QSFer J. Scott Coatsworth has a new short story collection out: The River City Companion.
Can’t get enough of the River City? Here are five more tales to whet your appetite:
The Bear at the Bar: A gay fish out of water tale with just a pinch of Freaky Friday magic.
Between the Lines: Ben is a Republican chief of staff for a state Senator. Sam is Brad’s handsome young assistant. When Brad finds an antique medallion that lets him read minds, all hell breaks loose.
Ten: After the death of his husband, Chris faces a gay mid-life crisis—at thirty-five—as he jumps back into the dating scene for ten dates in ten days.
Flames: When a fire puts his partner Gio in a Coma, Alex has to help him find his way back, one memory at a time.
Miz Fortune’s Lonely Hearts Salon: Chester the accountant finds his voice as Miz Fortune, helping lonely clients find the love of their lives.
Enjoy these little bits of storytelling magic!
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Excerpt
Chester moved the divider aside to reveal a small desk and mirror with a Tiffany lamp. This was where he would transform himself for the evening. He put each of his things in its place on the narrow pressboard desk—sturdy and efficient but out of place amongst the glamor that surrounded it—and flicked on the lamp.
After stripping down to his underwear, he pulled on a chest plate and the red dress—no need for tucking in this particular environment, and besides, the dress would forgive a multitude of sins. Then he sat in the folding chair, which squeaked in protest, and trimmed his eyebrows.
After this fine-tuning, foundation went on next, thick enough to mask some of the wrinkles that insisted on creeping onto his face with every additional year he passed under the harsh Sacramento sun. That was followed by a bit of contouring to make his face slightly less… manly, and then some fine powder makeup, which always made him sneeze.
He knew he’d never achieve Meryl Streep, but he hoped to at least approximate Bette Midler, or perhaps Endorain her prime.
As the layers went on, Chester slowly slid into the background, taking along with him the constant parade of numbers and figures that danced through his head. Forgotten were the Bunker-Flints and their IRS kerfuffle.
Miz Fortune slowly emerged, all chiffon and lace and woman-of-mystery, a matchmaker who held the cards of fate in her hands. Literally.
This was his favorite part of the night, when he shed his timid accountant personality to be someone strong and in control, something like the man he’d been before, with Andrew. Confident. Certain. Spontaneous.
He sighed, closing his eyes with their false eyelashes and clutching his tube of slut-red lipstick in his sweaty hands. If only you could see me now, babe.
His strange visions had started after Andrew’s death. Little flashes over other people’s heads that made him think—at first—that he was having a stroke.
Put on the lipstick with practiced ease, puckering his lips to spread it evenly.
At first, he’d thought he was losing his mind—the result of the twin stresses of a job he hated and a life that had suddenly gone empty of all color and meaning.
Slip on the wig and fasten it into place, then drape the curls around to frame his face in the most flattering way possible.
Then he’d seen one of his visions come true—Max from work had met the girl of his dreams, and when Chester met her, her face sent chills down his spine. He’d seen that visage dancing over Max’s head a month before.
Acrylic nails, blood-red, pressed against each of his own, rounded and sharp, like talons.
It was a sign. Maybe from Andrew himself. He, Chester Carlson, was meant to help others in ways that went far beyond taxes and accounting.
A ruby-red ring and some brass bangles on his right arm to complete the effect.
He sat back to admire the results of his labors, spreading his fingers and waving his hand in the air to admire the glitter of jewelry. He’d created Faye as a way to escape the pain, and she had taken on a life of her own. Her lips spread wide in thrilled anticipation.
“Miz Fortune has arrived.”
Author Bio
Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother as a child and devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were.
He decided that if there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would write them himself.
A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, Liminal Fiction and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and was the SFWA Indie Authors Committee chair for almost three years. He now runs the Sacramento Book Festival.