By William Lashner
It should have been a hell of an evening. a type of lengthy, risky nights the place the realm shifts and doorways open. an evening of undesirable judgment and flawed turns, of weariness and hilarity and a difficult sexual cost that either frightens and compels. an evening the place your existence adjustments irrevocably, for higher or for worse, yet who the hell cares, as long as it changes.
It should have been an evening similar to that, yeah, if in basic terms i may bear in mind it.
All Victor Carl is aware is that he’s simply woken up together with his go well with in tatters, his socks lacking, and a stinging ache in his chest because of a brand new tattoo he doesn’t take note getting: a center inscribed with the identify Chantal Adair.
My condominium is trashed, my partnership is cracking up, I’m consuming an excessive amount of, flirting with newshounds, slumbering with Realtors. Frankly, I’m in determined desire of whatever challenging and fresh in my existence, and discovering Chantal is all I have.
Is Chantal Adair the affection of Victor’s existence or a poor drunken mistake? Victor intends to determine, yet immediately he’s received greater issues. His consumer, a sought after guy, must are available out of the chilly, and he’s obtained a stolen portray for Victor to exploit as leverage.
But a person isn't really satisfied that the portray has surfaced. Or that the customer is threatening to inform all. Or that Victor is sniffing round for info approximately Chantal Adair. The nearer Victor involves figuring all of it out, the deeper into risk he falls, because the ghosts of the previous go back to say what’s theirs.