DiscoI am pleased to present a short excerpt from ”The Addicted Lawyer”. The usual disclaimers. These excerpts are solely for content preview. These excerpts are not professionally edited. That occurs when I pay someone later. They also may not appear in this form in the published book. While your waiting for this book, feel free to read my previous book, Shattered Image. You can also stay up to date by following “The Addicted Lawyer” Facebook Page.

Spring 1975.  Alone in my bedroom watching Star Trek. Thinking about the upcoming school dance, and idolizing Captain Kirk, the handsome, swashbuckling captain of the Starship Enterprise. The looks. The confidence. The women.  If I can only be him. I’ll bet he was the prom king in high school.  I hate school dances. They remind me of what I will never be and the things I will never see.  I will never be invited to the prom. I will never be brave enough to ask a girl to the prom.  I will never see a Brian that is attractive and confident enough to even go on a date despite numerous crushes. Despite camping out with my bicycle in front of her house waiting for her to notice me. Endlessly riding back and forth hoping she will look out the window and see me. I will never command the Starship Enterprise.

I play out fantasies in my head of life with each crush, envisioning an alternate reality of love and acceptance.  I see it every day and want it so badly. The soft hand touch of the first love. The excitement of the prom planning and talk of booze, hotels, and losing virginity. I am lost in the fantasy of acceptance and being someone I am not

I am jarred out of my fantasy world by a knock at the door. My brother Mark is standing there holding pair of pants. Shiny, gold and bell-bottom.  A creation of the new disco craze sweeping the country. Mark is all about the disco.  I would hear him playing the hit song “The Hustle” on the record player in our living room. He is handsome. He is confident. Jet black hair from our mother’s lineage. I have the red hair and freckles from our father’s.  Mark has the confidence, the charisma, and charm from my father.  I am my mother’s child.

“Hey Bri! Check out these babies! What do you think?”  He is holding in his hand, a pair of shiny, satin, gold bell-bottomed pants.

“You’re actually going to wear those?”

“I have been wearing them. Everyone at the disco loves them.  I just bought a new pair. Do you want these?”

Suddenly, I did not care what they looked like. It was an offering from my brother, an offering of love., a piece of him that might rub off on me and transform me into a disco dancing Captain Kirk.   I am off my bed in seconds, reaching for the pants.  He smiles and says, “Have fun, disco boy!”

I immediately shut my door, strip to my underwear, and slide each leg carefully slid into the pants so not to wrinkle them. I stand up. My heart sinks. I can barely get the pants over my ass and up to my waist. I am fat. Mark is not fat.  I start to cry.  I keep pulling. Inhale! Stretch! I get them fastened. Exhale. Then waistline stretches. I’m in. I can only take half-breaths. I don’t give a shit. I am wearing these pants! They are a symbol of Mark’s love. They are my ticket to the prom. I will learn The Hustle.