Page 54 of Renegade

The story of a hoarder living in a small southern town

My review:

When will I learn? Some days, dear readers, I must confess to being totally out of my depth when choosing my next book to review. This confessed first-time author sent me his work of art (that’s what good ol’ Dennis calls it), promising the whole series if I would be so generous to give him an honest review. After slogging through it, I really doubt I’ll be asking for book two.

When I say slogging, please take that quite literally. The protagonist of the book lives at the bottom of a creek bed which routinely floods, wiping out his home every spring when the snows melt. Why he decided to live here is baffling since he’s made his home in one of the most idyllic small towns I could imagine. I can only think it was because he was attempting to hide from town residents whom he steals odds and ends from. His joy at finding a used tongue depressor was riveting, I tell you. I’ll repost a passage from the novel so that you can share in my wonder.

“Our town set (sic) at the bottom of a mountain, surrounded by the most beutifal (sic) foresst (sic) you ever did sea (sic). A crik (sic) ran threw (sic) it, turnin’ everytin (sic) grean (sic) on the rivirbed (sic). At nite (sic) I’d go about my stocking (sic).”

PUHLEEZE Kill me now.

Though not the first unedited “work of art” I’ve ever read, The Legend of Sloppy Hollow, really took the cake. However, there was one bright spot in the book. I don’t like to give away endings even though this one came in the middle. (I know, right?) So, this is your spoiler alert.

At some point the hoarder—of tongue depressors and other detritus—hears hoofbeats and looks up to see a headless hoarseman (sic) who swoops down and slices off his head.

Maybe I should have given Simon’s book 10 stars.

I chuckled, shut down my tablet, and drank the last of my coffee before joining Raven in what had only too recently become our bed.

RAVEN

I woke up feeling slightly hung over the next morning. Though I hadn’t even taken more than a sip of champagne at the museum, my head felt muddled when I first opened my eyes but the warm body beside me in bed made me realize Miguel had gotten at leastsomesleep. I’d felt him tossing and turning in bed shortly after we’d turned in last night, eventually feeling him roll away from me and get out of bed. I’d fallen back to sleep immediately, mostly because I was totally wrung out and emotionally exhausted.

I eased out of bed, not wanting to disturb him, and grabbed my phone after dressing in a favorite pair of loose jeans, socks, and a tee. I petted Stanley who looked up and meowed in protest from his perch on top of the short cat tree in our bedroom. Sureenough, as soon as I opened the door to our room, he ran out after me, probably waiting for at least one of his humans to care whether he died of starvation or not.

The doors to both Dolly’s room and Nana’s were still closed and I bit my lip, really hoping that they’d both slept through the powerful fucking I’d gotten last night. My ass was protesting big time as I knew it would, but it only brought a smile to my face. Miguel had needed to get out of his head after the fright he’d gotten and I…well, I’d just loved giving in to him. I enjoyed every way we made love, even if it was a hard pounding pinned against our bedroom door.

I walked to the kitchen and made coffee before opening a can of cat food and pouring some dry food into Stanley’s bowls. By the time I finished feeding him and giving him a fresh bowl of water, the coffee was ready. I filled my cup and sat down with my phone. After scrolling through my messages and texts, returning anything pertinent, I sent a message to Judy, telling her we’d be in later. I needed to tell her what’d happened when we’d visited Mark since we’d yet to do that and also, what had happened last night. I made a mental note that we needed to follow up with Mark since planting the seed with him and asking for his help.

By the time Miguel strolled into the kitchen a half hour later, I’d finished one cup of coffee and was ready for another. He looked delightfully bed tossed with a dark growth of stubble which had grown out overnight, dressed much like I was. I slid out of the nook and walked over to him, wrapping him up in my arms, and lifting my face for a kiss. I didn’t have to wait long as his mouth covered mine. He tasted like toothpaste. I smiled at him as he broke the kiss.

“Good morning, babe.”

“Hey, Sunshine. How’re you this morning?” He didn’t wait for an answer before releasing me and heading straight for the coffee. I followed him with my empty cup.

“I’m good. How’d you sleep?” I asked, though, I already knew the answer.

“Tossed and turned for a while. I got up and went out to the backyard to look at the stars before finally settling down.” He filled our cups as I retrieved the half and half, pouring some in my coffee. I grabbed a box of bran muffins we’d picked up at Trader Joes and set them on the table as I slid into the booth. I adored our cozy little eating nook with red Naugahyde seats and padded backs. It wasn’t large enough for more than four people who liked each other a whole lot, but it made me feel close to my nana who’d designed it when she’d remodeled some parts of the house after inheriting it. I watched Miguel reach into the box of muffins and take one, holding it out to me.

I smiled at him. “Thank you.” I began peeling the paper wrapping off the bottom as he grabbed one for himself.

“You get some rest?” he asked around a mouthful of muffin.

I nodded, chewing my own bite. I sipped my coffee to help it go down. I wasn’t a big eater of anything sweet, so the low sugar content in the bran muffins was just right along with strong coffee which filled me with energy.

“What’s on the menu for today?” I asked. “I was thinking we should call Mark E—”

I stopped myself from what I was about to say as something occurred to me. Since the Cassanova woman had been at the event last night, there was a strong possibility she’d been following our movements, maybe knowing where we lived. I didn’t think there was a way for anyone to have gotten inside thehouse to plant a bug, but they’d figured out where we’d both be somehow. When I frowned, Miguel raised a brow.

“What is it? Why’d you stop talking?”

“Bugs,” I mouthed.

Something dawned over his features, and he shook his head. “Not a problem,” he said before sliding out of the booth. I shut my mouth as I watched him walk to the door leading out to our garage and open it. I had no idea what he was doing. Then it slowly dawned on me. Boxes he’d brought with him from his old apartment was still out there. My suspicions were confirmed when he walked back in with a small, black box in his hand. “I swept the kitchen and living room when I couldn’t sleep last night. There are no bugs. I’ll sweep the rest of the house and the trucks after the women get up.”

I relaxed back against the cushion, relieved as hell that we weren’t being spied on. I wanted to be able to talk to Miguel and know no one was listening. Even though it seemed improbable that anyone had gotten into the house unobserved by either Dolly or us, I decided that perhaps I’d been lax in thinking we were totally secure. He slid back into the seat across from me, putting the bug detector on the table. I picked it up and examined it from all angles. It wasn’t the first one I’d seen but it was good that he’d thought about it. I set it down and glanced up at him, tapping it.

“Does this mean you don’t think Cassanova and the man in the trees have been spying on us long enough to plant a bug?”

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