About Where There's a Will
by BA Tortuga
83 pages / 15500 words
ISBN: 978-1-61040-069-5
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Toby and Keagan have nothing in common. Nothing but their love for their
old friend, Reggie, who has just died from terminal cancer. What they're not
prepared for is the stipulations of Reggie's will, requiring that the two of
them spend time together. A lot of time. Close together.
Neither of them can resist the last wish of their best childhood friend, so
Keagan and Toby settle in for a year of hating each other at close range.
Their animosity seems to know no bounds to begin with, but everyone knows
that the only thing that kind of passionate hate can spring from is love.
Can Toby and Keagan learn to go beyond their past and get to know each other
all over again?
Sample
Keagan pondered going on a three day bender.
He'd already quit his job. Oh, not that it had been all that. He'd been
unloading freight. He could easily get another just like it if Toby'd
told Reggie to take a flying leap.
He pulled up to the graveside service five minutes late. He'd skipped
the funeral, knowing that Reggie would have made a big production of it.
Made him want to hurl, thinking of seeing Reggie, his bright, laughing
friend Reggie, dead like that.
Toby was standing there at the edge of the parking lot, smoking a
cigarette. Jesus, the little fuck was still... Yeah, whatever. Pretty or
not, he was a fuckhead.
Keagan pulled up his metaphorical socks and went over. "Gimme a smoke,
asshole."
"Fuck you, dickhead." Toby stared him down, eyes flashing.
"Goddamn it, Toby, give me a fucking cigarette." He'd quit the day after
he went to see Reg the last time.
"Reg said you quit."
"I did. I will again tomorrow." Damn it, was he gonna have to mug the
guy?
The pack was held over, Toby's hands looking like they'd been through a
meat grinder. Somebody'd been out fighting. He'd bet, if the dark
glasses came off, Toby had a shiner, too.
Keagan shook out a smoke and lit up with his own lighter. He always
carried one, just like he always had his pocket knife.
A priest came up, touched Toby’s elbow. "Toby, they want you to say
something at the gravesite."
Toby shook his head. "Sorry, Father. I can't."
"Tobias..."
Toby's shoulders hunched, those fists clenching. "Okay. Okay, fine.
Just... give me time for one more smoke."
"They're bad for you."
Toby was gonna hit the padre.
That would make him smile, at least. No one was gonna ask him to talk.