Since this is the time of year when most people are thinking about doing their taxes, it made sense to me to interview someone who knows about accounting stuff. Can’t hurt, right? Should be of general interest.
Why is it that things just never work out the way you think they will? Maybe it’s just me.
A friend of mine named Aly suggested that I talk to a friend of hers for my interview. He’s in the business, and he’s a nice guy. Okay, I think, that works for me. So I gather my voice recorder, bring along a notebook, just in case, and head to the address she gave me. She’s already talked to Tim, and he’s agreed to see me.
He opens the door right after I knock and welcomes me.
“Tim Mansfield?” I ask, just to make sure I’m in the right place.
“That’s me. You must be Julie. Aly said you were coming.” He shows me inside. His apartment is small, but nicely kept, especially for a bachelor. Aly made a point of telling me he’s not married, but she also warned me he plays for the other team. Story of my life, right? He is cute, too, curse my luck, with short red hair and pretty blue eyes.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“Water’s fine,” I assure him. He waves me to the comfortable looking couch, then joins me there a few moments later, with a bottle of cold water from the fridge.
“Mind if I use this?” I hold up the voice recorder that I’ve borrowed from Sarah and he nods.
“So, tax season, busy time of year, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely, Julie,” he agrees, taking a seat beside me. “But you have no idea how much prep work actually goes into a successful—”
A successful what I wonder as his train of thought is derailed by the sudden, and obviously unexpected, opening of the door to the apartment. In waltzes another cute young man, with chocolate hair, and eyes so dark blue they almost seem purple, wire-rimmed glasses and a big grin on his rather sensual lips.
I look to Tim for a cue. Aly said he’s single, so not the boyfriend. Neighbor, maybe? One who has the right of entry whenever he pleases?
Oh oh, Tim doesn’t look pleased. Erase that thought.
“Sonny!” he expostulates, and the brunet grins even wider.
“Yep, you got my name right. Good job, Tim-tim!”
My eyebrows raise. Tim-tim?
“Don’t ask,” Tim groans, his attention fixed on the newcomer. “I knew I should have locked that stupid door.”
“Why?” Sonny asks before he turns to me and holds out his hand. “Hi. My name’s Sonny Scrignoli. Pleased to meet you.”
Well, isn’t he sweet? I take his hand and shake it. “Hi Sonny, my name’s Julie.”
“Oh, you must be the lady Aly told me about.” He flops down on the couch so close to Tim he’s almost in his lap. “She said you’re interviewing him about tax stuff. He knows lots about that, he’ll be very interesting for your readers,” he says with confidence.
I notice that Tim’s face is rather red, but he hasn’t removed the hand that Sonny has casually laid on his leg.
“Is this your boyfriend?” I ask Tim, and watch the hue of his skin turn even redder.
“No, he’s my frigging ex. Pardon my language.” He turns to the young man beside him. “Sonny, don’t you have something to do?”
“Nope,” Sonny says rather ingenuously, and I notice he cuddles even closer to Tim. How cute! “I’m all yours, Tim-tim.”
Huh, mixed signals here, methinks.
“No, you’re not!” Tim’s voice is starting to get shrill. Oh dear, things might just get ugly. Maybe discretion is the better part of valor.
I very carefully rise from the couch. “You know what? I think you two might need some alone time.” I hold up one hand as Tim starts to protest. “No need to thank me, just call me when there’s a better time, okay? Nice to meet you. Both of you.”
“You too, Miss Julie.” Sonny has the cutest smile. Oh my, they’re a cute couple. Time for me to go. I make my quick escape, and close the door softly behind me, just as I hear Tim exclaim, “Sonny, have you forgotten again? You’re my ex!”
Well, that’s all for now, I’ll let you know how it goes later. I hope they’ll be okay!
Sometimes Sonny Scrignoli forgets he’s Tim Mansfield’s ex. He waltzes in and out of Tim’s apartment like he still lives there, driving Tim crazy. Is it really so hard to remember they’ve broken up? Then again, maybe Tim should quit having sex with him.
When Sonny disappears for two weeks, Tim can’t help but be concerned. A strange phone call and a mysterious cry for help leads Tim on a desperate search for his ex.
Sonny’s in big trouble, and it’s Tim to the rescue! He’s the only one who can save his ex from a fate worse than death. Bumbling gangsters, a thick-headed former boyfriend, and secretive FBI agents lead Tim and Sonny on a merry chase full of laughs and quirks.
Sonny’s real name is Mario, but he’s been called Sonny since he was a small bambino, as his mother puts it, so Sonny it is. Sonny stands almost six foot tall in his bare feet, which are surprisingly small for a man, almost dainty. He has chocolate brown hair that grows thick but not long, and generally looks tousled; blue eyes so dark that sometimes they look purple in the proper light, framed behind silver wire spectacles; a generous nose and wide sweet lips which have been known to give the most amazing head this side of anywhere. Put that with the body of an Adonis, and you have Sonny.
I had Sonny, but not anymore. He seems not to realize that, though. At least not most of the time. Hence the part where I see him more often than should be considered normal for someone who’s my ex. Which is where I began.
Sometimes I think he forgets that he has indeed attained that past participle ex-boyfriend status. Granted, it’s only been six months. His mother tells me he just needs time to adjust, please don’t be too hard on her boy. Yes, I still see her too. On a rather regular basis, in fact. Hard not to, when she’s my mother’s best friend. Lucky me. Lia’s a nice lady, I love her to death. But she has this deep-seated belief that Sonny and I are going to get back together again, a belief he seems to share. Along with my mother. And most of our friends.
No one seems to listen to me when I say snowballs rolling along the floor of Hell have a better chance of survival than our relationship. Least of all Sonny. I guess that’s why he keeps coming over here, because in some strange deranged naïve corner of his mind, there’s still an us, and he isn’t an ex. So he wanders over whenever he wants. Sometimes he calls, sometimes he doesn’t. Today he called.
Sometimes I just get tired of telling him no. Some days I don’t even get that far. Today, I didn’t want to waste my breath, so I just said, “Fine. As long as you promise to behave.”
By behave, I mean quit assuming we’re going to have sex. Even if sometimes we do. I know, I know, he’s my ex, right?
Sometimes I just don’t know where to draw that fine line, I think. No wonder the boy’s confused.
Meet the author:
Julie Lynn Hayes was reading at the age of two and writing by the age of nine and always wanted to be a writer when she grew up. Two marriages, five children, and more than forty years later, that is still her dream. She blames her younger daughters for introducing her to yaoi and the world of M/M love, a world which has captured her imagination and her heart and fueled her writing in ways she’d never dreamed of before. She especially loves stories of two men finding true love and happiness in one another’s arms and is a great believer in the happily ever after. She lives in St. Louis with her daughter Sarah and two cats, loves books and movies, and hopes to be a world traveler some day. She enjoys crafts, such as crocheting and cross stitch, knitting and needlepoint and loves to cook. While working a temporary day job, she continues to write her books and stories and reviews, which she posts in various places on the internet. Her family thinks she is a bit off, but she doesn’t mind. Marching to the beat of one’s own drummer is a good thing, after all. Her published works can be found at Dreamspinner Press, Amber Quill Press, MuseitUp Publishing, Torquere Press, and eXtasy Books, and coming soon to Wayward Ink Publishing and Prizm Publishing. She has also begun to self-publish and is an editor at MuseitUp.
Dreamspinner buy link: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=4845