More from Serendipity Blues

Working on the new novel, Serendipity Blues, has been uncommonly slow for me. I'm not sure why. Probably just one of those time periods where the writing will move slowly and not much can be done about it. I'm getting a bit over 1k a day and that's all right.

I have three POV characters for this novel. I thought I would only have two, but it quickly became apparent that I needed to bring Frankie Cosenza, father of the pivotal character or 'pawn' into the story and in his own words. The minute I started writing his first chapter appearance, I had a good feeling for it -- though , of course, first draft means it's not really 'there' yet.

Frankie is going to be an interesting character to play. Dark, ruthless, loves his daughter to distraction, no tolerance for people who get in his way -- and smart enough not to do something insane just because he's worried.

Snippet from Frankie's first appearance:

Frankie Cosenza had just come back to the hotel, his two guards a discreet four steps back as he walked with his arm wrapped around the waist of Samantha Brazos, his private secretary. They'd both needed this week away from DC and the hounding police, the rumors of a gang war starting to brew... and of course, away from his lovely bitch of a wife, Leslie. A week on the beaches of Vera Cruz, and the yacht anchored off shore... He could live this way, if he could just give up the work.

And there, on cue, came the words he had expected every day.

"Mr. Cosenza? You have an urgent message from home," the concierge said, coming across the lobby, worry showing in his face. "The call just came in. Would you like --"

"Get me a phone," he said, letting go of Samantha. She knew better than to try to cling, though he saw the pout on her pretty little lips. They'd been heading up to the room for a little privacy, and he didn't much like having the interruption either. If Johnny B. didn't have a good reason for this one, his younger brother damn well might as well see if he could find work with the Varisco Family before Frankie got back to town.

Samantha took the phone when the clerk handed it across the desk and began to dial, the image of efficiency, in lacey frock, and a bikini so small he couldn't have used both parts for a decent handkerchief.

"I want Johnny B," he said, reaching for cigarettes. "I want him on the line right now."

Dirk, the taller of his two guards, lit the cigarette, his eyes still scanning the lobby. Late afternoon. Not many people here, but it could be a trick -- get him to stop some place long enough to get a hit man in --

Samantha tapped his arm and handed over the phone.

"Hey," Frankie said into the receiver. He hated phones. He hated not seeing the look on the other person's face, and as dangerous as it sometimes was, he still insisted that all business be conducted face-to-face.

"Frankie," Johnny B said, his voice clear enough to be next door rather than a continent away. "Bad news. The FBI has Carina."

His breath caught. For a brief moment he remembered his uncle Marco having a heart attack and dying, right there in church on Sunday morning. He saw Samantha look worried, and the guards move in a little closer.

"What the fuck happened?" he said, his voice not nearly steady as usual.

"Leslie -- Leslie turned her over to the FBI. Said she would turn evidence if they protected her daughter --"

He counted to ten. Johnny B said a few more things and then wisely fell silent. It seemed that everyone in the hotel had gone silent, too. Frankie took a breath. Another.