Gabe lives a double life. As Gabriel Henson, he works multiple jobs to support his remorseless, alcoholic mother. As Tony Ryder, he does internet porn for extra cash and regular safe sex without complications.
Yet when he encounters a scared young man freaking out in a night club, he’s compelled to reach out. Ever since then, the memory of that young man has haunted him.
Tristan Lavelle lives his life thirty minutes at a time. After a traumatic brain injury three years ago, he gets through his day recording his life in spiral notebooks and sticky note reminders.
A month after Tristan’s embarrassingly public meltdown, another chance meeting with Gabe sparks a warm, emotionally fulfilling email relationship. Both men crave more, but fear of the next step stands between them.
Until Tristan gets the opportunity to take part in a clinical trial that could improve his memory—if the side effects don’t kill him. But for Tristan, the possibility of a real life with Gabe is worth any risk…
Today I’m very lucky to be interviewing A.M. Arthur, author of The World As He Sees It (Perspectives #2).
Hi A.M., thank you for agreeing to this interview. Tell us a little about yourself, your background, and your current book.
Hello! I’m a contemporary m/m romance author (who occasionally dips into paranormal). I hail from the Eastern Shore of Maryland, equal distances from beaches and corn fields, and I currently share my apartment with two rascals of kitties.
My current book, The World As He Sees It, is the second in my Perspectives series with Samhain Publishing. It’s Tristan and Gabe’s book, and anyone who read the first Perspectives knows why Tristan is super special. He has severe short term memory loss, which prevents him from living a fully realized life. Gabe spends all of his time and money taking care of his alcoholic mother, which prevents him, also, from living a fully realized life. I’m so excited for readers to finally get their story.
Where did your love of books/storytelling/reading/writing come from?
I’ve loved books for as long as I can remember. As a child, I had all of those kid versions of Disney movies and stories, Cabbage Patch books, the Serenity books. I loved reading. I read so much as an adolescent that my mom would drive us to a library in another town because they didn’t have a check-out limit.
All of that reading probably fed my love of storytelling, which I used a lot playing with Barbies and plastic dinosaurs (not at the same time). I suppose writing was simply another step forward, a way to record those stories tumbling around in my head and, eventually, share them with other people.
What were your goals when you started this book? Do you think you met them?
My goals were to give Tristan a happily ever after than readers would believe in, without getting schmaltzy or using too many gimmicks. I think I met those goals for myself, as the author. I hope and pray I met that goal for my loyal readers who’ve been asking for this book since February.
Have you ever co-written with someone before?
I’ve never co-written an m/m romance with anyone. I’ve co-written fanfiction and taken part in interactive, email-based role plays, but not anything that I’ve ever been paid for. I wouldn’t mind it, if the right person and story idea came along.
Tell us about your favorite character in a book (yours or someone else’s).
Well, Tristan definitely tops that list of favorite characters. I don’t know if I could ever declare an absolute favorite, whether my own or someone else’s, because those loves shift with each new story I read or write. A favorite character from someone else’s book is Dex, from Amy Lane’s Johnnies books. I just adore him and how he holds that family of misfits together.
List five foods you can’t live without.
Cheese, popcorn, coffee, gluten-free pasta, peanut butter.
The late hour didn’t diminish the sweltering August heat, and Tristan worked up a good sweat walking. Shane and Noel both looked crazy sexy in their club clothes, and even sexier walking side by side. He was happy for Noel. Happy his best friend was in love and enjoying himself.
He was also stupidly, insanely jealous.
He stuck close with his stupid, insane jealousy because the streets were teeming with people of all ages, heading into and out of the different restaurants and clubs. They turned down a quieter side street that was more like an alley. Halfway down the block a few guys hung out against a stone wall, most of them smoking cigarettes. An industrial door with no sign or markings was being guarded by a big, burly bear of a man in a black leather vest.
“Hey, Officer Carlson,” the bouncer said. He had a deep voice to match his broad body. “Nice to see you again.”
“Hi, Mr. Henson,” Noel said.
“Bear, son. Everyone calls me Bear.”
“Right. This is my friend Tristan Lavelle.”
“A right pleasure.”
Tristan shook Bear’s hand, surprised by the gentle grip. “Hi.” He glanced at Shane, who didn’t seem at all annoyed at being left out. “Um, that’s Shane. Noel’s boyfriend.”
Bear grinned. “Yeah, I know that one all right.”
“You do?” He reached for a notebook he didn’t have, then looked at Noel for answers.
“Shane dances here once a week,” Noel said. “He got the job through Bear’s son Gabe.”
“Oh.” He didn’t bother asking if he’d already been told that. Probably. Every single piece of information that was mildly important to his life had been repeated to him at least, oh, eighteen times. Minimum.
“Enjoy yourselves, boys,” Bear said. “First drinks are on the house.”
“Thank you,” Tristan replied.
Noel pulled the door, and what had been a distant bass became an impressive thumpa-thumpa in Tristan’s chest. The interior of the club was wide and deep, with a high ceiling decorated in strands of red and blue lights. Strobes and other lighting flashed around the dance floor, which seemed to make up most of the floor space. A small U-shaped bar stood to the right. In the rear were what looked like raised platforms. Two hot guys in red short-shorts were gyrating together on one of them.
This is the kind of dancing Shane does? Shit.
He was probably twenty kinds of hot up there.
Someone jostled past them, reminding Tristan to keep moving forward. Noel was hustling them straight for the bar. Tristan couldn’t drink alcohol because of his antidepressants and anxiety medications, and Noel was driving so the only person able to drink much was Shane.
Lucky bastard.
Not that Tristan was going to mourn his dry night. Men. Everywhere around him, a sea of hot men. All kinds of eye candy. Every age, height, weight, shape and body hair amount. He observed and mentally drooled over the flesh on display. The air smelled of liquor and sweat and sex, and good Lord he was starting to get lightheaded from it all.
Noel nudged them closer to the bar. A middle-aged man with gray hair and a pink sequined vest gave them all a big, toothy smile. “Noel and friends,” he said. “Richard Brightman, pleased to officially meet you, Tristan.”
“Hello,” Tristan said. Officially meet you implied they’d interacted before, but the man’s name meant nothing to him.
“I’m Bear’s husband. We own the place.”
“Oh. It’s a great place. I’m pretty sure this is my first time. I like it.”
Noel flinched.
Okay that was wrong. When was I here before?
“So what are we drinking tonight?” Richard asked. “First round on the house. Samuel Adams for you, Shane?”
“Yeah, thanks,” Shane replied.
Richard knows because Shane works here.
“I’ll have a vodka tonic,” Noel said. “Tris?”
“Virgin margarita,” Tristan said. He loved margaritas, and while a virgin wasn’t as good as one with Patrón, he couldn’t mix with his meds.
“Coming up,” Richard said.
The music changed to a faster, sharper beat. Tristan’s hips rolled in tiny motions, instinct bringing out his love of club dancing. Of getting into it with another dude, all writhing bodies and gyrating hips. Arms and legs. Sweat and heavy breathing.
Wonderful arousal stirred in his gut, heating his blood already. He might not be getting laid tonight, but damn it, he was going to have some fun.
“Hey, you guys made it,” said a sexy, sultry voice.
Tristan glanced over his shoulder to see who the voice had spoken to, only to find himself staring into a pair of kind, dark eyes. Kind, dark eyes belonging to a stunningly handsome face. Black hair. Tan skin. Tall and well-built. A walking wet dream who was smiling like they were old friends.
Holy fucking hell, he’s gorgeous.
“Hey, Gabe,” Shane said.
Gabe.
Those kind, dark eyes never broke from his, and Tristan couldn’t look away. Gabe was a stranger, and yet somehow familiar.
His eyes. The eyes I see. We’ve met.
“We’ve met,” Tristan said before he could think twice.
Gabe’s eyebrows twitched. “Yes, we have. Do you remember that?”
“I remember your eyes.”
