Since The Devil’s Metal will be released at the end of September (sometime between the 21st and the end of October, seeing how things go) and it’s now September 1st (seriously.…SERIOUSLY…how is it? Summer? What? I can’t even…) I’ve decided to put little teasers and snippets up on the blog.
I also wanted to show you this cool Hybrid tank top — I love band merch! (especially fake band merch).
So there’s that…writing about a fictional 70’s metal band gives me so many merchandise and giveaway opportunities, it’s sick. I can tell you tons of awesome stuff will be given out this month — right on!
If you need a refresh over what The Devil’s Metal is about, read the blurb on Good Reads here.
Teaser #1 (UNEDITED — MAY CHANGE PRIOR TO PUBLICATION):
Sage walked over to the table in two long strides and snatched up the bottle. He gave Chip a disapproving squint before coming back to me.
He stepped up close, very close, so that his wide chest was inches away from mine and his towering frame enveloped my whole view. I stood my ground, as tempted as I was to take a step backward.
Sage placed the bottle in my hand, our fingers touching. It was just for a second, a brush as light as a feather, but it rattled my nerves. I struggled to keep my eyes glued to his.
He lowered his voice. His breath smelled like beer and something fresh, like the ocean.
“Is my band just what you expected? Is this what you’re going to write about?”
He was egging me on, daring me.
“I’m not writing anything tonight,” I told him. I put on a mask of false confidence and took a swig of whisky straight out of the bottle, matching the intensity of his gaze. “Tonight I’m just a fan.”
“Just a fan…” he mused, scratching at his long sideburn, black hair against lightly bronzed skin. “Right. And then the next day? And the next day? Do you really want to document a band coming to its knees in its dying days? Is that what a fan wants to see?”
His voice was so low that he couldn’t have been heard over Jeff Beck on the eight-track and the drunken cries of debauchery in the background. What exactly was he telling me?
I flapped my mouth helplessly for a few seconds, trying to figure out how to respond.
He leaned in even further, staring at my lips. I could see two strands of light grey at his temple, the absolute way his eye color matched the silvery underside of a leaf.
“You’re all the same you know,” he continued, almost whispering now. His eyes met mine, mesmerizing orbs through his long curling lashes. “You’re just like those girls over there. Just like those pricks outside. You take and take and take and say you want to be a part of it all but why you’re really here is to witness the fall. Be a part of history. Say you saw it happen. I know what it’s like, Dawn. In a few more years, no one would care.”
Half way through Sage’s speech I was struck by a few slurred words and when I stopped trying to make sense of whatever the hell he was talking about and saw his body sway slightly and how his green feline eyes were lightly glazed, I realized that the rumors of Sage being a drunk were at least partly true. Not that I was judging; I was the one drinking Jameson straight out of the bottle.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” I told him, finally taking a step back. I had always dreamed about my first conversation with Sage but I never imagined it would go like this; fully of hostility and drunken ramblings, surrounded by half-naked, fucked-up people.