Too Far South

By Lina Langley

Rio's life isn't perfect, but at least it's finally getting somewhere. He has a job, no easy feat in an economy where almost everything is automated, and a partner that he's building a life with.

When masked strangers break into his suburban Bogota apartment, injuring his mother and stealing Jody's most valuable possession, he must find a way to replace what they've lost. 

When he gets an unbelievable opportunity to recoup his losses, Rio must find out: will he go so far as murder?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Crash Down
• Release date: Jul 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393826279

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NOTE

Rio is non-binary and uses the pronouns he and they interchangeably. For the sake of clarity, within the prose, the pronoun he is used 100% of the time. However, other characters often refer to Rio by using either pronoun. This is not a mistake.

Thank you.

CHAPTER ONE

Rio walked with his head down. He could hear music coming from the bars around him, people having animated conversations in the beer gardens. Thunder roared nearby, and he looked up at the sky as dark, thick clouds covered the star-studded sky.

The temperature suddenly dropped, and he tugged at the bottom of his bomber jacket to tighten the fabric around his body. Rio sped up, his tall shoes making a loud sound against the asphalt every time he took a step forward. He looked up as he heard someone begin to argue, and he felt his ankle twist under his body.

He’d accidentally hit the curb on the sidewalk, and he slipped down on the concrete, losing his balance in the process. He broke his fall by putting his hands down, and scraped his hand on the asphalt. He groaned under his breath, and looked at his now bloodied-hand. Tiny little pebbles had made their way under his skin. He winced and looked at his ankle, which was covered in scrapes and cuts.

He touched it softly. It was sore, and it hurt to the touch. He tried to get back to his feet, but he wobbled as soon as he got up, and he practically fell again. His entire leg burned, and he had tried to brace himself before falling, but it hadn’t worked.

These fuckin’ shoes, he said under his breath.

He’d worn the shoes at Jody’s insistence. Well, Jody hadn’t insisted, not exactly—just stared until Rio picked the shoes that Jody liked the most.

That was pretty typical behavior.

Ever since they’d met, Jody had been the one with taste, the one who knew exactly what kind of shoes went with what, what kind of outfit Rio should have been wearing.

Rio hadn’t exactly known what to make of Jody when they’d first bumped into each other. Jody always seemed to be surrounded by a laughing, adoring group of friends. Rio mostly kept to himself.

They’d bumped into each other—literally bumped into each other—in the cafeteria, and Rio had been mortified when Jody’s balance was lost. Jody hadn’t even stumbled.

After that, Jody always greeted Rio when they saw each other, until Rio had managed to ask Jody out.

Jody, Rio thought, had been flattered. But nothing else.

Rio had persisted for a few weeks, practically memorizing Jody’s schedule, trying to get in with the friend group that went everywhere with Jody.

But it had felt wrong, and weird, and Jody seemed more annoyed than amused, so Rio had cut it out.

He hadn’t expected to run into Jody at the restaurant a whole six months later, wearing taller shoes then. And he hadn’t expected Jody to get into it.

That felt like so long ago, he thought as he took a deep breath. He was going to give Jody hell when he got home.

He looked at the tall platforms and began to take them off. The street was disgusting, but he would need to walk barefoot to get to the nearest taxi station without twisting his ankle again and taking himself out of commission.

He took off his other shoe, and whistled when he saw the difference in the size of his feet. He didn’t even know if he was going to manage to get to the taxi station. The rain had started to come down harder, and fat water drops splashed by his feet, leaving darker marks on the pavement.

He got to his feet, this time a little more steadily, and tried his best not to wince as he continued to approach the taxi station. He knew he shouldn’t be walking barefoot in the streets of Bogota—they were disgusting, even when the cleaners had just passed through them, years of industry and