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Josalee threw up when the two little pink lines blurred into existence. After her coffee came up, bitter and sour, she sat with her back against the tub, her chest bouncing in rhythmic hiccups. She stared up at the counter where the positive test sat, then glanced at the clock. David would be home any second. She tied back her black hair, pulled herself up, and tossed the test in the garbage.

She cried as she brought the bathroom garbage out. Normally, David would be the first person she told. She could count on him to come home, hold her while she cried, and run out for ice cream. If things were just a little different, they would joke about how one-night stands had side effects. Her hands shook as she climbed the stairs back up to their little apartment. She went back into the bathroom.

* * * * *

She stopped crying in time to hear David’s key. She splashed cold water on her face, then dried off with a chocolate brown towel he picked out for their place. She once brought home an antique end table. Its teal paint peeled in strips and it wobbled, but she loved it the second she saw it at the thrift store. “Girl, you are no Martha Stewart,” he told her, rolling his eyes. The end table sat in her bedroom ever since.

The front door opened as she came out of the bathroom. David’s keys jangled against each other as he fought to tug them out.

She rolled her almond shaped eyes. “Jiggle it a little,” she called.

He glanced up. “Duh! Why can’t I ever remember?”

She smiled, but her eyes felt like little brown stones in her head.

“How was your day, JoJo?” he asked as he tossed his keys into the little baby blue bowl on the brown front table.

She sat on an arm of the couch and picked at the piping. “Good.”

David hung up his coat. “Did you get a lot of work done?”

“I went to Dark Brew.” She stared at the piping.

His face lit up. “Oh! Was that boy there?!” He practically ran over to the couch and sat next to her. “Do tell!”

I am such an idiot, she thought. “No. I just sketched for a little while by myself,” she said. Then I went to the pharmacy.

David started to pat her thigh, then retracted his hand as though she were on fire. He nodded. “Good. You working tonight, or are we watching Grey’s Anatomy?”

She glanced at his hand, which gripped his knee. “I’m… working,” she said. Her stomach churned.

“Aw,” he whined. “You’re always working on Grey’s nights! You need to get yourself a nine to five, girl!” He jumped up. “I’ll DVR it for you, since someone still can’t figure out the remote.”

“Thanks,” she said. She tried to think of something else to talk about. We have so few safe subjects these days, she thought. “Hey. Did you get that fever checked out?”

He shrugged. “They told me it was probably from ‘overexertion,’ and to rest up and blah, blah, blah.” He rolled his eyes. “Overexertion. Can you believe it?” Their eyes met for a second, then they both looked away. “All set,” he said, and put the remote down. “I guess I’m on my own for dinner.” He wandered into the kitchen.

She sighed, and pretended to go get ready for work.

* * * * *

Josalee took the next bus to the library. She logged into a computer with her library ID and Googled “pregnancy symptoms.” The website still said the same things: nausea, vomiting, sore breasts, positive pregnancy test. She drummed her fingers on the wooden desk and stared at the screen.

“Hey you.”

Josalee jumped. She closed the webpage and turned in her seat. “Oh. Hey Ingrid.” She gave her friend a waxen smile.

Ingrid’s blond hair was pulled up into a bun, remnants of her grown out bangs falling into her eyes. She brushed them back with a slender hand. “What’re you doing here?” Ingrid asked.

Josalee chewed on her lower lip. Her mind raced through possible excuses. “Just killing some time. I’m on my lunch.” Her eyes darted from Ingrid to the dark computer screen, her heart thudding in her chest. The air in the library felt stuffy, stagnant—too many old books and not enough open windows. “So what’re you doing here?”

“Well,” Ingrid said, her blue eyes narrowed, “I need to write an IEP for one of my students, and the house is way too quiet. Victor’s always out lately.” She sighed.

Josalee frowned. “Well, it’s good you got out of the house,” she offered, but the words didn’t sound quite as comforting out loud as they had in her head. “Now you can have some adult interaction.”

Ingrid shrugged. “I like my students. They all want to be around me.”

Josalee’s shoulders slumped. Normally, she’d offer to buy coffee, but all she wanted to do was get away before Ingrid could ask more questions. She stood. “I’m sorry, hon, but I’ve gotta get going.”

Ingrid sighed. “I know. I don’t want to make you late. Call me later?”

Josalee nodded, then hurried out of the library. She caught another bus and took it to the cemetery at the edge of town. When she and David were teenagers, they snuck out and sat on the bridge over the lake—David to escape his homophobic parents, Josalee to escape her overprotective Japanese father.

She sat on the concrete wall and stared at the pipe that curved in an upside down U and led nowhere. Beneath her, inky water flowed through the dam. Moonlight reflected off the lake’s surface, and the cool, grassy scent of spring filled her nostrils. She stared at the dark water and felt her center calm to the same stillness.

If things were different, she might welcome a baby; David would make a much better uncle.

Buy Season One Now

Read the first twelve episodes in one collective ebook. When they were released weekly, each episode was $0.99—coming to $11.88. You can catch up now for $3.99, saving you $7.89.

Sandpaper Fidelity: Season One is available on Amazon, Apple, Barnes & Noble, and more.

Get it Now »

9d. You further warrant the book represents a complete work:
• this is not a work-in-progress;
• the uploaded file is not a partial sample or sample chapter, or is not a collection of sample chapters, or not simply a catalog advertising other books
• the uploaded book represents a complete story with a beginning, middle and end; not a short serial

Because Sandpaper Fidelity is an ongoing serial, with no plans for an ending anytime soon, I had to pull it from Smashwords… which meant I also had to pull it from some other retailers, as Smashwords was my main method of distribution for this series. I had to decide what the next step was, and it wasn’t easy.

Some of you might remember that Sandpaper Fidelity started off exclusively on Amazon. The decision to go back was a tough one. I certainly don’t want to leave anyone out! To be perfectly honest, though, the series did pretty well when it was only on Amazon. Even when SF was available through other retailers, most of its sales came from Amazon. So I’ve decided to give Amazon’s exclusivity program, KDP Select, another go. For the next 90 days, Sandpaper Fidelity will only be available for the Kindle. This means that it will get some special attention from Amazon and hopefully bring in new readers.

This also means that I can do free promotions again! I’m feeling a little giddy, so I decided to do a huge giveaway between now and the release of the new #17! The following issues will be free during the following dates:

• January 28th-29th: #1-4
• January 30th-31st: #5-8
• February 1st-2nd: #9-12
• February 3rd-4th: #13-16

If you act fast, you’ll be able to get the entire series for free—meaning you’ll be all caught up for when #17 comes out on February 5th!

If you don’t have a Kindle, you can get their app for free on your PC, Mac, smartphone, etc. Click here to download it.

This season, you will get to know the intriguing Niall Darcy, learn more about Victor’s secret, watch Josalee pursue her dreams, see Octavia find romance in an unexpected way, hope David can balance love and fatherhood, and find a new beginning for Ingrid.

Each issue will be $0.99 and available exclusively on Amazon for the Kindle, the Kindle app for your smartphone, or the Kindle app for your computer.

“It’s not gonna run away,” her younger sister, Kimie, said from behind her, making her jump. Josalee slammed the oven door closed and glared at the teenage girl. Kimie rolled her eyes and plucked a raw snap pea from the colander in the sink and popped it into her mouth. Before Josalee could shoo her away, Niall strode in, glanced at Josalee by the oven, and joined Kimie at the sink. A snap pea crunched between his perfect white teeth, and Josalee sighed again.

“You two are the worst sous chefs ever,” she said, laughing as Niall stole another snap pea and winked at her. Her heart fluttered in her chest as he locked eyes with her. She tore her eyes away, chastising herself. “David and his new roommate are coming,” she said, busying herself with the pot of peeled potatoes. She lit a burner and filled the pot with water, then set it to boil.

Niall leaned on the counter next to her, a dishrag in his still tan hand. Maybe LA gave all of its residents a permanent olive glow, she surmised. “Are you okay?” he asked, lowering his voice. In another life, she might be married to this hot shot, and the baby in her belly wouldn’t be a bastard, as her father called it.

“My life is becoming a soap opera,” she said, snorting. She took the towel from him and replaced it with a can of cranberry sauce. “Make yourself useful, Darcy.” She turned from him and whirled on Kimie. “And you,” she said, handing the girl her phone, “call Ingrid and make sure she and Victor are still coming.”

♦

Ingrid applied another layer of red lipstick, checked her teeth, and used the mirror to peek at Victor. He sat on the bed behind her, taking his time lacing his dress shoes. She pressed her lips together and stood. Without a word, she left their bedroom and padded downstairs, where she reached into the closet and pulled out her coat. She made sure to bang the door knob against the wall, where a deep scuff marred the otherwise perfect teal paint. After a moment, she heard him coming down the stairs. She left the closet door open for him, grabbed her clutch, and went out to the car.

Her phone rang as she slid into the passenger seat. Fingers sorted through the items in the clutch: lipstick, compact mirror, wallet, and finally the smooth rubber of her phone case. “Hello,” she said, not bothering to glance at the display.

“Josalee wants to make sure you’re on your way,” Kimie said into the phone, with all of the excitement a seventeen-year-old could muster. In the background, Ingrid could hear the clunk of a wooden spoon against a pot and a giggle from Josalee.

Getting over David with that director, I see, Ingrid thought with a sly smile. “Tell her we’re on our way… eventually.” Ingrid rolled her eyes, craning her neck to see the door. Either Victor forgot to lace his shoestrings through a couple holes or he was purposely making her wait. “Ask her if she needs us to grab anything on our way,” she said, narrowing her eyes at the door.

Kimie relayed the message, Niall Darcy said something, and Josalee laughed again. I bet they’re sleeping together, Ingrid thought. She felt a warm tingle run through her belly and, for a moment, wondered what would happen if she went back inside and took off all her clothes while Victor played with his shoes. Maybe, she thought, we’d have sex, and everything would be okay, just like in the movies. She stifled a snort, and just in time.

“She said no thanks, just hurry up,” Kimie reported, and hung up.

Ingrid punched the car horn twice and glanced at the door again. After a heartbeat, Victor came out, pulling his coat on as he jogged down the front steps. He looked flushed, despite his dark skin. She frowned.

♦

Josalee handed Kimie a stack of their grandmother’s china plates and sent the girl into the living room which, for the time being, served as their dining room. One thing David hadn’t ensured before they signed the lease was room for entertaining. Her heart ached at the thought of him. At least he’s coming to dinner, she reminded herself. With a frown, she realized she hadn’t heard from him yet. “Kimie,” she started, then shook her head. She retrieved her phone from the counter and scrolled to David’s number in her contacts.

“Anything I can do to help?” Niall asked, striding back into the kitchen.

She sighed and put her phone down. “I just checked the turkey. It’s still there.” She gave him a wry smile and smoothed her apron.

He smiled back, then donned oven mitts and removed the boiled potatoes from the burner. As he drained the water, she turned off the flame. God, I hope he doesn’t think I’m trying to sleep with him, she thought, scowling down at her slightly protruding belly. She had to admit, though, that the director looked good in her kitchen. Ingrid would totally tell me to snag him while I can. She watched Niall digging in her refrigerator for milk and sour cream, but it was David she saw. She picked up the potato masher from the counter and gave him a smile as he set the ingredients on the counter.

“I’ve got it from here.”

♦

Josalee set the carved turkey in the middle of the table. It looked a lot better than she imagined. She smiled, then frowned as she looked around at the empty table. She sighed and motioned Kimie and Niall to sit. If I weren’t knocked up, she thought, I’d totally have a glass or two of that wine Niall bought. She smiled at her only two guests and gestured to the food. “Dig in, guys.”

“Chef first,” Niall said. He winked at her and she felt herself melt. Before she could recover, Ingrid burst in, Victor trailing behind her.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” her blonde friend said, throwing her arms around Josalee.

“Traffic was horrendous,” a loud female voice said from behind Victor. As the couple moved inside, Josalee saw Octavia and David on her stoop. Her heart fluttered in her chest at the sight of him. “C’mon, Curls,” Octavia said, and brushed past Victor. She seated herself next to Kimie, flinging her coat on the back of her chair. She held out her hands, palms up. “I’m starving.” She glanced around at everyone, an eyebrow raised.

David ran a hand through his hair. “Uh, Octavia,” he said, lilting the last syllable of her name. “We don’t say grace.”

Josalee watched as her ex-roommate’s new roommate’s eyes widened, and swallowed a smile. She turned to David. “Can I take your coat?”

♦

They ate in silence for so long that Octavia thought she might go crazy. She poured more gravy on her sliver of dry turkey and took a sip of the wine. “So,” she said, turning to Niall, “what do you do?”

“That’s forward,” Kimie said, her phone glued to her ear. She dove back into her conversation, but her eyes remained on Niall.

Josalee cleared her throat and scooped the bowl of cranberry sauce from the table. “Anyone want more?” No one said a thing. She glanced at Ingrid, but the blonde was on her third glass of wine and sat with her head propped on her hand, an amused smile playing on her lips. Even David, Josalee noticed, glanced at Niall between sips of wine.

Her new roommate took a sip of his fourth glass and jerked a thumb at Josalee. “Right now I’m wondering if I’m going to be able to pay this lovely lady rent,” he laughed.

Octavia smirked. “So you’re unemployed? That sucks.” She glanced at Josalee’s belly.

Niall shook his head. “No,” he sighed. “I’m going to be directing the most stupid film in Hollywood as soon as I finish signing contracts and whatnot.” Josalee watched as the entire table — minus Ingrid and Kimie, who already knew what he did for a living — leaned forward, suddenly awake.

David set down his fork and stroked the light stubble that covered his upper lip and chin since Josalee last saw him. “That’s good money,” he said slowly. Niall shrugged and scooped more mashed potatoes onto his plate.

Out of the corner of her eye, Josalee saw Kimie set down her phone. “Don’t worry,” her little sister told David, “Niall’s not bangin’ my sister.”

No one moved for what felt to Josalee like an eternity. Ingrid burst into laughter, covering her still perfectly lipsticked mouth with one hand. Josalee saw Niall quirk an eyebrow. She stood from the table. “Anyone want dessert?”

Sandpaper Fidelity returns in January 2013 with an all-new four-issue story arc! Catch up on the entire series now for only $0.99 an issue.

Photo © 2012 Alexshebanov | Stock Free Images and Dreamstime

Although issue #17 is written at this time, I chose to not release it because it is the beginning of a new story arc and I didn’t want to take such a long break right after starting a new arc. I am extremely sorry to my readers for the confusion and lack of issues lately. I truly thought a two-week break would help me continue to write the series on a weekly basis.

The collection of the first twelve issues, Sandpaper Fidelity: Compendium I, will still be released in early December. I have set a tentative release date for Tuesday, December 4th. Please be sure to sign up for my free email newsletter so that you will be notified when I begin taking pre-orders; pre-orders will be the only way you can get a signed copy.

I will be using the break to rest up, release the compendium, and release an ebook version of my debut novel, Sade on the Wall. I want to stress that I have no plans of cancelling Sandpaper Fidelity. I still have plenty of stories to tell.

I apologize from the bottom of my heart, and thank you so much for your support in this difficult time.

Update, 10/16/2012: I did a quick vlog last night explaining a little more.

Why the break? I know this is inhumane, but I’m not at all sorry. I have you hooked, mwahaha! In all seriousness, the events of this story arc are leading up to something big. Some major things are going to be happening, one of which is the introduction of another new character, Niall Darcy. Niall’s going to be playing a pretty big role in two lead characters’ lives (but I’m not telling who, so you’ll have to keep reading to find out).

More Ways to Read SF

If you’re new to the series or have been waiting for issues to be available on non-Kindle devices, #1 and #2 are now available for the Nook, iBooks, and more. #3 will be distributed to these retailers on or around October 1st.

After October 7th, the first four issues will be available as a bundle for $2.99, saving you the cost of one issue. Depending on their popularity, I will continue to release the $2.99 bundles throughout the series.

Trade Paperback Coming in December

I will soon be taking pre-orders for Sandpaper Fidelity: Compendium I, which will be released in December. Think of this as a collection of the first season, if you will. Those who pre-order it will have the opportunity to receive a signed and personalized copy — in real Sharpie. I don’t do that fake, photocopied autograph crap like some authors. If you’ve ever wanted the chance to have my terrible John Hancock, make sure you sign up for my email newsletter so that you are in the loop when I start taking pre-orders.

Price for the TPB is TBA. Stay in the loop. Don’t go into the light.

The Fevered Pen Reviews SF

Jess at The Fevered Pen wrote up a really sweet review of Sandpaper Fidelity. This is the third time SF has been featured on a blog. (I’ve been interviewed by Dina Santorelli, and featured on The Book Hipster.) Jess has been a strong supporter of mine from the very beginning — as in, from the days when I bought my first domain and wrote whatever came to mind, before I knew I wanted to be a writer.

Sign Up for My Email Newsletter

You haven’t already?! Go, go, go!

Image from Avert.org

Every year, more and more people become infected.

Image from Avert.org

Why, in such a high tech time, is AIDS still rampant? Looking at the US data again, it seems that the two main causes are sexual intercourse and intravenous drug use. This is portrayed in the musical Rent. Two of the main characters, Collins and Angel, were infected after having unprotected sex with someone already infected. Mimi and Roger were infected due to sharing needles with infected people while they were addicted to heroin. Although the musical debuted in the early nineties, an estimated 15.9 million people use intravenous drugs now. However, unprotected sex still beats drug use as the main cause of HIV contraction.

In Sandpaper Fidelity #2, David finds out that he is HIV positive and that he most likely passed it to Josalee after their one-night stand. Both of them will deal with their diagnoses in completely different ways.

If you have been diagnosed or think you might be HIV positive, see your doctor. You can also find support groups in your area or online to help you cope. You are not alone.

I met the real Octavia while working one night. She was walking around with headphones in her ears and I groaned inwardly when I saw her. She wore leggings, a purple top, and her curls were even wilder than mine. I thought she would be one of those annoying customers who was going to ask me questions while continuing to listen to her music (kind of like the people who like to talk on their cell phones but still expect you to pay attention to their needs). Turns out she had a lot of heart. She told me about the school she went to, how she didn’t know what she wanted to be, but she had so much life exuding from her that I knew she would be something great, whatever she ended up deciding.

We talked about writing and life and leggings and losing weight, and before I thought to ask her for her number so we could hang out, she was gone. She turned a horrible night in retail completely upside down, and even though she was only in my life for a few minutes, I’ll never forget her.

I tried to inject as much of her personality into the fictional Octavia. I hope I did you justice, girl. The following is an excerpt from the first draft of #13; some things might change, but I wanted to share her with you a bit.

♦

“What’sa matter? You get in a fight with your girlfriend?” Octavia leaned forward.

He laughed, a short outburst that transformed into a sigh. “I’m gay.”

“Damn!” She snapped her fingers and shook her head. After a beat, she cocked her head at him. “If you ain’t got no girl causin’ you trouble, what’re you crying about?”

He swiped away fresh tears and sat down next to her, his hands still jammed into his pockets. “I messed up. Way up.” He glanced down the road, eyes scanning for the bus.

“Tell Auntie Octavia all about it,” she said. She pulled a packet of Newports from her backpack and lit one, then held the others out to him.

♦

Have you ever met someone for only a few minutes, but they changed your life?

She took all of this in, but went deeper still.

Using the body scan technique her Watcher, Wes, taught her, she took her own pulse without counting seconds or touching her wrist. She evaluated the strength of every muscle. “You’ll feel rested and renewed after only a few moments if you do it correctly,” he told her that morning. “More importantly, you’ll be able to sense your enemies.”

So far, she felt good, but she could already feel her mind pulling away to other things: the laundry she’d been neglecting for the last few weeks, her mother’s insistence that she go out and get a “real” job (she thought Ingrid worked at a bar), and the guy she wanted to date but couldn’t…

She suddenly felt as though her brain and soul were covered in sludge. The backs of her eyes itched like a bad case of Chlamydia, and her memories flashed through her mind as though someone were paging through them.

Slayer, a voice whispered in her head. It sounded like the skittering of cockroaches across a floor sticky with blood. Her eyes snapped open. She still stood in the quiet cemetery, empty except for headstones, but that meant nothing; the dead weren’t always at rest. Owls and crickets that had minutes ago almost ruined her meditation were suddenly silent as ghosts. Her eyes flicked across the dark grounds.

You will die, Slayer, the same voice whispered.

Ingrid cocked an eyebrow. “I’ve heard that before,” she said. She reached for the stake tucked into her back pocket. “Why don’t you come out and try to make good on your promise?”

Darkness settled on the cemetery, blotting out the moon and filling her mind. She stumbled back. You can’t fight me, the voice said.

“Try me.” She bent her knees slightly, preparing for an attack.

Instead, she found herself doubled over, assaulted by memories hidden in the pages of a journal she dared never write. Every bad feeling she’d ever experienced slammed into her. As her fingers dug into the grass and she sobbed for mercy, she suddenly remembered something else Wes said.

“The only way to combat the tricks the mind plays is to counter with affirmations. Inhale, think of something positive. Exhale, out goes the negative.”

She crawled toward a tree, scrabbling for every victory in her lifetime. You have no successes, the voice continued.

Her nails dug into the tough bark. “Not true,” she gasped. “I graduated kindergarten.”

A laugh boomed through her head. Five-year-olds do it every year.

“I have supernatural strength,” she said, thinking of the demon wrestler she fought a month before. “And I’m a good kisser.”

“That you are,” Victor said.

She whipped her head around.

He stepped from behind a crypt, holding a hand out to her. The voice in her head unleashed a deafening scream and receded, for the time being, into the corners of her consciousness.

She let Victor help her up and then quickly yanked her hand away. “Thanks,” she said.

“The First?” he asked, glancing around.

“Definitely not the last.” She picked up her stake and tucked it back into her pocket. “I guess I’ll see you around,” she said, and retreated from the cemetery.

He watched her go. If he were human, he surmised with a bitter laugh, he might cry.

♦♦

Photo © 2012 Ailanlee | Stock Free Images and Dreamstime

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