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Quote by Jett Masterson

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Cutting the Braid

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Jett Masterson

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“He forces himself to meet Manny’s gaze. “I’m sorry I can’t stay.” “OK. Go get some sleep then.” He doesn’t look happy about it, that cute little crease cutting into the edge of each eyebrow. “Come back tomorrow. You promised.” “I did.” Chant says, feeling faint. The air between them is warmer than the balmy night, their little private bubble back again, keeping the world outside.”

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“Someone is standing next to him, and as I near them and focus on the man, I’m left speechless. It's like he stepped off the pages of a men's fitness magazine, with muscle in places I didn't think muscle existed. His muscles have muscles. He's not terribly tall, but that's okay. Neither am I. But he's fit and tan and rippled gorgeousness. He stands out in this place that’s usually filled with space nerds or kids on field trips. I am immediately curious why he's here and why Richard is smiling awkwardly.”

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“Santa Ines is, on first impression, not the best, but not anywhere approaching the worst city Chant has found himself in. He’s seen it all. Palaces and slums, wide, sunlit marble boulevards flanked by ornamental gardens, and shanty towns drowning in mud and despair. This place is, at first glance, the same as any other West Coast city he’s ever drifted through. A twisted core of skyscrapers, apartments and office-blocks, wound round with freeways and dwindling out to cinder block suburbs with repeating fenced yards, bikes on the paths and barbecues in the back, not affluent but not dangerous, either. To the other side of the city, the buildings slope down to the seafront, built lower towards the ocean front as if the nearer they get to the beach, the more they want to get down on their knees and dig. Chant laughs under his breath at the thought: weird. Digging for, what, pirate treasure? Maybe. It’s an old beach town, after all. Zinging with life, thriving, but with that hidden current eddying in the shadows at the edge of the ever-present sunshine, ready to drag down the unwise into secret depths. Here, in Santa Ines, it feels like it goes deeper, somehow, but Chant doesn’t plan on sticking around long enough for that to be a problem. And anyway - he’s not new. Not as if anything like that can touch him, let alone hold him.”

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Book:Fresh Ink - High Spice Edition
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“หากนับเป็นกุศล ให้ถือเป็นของจวินหวายหลางแห่งจวนหย่งหนิงกง" "...แต่ถ้านับเป็นบาปกรรม" "ให้ถือเป็นของข้าแต่เพียงผู้เดียว”

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