Since folks have been clamoring for the sequel to “Nothing Can Tear Us Apart—RAGE!,” I must honor their requests!  (LOL).  As you know, the “Nothing Can Tear Us Apart” series of novels is the continuing saga of two masculine, openly gay, star-crossed lovers:  WES–the handsome, fabulously wealthy African-American celeb/entrepreneur, and ANTONIO (his nicknames:  ‘Tonio, BigGuy): the DEE-LI-CIOUS-LY muscled, Latino Chief of Security.    

     Anywho, the sequel–entitled “FRENZY!”–will drop in Early 2016!  Yours Truly will keep Y’all updated.

     In my enthusiasm, I’m giving everyone a “Tasty Treat:” one of the action-packed excerpts from “RAGE!”  Lemme set it up for ya:

     Wes and ‘Tonio—along with Rock, one of the celeb’s bodyguards—find themselves all caught up in a very, very tense and extremely dangerous hostage situation!  Two thugs, Bacardi and Qwon, are in total control…

     …Or so it seems.

     Now, let’s drop in on the action….      

     I could sense BigGuy wanting to reach out and save me.  Abruptly, my mind did a fast rewind, taking me back to my childhood, when I got a steady diet of being picked on, humiliated, and beaten down.

     You see, I didn’t at all fit in with most of my peers because I was an anemic and uncoordinated kid–and being a bookworm didn’t help.  To make matters worse, I didn’t have a role model to teach me “guy stuff” and shore up what little self-esteem I had.

     With the handgun cocked and grinding into my forehead, childhood insecurities resurfaced!  Those painful memories were workin’ to convince me that I was still that small, weak, defenseless little boy. 

     But I couldn’t let them win!  Fortunately, the steely determination I’d inherited from my mother kicked in.  And in a big way, at that. 

     The predicament that I was in—that everyone in that store was in—was a “grown-up” one…and deadly serious!  I had to get back to the extremely resourceful and capable me that I’d labored for years to become. 

     There wasn’t a second to lose!  I had to snap the hell out of it.

     Fortunately I did just that, formulating a creatively daring plan!

     But if I weren’t careful, it had the potential to backfire.  In a deadly way.

     Using my acting chops, I pretended to be a “’Scurred’ (scared)-Outta-My-Mind-Fem,” begging for his life.  Mannerisms and affectations, the whole nine yards.  I made it the performance of my life—we’re talkin’ NAACP Image and Academy Award caliber stuff

     And it absolutely had to be!  Too much was at stake.

     I peered at the hood.  In a high-pitched voice, I cried, “Puleeze don’t hurt me!  I’m beggin’ you!  Puleeze!!!”   Instantly, I turned on the waterworks.  Bacardi was dumbfounded at first, then found it hilarious.

     Grinning broadly, he exclaimed, “I knew it!  You REALLY ARE a little pussy!” 

     The room was like, “What tha…?”

     ‘Tonio and Rock (one of my bodyguards) were going, “What tha hell?”   But only for a hot minnit, ‘cause they caught on to my game. 

     BigGuy cut me a glance that said, “I’m feelin’ ya.  But be easy.”

     I returned one that said, “No doubt.”

     Unexpectedly, I fell to my knees “like a prayer.”   I whimpered, “I don’t wanna die!  I’ll give you anything!  Anything at all!  Just name it!”  I gawked at Barcardi, licking out my tongue.

     He whooped, “Yeah, I’m sho’ ya will, ya nasty cocksucka!  (Pause.)   But I don’t swing dat way.”

     My ruse was entertaining him to no end.  I continued to be a blabbering, blubbering “Miss Thang.”  Bacardi mocked, “Now jist look atcha, ‘Mr. Gay Richie Rich’!   You ain’t got no backbone!”

     But then, out of the blue, I answered, “But I got this!”  Making my move, I sprang into action. 

     I hit him!  Freakin’ HARD!  Right in the fuckin’ nuts.

     Bacardi yelped like a dog that’d gotten its tail slammed in a door.  He hollered and hollered, “Mufucker, you tricked me!  You fuckin’ tricked me!” 

     Meanwhile, Qwon shouted, “Whadda fuck?  Whadda fuck’s happenin’???”

     My move gave BigGuy and Rock–the “Dynamic Duo”–the opening they’d been waiting for!  With panther-like speed, ‘Tonio hurtled towards Qwon, tackling him.  I was amazed that a man of BigGuy’s immense size and girth could move so damned fast!

     All the while, Rock was right on Antonio’s tail.  (Well, not literally, of course!  If anyone was gonna be on the BigGuy’s tail, it was gonna be moi!  Holla.)

     However, Qwon managed to squeeze off a shot.  Fortunately though, it only bounced off a wall.  Sheer pandemonium ensued.  Screaming people made a beeline to the exit. 

     Meanwhile, the cops, with sirens blaring, were speeding to the scene.  As Rock restrained Qwon, BigGuy sprinted towards me.  However, the shrieking, fleeing customers proved to be bothersome obstacles in ‘Tonio’s frantic quest to reach me.

     Meanwhile, I was on my feet, wrestling with Bacardi over the gun.  This bruh was incredibly strong–it was if he’d grown up in some goddamn rock quarry, lugging and splitting boulders 24/7!  He was using his heavier muscle mass to force me to lose my footing. 

     Luckily though, I was able to pry the weapon away from him.

     However, I didn’t have the gun in my possession for very long.  It popped outta my hand, landing on the floor.

     A deep, gravelly voice boomed forth, “Wes-lee!  Tha gun!  Grab tha goddamn gun!”  It was ‘Tonio, steadily making his way towards me.

     Suddenly, I fell down!  Painfully so.  As I closed my hand around the revolver, the bulky thug jumped on the center of my back!  The impact sliced through me like a red-hot sword.

     That blow caused me to lose control of the weapon, yet again.

     And this time, Bacardi snatched it, yelling, “What’cha gonna do now, you little faggot bitch?  Huh?  Huh?”

     He was pressing his considerable muscle mass into me, keeping me pinned to the floor.  The fool keep shouting, “What’cha gonna do now, bitch?  What’cha gonna do now?  Huh? Huh?”  A fuckin’ broken record!

     With all my strength though, I got into the pushup position and groaned, “THIS!”  I lifted myself up with him still riding me.  (Later, I’d thank my personal trainer for prodding me to do pushups with dumbbells strapped to my back.)

     Bacardi was like, “Duh?” I’d caught him off guard. 

     Managing to twist him off of me, we ended up side-by-side.  Unfortunately, my one-man cavalry–i.e. BigGuy–hadn’t yet arrived.

     Any who, the muscled bruh and I arm-wrestled for the pistol.  He still had it in his possession, but I was making some headway.  Suddenly, he stuck the piece into my chest.

     And then, inexplicably and inconceivably, at that exact moment, something happened that I never could have ever imagined!

     I know it sounds insane–otherworldly, in fact–but I smelled faint traces of the fragrance Givenchy’s Amarige, Mom’s signature scent.

     And then, astonishingly, I actually heard my mother’s voice!  In my head.  In Surround sound, no less, calling out to me!  It was crystal clear.  Unmistakable! 

     Her voice jolted me like a live wire!  It said, “Don’t allow this whacko to win!  You’ve got far too much to live for!  Son, fight back with everything you’ve got!  You can do it!”

     Immediately, extra adrenalin and purpose kicked in!  (In other words, never argue wit yo’ mama!) 

     So, with a vigorous motion–as if my life depended on it (And Lawd knows it most assuredly did!)–I pushed that handgun away from me, twisting it around to Bacardi.

     I was winning the tussle!  And finally, Antonio was only a couple of inches away. 

     But then, all of a sudden, there was a sound that went….


     “WES!  OH MY GOD!  WES-LEE!!”

***And of course, the saga of Wes & ‘Tonio doesn’t end there….