About The House on Sheridan Street
Written by Cat Kane
63 pages / 21000 words
ISBN: 978-1-60370-556-1, 1-60370-556-2
Available file types - html,
lit, pdf, prc
Gale Solomon is a real estate developer, buying properties and renovating them for profit. The latest house has been giving him nothing but headaches, though. Protestors are picketing the old Sheridan house, demanding that it be 'saved'. On top of that, Nathan Oakley has shown up, claiming to be a long-lost grandson of the previous owner, demanding his inheritance back.
Gale knows that Nathan Mrs. Oakley's grandson; no living relative was found by the estate, so Nathan must be running a scam. Too bad Gale likes Nathan. Maybe more than likes him. Will a mysterious letter help clear things up or make them worse? And what exactly is going on in the attic of the old Sheridan House?
Sample
When the car drew up outside 1213 Sheridan Street, a placard-waving crowd already lined the damp sidewalk, splotches of color against the gray of the day.
Gale Solomon stubbed out his cigarette in the Mercedes’ ashtray and turned to his PA.
“How long have they been here?”
Ben Miller tapped away at the keypad of a tiny PDA and didn’t look up. “Since Tuesday.”
Gale grimaced, glancing out of the window. A glance was more than enough. Who the hell had lives where they could find nothing more productive to do on a rainy Friday morning than disrupt his work and piss him off? One large woman in sweatpants waved a sign proclaiming, “Save Old Sheridan!” right in the window, and even though he knew she couldn’t see past the tinted glass, Gale recoiled. In his defense, he suspected it had more to do with the sagging, melon-sized breasts pushed up against the glass than any threat she might pose. They flattened against the window through a damp T-shirt that might once have been white but now looked ill. If he wasn’t gay already, that image seared on his retinas would have been enough to change Gale’s orientation in a heartbeat.
Ben paid no attention, still tapping away at the organizer, planning every last second of Gale’s day, and the food the housekeeper would leave him when he got home.
Pity Ben was straight; he’d have made a good little wife.
“Why won’t the police move them on?”
“Peaceful demonstration.” Ben shrugged. “I guess the housewives and grandmas need something to do with their day besides watching television. Unless they damage something, we’re on our own.”
“How did they find out we were coming here today?”
“Well, I didn’t tell them.” Ben managed to sound affronted even while remaining oblivious. “Someone probably went digging, found out what we were planning. It’s not rocket science.”
Gale frowned. “Or it’s that damn kid again.”
He scanned the crowd as though he had the first idea what said kid looked like. He knew the kid’s voice from the countless times the brat had called the office, but hell if he was going to open the car windows and listen. Who knew what the idiots outside might throw into the car?
“Can’t see it.” Ben mused. “Doesn’t he realize how much this would jeopardize his cause?”
Gale turned back to the window, watching the reflection of his grin in the darkened glass.
“Oh, that’s what I’m counting on.”