DO YOU BELIEVE IN THE POWER OF LOVE? excerpt

 

Hey! Did you know I have a new book out? Do You Believe in the Power of Love? is now available! I'll have copies with me at Printers Row next month, but if you don't plan to be there, you can get it here. If you're on the fence, I have an excerpt for you below.

Nelson is down on his luck, moneywise. He just got out of a rough relationship, and he's neck deep in debt. He'd do anything to get out from under his troubles. A friend then introduces him to Ania, a young woman from Poland who is studying to be a nurse. Her visa is almost up, and she doesn't want to go home. So in exchange for enough money to cancel out his debt, he will marry her so she can get her green card. Sounds simple, right?

Well . . . my name is on the cover of the book, so it's anything but. Ania is not who she claims to be. She's hiding an ugly secret. Will Nelson spend the rest of his life never discovering what it is?

Probably not.

The set up is, Nelson and Ania are meeting for the first time in a bar. It's noisy on the ground level, so they're going to the bowling alley in the basement. Here you go:

While there were a ton of people playing pool at various tables throughout the very crowded bar, no one bowled downstairs. The desk with all the bowling shoes in nooks behind it was empty, so he had to find some help. The woman, who usually handed out pool ball trays, didn’t seem to know what she was doing as she figured out which shoes where what sizes. She barely knew where they kept the bowling balls.

Nelson figured it out. While he wasn’t exactly a string bean weakling he knew he’d probably break his wrist with a 12-pounder. He went for something much lighter: eight.

When she selected a black one with the number 10 stenciled on it he felt kind of amused. In a weird way she did seem stronger than him. Her five-ten frame showed off her solidly built body, and he wondered if she worked out every day. He supposed one had to be in good shape to be a nurse, but he still felt grateful that the 8 on his ball had faded almost to invisibility on hot pink.

She made no note of his choice. “You play much?”

Christ. He cast his mind back, trying to remember the last time he’d done this. “Well, I used to bowl with my mom when I was a kid.”

“Oh. Were you good?”

He wanted to tell her how fucking awesome he was, but then he remembered his mediocrity, and any display he could put on here would prove it. “No. I’m all right, I guess.”

“I’ll let you warm up,” she said. “Looks like this is one of those old fashioned places, so it’s not computerized. Go ahead. Let ‘er rip.”

Nelson glanced down to the only lit set of pins at the other side of the room. He wouldn’t have minded loosening up a bit, but what if he wasted a couple of really good shots just practicing?

“I’m good,” he said. “Wanna go first?”

“Flip you for it.” Her stout hand struggled to get into her skin-tight pants pocket, but when it came out—one harsh red line across the wrist—she held a quarter. “You call it.”

He watched as she flipped the coin. “Heads,” he said. Whoever called tails?

She caught the gleam of silver in the air like an owl plucks up a mouse in the dark and slapped it on her unmarred wrist. “Tails it is.” She showed him, just to prove herself.

Her hand that close to him made his flesh start to heat up. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to hold it to his lips.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Am I a pervert or something? Calm down, for Christ’s sake. He took a deep breath and forced out what he thought would be some of the baser thoughts running around in his head. When that didn’t work he purposely brought back to mind the moment when he spilled his beer all over the table and Lisa.

That did the trick.

“You remember how to make notes?” she asked.

He took up the blank score sheet and a miniature pencil. “I got this.” In big block letters he wrote her name on the first line and his on the second. Only then did he look up to see Ania at the line, poised to begin her attack on the pins.

He glanced down and got an eyeful of her ass, the first time he’d gotten a glimpse of it. Her black jeans were so tight he could see the curve of each buttock, leaving nothing to the imagination. Mesmerized, he watched her muscles work against each other as she fast-walked down to the final line and let loose with her ball. He didn’t even watch to see the damage. Her ass consumed his attention.

Somewhere, far down in the folds of his brain, he wanted to look away, to be a gentleman, but that tiny voice had no effect on the whole.

Then something tingled in his perception, and he jerked his eyes away, just in time to see her turn around, a look of victory on her face.

Keep it together, Jeffries. He still had his glass with him, so he took a swallow of whiskey, hoping he’d played it cool enough.

She ambled back to the desk. “Not bad, eh?”

He surveyed what remained of the pins. Only one, at the far right end. “Think you can get your spare?”

“Hell yeah.”

Her ball thumped up through the return, and she wasted no time in proving herself. Dutifully he put a slash in the small box on her line.

“Now let’s see what you got,” she said. She handed his eight-pound ball over, almost like flipping a softball to the pitcher at the start of an inning.

He took the ball with a slight smile. He hadn’t done this in many, many years, and he knew in his heart that he’d wind up with a gutterball. Much to his surprise, when he took his shot, he knocked over three pins. A terrible attempt, but he felt just as victorious as she had when getting her spare.

“That’s all right,” she said. “It’s not over yet, though.”

On the next roll he managed to get three more. Not great, but not awful, either.

They continued their game, keeping up a healthy banter, ripping on each other when appropriate, congratulating when needed. When the game ended she’d obviously wiped the walls with him, but he had gone down fighting.

“That was pretty cool,” she said. “Wanna go again?”

Nelson felt a sting in his wrist. “Nah. I think I’ve had my fill.” Why risk further embarrassment?

They gave their bowling shoes back, but they stayed downstairs with fresh drinks, sipping among the darkened pins, listening to the pounding music from above, remaining isolated from the party.

“I suppose you want to talk business now,” she said.

He scratched at an imaginary itch on the back of his neck. “I guess that’s what we’re here for.”

“Yeah. I mean, I like you and everything. I’d probably hang out with you again. But we are here for each others benefit.”

“Yeah. Mac said five thousand.”

She rubbed at the back of her arm with one hand.  “That’s right. I really can’t go any higher than that.”

Nelson noticed something on her arm when the short sleeve lifted against her touch. It looked like some kind of drawing, and it took him a moment to see it was a tattoo. He nodded to it. “What’s that?”

Her eyebrows lifted, and then she saw what he meant. “Oh. Check it out.”

She bared her entire arm, showing off a colorless tattoo of a nuclear power plant. In the center twirled the symbol of an atom.

“Neat,” he said. “Why that, though?”

“Chernobyl,” she said. “I was a kid when it happened. I was far enough away so it probably wouldn’t affect me, but just in case we all got these anti-radiation inoculations. I got sick of looking at the scar, so I got a tattoo over it. Pretty cool, huh?”

“Scar? I didn’t see a scar.”

She pointed to the middle of the atom where the protons and neutrons should have been. At that moment he realized he stood very, very close to her, close enough to smell a little sweat under her perfume. It reminded him of sex, so he backed away. “Oh. I see.”

Ania rolled her sleeve down. “Anyway, I don’t want to sugarcoat this. Pretending we’re married isn’t going to be easy, and if we’re caught I’m just going to be deported. You, on the other hand, will be stuck with a huge fine and possibly jail time.”

That last part didn’t sit well in his mind. He thought he could deal with monetary punishment, but going to prison? Did he really want to slay his debt like this? “I . . . I understand.”

“And that’s not it. We’re going to have to live together, because they send people out to make sure we’re really married. We’ll need to set up pictures of us and stuff. You know, the usual things families have.”

He nodded, recalling everything that Kris had told him. It had sounded like a warning from him. From her it sounded almost exciting.

He sipped at his drink. “Why do you want to stay here? Not to sound like a dick, but if the roles were reversed I wouldn’t mind going home, you know?”

She smirked. “You’ve never lived in Poland. Granted, I’ve only been in America for a few years. There are many things wrong with this place. But, given a choice, I will take America any day over Poland.”

“That bad?”

She took a drink from her own glass. “Maybe you missed the part about Chernobyl.”

“Well . . .” Fuck, I’m an idiot.

“There’s more. When I was younger I was gassed in my own apartment building by the government. Have you ever been gassed?”

“Uh . . . no. Can’t say I have.”

 “You’re lucky. You grew up in a country that didn’t have any war fought on its grounds in recent memory. When I was a kid playing with my friends, we discovered a skeleton in the forest. It was a Nazi soldier, helmet and all.”

“Holy fuck.”

“I don’t like talking about it, though. Maybe now you can see why I don’t want to go home. There are skeletons everywhere.”

Nelson felt the urge to tell her that when you thought about it, the world was one big cemetery, but something told him to keep his mouth shut.

“I want to help people. I like nursing. There aren’t enough opportunities back home. Here? I’m almost done earning my degree.”

Nelson didn’t know how easy or hard it would be to earn a nursing degree in another country, so once again he kept his mouth shut.

“Next year, I should graduate.” She stopped, looking at him expectantly.

Now he had to open his mouth. He gave it some thought for a moment and hoped he had the right words. “I want to help you, mostly because you can help me in turn. But as I’m sure you can imagine I’m not well off, myself. You’re going to school, and I’m sure that’s just sucking your money away. I don’t know if I could support the both of us.”

“I’m not asking you to. When I said five thousand was as high as I could go, I meant it. But I can still contribute to us living together.”

Nelson nodded, trying to figure out the most polite way of asking the next question. Finally he downed the rest of his drink and decided to charge forward. “If you don’t mind me saying, you’re a beautiful woman. You probably have a boyfriend. What does he think of all of this?”

“I did have a boyfriend,” she said. “Well, we were more like fuck buddies, I guess. But he came from Poland, too. He couldn’t have helped me. Studying to be a nurse doesn’t leave a lot of time for personal relationships. I don’t like to get involved in anything, really. Every once in a while there’s that itch. It helps to know someone who can scratch it for you, but an actual relationship? I find that to be too distracting.”

Nelson’s cheeks flushed. He hadn’t expected such a frank answer, and he didn’t know what to say to that. A part of him felt excited as if maybe, just maybe, she would select him as one of those people to help scratch certain itches. But he had to remind himself that it would probably never happen.

“You all right?” she asked.

“Uh . . . yeah. I’m fine. It’s just, I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes, you know.”

“No worries,” she said.

This was it. The moment. He hoped he didn’t sound too nervous. He could feel a tremor working through his lungs, his body trying to betray him. But he knew, after all of this, that he’d made up his mind. He’d be marrying this girl in exchange for five grand. Hell, he’d known it from the very moment he’d seen her. But now everything had weight, a certain reality, to it. If he said what he wanted to, there would be no turning back.

“I want to help you,” he said. Proud that his voice sounded strong, he plowed forward. “And I would certainly appreciate the money. I only have one bedroom at my place, though. I don’t have room to accommodate you.”

“We’d have to sleep in the same bed. If they sent a guy to check up on us, he wouldn’t be pleased too much to find out that we’re sleeping in separate rooms.”

Nelson’s heart beat just a little bit faster than it had before. He felt his face grow hotter, and he hoped he wasn’t blushing. “Well, just to warn you, I fart a lot. If you can put up with that, I think we can do business.”

She barked with laughter, head tossed back, every tooth in her mouth shining. He couldn’t stop himself from cracking up, too.  They cackled together, unable to stop. His belly ached, but he couldn’t cease the constant hilarity pouring out of him. Finally, when he thought he’d never be able to breathe again, she wiped sweat from her forehead. She panted. “I think . . . I think if I couldn’t deal with a bit of . . . of flatulence . . .” And the both of them howled again, so loudly that a few revelers from above peeked their heads downstairs.

Finally they sighed the tension of joviality out of their bodies and leaned on the table for support. Something twinkled in her eyes. “If you think your farts are bad, wait ‘til you get a load of mine.”

Even though both of them hurt badly from their previous jag of laughter, they broke out again. When this bout died down Nelson breathed out heavily. “Seriously. I think we have a deal.” He held out his hand.

She took it. “Deal.”

“Maybe we should go over the, I don’t know, the logistics of it all.”

“Let’s get together and do that tomorrow,” she said. “I just want to have fun right now.”

“Absolutely.”

She cast her glance around the bowling alley, down every darkened lane to the gloomy pins at the end of each. “It’s too quiet down here. Let’s go play some pool.”

Nelson stood and bowed, gesturing toward the stairs. “After you, my dear future wife.”