LITTLE BLUE
by Jay Lang
GENRE: Romantic Suspense
BLURB:
New York musician Jude Rossi's world is shattered when his 14-year-old daughter, Little Blue—a rising star in the music scene—dies unexpectedly at her record deal party.
Though the coroner’s report lists “overdose,” Jude knows that his daughter’s disdain for drugs means there’s something far more sinister at play. With no means to investigate, he spirals into a dark abyss of grief, turning his back on his once-thriving music career.
Two years later, Jude works as a low-paid janitor in a boxing gym. One fateful night he encounters Mad Madge, a homeless woman claiming she can reconnect him with his daughter. Desperate and intoxicated, he consumes a strange serum and is thrust into a nightmarish realm. There, Little Blue’s spirit reveals that a snake-tattooed man is responsible for her death, igniting a fierce hunger for vengeance when Jude awakens in a hospital bed.
As Jude spirals deeper into his obsession, he meets Lauren Banks, an addiction psychology student who distracts him from his deadly vendetta. With her help, he begins to reclaim the life he lost, even landing a job at her father's entertainment law firm. But the haunting messages from spirits pull him back into the darkness, unraveling a web of truths about music industry execs and his daughter’s tragic end.
Nothing will stop Jude from seeking revenge for his little girl. However, he is unprepared for the lengths some will go to protect their secrets and power.
EXCERPT:
Lauren radiates when she answers the door in a short flowy cotton dress, bare feet with her toenails painted, and her hair in loose curls that frame her pretty face. I feel almost boy-like shy while I stand in front of her, trembling inside and trying my hardest to make eye contact.
Once I’m inside, I kick off my shoes and follow her to a small but stylish room. As I look around at the furniture and décor, it strikes me as funny that although her apartment is located in one of the pricier areas of Manhattan, the furniture and decorations look casual and inexpensive. The loveseat and matching chair look at least thirty years old, and the small wooden coffee table has chips and coffee mug stains. There aren’t many pictures on the walls, other than a few framed collages of people. Near the front window, a dusty fake plant stands five feet tall in a pot with a huge crack. There’s a modest-sized flatscreen on the wall in front of the sofa, with an old-fashioned turntable and records on a short cabinet just off to the side.
She sees me looking and laughs. “I know. The outside of the building doesn’t really match the inside of my apartment, does it?”
“It’s great. It’s a lot nicer than my place, that’s for sure.”
“It’s home. Plus, I don’t spend much time here. Mostly I just come here to sleep and eat, then I’m out the door to work and repeat. Why don’t you take off your jacket and I’ll give you the grand tour?”
Lauren grabs my jacket from me and tosses it onto the back of the loveseat. I follow her down a short hallway off the living room, where the light from two rooms casts a glow on the wooden floor. When we approach the first doorway she stops. “This is the bathroom, a three-piece with the noisiest pipes in the world.”
We then move to the last doorway. “This is my bedroom. Believe it or not, it’s the biggest room in the apartment. Not a great floor plan for a person who lives alone.”
I step into the room, which features a large, wrought-iron, four-poster bed. Next to it is a tall mahogany armoire with more scratches and dents. Beside the armoire is a matching vanity with just as many flaws. “My bedroom furniture was handed down to me from my mother. I could have refurbished everything, but I kind of like broken things. They have more character.”
“Is that why you like me?”
“No. And for the record, I don’t think you’re broken, crazy, or a lost cause, regardless how we first met.”
“Yeah, right. Are you forgetting the condition I was in that day? I was a hot mess.”
She giggles shyly. “Well, regardless of your condition, I did kinda think you were hot.”
“You’ve got to set your standards higher, girl.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Jude. You’re a grieving father, and it’s expected that you would have repercussions from that, emotionally or otherwise.”
“Those are the words of a doctor.”
Lauren shakes her head. “I’m not a doctor. I’m at the bottom stage of learning. But I do know crazy, and you’re not it.”
“How do you know for sure?” I grin. “Maybe crazy runs in my family.”
“Well, if that’s the case, I’m in big trouble. Crazy goes way back on my father’s side, all the way to the mid-1800’s.”
“That’s a long time ago. Are you sure someone in your family isn’t pulling your leg?”
“This wasn’t the icebreaker I had planned, but now that we’ve arrived on the subject of crazy, I’ll show you.”
I sit on the edge of her bed and fold my arms, intrigued.
I watch as Lauren goes into her armoire, rummaging around in a narrow drawer before straightening up, a Ziplock bag of papers in-hand. She sits next to me and opens the bag, then gently pulls out the folded papers. Once they’re on the bed, I notice that the three sheets are quite brown, with the edges torn or crumbled away. “Wow. These look very old.”
Lauren nods. “All the way back to the 1800s.” She slowly unfolds each of the three pages and lays them between us on the bed. “The print has faded, but I’ll try to make out the important parts.”
She gently picks up the first piece of paper with an easy-to-read heading, The New York Ledger.
July 6th– Pittsford Village Tragedy: Marjorie Gamble Banks Murders Husband, William Banks.
The words underneath are a lot smaller and less legible.
Lauren clears her throat and squints at the page.
“In the village of Pittsford, on the evening of July 6th, Marjorie Banks tragically lost her reason and took the life of her husband, the esteemed William Banks. Armed with a hunting rifle, Mrs. Banks entered the Wine Without Reason Tavern around 7 p.m., where she found her unarmed husband and fatally shot him. Patrons of the tavern, familiar with the Banks’s as regular patrons, were stunned by the cold-blooded act. Following the murder, Mrs. Banks calmly seated herself at her husband's table, finished his drink, and awaited the arrival of the sheriff.”
“Wow. That’s wild. And who was this murderess to you?”
“She would be my great, great grandmother on my father’s side.”
“That’s quite the family connection you have. And after a hundred and fifty-four years, it’s amazing that you have these newspaper clippings.”
“Yeah. I know. They were passed down to me from my grandma, who I was very close with. They probably belong in a museum, but I just haven’t been able to part with them.”
“I get it. If I had something as cool as these, I wouldn’t want to give them up either.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Jay Lang grew up on the ocean, splitting her time between Read Island and Vancouver Island before moving to Vancouver to work as a TV, film and commercial actress. Eventually she left the industry for a quieter life on a live-a-board boat, where she worked as a clothing designer for rock bands. Five years later she moved to Abbotsford to attend university. There, she fell in love with creative writing. Little Blue is her twelfth novel published by BWL Publishing Inc. Jay spends her days hiking and drawing inspiration for her writing from nature.
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GIVEAWAY
Jay Lang will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner.
http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/28e4345f5070/
My Review - 5 of 5 stars -
This was interesting, a mix of murder, mystery, ghosts, and supernatural. Everything that Jude went through from the loss of his daughter, hitting rock bottom, and trying to rise to the surface, my heart felt for him. I felt compelled to read, to find out who killed his daughter, and to see how Jude continued on. There was a happy ending with some love thrown in and a lot of twists and coincidences.
Check out these other blogs on this tour:
February 18: Maggie Blackbird
February 18: Country Mamas With Kids
February 25: A Wonderful World of Words
February 25: The Avid Reader
March 4: Iron Canuck Reviews & More
March 4: The Faerie Review
March 11: Sandra's Book Club
March 11: Our Town Book Reviews
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