Stella Maris is the sequel to my recently published novel What the Hell Ever Happened to Yuri Rozhenko?, available now on Amazon.com.

Stella Maris is slated to be released this summer. In this scene, Skye wakes up after a night on the town.

     Skye woke up before he did.
    During the show he sided up next to her, held onto her hand, and put his arm around her waist during one song, pulling her closer.
    Skye never resisted.
     Now he was dead asleep, breathing deeply on his side, with his back to her.
     She looked at his muscular shoulders as she moved cautiously. She was slowly turning on her side so she could put her arm around him.
     She stopped mid turn.
     “Damn,” she thought to herself. “Not now.”
     She slowly turned in the other direction and stuck her leg out over the edge of the bed. Stretching her leg, her foot failed to find the floor. Scooting herself closer to the edge, she looked down and found the bed was much higher than she had anticipated.
     Slowly turning, she managed to get both of her legs out over the edge of the bed. She tried to slowly slide herself out of the bed, but the sheets were too slick and she suddenly shot out at hit the floor with a thud.
     She slowly craned her neck around. He was still asleep.
     Squeezing her legs together, she tip-toed to the door, hoping that it would be easy to find the bathroom in the hallway.
     Just before she reached for the door she doubled back. She was not sure if he lived alone or not, but the odds were that he had roommates. She looked around for her clothes. Her Thee Merry Widows shirt was right by the bed. She had no idea where her pants were.
     She finally found her panties. She put them on and decided a pair of black panties was good enough cover if she ran into anyone in the hallway.
     She looked out of the door and looked up and down the long hallway. Several doors were open and a few were closed. She quickly tip-toed to the bathroom.
     After mercifully relieving herself, she slowly crept back to Jason’s room while her eyes darted around for other apartment dwellers.
     Back in Jason’s room, he had turned onto his back. He was still dead asleep. His chest and shoulders were covered with tattoos. Skye started to take what clothes she had off and then she looked at Jason.
     Looking at the floor, she spotted his tattered work pants. She also saw his thick suspenders, lying on top of a pile of grungy work shirts.
     Walking deftly around the bed, she finally found her pants. She quickly put them on and went out into the hall.
     Walking past the bathroom, she found the living room and then went into the kitchen. Sitting at the kitchen table was a slender man with a slender face and a large hawk nose that poked out under a shattered mane of diffuse black hair. He was wearing a tattered Discharge t-shirt and drinking a cup of coffee.
     “Hey,” said Skye.
     “Hiya,” responded the man.
     Skye pointed at the coffeemaker. “Is it okay if I grab a cup?”
     The man put down his coffee cup. “Don’t you live here?”
     “No. I came home with Jason last night.”
     “Oh.” The man put his hands on the table. “I was just about to apologize to you for stealing your coffee.”
     “Oh. You don’t…?”
     “I came home with someone who lives here as well,” said the man.
     “Well, the hoes woke up before the residents.”
     The man stifled his laughter as Skye went to the kitchen counter and took down a coffee cup.
     “You Jason’s girlfriend?” asked the man.
     “First time together. It was kinda spontaneous,” said Skye as she poured herself a cup of coffee.
     “Kinda?”
     “Yeah. Surprise! Young man actually wants a roll in the hay with you!”
     “Young? You don’t look that old.”
     “Shit, I just turned thirty.” Skye sat down at the kitchen table.
     “I’m thirty two. What does that make me then?”
     “Fuckin’ old.”
     “I don’t think I ever got to be young actually,” said the man.
     “I’m Skye.” She held out a hand.
     “Cringer,” he said as he shook her hand.
     Skye sat back in her chair and looked at Cringer. “Yeah, you’re in that band, the one with the German name, right?”
     “Hitzkopf. It’s German for hothead.”
     “Right. You guys are fuckin’ good.”
     “Yeah, but I don’t know what the singer is talkin’ about half the time. He keeps tryin’ to school me on German.”
     “Yeah but that’s normal. Half the time the singer’s singing in English and we still can’t understand em’.”
     Cringer leaned over his coffee. “Not bad for an old punk though, right?”
     “I don’t know how old we really are if we’re waking up in strange apartments in band shirts and stealing peoples coffee.”
     Cringer leaned on the table. “I gotta ask, you know his roommate, the one with the red hair?”
     Skye tilted her head and leaned back in her chair. “Dude, don’t tell me you forgot her name.”
     Cringer looked at the table. “I got kinda lit last night.”
     “What did you guys do?”
     “I was with a buncha friends at The Alley in Oakland, and we ran into her and a buncha her friends and started talkin’ to her about bands and we were really gettin’ along, and then she started buyin’ me drinks.”
     “Yeah, okay. I can fill in the rest.”
     “I was really plowed. I know this is Jason’s place because my band has played with his gig a few times, but I didn’t meet his roommate until last night.”
     “That’s the worst part, when you can’t remember their name. It’s not the part about you got plowed and went home with someone you barely know, or whatever deviant sex acts you did the night before, or that you have no idea which city you’re in much less whose house you’re waking up in, it’s the not remembering their name. That somehow always ends up being the worst part.”
     “It’s so true. It’s so embarrassing. It’s like, ‘Yeah I had my face crammed up against your genitals for half an hour last night but I don’t remember your name!’”
     “At least I already knew Jason when I went home with him. I mean, we were just music buds before last night.”
     Cringer sat up. “Hey, you think there’s a chance she forgot my name as well?”
     “Dunno. How did you get here?”
     “I think she drove.”
     “Naw, she knows your name.”
     A short woman with bright red hair, wearing a Plasmatics shirt and a short leather skirt appeared in the doorway and walked slowly into the kitchen. She looked at Skye and then looked at Cringer.
     “Hey, did you bring another woman to my place last night?” she smiled.
     Skye held out her hand. “Hey, I’m Skye. I belong to Jason.”
     “Heya,” she said as she shook Skye’s hand.
     “You Jason’s roommate?” asked Skye.
     “Yeah. Three of us live here. I’m Teresa.”
     “Whattup Teresa,” said Skye.
     Teresa walked over to the coffee pot. “Thanks for making coffee. I got kinda lit last night.”
     “Sure,” said Cringer. “I was hopin’ it was cool to do that.”
     “No one’s gonna get mad at anyone who makes coffee in this house,” said Teresa. Teresa turned towards Skye with coffee in hand. “You took Jason to see Penelope Houston last night, right?”
     “Yeah. It was cool. Good time. Nice crowd.”
     “I was kinda jealous,” said Teresa as she walked around the table and sat down. “I would’ve gone myself if Bessie wasn’t having her birthday shindig.”
     “Bessie,” said Skye. “Bessie who used to play for The Tranny Gang?”
     Teresa looked right at Skye. “Hell yeah. She was the bass player.”
     “I saw em’ play a few times. Those shows were pretty wild.”
     “They didn’t last long though. I’m surprised anyone remembers them.”
     “They opened for Triple T once, when I was filling in for their bass player.”
     Cringer looked at Skye. “No fuckin’ way. You played for Triple T?”
     “I was just a fill in for a few shows, a long time ago.”
     “Does that mean I’ve seen you naked?” asked Teresa.
     “I didn’t take any clothes off. That was Triple T’s job. I wasn’t even in my underwear.”
     “You a stripper?” asked Cringer.
     “Naw. I never got into that gig. A lot of my friends were exotic dancers though.”
     Teresa put her coffee cup down. “Fuck. I really wish Triple T would get her new gig goin’. She’s a killer singer.”
     “I would fuckin’ love to play with Triple T,” said Cringer. “If she ever needs a drummer let me know.”
     “I’ll keep it in mind,” said Skye. “Drummers are always in high demand.” Skye looked down the hallway. “I wonder if Jason is ever gonna wake up?”
     “Jason does hardcore sleepin’ in on the weekends,” said Teresa. “It’s all that construction work during the week.”
     Cringer stood up. “”Scuse me. I gotta hit the head.”
     Cringer walked out of the kitchen. Teresa leaned down on the kitchen table and looked at Skye.
     “Hey, I kinda got really plowed last night,” whispered Teresa. “You wouldn’t happen to know that guy’s name, would ya?”

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Skye kickin’ it next to her beat up old band sticker covered car.