First Chapter Friday
from new release
Night Song
Chapter One
Oliver Honeycutt ran along the corridor, his piece
of toast gripped between his teeth, reading glasses falling down the bridge of
his nose. He’d received a request from the shop floor to find a pair of bronze
designer jeans for a prized customer. The call had come just as he’d taken a
seat at the lunch table with slices of toast on which he’d intended heaping
chocolate spread, but Oliver gladly gave that up to take the stockroom task.
He’d stuffed dry toast in his mouth and taken off.
Just the name Zane Highwood gave Oliver a rapid
heartbeat. No matter what Zane requested, Oliver would be the first to leap
into action. These days the other stockroom assistant didn’t raise his face
from his smartphone or put down a coffee cup. Oliver and Eddie had somehow reached
an unspoken agreement that Oliver took any job concerning Zane Highwood.
The fashion store sold big name brands of what the
owner, Anton, smilingly called rock star garb as well as his own designs. Only six people had face-to-face
contact with customers. Specially skilled and drilled in serving the discerning
clientele, these six never ventured into the stockroom to find an item. They
called Oliver or Eddie on the internal phone. Once the item was located, either
assistant placed it in a tiny service elevator and sent it to the sales floor.
Oliver had never spoken to Zane, but he put his
heart and soul into fulfilling Zane’s requests. Oliver never attended Zane
Highwood’s gigs, held in clubs where he knew he’d feel out of place. He
couldn’t let himself become creepy, but a smile would spread on his lips when
Zane appeared in the press wearing the clothes he’d provided from the
stockroom. Oliver took care not to let his admiration for the dark-haired,
slim-hipped singer become an obsession. Even though Oliver was only
twenty-five, he’d long ago given up hoping for a man who would love him,
especially one as handsome as Zane. Instead, he looked on Zane as beautiful, a
dream to hold dear as the kind of man he’d love in his life, but not to
hopelessly covet.
Oliver pulled the requested garment from a stack.
The bronze jeans would look good with a particular belt, and Oliver added that
to the tray in the mini elevator. He pressed the button and it descended.
Eddie glanced over at Oliver from his perch on a stepladder,
having taken the subsequent request for a garment from a sales colleague.
“Why’d you bother?”
Not understanding, Oliver gave Eddie a puzzled
look.
Clearly, his colleague understood the implied
question in Oliver’s expression. “With the extra stuff—a belt, a t-shirt, a
scarf. I mean, you don’t know if the customer even sees whatever it is. No one
downstairs ever comes up and says, hey Ollie, great job.”
Oliver shrugged. “I enjoy doing it. I’d like to
dress the windows or the store models—put things together. Maybe even become a
personal stylist.”
Eddie pushed the flat box he’d looked in back on
the stack, then turned to Oliver. “Yeah, looks as if you have a flare for it.
You should ask Anton.”
Oliver sighed. “He’d say no. The artistic team does
it.”
Eddie shrugged. “Up to you.”
Darkness had fallen before Oliver left the store
that day through the side door onto a covered alleyway squeezed in between two
tall buildings. Tuesdays and Sundays were the only evenings the store didn’t
open until eight thirty to accommodate the huge variety of clients and
entertainment customers. Oliver adjusted his collar to keep out the December
wind. He glanced up at the night sky as he met Main Street and lost the shelter
of the arched roof afforded by the alley. A flurry of sleet scattered huge dark
splashes onto his overcoat. Soggy ice lodged in his hair and wet his face.
Oliver licked it from his top lip. Hunching his shoulders, he strode to the
station.
As it was Tuesday, Oliver could catch the early
express to his small house. He hurried along. The traffic swished on the road
that was fast turning slippery under the coating of slush. Streetlights, their
poles wound around with bright lights to ward off the winter gloom, threw
glitter onto the puddles. Shops lit the sidewalk, their seasonal displays
twinkling as he passed.
Oliver dashed through the crowds. A man carrying an
enormous cardboard box charged right at Oliver. The man could barely see around
the box. Oliver sidestepped the collision with a grin. Somebody will bump into him for sure. His avoidance brought Oliver
into the gutter, and a passing cab honked. Oliver rolled his eyes and jumped
onto the curb, where he slid along for a few seconds. The cab’s proximity threw
slush into Oliver’s shoes and wet his socks, but not much could diminish his
happy mood. He smiled as he entered the station and swiped his travel card
through the machine at the turnstile. Tonight his brother was Skyping him from
across the world.
To say Oliver missed his older brother, Eric, was
an understatement. When Eric’s journalist career took him to Indonesia and then
Australia, Oliver was bereft. When Eric married an Aussie girl and made
Melbourne his home, Oliver grieved for a year. He simultaneously wished them
every happiness and wished Eric had
never become a journalist. Even after three years, tears welled up in Oliver’s
eyes when he recalled their childhood and teenage years spent together.
He tried not to let memories creep into his mind.
His loneliness and regret at losing Eric didn’t sit well in his mind. He saw
the feelings as inappropriate and maybe indicative of resentment, although
Oliver didn’t envy Eric. He loved him. Oliver had never been able to fill the
hole that opened up when Eric left his life. Eric was the only person in the
whole world who knew Oliver was gay.
Their mom had left her house in a suburban
neighborhood where the boys had grown up, for a visit to Eric, his wife, and
their new baby a couple of weeks ago. Australia was far away, and the journey
took a long time, so she would be staying with them for ten weeks. When Oliver
had last visited her, he sent presents for the baby, genuinely enchanted when
Eric had displayed his daughter wrapped tight in a blanket the last time he and
Oliver Skyped.
He pushed his hands into his overcoat pockets as he
strode along the outer city street in the cold night. He unlocked his front
door, flipped on the hall lights, and, after levering off his wet shoes and
discarding his overcoat, Oliver dashed to his study and booted his laptop. He
went to the kitchen and hurriedly made a cup of instant coffee, which he took
to his study and placed on his desk. Dinner could wait until he’d talked with
Eric.
Copyright E. D. Parr December 8, 2020 Evernight Publishing
Night Song
Twenty-five year old Oliver Honeycutt has no idea how handsome he is. He’s
creative, brilliant at his job, and underused in the designer fashion store
where he works. Behind the scenes, Oliver takes special care with orders for
customer, rock star, Zane Highwood. When Zane is to be the main attraction in
the store’s Christmas party, fashion show, Oliver hopes Zane will notice him.
Multi-millionaire, twenty-five year old, Noah Somersby, made his first
million before he was twenty-one and now owns a number of casual-chic menswear
stores. He’s a designer, gorgeous, and desperate to find a man who will love
him for himself and not see dollar signs as they kiss.
Noah doesn’t often take the train into the city, but one rainy day he does,
as he settles into a seat opposite Oliver, the two men exchange interested
glances.
In fact, Noah is super attracted to Oliver and Oliver thinks Noah is
gorgeous.
As the store holiday season party approaches, can serendipity bring them
together?
Evernight Publishing https://www.evernightpublishing.com/night-song-by-e-d-parr/
Siren Bookstrand, https://www.bookstrand.com/book/night-song-mm
Smashwords https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1057936
Download files for any eReader and your kindle from all sites above
KOBO https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/night-song-12
NOOK https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/night-song-e-d-parr/1138445708
Amazon sites
https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B08PY6NBPQ
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08PY6NBPQ
