I consider myself lucky to have Vincent Zandri on my blog today. He’s an incredible author with an amazing life story not to mention an amazing writing career story. But instead of weighing down this post with a bunch from me, why don’t you just enjoy his work, take a gander at his bio below this excerpt and ENJOY!
The footsteps sound laden and painful, and remind me of the walking dead. It’s just like I expected them to sound. Dead but somehow still alive. I stand at the big window looking out onto the Hudson River and listen to the victim of an attempted murder slowly climb the stairs to my second-floor office.
Gripped in my right hand, an early afternoon Jack.
I sip the whiskey slowly, stare through the glass, beyond the transparent reflection of my scruffy face, cropped salt-and-pepper hair, and the surgically shaved scar over my right earlobe, where a piece of .22-caliber hollow-point bullet penetrated it.
I can’t avoid them: The footsteps, heavy and labored, like a beating heart. I do my best to sight in on a flock of seagulls swooping down at the river in random arcs before pulling out of their dives barely an inch ahead of crashing into the water. It’s nature’s grace incarnate. But beauty is the last thing on my mind.
The day is cold and concrete gray. The usual meteorological song and dance for Albany. A lost-in-time city gripped by cold from November all the way through May. The time my mortician dad did the majority of his business. “Tax season,” he used to call it.
It’s only January 4, but already I’m beginning to feel like the state capital will never know warmth again. What did Shakespeare call it? The winter of our discontent? I wonder if anyone ever experienced a contented winter up in Albany. Skiers, maybe. Snowboarders. People with the money to hop a flight to Palm Beach.
I’m mouthing the whiskey glass once more when the footsteps stop. The door opens, and she walks into my office without knocking.
“Mr. Moonlight,” she says to my back. “I hope I’m not too early.”
The voice is noticeably slurred and delayed, which I also expected. But then, the woman has been through one hell of a painful ordeal. I chug down what’s left of my whiskey, run the fingers of my free hand down my face, wishing I’d shaved. Ah, what the hell.
Setting the now empty glass and whiskey bottle inside the open desk drawer, I attempt to smile warmly, but give up trying almost immediately. I close the drawer without slamming it.
“You’re right on time, Mrs. Parker.” Holding my hand out towards an empty wooden chair. “Please have a seat.”
“Do you always drink alone?”
“Has it been for you? In the past, I mean?”
My second smile dissolves like freshly fallen snow on a puddle of warm blood. Do I tell her now about my failed suicide attempt, or do I leave it for later? Maybe she already knows. This is SmAlbany, after all. She closes the wooden door behind her, painstakingly makes her way into the office, gingerly sits herself down. Life is no easy task for this zombie-like woman.
In truth, she should be dead.
VINCENT ZANDRI’S BIO
Vincent Zandri is the No. 1 International Bestselling Amazon author of THE INNOCENT, GODCHILD, THE REMAINS, MOONLIGHT FALLS, CONCRETE PEARL, MOONLIGHT RISES, SCREAM CATCHER, BLUE MOONLIGHT and MURDER BY MOONLIGHT. He is also the author of the Amazon bestselling digital shorts, PATHOLOGICAL, TRUE STORIES and MOONLIGHT MAFIA. Harlan Coben has described THE INNOCENT (formerly As Catch Can) as “…gritty, fast-paced, lyrical and haunting,” while the New York Post called it “Sensational…Masterful…Brilliant!” Zandri’s list of publishers include Delacorte, Dell, StoneHouse Ink, StoneGate Ink and Thomas & Mercer. An MFA in Writing graduate of Vermont College, Zandri’s work is translated into many languages including the Dutch, Russian, and Japanese. An adventurer, foreign correspondent, and freelance photo-journalist for RT, Globalspec, IBTimes and more, he lives in Albany, New York. For more go to WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM
VINCENT ZANDRI, NOIR AUTHOR