What's Up, Pussycat?

By Louise Lyons

Finley Harrington despairs of ever being able to move on after the death of Andrew, the love of his life. When he spots an advertisement for auditions for Cats, the last musical Andrew performed in, Finley acts on the spur of the moment and calls for an appointment to audition.

Much to Fin’s surprise, he gets the part he hopes for, but during his struggles with stage-fright, and the teasing of a fellow actor, Karl Rogers, he wonders if he’s made a huge mistake. But Karl’s irritating persona hides a different person inside, and when Fin gets to know him, he develops a surprising attraction to him.

Could Karl be the person to help Fin move on from the past, or is he destined to remain alone?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Louise Lyons
• Release date: Jun 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370194957

Louise Lyons

I'm a gay romance author from the UK, having started in my late teens writing Fanfiction with a number of different films/TV series for inspiration. My reviews prompted me to try publishing some works and my first book was released in 2014. Since then, I've published several novels and novellas, and a collection of short stories.Most of the books published through official publishing channels have now had the rights returned to me for various reasons, so I'm re-issuing them myself.

Book preview

What's Up, Pussycat?

by

Louise Lyons

COPYRIGHT

What's Up, Pussycat? © 2017 Louise Lyons

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.

WARNING

This book contains material that is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

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

About the Author

More from Louise

Chapter One

Cupping cold hands around my mouth, I breathed out and rubbed them together to warm them. A thick frost covered the ground, and the January air stung my nostrils. I watched my breath curl from my mouth like steam and blow away in the breeze.

Stillness blanketed the graveyard. No one else was crazy enough—or desperate enough—to visit their loved ones in the middle of the night in sub-zero temperatures. But I’d lost Andrew at exactly two o’clock in the morning on a Sunday, six months earlier. Every week since then, at that exact time, I religiously visited Andrew, whatever the weather and however I felt.

Tears welled in my eyes and tracked down my cold cheeks. I felt their faint warmth as they made their way to my chin and dripped onto my jacket. I blinked and glanced around the area. The moon, bright in the cloudless sky, cast an eerie light over the grave stones. I returned my gaze to Andrew’s stone, from which a long shadow almost reached my toes. Stretching out one foot until the shadow covered it, I let out a shaky sigh. I was lost. Lost and alone.

It had been a freak accident that took Andrew. No other vehicles had been involved. Andrew’s car left the road on a bend when its tires hit a patch of spilled oil. An unforgiving road sign had been in the way. The doctors reported he died instantly and wouldn’t have suffered any pain. I hadn’t been with him at the time, and not a day had passed since, when I hadn’t wished I’d been in the car, too.

Andrew had been performing in a theater in Leicester. His troop had already played in their home city of Nottingham for three months, and the Leicester run had almost been at an end. After that it would have been Birmingham and finally, London.

Andrew refused the offer of accommodation in Leicester, and insisted on driving home every night so he could be with me as much as possible. The journey was only thirty miles and he’d done it six days a week. On one of those days—usually Fridays—I made the journey instead so I could watch the show, and we spent the night in a hotel. I never grew tired of seeing Andrew perform, however many times I saw whichever musical he’d been a part of. That time it had been Cats. Andrew played a character named Mistoffelees—a black cat with white paws and face, who danced and performed magic. He was magnificent, and I watched each dance in awe. Sometimes I wished I’d made more effort to continue my own acting and dancing career, but I never had the confidence of my lover. I took a step back and concentrated on writing instead.

Why did you leave me? I whispered aloud. It was a question I’d asked many times, usually when I sat on the bench just feet away from where Andrew had been laid to rest. Seven years wasn’t enough. You said we’d have forever. Remember? Every year on the anniversary of the day we met, you said it was one more year in the rest of our lives. What am I supposed to do now? My voice cracked and more tears rolled down my cheeks, quickly becoming a stream. The agony of losing the man I’d been with since I was eighteen—the only man I’d ever been with—hadn’t lessened since we’d been parted. Twenty-six visits and each one had seen me paralyzed on the bench, blinded by tears and unable to see a way forward.

I’m sorry, darling. What must you think of me? I scrubbed at my cheeks and sniffed hard. My weeping always ended the same way—with apologies and promises to do better, that I never managed to keep. I can almost hear you saying, ‘come on, man, get a grip. Life won’t live itself.’ Remember saying that? I’d get all upset about absolutely nothing sometimes and you’d tell me how silly I was being and… and k-kiss my tears away.

Another sniff and I wiped my face with my sleeve. I shivered from head to foot. The cold had seeped through my duffel coat and jeans, and my feet were numb. I’d forgotten to wear gloves, and I could barely feel my fingers as I pushed up my sleeve to look at my watch. Almost three. I’d been there an hour.

I stood slowly and looked down at the yellow rose I’d placed on Andrew’s grave when I arrived. I always brought one flower of a different type or color each week, because Andrew had been a keen gardener and loved a lot of color. He’d always complained that winter was mostly green and brown. I couldn’t tell a flower from a weed, so I visited a florist every Saturday and purchased a single bright bloom from the kind, elderly lady behind the counter.

I have to go now, my love. I’ll see you next week. Don’t go anywhere, okay? I love you.

I returned to my car and started the engine. Ice had already begun to form on the glass. I turned up the heater and sat there for a few minutes to thaw out both myself and the car. By the time the ice had turned to water and trickled down the windshield, I was in control again.

I drove home to the little house with its overgrown garden that I’d shared with Andrew since our first anniversary. I didn’t bother to switch on any lights. I went upstairs, stripped down to my underwear, and crawled into the narrow bunk in the guest room. I hadn’t been able to sleep in the master bedroom since I lost Andrew.

Sleep came quickly and at last I could forget, for a few short hours.

Chapter Two

Finley, you look terrible, love. Did you go to the grave again last night? Carol McInnes, Andrew’s mother, bustled around the kitchen, helping herself to coffee and grimacing over the sour milk. She visited at least once a month to check on me. She and Andrew’s father had coped much better than I had. They’d been devastated