Title: Bashed
Author: Rick R. Reed
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: August 3, 2020
Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 69800
Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, grief, revenge, men over 40, romance, contemporary
It should have been a perfect night out.
Instead, Mark and Donald collide with tragedy when they leave their favorite
night spot. That dark October night, three gay-bashers emerge from the gloom,
armed with slurs, fists, and an aluminum baseball bat.
The hate crime leaves Donald lost and
alone, clinging to the memory of the only man he ever loved. He is haunted,
both literally and figuratively, by Mark and what might have been. Trapped in a
limbo offering no closure, Donald can’t immediately accept the salvation his
new neighbor, Walter, offers. Walter’s kindness and patience are qualities his
sixteen-year-old nephew, Justin, understands well. Walter provides the only
sense of family the boy’s ever known. But Justin holds a dark secret that
threatens to tear Donald and Walter apart before their love even has a chance
to blossom.
It comes as no surprise given the title, that Bashed is a tough read. Rick Reed will leave you heart-broken throughout.
With a gay bashing at the start, Donald is left mourning Mark's death. Unfortunately, events like this are all too real and this one is based on a real attack. Everything about this story will leave you gutted.
It's a powerful story of homophobia and gay bashing. It's a story with murder, attacks, grief, and guilt. It's a tale of regret and pain. It's also a tale of survival and healing.
Although there is the presence of Walter to aid Donald in this ability to move forward, this is a story that is about Donald and Mark. Their love was strong, their story beautiful, and it's ending tragic. It's also a story about Justin and his emotions throughout.
The writing is fabulous, written in several povs, giving the reader the side of all involved. And damn, it is a story who will never forget.
Bashed is an impressive read, but make sure you are in the right state of mind when picking up this one. This is an extremely serious story of pain and homophobia. There is nothing happy about this tale, but it is a poignant read that will leave you shaken.
Bashed
Rick R. Reed © 2020
All Rights Reserved
The night had turned cold while they
were in the Brig, one of Chicago’s oldest and most infamous leather
establishments. A strong wind out of the north had blown away the cloud cover
that allowed the city of Chicago to retain a little Indian summer heat this
late October night. With the wind, the temperature had plunged nearly twenty
degrees, from a relatively balmy sixty-two, down to the low forties. But the
wind had also revealed a sprinkling of stars, visible even with the ambient
light from downtown. And the moon had emerged, almost full, lending a silvery
cast to North Clark Street.
Donald wrapped his arms around Mark as
they headed south on Clark, toward the side street where they had left their
car. Even with his chaps, biker jacket, and boots, Donald felt the chill bite
into him, vicious. He couldn’t imagine how Mark was faring, wearing only a
T-shirt and jeans. He’d get his boy into leather one of these days! It was just
past three a.m., and the far north side neighborhood called Andersonville, once
the province of Swedes and working class folk, and now the home of yuppies and
gays, was quiet. A lone taxi headed north up Clark, looking for fares. Someone
even unsteadier on his feet came out of the adult bookstore ahead of them,
blinking rapidly, and looking around, perhaps for more excitement than he had
found in the bookstore. Donald thought that, once upon a time, he could have
been the sad, singular man emerging from an adult bookstore while the rest of
the world slept, but things had changed since he had met Mark six months ago.
“I feel almost—almost—like we’re the
only two people on earth,” Donald said to Mark, drawing him in close for a
sloppy, beery kiss. When he pulled his mouth away, he flashed the crooked grin
he knew entranced his boyfriend and completed the thought with, “And that’s
fine by me.”
Mark grinned back, then rubbed his upper
arms. “It’s not fine by me. Not when it’s this frickin’ cold! Let’s get home!”
They wrapped their arms around each
other to ward off the cold, much as they had done the night they met, back in
March, in the same leather bar. And once again, they were just a bit boozy and
flushed with need for each other. Tonight, the weather outside may not have
been as frigidly cold as it had been last winter when they had first laid eyes
upon one another, but the heat and electricity passing between them was still
burning as brightly as that very first night.
Donald stopped again in the middle of
the sidewalk, pulling Mark close and planting a kiss on his cheek. There was no
one around, and in this neighborhood, such displays really were nothing to
worry about, Donald thought. Hell, most anyone they encountered would either be
sympathetic or jealous. He nipped at Mark’s earlobe and whispered, “I love you,
you know that?” He paused to breathe in Mark’s scent and to nuzzle his nose in
Mark’s blond curls.
And Mark stopped, right there in the
middle of Clark Street, on an early Sunday morning, and placed his hands on
Donald’s shoulders, so he would stop walking and so he could look right back
into Mark’s penetrating stare. “And I love you, Donald.” He gave a small grin
and looked down at the ground for just a second, almost as if he was
embarrassed, and then said, “And I always will. This is a forever thing.”
Donald felt a rush of warmth go through
him at the exact same moment a harsh wind, full of chill and with the smell of
dark water, glided east from over Lake Michigan. He pulled Mark close and
kissed him full on the mouth, his tongue lifting Mark’s and doing a little duel
with it. Neither of them closed their eyes, preferring instead to stare into
each other’s rapt gazes. Just as they were breaking apart, they stiffened as
the roar of a souped-up engine shattered the still of the night. The backfire
issuing forth from the car’s muffler made both men jump. They gave each other a
quick glance, then laughed.
The car, an old maroon Duster that had
been tricked out beyond good sense, taste, or fiscal responsibility, slowed
across from the pair. Three shadowy figures moved inside. One of them rolled
down a window, and a young male face, pale and marred by acne in the moon’s
light, emerged making a kissing sound, exaggerated and prolonged. Donald heard
the other guys in the car laughing. He stiffened and felt a trickle of sweat
roll into the small of his back, in spite of the chill in the air.
Just as suddenly as they had arrived,
they roared off, leaving them in a wake of sour-smelling exhaust. But they did
not leave without casting a parting shot out the window. “Fucking faggots!”
Donald shook his head, glancing over at
Mark, whose young face was creased with worry. “Don’t let shit like that get to
you. They’re idiots. And chickenshits… It’s pretty easy to call names at people
from a speeding car.”
Purchase
Real Men. True Love.
Rick R. Reed is an award-winning and bestselling author of more than fifty works of published fiction. He is a Lambda Literary Award finalist. Entertainment Weekly has described his work as “heartrending and sensitive.” Lambda Literary has called him: “A writer that doesn’t disappoint…” Find him at www.rickrreedreality.blogspot.com. Rick lives in Palm Springs, CA, with his husband, Bruce, and their fierce Chihuahua/Shiba Inu mix, Kodi.
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