Blurb: A maudlin and unrestrainable drama queen groupie was supposed to help her 70s disco-funk band get a leg up in the MTV generation. Instead, she is steadily taking over the controls and driving her flamboyant boyfriend, the band leader, into isolation and misery. Yet the sex is great. The conflicted fellow begins to lose his grip. After he watches her die suddenly in a hit-and-run accident (taking with her his dreams of a normal, happy family), his mind snaps! Prepare for crack-fueled murders…
Book sample (p.27):
Later that night, on the second floor of a nearby hotel Frances is lying on her back, knees spread far apart, sealing the deal: one knee to the east, one knee to the west, and coming down the middle is Mr. Cool Ass Marion, the Best. Frances is in afro heaven, here in the bedroom where band management had put her up.
Speaking of vigorous motions, our crack-bedeviled musician is hitting that pussy. Who cares about her madness? She washed off the stank, and now she’s getting her reward: a string of unforgiving orgasms.
It is just moments after midnight and Frances keeps thinking: Fireworks! Fireworks! They’re exploding in my head, like it’s the 4th of July!
1 a.m. and the little actress is getting sore from the relentless pounding by Marion’s pocket rocket. Her mind is going blind from its red glare. His Theater-turned-Brothel is in full effect, and the Funk Devil Incarnate is definitely getting paid His Due.
After the long shagging, Marion quickly dresses and disappears away into the city lights of the underworld, without even an explanation, leaving her alone and moist and sore and staring at the ceiling wondering, wondering…