Stay Another Night

For the better part of a decade, Coco Stevens balances life on the edge of a deadly and enticing razor. Faced with the ultimate betrayal by her Mafia boss boyfriend Sam Spielman, Coco finally reaches for redemption in the barren deserts of Nevada. Hanging in the balance is a modern day fortune that rivals the worth of King Solomon’s Mines. In a riveting conclusion with a surprising twist, perhaps the wages of sin can be spent more wisely than even they would have believed possible.

From the first time the underage stripper meets the dangerous Mafia boss during a raid on his infamous San Franciscan Gentlemen’s Club, Coco Stevens is hypnotized by the young charismatic Don. Like a doomed moth drawn helplessly toward an enticing yet lethal flame, Sam Spielman also falls helplessly under her spell. The two could not be more different – and more alike – and more in love. Guided by Sam’s clever mentoring, Coco begins her meteoric rise to the very pinnacle of the international fashion trade. She proves to be as wily and intelligent as she is beautiful as she swiftly adapts to the jet setting world of haute couture. She segues her supermodel status into a blossoming acting career, remaining glued to the fast track of a world of power and privilege. For the better part of a decade, Coco balances life on the edge of a deadly and enticing razor. It’s a dangerous game with its own set of nasty rules. Although she plays it with a master’s touch, Coco knows full well that one mistake could cost her everything. Then the unthinkable happens. From the exotic African svelte lands of Kenya to the breathtakingly beautiful sands of Barbados, Coco rides the golden bullet, hanging on for dear life until finally and inevitably, the gold begins to tarnish. In the end, Sam Spielman is forced to choose between the unthinkable and the impossible. Would he rather pay the ultimate price for the most grievous of this world’s sins, or go on living in the darkness of his own creation? Seemingly trapped with a one way ticket on the voyage of the damned, can Coco and Sam find the only way out? Coco finally reaches for redemption in the barren deserts of Nevada. Hanging in the balance is a modern day fortune which rivals the worth of King Solomon’s Mines. In a riveting conclusion with a surprising twist, perhaps the wages of sin can be spent more wisely than even they would have believed possible.

In the old days life was definitely a whole lot simpler. For one thing, we all wore newer shoes and we didn’t have the foggiest notion about what was REALLY going on. I remember things from those early days. Things like my first beer. I was fifteen when I bought my first six-pack at the Curtis Gordon Hotel on Henderson Highway in Winnipeg. I think it was made by Molson Canadian. I looked older than my age. You had to be eighteen to buy booze in Manitoba and by then I looked nineteen. We took the beer across the street to Midnight Bowling at the Rossmere Lanes. I don’t think Kurt had one; he was always a teetotaler. Me and Johnny the Headman split it, caught a buzz, and had a little fun. Big D, a guy I’d known through Junior High and on into High School, was more interested in the bowling. Man, could he ever send that ten-pin ball flying down the alley. The damn thing must have been doing sixty-five miles an hour by the time it exploded the pins at the lane’s far end. Memories. Good ones. Firsts. Aren’t they something? Like the first kiss. That would be Lorraine. I remember she had a last name that could have been put on the side of a can of mosquito spray. She was something else, though. We had a ton of fun until I screwed things up royally by getting drunk and kissing someone else who happened to be a friend of a friend. You know how that one goes. What would we do without hormones? The first time I drove a car was amazing. For whatever reason my old man decided to buy sixty acres of a farm on the edge of the city and decided to drive his Olds Delta 88 with the rocket 455 engine through his wheat field. He let me get in behind the wheel. I guess he figured I couldn’t wreck anything out there in the middle of all that wheat. Freedom. That’s all I remember feeling. Fourteen years old and I could turn the wheel, punch the gas petal, and go anywhere. There was the first time I stepped into the ring as a heavyweight fighter, adrenaline running as high as the jet stream. I looked across at the guy in the other corner as we were getting ready for the bell to sound and I asked myself what the hell was I doing here? Because it was Jimmy Hoffa’s nephew standing across from me. I won that one by the way. Thanks, Ed. You were a great trainer. The first time I smoked pot I loved it. I’ve been smoking it ever since. It is sheer madness that the assholes we pay to look after things made it illegal – for the money. But that’s an entirely different story. And then there was the first time I took the escalators up to the fourth floor cafeteria at the University of Winnipeg. I was at one of the lowest points in my life. Lost in a sea of madness all around me, I finally asked myself if I could be completely selfish in my life and do anything – the one thing – that made sense to me, what would that be? I sat down at one of the tables and wrote the first three quarters of the first page of THE MONEY HOUSES. And that one single moment of utter clarity changed my life forever. I was very much in love and the timing couldn’t have been more wrong. I was still making a living doing stuff I couldn’t stand doing, and I could see the disaster coming down the road. If I said yes to her there would have been a whole lotta hurting going on later on. I loved all of us way too much to put anyone through that, so I said no. Man, that was so painful, you can’t even begin to imagine. We both moved on, she to a marriage I hoped would give her everything she needed, and I, well, I was going to be a writer. I want to thank these few rare people who had the temerity and courage to see things the way they could be, the way things ought to be, and not accept the circumstances of their lives as they were. Sometimes it requires a hell of a lot more umph deep down there where it counts the most to stay the course. I tip my hat to every one of you who would rather know, than blindly believe. God bless each and every one of you. I’ll see you all in my next novel.