You’ve got to have Faith

OK, come on, I’m not the only one who can’t help hearing a certain George Michaels song when I mention the title of my book. You’ll be happy to know that I didn’t make the reference in the book itself, but the catchy tune did start up in the back of my brain a few times.

Anyway, it’s my turn to be lazy and, instead of a post of my profound thoughts (uh, not!) I’m posting an excerpt.

Click here to visit the main page on my website about Faith
By the way, there’s a different excerpt on my website.

Or click here to go straight to the Loose Id page. Faith should be available Tuesday, July 24th, barring any unforseen disaster. (Oh yes, I know Mr. Murphy quite well, thank you)

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©2007 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved

Engrossed in their conversation, he almost missed Hell approaching from the doorway. “Darien.”

Darien looked around to see Hell standing beside them with a much taller man at his side. It took a second for Darien to recognize who it was, due to the shadows from the lights behind the man. It was a radical effect, actually, putting pretty much his entire face in shadow except for the gleam of moonlight on the small square lenses of his glasses. The soft lighting from behind him gave a golden cast to his hair, while the moonlight made silvery shadows of his face. It was like a comic book for a moment. Awesome!

Gold glittered on Hell’s elegant hands as he indicated the taller man. “Darien, you remember my friend, Christopher Faith?”

The man turned as he extended his hand; the light finally caught his face, illuminating the smiling curve of his wide mouth. “Darien.”

Darien nodded, taking the hand, still a bit dazzled by the initial visual. “Sure, sure. I remember. How are you, man?” Sure he remembered Chris. An old friend of Hell’s.

Chris retrieved his hand, and those hazel eyes remained fixed on Darien’s face. Studying him? “I’m well, thank you.” That accent was so cool. Darien wanted an accent!

Now here was a man who was good-looking in an entirely different way than most of the men Darien knew. Darien was used to flashy looks, like Johnnie or Hell or any number of the other musicians and actors that he counted among his friends, but he could also appreciate the sedate look. Even though it was a trick of the light, that initial shadowed face intrigued Darien, made him wonder what was behind that crisp, cultured voice. Chris wore a thin charcoal sweater with a high neck. His straight, light brown hair was clipped short on the sides and only slightly longer at the top, the fringe halting maybe an inch or so above the classy glasses with thin wire frames that did nothing to hide the hazel eyes. Dark, arched brows slanted into the bridge of a straight, patrician nose that pointed to a wide mouth. He was classically good-looking without an in-your-face-ness about it.

Hell glanced toward the doorway, then back at Darien, violet eyes nearly black in the dim lighting. “I know you didn’t want to talk about your situation here, but since we’d discussed your need to find a lawyer for your divorce?” Hell held his hand out, palm up, toward Chris. “Chris is a lawyer. He’s handled divorce cases before.”

“I assisted on two,” Chris clarified, frowning slightly down at Hell. Then those eyes turned back to regard Darien. “One was somewhat high profile, however.”

Hell rolled his eyes, flapping his hand. “Chris enjoys downplaying his abilities. He’s a fine lawyer, and you can trust him.”

The “D” word poked at Darien’s heart. He ignored it as best he could, seeing the sincere concern in Hell’s eyes. He turned to regard the tall man again. Wow, he had broad shoulders, didn’t he? “Aren’t you English?”

Chris smiled, pursing out his lips a little, making them look fuller. Hey, that was a nice smile! “I was born in England, yes. But I studied law here. My practice is in New York.”

Darien’s eyebrows lifted with surprise. “You go to court and all?” With that voice? Oh, man, the juries didn’t have a chance.

Chris laughed. A nice laugh, too. Low and soft. “I don’t tend to do so, no. I’m more of a contracts lawyer.”

“But he has handled divorces,” Hell clarified.

Chris shrugged, sipping his wine.

Darien studied him. He wouldn’t bring it up now, but he knew Hell had intended for Chris to be his manager when he’d threatened to leave the band when he and Brent were having troubles right before the last Heaven Sent tour. Brent was a tad sensitive about it, although he didn’t hold it against Chris. But Hell trusted him. Darien had no reason not to do so as well.

“I don’t think my … divorce –” He was proud for only barely tripping over the word. “– will be that flashy. Nicole just wants to get it over with.”

Hell’s I-told-you-so look up at Chris told Darien that they’d discussed this already.

Chris, however, stayed focused on Darien. He slowly brought his glass to his lips and sipped. “She doesn’t want anything from you?”

“We weren’t married all that long.”

“Regardless, given that you are a celebrity, you should have some legal authority review the agreement.”

“I was just going to let Gretchen have one of the Heaven Sent lawyers look it over.”

Chris tilted his head. A few strands of straight hair fell toward his eyes, brushing the top rim of his glasses. “It wouldn’t hurt to have someone look it over for you personally.”

Oddly, a shiver of delight crept up the back of Darien’s neck at the sound of the last word. What the fuck?

Ignoring the shiver, he gave the offer serious thought. Chris looked like an upstanding guy. If he was Hell’s good friend, he had to be worth it. He nodded. “Okay.” He held out his hand toward Chris. “I’m game if you are.”

Chris took his hand in a warm grasp. “I’ll do my best to look after your interests.”

Written by Jet Mykles

Jet is a writer of sexual fantasy with a firm belief that all men are at least partially gay, that vampires are just people with a liquid diet and shapeshifters live on every block.
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