and Trav to the circle.
~ Bel
You Can’t Always Get What
You Want
... from the Mighty Hunter Gazette— April 20
And special news, our very own homegrown band, Outbreak Monkey, will be performing
a six- song set between D.J. Boomer’s dance music at the Graham Winters
High School prom. The band, headed by McKay “Mackey” Sanders on lead
vocals, Jeff Sanders on bass and their brother Kell Sanders on lead guitar,
also features Grant Adams on second lead and Stevie Harris on drum set. All
members are Graham Winters High School students and we are proud to have them
play!
THE FIRST time McKay Sanders kissed his brother’s best
friend, Grant, they were getting high in a burned-out car in the
field behind Mackey’s apartment building. Kellogg, who looked old enough
to buy even though he’d just turned eighteen, had spent ten dollars the
brothers didn’t have on cheap Muscat. By the time Grant—whose father had
money—brought out the pot, Kellogg, Jefferson, and Stevie were passed out on
the old camp blanket Stevie had brought from his dad’s garage.
It was a celebration, of sorts, for landing the prom gig.
The older kids had hogged all the Muscat, though, and Mackey
felt left out. Kellogg kept saying it wasn’t right to get his little
brother drunk, and Mackey kept saying it wasn’t right to drink in front of
him, but by the time Kellogg was too drunk to argue, there wasn’t any wine
left.
Jefferson and Stevie had finished off the other bottle all by
themselves—just sitting quietly, not making any waves like they usually did,
passing the bottle between them.
“Boy, you two argue a lot,” Grant said after Kell let out a
gut-buster of a yawn and fell asleep quick as a baby.
Mackey grunted and prodded at his older brother with his toe.
The three brothers present looked nothing alike. Kell was built like a tank,
with rounded shoulders, a brown-eyed glare, and plain brown hair that he buzz-
cut short to his scalp. He was like born practicality, which was why hoarding
the wine rankled Mackey so badly. An expenditure like that wasn’t going to
happen again.
“He gets mad,” Mackey said, letting out a sigh. He slouched back inside
the shelter of the car, peering through the doorframe at the iron gray sky.
“He’s the one who takes care of us, you know? But not in the band.”
It was true.
Kell could play guitar ably enough, but Mackey....
“You can play everything,” Grant said with admiration. “You’re
the one who puts the songs together, figures out who should be playing
what. And the shit you write on your own....”
Mackey smiled at him a little shyly. Grant had the most
interesting face, with a long, straight nose, full pink lips, and almond-shaped
hazel eyes. When Grant looked at him with admiration, it stopped his breath and pulled
rubber bands in his stomach. “I just....” He stopped because Grant was
reaching into his pocket, and he pulled out a baggie full of weed and papers.
“Ooh....”
Grant looked down at the other three, who were sleeping soundly
in the late afternoon chill. “I was gonna share,” he said mischievously,
“but Kell was a dick about the wine, so I thought you and me?”
Mackey nodded,
captivated by the thrill of the forbidden—and by the way that cherry-ripe mouth
pulled up at the corners when Grant smiled.
“I’ve never, uhm....”
Grant shrugged. “Me and Kell do sometimes. But, you know, Kell’s
usually a good guy.”
Mackey reflected on his
sleeping brother. Kell was a good guy. For example, Mackey had a confused memory of their
youngest brother Cheever’s dad, the one dad they thought would stick
around beyond giving the baby a first name. Cheever’s dad hadn’t been very
patient, and he’d hated Mackey. Well, Mackey was sort of a smartass. He’d probably had that fist coming. But that
hadn’t stopped Kell from stepping up and hitting Enos Cheever right back.
Mackey and Kell had both needed stitches after that, but their mom had kicked
Enos Cheever out—child support or no child support. That was okay. Kell and
Jeff had been almost old enough to work by then. They’d only needed
assistance for a couple of months.
“He doesn’t like it that I can boss him around,” Mackey said
glumly. “He... he’s the leader, right? But... but I hear the music, and it just
makes sense, you know? And... and you can’t do it wrong just ’cause it’ll hurt
Kell’s feelings. It’s augh!” He was waving his hands around, trying to find words, which
was funny, because Mackey actually wrote songs. He closed his eyes, ignoring Grant rolling a number, and tried
to make a song out of it.
“He wants to keep me happy and he wants to keep me fed, he
makes sure that I’ve got blankets and a place to sleep in a bed, but the
music in my heart is like a freight train. It goes and it goes and when I stop
it, it’s like pain, but my brother doesn’t see it doesn’t hear it doesn’t feel
it, and all there is to do is shove him out of the way. Don’t want to
hit my brother with the freight train.”
Mackey’s eyes smarted, because the friction with Kell hurt. They were
tight. They had to be tight, because Tyson, California, had a population of ten
thousand, and it was a small enough town that the woman with the four sons and
four fathers was sort of famous. They had to have each other’s backs or
Cheever wouldn’t have survived kindergarten.
Mackey blinked and took a deep breath, then coughed.
Damn, pot was strong.
He gazed at Grant, who was staring back in awe over the glowing
ember of the joint. Grant held the smoke for a minute and exhaled, shaking his
head. “God, it’s gorgeous when you do that,” he said, his voice choked.
“Do what?” Mackey asked, not able to stop staring at him.
“Pull music out of the air,” Grant said, the dreamy smile on his
full lips maybe a side effect of the pot, but maybe not. Grant was sitting
in the back of the car, his feet at the foot of the blanket the others
were sleeping on. He passed Mackey the doobie around the doorframe, and Mackey
regarded the joint with a little bit of fear.
“Just inhale?” he asked nervously, and Grant grinned.
“Never done this before?” he confirmed, taking the doobie back.
Mackey shook his head, knowing his face was flushing in spite of
the iron mountain chill.
“Here,” Grant murmured, taking another hit. He stood up, still holding
the smoke in his lungs, and knelt in front of Mackey, so close their lips
almost brushed. Mackey’s mouth fell open, because, holy God, Grant was right there, and
Mackey had been trying not to look at him like he had wanted him right there since
he was twelve years old.
Grant took his open mouth for invitation and exhaled, right
between Mackey’s parted lips.
Mackey’s inhale was so gentle, the smoke hardly tickled. He
didn’t choke or cough like he’d seen other people do, just breathed in
subtle-like, afraid to startle Grant or make him move in any way. His
exhale was even quieter, letting the smoke trickle out through his lips and his
nose, where it stung.
He swallowed, his mouth dry from the smoke and from the way
Grant was staring at him, seemingly as mesmerized as he was by those golden
eyes and moist red mouth. “How’s Sam?” he asked, because Samantha Peters had
been Grant’s shadow for the past year.
“Not here,” Grant whispered, and the movement made their lips touch.
Mackey closed his eyes, because Grant started this, and Mackey
was fourteen to his seventeen. Grant would know what to do.
Grant’s lips on his were whisper-soft, then angel-soft, then
Grant’s tongue swept into his mouth, acrid with the bitter taste of weed,
but something in it was sweet. Something in it made Mackey open his mouth to beg
for more.
Grant took advantage, pushing him back against the seat, taking
his mouth more, and more and more, until Mackey was pressed against the
burned-out seat frame, his hands buried in the thick top strip of Grant’s
hair, his lips being bruised and his mouth plundered by his brother’s best friend.
The smell of pot smoke
sharpened, turned plastic, and Grant jerked his head back.
“Shit,” he muttered. The joint had fallen onto the blanket at
their feet, and he spent a moment stomping it out as it smoldered. When he’d killed
the ember, he glanced at Mackey sheepishly.
“Got lost in your eyes,” he said, and Mackey watched curiously
as two red crescents surfaced on his sharp cheekbones, like disappearing
ink coming to life.
“I could get lost in you a lot,” Mackey confessed, feeling brave
and bold, and Grant found something to look at far away.
“Mackey, maybe don’t count on me like that, okay?”
Mackey had to search far away too. Well, of course, right? Two
guys get high and they do something crazy—didn’t mean shit, did it.
Didn’t mean a goddamned thing. “Yeah, well. You know. Strong weed, right?”
“Yeah,” Grant murmured. “Strong.” His hand was firm on Mackey’s
shoulder then, and Mackey closed his eyes as he felt the rasp of Grant’s
chilled palm against his cheek. “Stronger’n shame.”
Mackey had to. Had to see his face.
Grant was blinking hard, and they both knew he’d deny it,
but one hit of pot didn’t give you eyeballs that red.
At their feet, Kell gave a moan and rolled over, and that was
the cue for everyone to wake up. They were headachy and sick, and it was lucky
Grant had brought a six-pack of water, of all things, so they could at least
rinse out their mouths after they puked.
Grant had driven them out to the vacant field in his mom’s
minivan, and later that evening, he stopped and let them run inside the
grocery store to buy noodles and spaghetti sauce for dinner. They’d
promised their mom they’d take care of groceries if she let them get away with
not watching Cheever for the afternoon. When they got to the Sanders boys’
apartment complex, Grant and Kell were giving each other shit in the front
seat. Mackey stared out the window and let their banter wash over him, just
like he ignored Jefferson and Stevie talking in quiet undertones about comic
books and naked girl pictures. Jeff and Kell had best friends. Mackey had
brothers—six of them, if he counted Cheever’s little friend Kevin, which he
did.
“So, is Sam excited you
get to play at the prom?” Kell asked, laughing.
“Yeah,” Grant said. For a moment, he caught Mackey’s gaze in the
rearview, and then he glanced back toward the road. “She wants to dress pretty
and dance with me in a suit.”
Mackey didn’t make a noise or anything, but suddenly he knew,
knew like it had been branded on his skin, that Grant didn’t want to dance with
a girl in a dress. And that it would hurt worse than orange juice on chapped
lips, but Mackey was going to have to watch him do it.
How You Can Buy Beneath The Stain
Option 1: Serial Package
Automatically get each part with special content on your
bookshelf as it is released and the digital novel upon release. Serial runs
8/29/14-10/10/14. Novel releases 10/17/14.
$12.99. This option only available through dreamspinnerpress.com.
Option 2: Serial
Deluxe Package
Automatically get each part with special content on your
bookshelf as it is released and the digital novel upon release. Serial runs
8/29/14-10/10/14. Novel releases 10/17/14.
Also received a signed paperback mailed to you upon novel
release.
$24.99 +shipping. This option only available through
dreamspinnerpress.com.
Option 3: Serial
Only (7 parts)
Buy individual parts with special content weekly for $1.99.
Serial runs 8/29/14-10/10/14.
Options 4 & 5: Novel
Purchase the complete novel in eBook or paperback, no
special content included. Pre-sales begin 9/17/14. Novel releases 10/17/14.
eBook $6.99, paperback $17.99
Upon complete novel release, the serial will no longer be
available.
Amy Lane has four children, two cats, a love starved
Chi-who-what, a crumbling mortgage and an indulgent spouse. She also has too
damned much yarn, a penchant for action adventure movies, and a need to know
that somewhere in all the pain is a story of Wuv, Twu Wuv, which she continues
to believe in to this day! She writes fantasy, urban fantasy, and m/m
romance--and if you give her enough diet coke and chocolate, she'll bore you to
tears with why those three genres go together. She'll also tell you that sacrifices,
large and small, are worth the urge to write.
Author
Links:
Website: www.greenshill.com
Blog: www.writerslane.blogspot.com
E-mail: amylane@greenshill.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/amy.lane.167
Blog: www.writerslane.blogspot.com
E-mail: amylane@greenshill.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/amy.lane.167
Twitter: https://twitter.com/amymaclane
*dances to invisible music* Oh Bel, you loved him-- I KNEW you'd love my Mackey! *so happy*
ReplyDeleteOh Amy, you haven't failed me yet! ~ Bel
ReplyDelete