Title Dempsey’s Grill
Author Bryan Fagan
Genre Contemporary Romance, Comedic Romance
Publisher The Wild Rose Press
Book Blurb
Gibson Baker had it all. A beautiful house. A beautiful girlfriend. A steady job and the world's most comfy couch. But when Gibson loses his job and his girl on the same day, he is forced to crawl home to Mom and Dad. At least Mom’s happy to see him.
Excerpt
Chapter 1. Seattle and Lourdes and Homeless, Oh MY!
Everyone's life has a defining moment. For the longest time I thought mine was the crash of 2008. I was wrong, it was only the beginning.
I always wanted to be a teacher, that is until I taught. How messed up is that? It was the final day at Rainier high-school in Seattle, Washington when I was informed my contract would not be renewed. The crash hit hard and that included the Seattle school district budget. While my fellow teachers stared off into space as their careers took a nosedive, I was secretly doing cartwheels and popping champagne. After all, I had picked the wrong career. But I wasn't worried, I had a roof over my head and a lady in my life.
Her name was Lourdes. For the longest time I thought our relationship was perfect, ideal. Seven months and four days to be exact. Lourdes liked things just so, and I tried to be the perfect, considerate boyfriend. I learned to tiptoe before she woke, served her favorite tea, and watched TV on mute, thank you subtitles, until she finished reading.
We lived in her father's rental. Lourdes kept a busy social calendar with her friends always dropping by. She was always on some dieting fad or another. I couldn't ever remember if this week we were eating Paleo or vegan, low carb or gluten free, so Lourdes controlled our menu. It was the ideal life. Until it wasn't.
As I exited Rainier high school for a final time I came up with a brilliant plan: Pizza. I stopped at Gino's and bought two specials. One for her, one for me. I'd break the news, have lunch and search for a new job in the morning. Life was simple back then.
I double-checked her pizza. If one item was forgotten it was trash city. Carefully, I opened the box. Three mushrooms, four sliced bell peppers, six cherry tomatoes, a mixture of tamari, and dried herb blend. Perfect!
You might be wondering how we met. Trust me, it's a cool story. We bumped into one another at a Halloween party. I had gone as Frankenstein's monster and when Lourdes arrived dressed up as a mad but oh so sexy scientist, I took it as a sign. With our costumes a perfect match we figured so were we. We dated over the holidays and by January I moved in. Sure, us crazy kids may have been rushing it and maybe I should have seen the red flags when she ditched all of my clothes in favor of ones she preferred but life was good. Why rock the boat?
I entered the house in my customary silence. Once I'd accidently woken Lourdes from a nap and can honestly say I saw a glimpse of hell. But on that weird day she opened the door before I had a chance and stormed away. She paced from the kitchen to the bedroom to the deck, her phone pressed against her ear the whole time. She listened while glaring at me. Her silence made me uneasy. When it came to conversations Lourdes was the dominant one, always talking. But not today.
Lourdes stood near the window, back to me. It was a sunny day but the clouds were moving in and a raindrop or two would probably find its way. Why couldn't we enjoy the moment, I wanted to scream. Looking back, I wonder what would have happened if I did.
Lourdes's head slowly turned until her eyes caught mine. I didn't notice the luggage by the door or that our pizzas were getting cold. Something was wrong.
"Yes, Daddy. I agree." She speaks!
Lourdes placed her phone in her pocket and gave me a long, measuring glare. I had grown used to her looks, but the 'Yes, Daddy' part gave me a chill.
"You lost your job?" Her voice was steady, her eyes were mean.
The sound of her voice made me happy. Maybe it was because she was always angry. Maybe, deep down, there was this beautiful person hidden underneath this mountain of disgust and disdain. Or maybe I was just a typical horny guy and I didn't care. Good old angry sex. Maybe that's why her voice made me happy.
"How the hell did you get fired?" It wasn't a question.
"I didn't get fired," I tried to explain. "I was laid off. The budget collapsed."
But I already knew there was no point in contradicting her. She didn't care if her facts were right or not. I may have loved the sound of her voice but I hated the look in her eyes. They always carried the same message: Disappointment.
"I don't care how it happened, I'm not going to support a freeloader. I'm not your Sugar Mama. I will not live with an unemployed man."
"Huh?" It was slowly sinking in. My afternoon wasn't going as planned. "Wait. How did you find out?"
"Daddy knows everybody on the school board. They said you were the only one who didn't cry. You wanted to leave!" She stabbed an accusatory finger in my direction.
I can fix this, my panicked mind screamed. I never wanted to be a teacher. I hated teaching. I hated high school kids, grade school kids, and preschool. I needed somebody to blame for getting me into this mess. I had an idea – how about Mom and Dad? Of course!
It was at that moment that I should have held her or at least tried. Maybe if I promised we'd get through this or I'll find another job, one that I actually liked, the day might have turned out different. But this was me we're talking about and I said the only thing that made sense at the time.
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Author Biography
I was born and raised in Burlington, Washington. A little farming town 70 miles north of Seattle. I bummed around with odd jobs after high school until one day I spotted a small college in Ashland, Oregon. I later settled in Eugene, Oregon with my wife and two daughters. I began my writing career with the help of my daughters. When they were little, they drew pictures and created stories. One day they asked me to join them. I remember the day my four-year-old asked if I would do something for her. She asked if I would write a novel. And that was the day I began to write.
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