Bad Sun Rising

     Adam and Alice are the complete opposite of George and Stephanie. While his wife is excited at having new neighbors, straight-laced George is less than enthusiastic- until he realizes Adam is the lead singer of his favorite band. Despite jamming with his favorite singer and crushing a little on the brilliant Alice, George is still less than impressed with his wild, crazy neighbors.  While George and Stephanie are more boring, less passionate, less wrapped up in each other, the intensity between Adam and Alice spirals out of control as they turn to every distraction to avoid dealing with their problems. As the two couples grow close, they'll change each other for better . . . and for worse. 

 

     Not sure if you're interested? Read this excerpt! 

 

     Hello?” George let himself in the apartment. Although he hated when Adam and Alice did the same, he was getting used to the dynamic and despite his nature, it was becoming natural. This apartment was becoming an extension of his own. 

     

     Letting the door shut behind him, he noticed the open window, and the flutter of curtains. He moved to the fire escape, climbing through the window to join Alice. “What are you doing out here?”

 

    At the first sign of George’s foot popping out of the window, Alice quickly hid the picture that was resting on her stomach, pulled her shirt over her body, and straightened the whiskey bottle that she had knocked over. “George.”

 

     If this were Adam, George wouldn't be phased, but Alice was the one that he could typically stand. She was the  responsible one and this caused his brow to furrow with concern as he softly asked,  “What are you doing out here?” 

 

     “I hate it when people smoke inside. I hate smoking. It’s a disgusting habit,” Alice raised the cigarette to her lips, and breathed. Was it just her or did poison burn so good? Her hands quivered to keep the cigarette balanced between her lips, before she pulled it away, exhaling the smoke. “I can’t seem to stop these days.”

 

     Her hands wavered as she realized how despicable she looked and how pathetic she sounded. Mostly, she didn't care, because she matched the scenery this way. This time, she needed George to understand, she had not always been this poignant. Alice hated that word, not just because of the awkward nature of how it sounded. A terrible sound that was fitting for a terrible word. As she tried to take another drag, her hand shook violently and she dropped the cigarette on the fire escape. It fell through the metal grate and disappeared from sight, as all things of solace always disappeared from her. 

 

    “Perfect," she muttered to herself. "Just what you want to see, right? A surgeon who can’t stop shaking her hands? Some days, smoking doesn’t even help. That why I have this.” 

 

     After she lifted the bottle of bourbon to her lips, then offered it to George, who crouched by Alice apprehensively. Even though he did not want to see this, Alice was too pitiful to leave alone. “No, thanks,” he said to her offer of whiskey. “You know how I am with liquor.”

 

     “You’re lucky,” she muttered, remembering the time Adam had served the special, not-for-guests brownies. What a terrible lightweight George was, no wonder his laces here always taut. 

 

     “What’s that?” George snatched the photograph that Alice had placed facedown in front of her. Alice's hand swung wildly for it as her explanations became garbled in her throat. Before she could make an excuse and snatch it back, George flipped it over to see the fuzzy black and white picture.  After marveling over the terrible quality, he realized, “Is this a sonogram?" 

 

     Another realization hit George as his eyes flickered to the bottle in her hand. "Should you be drinking that?”

 

     “I’m not pregnant,” Alice looked at the whiskey bottle as she put it down. “I was once. Now you’re thinking, oh no, where is the little tyke? How did those crazy kids lose her?"

 

     George awaited the explanation, but Alice took the sonogram back and traced the outline of life that could have been.  "I was going to name her Sasha, after my grandma, clichéd as it is. But the lady stayed in a war-torn country, she stayed to help anyway she could. She stood for love and loyalty like you’ve never seen. Who wouldn’t want to pass on that heritage?”

 

     Though Alice's hand was still on the bottle, the bottle remained on the fire escape. George couldn't help, but to notice the steadied hand. To keep it that way, he asked a question that twisted his intestines the moment it left his lips. “What happened?”