A warm welcome to author Andrea Speed , joining us today here at Love Bytes to talk about new release “Infected: Holden on the Horizon”.
Welcome Andrea 🙂
With Infected: Holden on the horizon, I’ve already done interviews with Holden, as well as other things, and I thought, why not have Holden help me interview a new character, one I hope you’ll all come to love, or at least tolerate: Chai Nayar.
Holden: Say hi, Chai.
Chai: Why?
Holden: It’s a thing you’re supposed to do. Like tolerate stupid questions gracefully.
Chai: Oh, okay. Hi.
Holden: Tell everybody a little something about yourself.
Chai: Why?
Holden: ‘Cause.
Chai: Okay. Well, I’m Chai, I’m an Aquarius, I like long sits on the beach, abundant girly cocktails, and hot guys who aren’t too picky. I think my lucky numbers are three and seventeen, although if it’s a full moon they’re seventy three and five. Is that good?
Holden: Fine. How did we meet?
Chai: I came into Elite Escorts, and there you were. I was as nervous as hell, but you gave me a screwdriver and made everything seem okay.
Holden: Perhaps you should clarify I gave you the drink named a screwdriver, and not the tool screwdriver.
Chai: Do you think people wouldn’t understand that?
Holden: I think you can’t take anything for granted. So, you’re a fellow ex sex worker.
Chai: Are you ex, though?
Holden: Mostly. I’m aging out.
Chai: I know. Thirties? You’re ancient.
Holden: As I like to say, a million in gay years. Do you want to talk about your accident or not?
Chai: Do I have to?
Holden: No.
Chai: Okay, then no.
Holden: Fine. What’s your favorite color?
Chai: Green.
Holden: Why?
Chai: Just to be difficult.
Holden: Good answer. What is one thing you would like people to know about you?
Chai: If it’s on the Cooking Channel, I’ve probably seen it.
Holden: That’s your thing, huh?
Chai: For some damn reason, I can watch white people make food for hours.
Holden: It is kind of hypnotic, isn’t it?
Chai: I wouldn’t eat half that stuff if you put it in front of me, and there’s no way I could cook anything beyond toast without burning down the house, but I love watching other people do it.
Holden: Come on, I’m sure you can cook something.
Chai: Absolutely not. I only learned a few basics in home ec class, and I forgot about it all. Once, I tried to microwave some ramen, and I caused a small explosion.
Holden: Really? Shit. I’m not letting you near my microwave.
Chai: I think that’s for the best.
Holden: Anything else you want to tell the audience before we wrap this up?
Chai: All the other hookers had cool nicknames – save for Scooter, who never had a chance – and I got stuck with my usual nickname, which is unfair. I want a cool nickname!
Holden: We’ll work on it. How do you feel about Boom-Boom?
Chai: Keep working on it.
Well, that’s Chai and Holden for you. And if you have any nickname suggestions, be sure and let me know.
With his friend lion shifter Roan McKichan no longer in the picture, former sex worker Holden Krause is now working as a detective investigating cases in Seattle. When he receives a request to investigate a rather unusual case for Big Mike, a local drug dealer, he ignores the potential hazards in working for such a client and takes it on.
But Holden hasn’t given up his vigilante ways, occasionally seeking violent retribution for those ignored by the justice system. There’s a man stalking the streets, assaulting anyone he perceives to be trans or gender-nonconforming in any way. When the brutality escalates, the case becomes personal for Holden.
If he cannot juggle being both a detective and a vigilante, his taste for blood and danger might finally catch up with him.
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His cell phone hummed in his pocket, and Holden answered it without looking. It could only be Otter. “It’s him,” he said and hung up. Holden pocketed his phone and pulled the black leather gimp mask over his face. He unzipped the mouth so he could talk to the fuckhole on his way in.
Holden stripped off his T-shirt and tossed it aside, although he kept his jeans and boots on. He had to. He had to preserve the surprise.
There was a knock on the door before it opened, and by that time Holden was lounging on the bed in his best porn-movie-bottom pose, like he was patiently waiting to be pounded by the pizza delivery boy. The man who came in smelled of cigarettes and was wearing basically anonymous blue jeans, white sneakers, and a blue polo shirt. He had thinning brown hair shaved down to a fuzz, perhaps trying to imply his baldness was a choice, and pale blue eyes that seemed to betray nothing but a kind of dull emptiness. He was pudgy, with a bit of a gut, but at least some of it was hard fat. He gazed at Holden, checking him out before bothering to look at his face. “Take that off. I wanna see your face.”
Holden slowly pushed up from the bed, and stood beside it, keeping his posture and body language as casual as possible. “Maybe you should take it off, Master.”
Something sparked briefly in his eyes. He liked being called “Master.” “I told you to do it, slave. So do it.”
Holden played around with the zipper as he slunk closer, giving him his best sexy eyes, and as soon as he was able, he grabbed the waistband of the man’s jeans and ran his thumb over the top button. The man grabbed his wrist, a little too hard as expected, and while he was asserting his dominance, Holden slipped his Taser out of his jeans and jabbed him with it. Right in the dick.
The asshole tried to scream, but he couldn’t manage much more than a squeak. He collapsed to the floor, and as soon as he was down, Holden straddled him and pulled out his butterfly knife. He opened it with a sharp flick of his wrist, exposing the blade, and pressed it against his throat before he stopped spasming. “Shouldn’t have used the same online handle, DomNick101. Did you think just ’cause you rented a boy from Backpage that gave you license to do whatever you wanted with him?”
DomNick couldn’t yet speak, although the way his eyes bulged and mouth twitched, he wanted to say something. “You think you could just beat the shit out of Otter, and there’d be no repercussions at all? ’Cause he’d never go to the cops? Did you ever think that maybe there were worse things than cops, fuckhead?”
Andrea Speed is actually an artificial life form that escaped a lab somewhere near New Jersey. Her name is an acronym for Accidental Nerdy Depressive Robot Eager Although Sleepy Please Evacuate Every Denny’s. No one ever said it was a good acronym. If you encounter her in the wild, give her gummy bears, and she’ll probably leave you alone.
IN ABSTENTIA BY ANDREA SPEED: http://andreaspeed.com/ WRITER OF STUFF (TUMBLR): http://notmanos.tumblr.com/ 8TRACKS: http://8tracks.com/notmanos
FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/Andreaspeedwriter
TWITTER: https://twitter.com/aspeed