Apart from the general concept, there's specific reason the next book is called RIOT BOY. So the first excerpt is more of an explanatory snippet. Bonus content: tacking on a snippet that explains the alternate title that, believe it or not, The Editrix and I actually considered. I like RIOT BOY lots, but the other title is pretty awesome too.
So here we go, the reason Etienne refers to Brady as Riot Boy before he knows his name. (Random note: Susanne is Et's big sister.)
I looked to the other end of the bar. Now those guys didn’t belong. Black and white clothes, hair gel, skinny pants, and tattoos for all, metal in their faces for some. One of the metal-free guys looked up, eyes flashing with the electric blue glow above the bar, and caught my glance. He smiled, wolfish and cunning, his long bangs falling artfully over his face, tight gray T-shirt stenciled in black spray paint to read: RIOT GEAR.An old trick from the Clash -- good taste. I was out of practice with the eye-fucking, but it’s funny how fast it comes back when someone’s worth a good, hard look. Handsome somewhere under that hair, all hard lines and broad shoulders but lean like a panther. Took me a good five seconds to realize his eyes were so striking because they were painted up with black liner.“Don’t flirt with the gutter trash, Et.” Susanne elbowed me in the ribs.“You introduced me to punk at twelve. If I’m looking at --”“It was a phase.”
You can probably guess the alternate title from this tiny snippet:
Susanne grimaced over her beer. “Willoughby Spit.” That pretty much said it all.Lucy snerked and kicked me under the table. She was tarted up again and looking great. Suse had on a Penguins T-shirt this time, but it was a fitted girly blue one, so it set off her eyes. She only wore that color when she wanted to make a good impression; however, since I liked my limbs intact, I kept the observation to myself. Lucy wasn’t complaining, either.“They’re good, I promise,” I said.“So you say.” Lucy winked and looked over my shoulder. Her mouth fell open, and then she laughed. “Oh, God.”Before I could investigate, there were arms twined around my neck and lips against my ear. A kiss, then Brady said, “Hey, sweetheart.”As he pulled away, I turned, grinning ear to ear. “Hey, Brady --”I halted when I saw his shirt, mostly because I was laughing too hard to continue. My face went hot, from 98.6 to 200 degrees in a second flat. It wasn’t the only part of my anatomy to react, either.The shirt was white and clinging, hot as hell on him, of course. But stenciled in spray paint across the chest in the usual blocky lettering were the words: FUCK ME, ETIENNE.“Tried to convince the band to change our name, but they didn’t go for it. I settled for the shirt.” He smirked, slipping into the chair next to me. He reached across the table for Suse’s hand. “You must be Susanne.”
While I think most people would secretly -- or not-so-secretly -- like to read a book called FUCK ME, ETIENNE, it's probably a bad idea for people who surf for books at work. I'm not trying to get anyone in trouble here.
Except Etienne. Obviously.
The other title we liked was L'ENFANT TERRIBLE. But that's another story for another time. But seriously, real excerpts next week on the RIOT BOY page. <3