Spark to the Heart (Hearts of Parkerburg 4)

By Havan Fellows and Lee Brazil

As a misguided youth, Rosy loved being that kid in Parkerburg—you know the one that everybody swears will end up in jail or comatose—until one summer day on the back roads of town when two lives came to a screeching halt.

Thirteen years later, Rosy owns the local pub on Maple Street and makes a good show of how he's recovered from tragedy. He even convinces himself...until he meets the new man in town and realizes just how okay he isn't. With the demons of his fatal past still stalking him, Rosy has no idea how to switch from simply existing to actually living.

Angus “Jet” Manheim—famous for his smooth, sexy voice and notorious for his hard partying ways—sped through most of his adult life on stage and in the recording studio. Sober and retired to the quaint New England town of Parkerburg, Jet’s ready to slow his soundtrack...until his compelling neighbor—a grumbling, muscular mountain of a man with an odd name—ups the tempo.

Frequently absentminded, Jet finds Rosy an easy object of focus, a solid center around which Jet hopes to build a future. But retirement isn’t easy. The entertainment industry doesn’t stop knocking just because you hang a do not disturb sign.

When Rosy’s and Jet’s pasts try to harmonize with their present, they might have to decide whether the chorus is worth repeating.

The Hearts of Parkerburg stories can be read as standalones, each with a HEA...but trust me, you'll want to read about all the sweet happenings in this quaint little town.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Havan Fellows
• Release date: Mar 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370649815

Havan Fellows

I annoy, love, respect, scare, seduce, hurt, anger, infatuate, frustrate, flatter, envy, amuse and tolerate everyone. I just do it better in writing thanks to a little thing called...edits. Okay no, seriously...I'm a simple minded person who enjoys the escape from real life through a book. I write with the group Story Orgy and hope to continue doing so for a long time. I also am privileged to be with the Pulp Friction writers creating intermingling books in a world all our own. And just like every other red blooded human – I love hearing from people. So feel free to drop me a line – whether it's a comment on my blog, an email, a tweet or you track me down on FaceBook or Google + ... it's easy to catch someone who wants to be caught.

Book preview

As a misguided youth, Rosy loved being that kid in Parkerburg—you know the one that everybody swears will end up in jail or comatose—until one summer day on the back roads of town when two lives came to a screeching halt.

Thirteen years later, Rosy owns the local pub on Maple Street and makes a good show of how he's recovered from tragedy. He even convinces himself…until he meets the new man in town and realizes just how okay he isn't. With the demons of his fatal past still stalking him, Rosy has no idea how to switch from simply existing to actually living.

Angus Jet Manheim—famous for his smooth, sexy voice and notorious for his hard partying ways—sped through most of his adult life on stage and in the recording studio. Sober and retired to the quaint New England town of Parkerburg, Jet’s ready to slow his soundtrack…until his compelling neighbor—a grumbling, muscular mountain of a man with an odd name—ups the tempo.

Frequently absentminded, Jet finds Rosy an easy object of focus, a solid center around which Jet hopes to build a future. But retirement isn’t easy. The entertainment industry doesn’t stop knocking just because you hang a do not disturb sign.

When Rosy’s and Jet’s pasts try to harmonize with their present, they might have to decide whether the chorus is worth repeating.

The Hearts of Parkerburg stories can be read as standalones, each with a HEA…but trust me, you'll want to read about all the sweet happenings in this quaint little town.

Spark to the Heart

a Hearts of Parkerburg story

By

Lee Brazil

&

Havan Fellows

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, small towns, and incidents are completely and absolutely a part of the authors’ creative imaginations. Any resemblance to actual persons living or deceased, businesses, events or locales are entirely coincidental. Perhaps also a little bit fortuitous as well, because if you do find a doppelganger Parkerburg out there somewhere, please let us know. We might consider moving there and enjoying Maple Street ourselves. Think of the good lattes, great food and hunky men.

Editing by: Jae Ashley

Cover Art by: Author Services

Published by: Appleton Publishing Avenue

Copyright © February 2017 by Havan Fellows & Lee Brazil

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN# 978-1-370649-81-5

All rights are reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical or otherwise, is forbidden without express written permission of the publisher/author. So please be good, good is fun.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Spread the Word

More Hearts of Parkerburg

About the Authors

Trademarks

Dedication

A long time ago two authors chatted about perhaps writing a book together. They both respected the other one’s writing style, and grew close through the words they penned…but alas, a book together eluded them.

It appeared to be a dream never to be fulfilled… Until one day years later when a plot bunny made its home in their heads and refused to leave. Parkerburg was born, and the now co-authors typed merrily away on their first book together.

Four books later Parkerburg is still going strong, and it is all thanks to our readers. Thank you for visiting our town, thank you for taking an interest in the lovable and slightly odd people who live there, and thank you for wanting more.

Here’s to our readers, and many more Parkerburg books. <3

With gratitude,

Lee Brazil & Havan Fellows

And now…for your reading enjoyment…

Spark to the Heart

Chapter One

I’ll get these tables bussed, Walter. You go and help Joey unload the truck. Rosy grabbed the rag out of Walter’s hand and tucked it into his apron string.

Dude, when are you gonna call me Spuds? Walter complained, helping Rosy place the rest of the plates into the gray plastic bus bin.

When you stop whining the word dude to me. Rosy laughed, taking the bin from his server and nodding him gone. Joey. Truck. Now. This is her first time unloading, and I’ve got a seriously bad feeling about her ability to mark the inventory in the system as she counts the boxes.

Walter waved away his concern. She’ll be fine. I trained her.

That’s my point. Rosy ass-bumped the swinging door open to the back area and held it open for Walter. You and multi-tasking go together like Mason and Chaz.

Ouch! Sprocket says they’re doing better. Walter laughed, knuckling the bin as he passed Rosy and hurried through the kitchen to the back door.

Yeah. I still think they should’ve made that shit a ménage the way they act in public, Rosy mumbled to no one in particular.

Have I met them?

The unexpected—and not necessarily welcome—voice mildly took Rosy by surprise. Lunch rush had just dwindled, and business slowed for an hour or so afterward, which was why Rosy scheduled truck deliveries between two and four on Tuesdays and Fridays. Even though Rosy’s Bar didn’t serve entrees per se, they got their fair share of patrons who wanted appetizers for lunch along with a quick game of pool or darts.

He turned and nodded at Bas, his upstairs tenant who’d kind of put himself on house arrest. A few months back, he came to town looking for his ex. Didn’t take too kindly to his ex turning him down yet again, so he roughed him up then took his violent streak on a tour of the town, hitting not only Rosy’s place but Prudence’s coffee shop and a few other spots. The man had issues with alcohol and the demon it hatched whenever he imbibed.

Thanks to the judge’s sentence, Bas was stuck in Parkerburg until he not only paid off the fines but completed his community service as well. Cheap rent so he could pay down his obligations more quickly had brought him to Rosy’s doorstep.

Some people found it flawed to have an alcoholic ordered to stay sober living above a bar, but funnily enough, it worked. Everyone knew the deal; not a damn one of Rosy's employees would dare serve him for fear of Rosy’s wrath.

A couple times Bas had begged Rosy for a drink, but Rosy had no pity for him and absolutely no trouble telling him to get the fuck out of his face.

Usually the nut just hauled his ass upstairs and slept when he wasn’t working or putting in his hours at the community center on the outskirts of town. Bas didn’t like co-mingling with the townsfolk, especially if he happened to cross paths with Craig—chief of the Parkerburg Fire Department and his ex’s new boyfriend.

Sure, Rosy answered, shrugging. "You’ve seen them around. Chaz is the sous chef at Alimentaire—probably the only blue-eyed redhead in Parkerburg—and Mason is…well…right now he’s a college student. Don’t know what he’s majoring in, but know he’s been majoring in it for at least six years."

Bas followed Rosy to the small kitchen and leaned against the stainless steel sink as Rosy rinsed dishes.

And Sprocket?

Rosy pointedly looked at Bas then the sink he’d successfully blocked. When Bas ignored his silent request to move, Rosy elbowed him out of the way so he could load the dishwasher tray.

I know you must have seen Sprocket around. He’s hard to miss with the black hair, piercings, and tattoos. Not to mention he’s the fucking energizer bunny when he gets going.

Do tell… Bas raised an eyebrow, and Rosy held back the urge to douse him with a spray of water.

Anyway… Sprocket and Chaz are dating and Mason is the proverbial third wheel best friend.

And let me guess, Mason has an unrequited love for his BFF and Chaz is standing in his way? The sarcasm practically dripped from Bas’s nonexistent fangs.

No, Rosy countered. But Mason does need to learn to share his best friend. Chaz needs to realize that Sprocket is with him not Mason, and Sprocket needs to stand the fuck up to both of them and not be afraid of hurting feelings.

He dried his hands and went to check if they needed anything stocked from the freezer.

Wow. Judge much? Bas sneered.

Sighing, Rosy closed the cooler door, leaned against it, crossed his arms, and zeroed his gaze in on Bas. He wasn’t going for the intimidation factor. If he’d wanted to frighten someone, he’d just skip to the chase and knock the man on his ass. This pose better stated his dwindling patience. Even if his own demons insured unlimited tolerance for guys such as Bas, he didn’t need the ball full of bitch to know that.

I’m a bartender, the next best thing to a licensed shrink at the cheap price of a beer on tap. It’s what I do, have been doing for over a dozen years. I'm damn good at it.

You make any judgment about me? Bas’s tone still held a bit of bitch to it, but the drop in volume to a whisper said more than the words he’d uttered.

I don’t judge. I listen and give support. I fucking care about my patrons. My opinions are only that: opinions. He tapped his temple.

Fine, Bas quipped, rolling his shoulders. Do you have an opinion about me?

Yes.

Silence stretched between them, so Rosy pushed off the cooler and wiped down the steel counters. A bartender’s oldest ploy in the book to get a patron to talk, worked the same in the kitchen as it did at the actual bar.

And?

And what? You’re an alcoholic who fucked up. Luckily you were stopped before anyone was hurt beyond repair, and now you’re doing penance. It might help you if you got out there and met some people, made a few friends. Make your time here in Parkerburg go by a bit easier.

Fuck Parkerburg. I’m being held prisoner in this Mayberry wannabe place.

Oh, bullshit. You’re holding yourself prisoner upstairs. Rosy pointed to the ceiling.

What choice do I have? The whole damn town knows my business. They all know what I did and have convicted me.

Of course they all know. If you want anonymity, break the law in the big city. Since it’s too late for that, suck it up. This town is a whole hell of a lot more forgiving than you give them credit for.

Oh really? The prestigious Rosy do something wrong? What’d you do? Jaywalking? Bas snorted.

Rosy threw down the rag and stared at the man across the room. He hadn’t thought he had any buttons Bas could push. It sucked being wrong.

No, he huffed, feeling his skin heat with anger. I killed a kid.

***

I don’t see why you had to retire anyway. Jet pictured Sar sticking out his lower lip in a pout. The argument was a familiar one. They’d been having it for over a decade now. His best friend and former bandmate hadn’t been anywhere ready to give up the limelight when Jet had decided he’d had enough of vomiting in strange toilets.

It was my family—

Bullshit. Sar cut Jet off. Your mom and dad were the most supportive parents I ever met. I wish mine had been the same.

Not them. It was the kid.

He was a baby! Hardly someone to be taking life advice from.

Sighing, Jet rattled off the answer he’d given so many times before. "The kid called me Uncle Angus, and I looked around to see who he was talking to. That’s when it happened. I realized I didn’t know who I was anymore. I didn’t know who the fuck Angus was. And the kid seemed to think Angus was cool shit, so I wanted to know who he was. So I sobered up, and in the morning, when my head was clear, I thought about it, and I still wanted to know who Angus was." And finding out was still a daily adventure. From his apartment in LA to the shores of a Hawaiian island, he’d been wandering for years, not so much lost as waiting for the feeling that he deserved to go to the one place that was always there, in the back corner of his mind. The one place that had called to him. Parkerburg.

So I’m here in Parkerburg now. Jet blinked slowly at the signed poster of Saracen in a spangly T-shirt beside the register. It almost seemed like the image’s lips moved as his best friend’s voice echoed in his ear through the cell phone.

"Jet… Man… Now is not the time to be retired. There’s YouTube, and the Internet, and I read an article that people are making bank without investing a dime. We need to get the guys back together. A comeback now would put Killer Heels back on the top of the charts and money in the bank."

He ignored that. He’d heard it all so many times before.

I was just going for a drink. There’s this place on the square, it’s all quaint and cozy and I’ve been wanting to try it out. He stared around the shop, finally remodeled and updated, full of boxes. His excitement while planning this phase of his retirement had faded when the guys started unloading those trucks. "And that drink needs to be a virgin gin fizz,