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An Angel in My Midst with @Sirens_Call author @JoshuaSkye1 #FourthWallFriday

I have not been posting much this week because I am still dealing waiting for my bloody bronchitis to clear up so I can clear up #Toothpocalypse2014 because of it. I have a bunch of awesome posts planned but this sneaky little angel snuck up on me and has me tied down and is taking over the blog and I have no idea… oh well shoot it is Fourth-Wall Friday! That means, as I promised all of y’all, I get to host another Sirens Call Publishing gay erotic thriller author, Joshua Sky.  Joshua is a prolific author of several books. Check out his website for more after reading this killer post.


Kincaid Phoenix Kingsley. It rolled off the tongue with an exquisite ease. The man himself was easy on the eyes. You wouldn’t be amiss if you suggested I had a thing for him, but he was decades my junior and I, being of a certain generation, had no intention of ever letting myself openly display such sentiments. I watched him from across the crowded bar, a hole-in-the-wall dive called 651, and longed for him. It felt foolish, I knew such a pairing would never happen. It also felt inappropriate, his brother had just died, his twin brother.

The two drinks were set down before me, vodka and cranberry. I thanked the bartender, snatched them up, one in each hand, and began to make my way through the crowd. A particularly convincing Tina Turner lulled the audience into a state of reverie with an intense performance of We Don’t Need Another Hero. Some would call it an oldie, but it was a goodie.

Singing along, I tried my best to avoid the swaying of the spectators. A near accident almost took me to the floor, but I managed to stay upright and keep the drinks from spilling. The accident didn’t even bother to excuse himself. So rude.

Thank you,” Kincaid said as I set his drink down before him.

I replied, “You’re welcome.” I sat down across from him. I often treated him to his drinks. He was grateful and I was happy to do it. I liked being in his company, not just because he was eye-candy, but he was also intelligent, insightful, and honest. He was one of the most genuine people I knew. In a big city like Philadelphia you cultivated such friends, kept them close, and didn’t let them slip away even when they were fucking up. And my dear, beautiful friend Kincaid was about to fuck up in a big way.

I know you think it’s a bad idea,” he said, his voice barely audible above the 80’s apocalyptic ballad. “But, it’s something I have to do.”

I wanted to say, “No, it’s not.” I wanted to imbue it with conviction, to instill within it every fiber of my sincerity. But how could I argue with a man who had just lost his brother to a hate crime in the north, in a blue state? We were supposed to be the good guys. Such bigotry wasn’t supposed to happen here. I knew life wasn’t so simple. I knew that Pennsylvania was Philadelphia and Pittsburgh with Alabama in the middle. I knew that in all likelihood, Kincaid’s suspicions were spot on.

They killed him twice,” he said. “Some bigot took his life and the town itself is covering it up. They primp and they preen and they pretend they’re progressive, but in the end they’re no better than the segregationists down south. Bigots. Homophobes. They killed my brother. They’re all responsible. Josh, you have to believe me.”

I do believe you,” I said without pause. I wasn’t stupid. I knew how it worked here in this state bordering the north and the south, the traditional ideology of yesteryear mingling, clashing, making amends with progressive humanistic philosophies. It was torn. It was hypocritical. It was Pennsylvania. It was backwoods hillbilly marrying worldly evolution. It didn’t always make sense, but human nature rarely did.

Then what’s the problem?”

The problem is,” I began but was momentarily distracted by someone shrieking along to the finale of the song. Dollar bills were thrown at the performer as she threw her arms into the air and strutted offstage, a true diva. I turned my attention back to my friend. “You would be little more than another obstacle. They could kill you and cover it up just as easily.”

My mother is still there.”

What argument was there to that? None. She was still there, and I felt for her more than Kincaid even realized. Small town Pennsylvania wasn’t much better than, say, small town Texas. Hell, small town anywhere. It was all the same wasn’t it? Small towns, small minds. It was a stereotype that was unfortunately true. Not only had her son been killed because he was gay, she had to live there in the presence of the person who had done it but also the people covering up her son’s murder. I wanted to comfort him, hold him, tell him it would be alright.

Oh, I’d believe it. Wren Township had more than its fair share of churches. Though the buildings themselves were beautiful, especially First Methodist on Market Street, the people that filled them weren’t. If I were to venture a guess, I’d say that the church refused to host his brother’s memorial service. It wouldn’t be the first time. I didn’t press him to tell me. I was here to listen to his woes and try to talk him out of returning to his hometown. I’d thought it would be an easier task, but it was proving to be quite the opposite.

Across the table from me was a man determined. I could see it in his eyes just as burning there as was the flame of vengeance. I knew his back-story. I knew the horrors of his growing up among people that didn’t understand him, that bullied and teased him and his brother mercilessly. There was more for him to avenge than his brother’s murder. The melancholy music of Madonna’s Frozen began and her spitting image took the stage. I took a deep breath, and watched the queen dressed in gothic black attire sway to the beat. She was good, and it was a great crowd. They loved her.

Maybe if I was blunt, just laid it out there, he’d listen to reason. “Look Kincaid, I don’t think you should go, not in your current frame of mind. I think you’re itching for a fight, and with those people you’ll find one. You’ll lose. You’re only one person going up against an entire town, a town that has kept its secrets hidden well. It’s corrupt. It’s dangerous. I know you, you’ll go in with guns blazing and they’ll fire back. You won’t just get hurt, you’ll get yourself killed and then your mother will have lost both her sons.”

I could see him pondering my words, mulling them over, but I also saw the determination and need for revenge still there, the flames sputtering, crackling, dancing faster than before. I’d lost. He was going to go home.

I had a dream last night,” he said calmly, almost too lowly for me to hear.

I leaned across the small table as he continued.

I was in the Allegheny, submerged, surrounded by murky darkness. I was drowning, but for some reason I wasn’t panicking. Below me I could see Xander and he’d already taken the water into his lungs. He was gray and his eyes were wide open, almost bulging out. They were fixed on me. I wanted to help him, to save him. I tried to swim to him, but he was always out of reach. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get to him. I couldn’t save him.”

He downed the rest of his drink in a single gulp. I did, too. There was no doubt in my mind, I’d lost him.

I abandoned them. As soon as I could, I got out of that damn town. I practically flew. I have to go back, Josh. I can’t let this go. I have to be there for my mother, and I have to be there for Xander, to find him justice. The powers that be in Wren Township are going to get a rude awakening. It’s time to expose them and make them pay.

I was looking at a dead man, and my heart broke. A lump formed in my throat, painful. I had to turn my attention back to the drag queen to keep Kincaid from seeing the tears welling in my eyes. I cherished my small group of friends, they were my family. Kincaid was more, an unrequited love you could say. He was my angel. I wanted him safe. I wanted him here. The thought of losing him was overwhelming, and try as I might to clear my throat, to force the lump into submission, it refused to go away just as it was refusing to let me speak. I needed another drink. I mimed my intentions with a quick hand gesture, holding my empty glass up and then pointing it toward the bar.

Kincaid nodded.

As soon as I stood, the tears rushed down my burning cheeks. The sobbing came. Thankfully, the loud music covered my whimpering. I wiped my face as I got to the bar. I pushed my glass toward the bartender and held up two fingers. He winked and set about making the drinks. I glanced back to Kincaid. He was going back to Wren Township and there was nothing I could do about it. I could only hope and pray that his guardian angel would be watching over him, keep him safe, and bring him back to me.

A handsome young man dressed in black, his face pierced and his eyes wreathed in dark make-up, smiled as he brushed by me. “Pardon me,” he said. He touched my shoulder, his hand lingering longer than it probably should have. For some reason there was comfort in it, and as small as it was, as insignificant as I’m sure it was to him, it helped me. Odd it was, the small kindnesses of strangers. In that touch and the comfort it had given me, I found a small semblance of hope. Maybe Kincaid would be all right. Maybe he would get exactly what he wanted in his return home. Maybe he would come back to me alive and in one piece.



le fin


About Joshua Skye

Joshua Skye was born in Jamestown, New York but predominantly grew up in the Texas Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex. He is a graduate of K.D. Studio Actor’s Conservatory of the Southwest and has worked on indie/underground films and on stage. He lives in rural Pennsylvania with his partner Ray of sixteen years and their eight year old son, Syrian. His short stories have appeared in anthologies from STARbooks Press, Knightwatch Press, Sirens Call Publications, Rainstorm Press, JMS Books and periodicals such as Blood and Lullabies.

He is the author of The Singing Wind, Bareback: A Werewolf’s Tale, along with the forthcoming Midnight Rainbows, and The Grigori.


An Angel in My Midst  with @Sirens_Call author @JoshuaSkye1 #FourthWallFridayThe Angels of Autumn
by Joshua Skye
Pages: 212
Published by Pink Pepper Press
on 2012-10-18
Genres: Erotic, GLBT, Thriller
Amazon • Barnes & Noble • Kobo • • Goodreads •

Kincaid Kingsley returns to the town of his childhood after the death of his twin brother, Xander. Believing the crime to be motivated by hate and prejudice, Kincaid sets out to discover why the police are no longer actively investigating the case and hopefully uncover his brother’s killer in the process.

Things in Wren are not as they seem, however, and the closer that Kincaid gets to an answer, the more danger he encounters. Why are all the townspeople so afraid to share what they know?

As the mystery surrounding Xander’s death unravels, the town becomes increasingly blind to what is actually going on. Can Kincaid discover who killed his brother and save the town from evil?

Fourth-Wall Friday – January – June 2014 Signups now open

Ever wonder what happens if you were to break into your world build and sit down and have a beer with your main characters? I think I would love to have tea with Jane Eyre, or discuss the best way to take care of vampires with Jane Yellowstone…maybe having Susie Shotgun take me out for some Angels Tears…

Interested in being part of Cabin Goddesses Fourth-Wall Friday? Sign up for a limited amount of spots open today. (Sign ups for July – December 2014). The 3rd Friday of each month is open for special eventssuch as book releases and tours. Contact me at [email protected] for more info. I have September, November & December open for special event Fridays. I hope everyone (authors and readers alike) takes time peruse the archives and find out just what other authors have done and enjoy a lot of amazing world builds! Or check out the PINTEREST board with every Fourth-Wall Friday pinned!

FWF-300-BUTTAllow yourself as an author to open up a new avenue of sharing your AUTHOR PERSONA & WORLD BUILD in a unique and creative fashion.. Just take a chance, write fluidly and from within that “place” you hangout at with your muse. Or perhaps walk in the door, tuck into a corner & watch your characters get into trouble before you take a chance and talk to them…


  1. Great post Joshua! Thank for posting it Kriss 🙂 The Angels of Autumn is a fantastic thriller!

  2. This is a terrific post, Josh & Kriss! 🙂

  3. Thank you for hosting this. Much appreciated!

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