Savor Blurb:
Mature and explicit content. Not
recommended for readers below 18-years-old. Yup, you’ve got to be that
old to read my story. Consider yourself warned.
I’m Dakota Collins, a tough
talking, eye patch wearing, workaholic photography student. Why am I important?
Well, maybe because I get to spend an entire month with Vicious, only the
sickest indie rock band out there.
You see, I needed a subject for
my Spring Showcase introspective in order to graduate. During a chance
encounter at a club I’d been sent to cover for the Daily Gossip, our ironically
named college paper, the features writer I usually teamed up with introduced me
to the band—by accident, I might add. It involved a run in with a scary, bald
bodyguard. Anyway, long story short, I signed a contract to take pictures of
Vicious.
I should have known their
handsome yet way too serious for his own good bassist, Luka Visraya, wouldn’t
be able to keep his hands to himself. He’s gorgeous and all, but the way he
smiles spelled trouble with a capital L. I’m in for a long month with him
around.
Crazy shit happens and then some.
So, if you want the skinny on Vicious and the events revolving around my stay
at Lunar Manor, read my story.
Again, refer to the warning
above.
Buy Links
Crescent Moon Press:
Author Bio:
When Kate Evangelista was told she had a knack fori wrting stories, she did the next best thing: entered
medical school. After realizing she wasn't going to be the next Doogie Howser,
M.D., Kate wandered into the Literature department of her university and never
looked back.
Today, she is in possession of a piece of paper that says to the
world she owns a Literature degree. To make matters worse, she took Master's
courses in creative writing.
In the end, she realized to be a writer, none of
what she had mattered. What really mattered? Writing. Plain and simple, honest
to God, sitting in front of her computer, writing. Today, she lives in the
Philippines and writes full-time.
Author
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Savor Exclusive Excerpt
“Dakota Collins!”
I
lowered my camera. The use of my full name never came with good consequences. I
blinked my vision back at her even if I wanted to spend the rest of the night
taking his picture. Sweat rose over
my upper lip. I may just have found my subject for the Spring Showcase.
The
only problem?
I
had to find a way to convince him to be in my project. Something told me this
wouldn’t be easy. By the way my heart beat in my ears, drowning out the music
and Silvia having a fit in front of me, I wanted it too much. I wanted him too much.
“This
the guy you were saying?” I showed Silvia the picture I’d taken. This seemed to
pacify her because she sidled closer, mesmerized like a moth to a flame.
“Luka
Visraya,” she said with a moan like she’d just tasted the most luscious
chocolate before taking a long gulp of her cocktail. The name didn’t register.
Silvia must have noticed my blank expression because she continued. “He’s the
bassist for Vicious.”
Still
no pings of recognition in my head.
She
slapped her thigh. “Where have you been? It’s weird that you haven’t heard of
them. Their songs are on the radio like every second.”
Of
course I hadn’t heard of them. I liked listening to country and I hardly kept
up with current events.
“Name
one?” Okay, I had a name. Luka. Exotic. A bassist. Part of a band I should know
about. So he’s famous. I slowly felt my chances of asking him to be my subject
slip from my grasp. If he was someone famous, fat chance he’d say yes to a
graduating photography student like me. I just about deflated when Silvia
mentioned one of their songs. “Oh, I know that one!” By accident. It played in
the radio of the cab I rode in to Sacrifice. I stared at the picture of him
then lifted my gaze to where he sat. “He’s gone.”
“What?”
Silvia whipped around in time to come face to face with a wall of man. “Whoa!”
She pushed at him. “Watch it, buddy!”
“Give
me the camera,” he said in a threatening tone.
Big.
Beefy. Bald. The three Bs that made up the quintessential bodyguard.
I
clutched my DSLR closer to my chest and looked up at him with my good eye. “And
why would I do that?” The patch didn’t seem to intimidate him because he just
reached out. So much for my Bond villain aspirations. I moved away from his
grubby hand. No one touched my camera but me.
Despite
her size, Silvia came between me and the mountain. “We’re here to cover
Sacrifice for our college paper. You don’t have the right to take away my
colleague’s camera.”
Yeah! You give it to him, Silvy.
Not
that I couldn’t take care of myself. But if Silvia wanted to play hero, I
wouldn’t stand in her way.
“What
seems to be the problem here?” a soft, authoritative voice chimed in.
The
bodyguard moved aside to reveal the Gothic Lolita. She stood at just about the
same height as Silvia, but she possessed an older aura even if she seemed to be
our age.
“She’s
been taking pictures,” Baldy said.
Lolita’s
kohl eyes landed on me then shifted to my camera.
“As
I was saying to the big guy,” Silvia explained. “My colleague and I are
covering the opening of Sacrifice.”
“For
what paper?” Lolita asked without taking her eyes off me. I clutched my camera
like an extra appendage. In some ways it was. After losing half my sight, I
relied on my camera like an extra eye, seeing the world through its lens. I
would rather die than lose it.
“The
Daily Gossip,” I said before Silvia could answer just to relieve some of the
awkward tension building in me under her gaze. “We study at Wexler U.”
She
tilted her head, crossing her arms.
“Okay,”
I quickly stammered out. “I get that the name of our paper sounds like a
tabloid, but the Daily Gossip is a cool campus paper.” The last part maybe only
I believed since Silvia raised her eyebrow at me, but Lolita and the mountain
didn’t have to know that.
No
one spoke after that. Even in a noisy club, the silence in our group rang in my
ears. Not waiting for the situation to get any more awkward, I plowed forward
with my own selfish intensions.
“You
know Luka.” I said it more as a statement, but it came out like a question.
Lolita
nodded.
“I’m
Dakota Collins and I’m graduating this spring. I was wondering if Luka would be
interested in—”
“What
would I be interested in?” a smooth voice joined our group.
The
walls of my throat closed, chocking the rest of what I had to say. All eyes
turned to Luka. Silvia dropped her empty glass. It bounced off the bodyguard’s
shoe and landed in a clatter but didn’t break. Even with my height, I still had
to look up at him.
“What
are you doing here?” Lolita admonished. “You should be backstage.”
One
side of his lips came up. God. Without the scowl, his face lit up. I had to
stop the urge to lift my camera and start snapping away. And his eyes were
piercing blue. The kind that stretched over my mother’s farm in the summer.
Damn.
Seeing him up close, I knew I’d give
any one of my kidneys for a chance to take his picture in a formal shoot.
“We
have five minutes. Chill, Yana.” He tugged at one of her pigtails.
“Luka,”
Silvia managed. “I’m a big fan. Will you sign my chest?”
Bypassing
my petite colleague, Luka’s intensely blue gaze studied me. He reached out and
I flinched back. His fingers almost grazed my patch. What the hell was the
matter with him? Trying to touch my eye patch was tantamount to poking a
bandage over a wound and asking the person if it hurts.
Gothic
Lolita—Yana—yanked Luka’s arm down. “I’m so sorry!” Her whole aura changed. She
went from all business to panicky. “My brother sometimes forgets his manners.
He didn’t mean anything about touching your…” She bit her lower lip, maybe trying
to keep herself from saying the wrong thing.
That
little faux pas cleared my head of the Luka haze and spurred me into action.
“Luka, will you let me take your picture for my final project?” I didn’t know
where my courage came from, but I knew if I didn’t take this chance, I’d regret
it. I had to have him as my subject.
Still
not removing his gaze from my face, like my patch transfixed him, he tilted his
head to one side very much like his sister did earlier.
“Luka,
don’t!” Yana said, but from the consideration on Luka’s face, she was too late.
“You’re
a photographer?”
“Yes.”
I nodded, in case the word wasn’t enough.
“And
you’d like me to be the subject of your project?”
God
yes! This time, I could only nod. I didn’t want him to see how eager I was. And
I couldn’t live with myself if I embarrassed myself further.
I
waited with baited breath.
It
seemed everyone in our group waited with baited breath for what the golden god
had to say about my brazen request. I soon realized when Luka spoke, everyone
listened. The way he pronounced every word precisely yet still spoke so
smoothly, like butter on warm toast, captured everyone’s attention. To say he
captivated us was an understatement. Something in me certainly wanted to hear
him keep speaking. He could read from an accounting textbook in that voice and
no one would get bored.
“I
need to know that you’re good,” he finally said.
Something
about his words seemed to hold a different meaning. I must have missed the
alcohol in the soda Silvia had given me. Maybe I was drunk and this was all a
blackout dream.
“What
are you saying?” Yana faced Luka all the way now, her petite form all rigid.
He
unleashed a full on megawatt smile my way. I almost had to cover my eye from
it. At my side, Silvia gasped. Her long nails dug into my arm. Like staring at
the sun, I couldn’t take my gaze away from him no matter how bad it was for me.
“We’re
about to perform. I want you to take several pictures then send them to Yana.
If she approves, we’ll see about your request.”
Then,
like smoke, he disappeared into the crowd.
