Wednesday, July 22, 2009
However, things are starting to happen. The cover has been designed, I have met with various people from the publishing house (Dundurn), and "Blood and Groom" is in the Dundurn Fall catalogue. So, it's starting to feel more real now...
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
As open minded as she is, private investigator Sasha Jackson feels out of place when her latest cases plunges her into the world of commercial sex. A classy madame has hired Sasha to find a missing Mexican hooker, which seems easy enough at first. However, things become complicated when a nasty pimp turns up dead in the wrong hotel. The case becomes even more complicated when a spaced-out call girl, an arthritic old lady and a Rastafarian pawnbroker enter the scene.
Sasha figures out why the hooker ran away but has no idea where she is running to. But how fast can anyone run in stiletto heels? It isn’t until the next body turns up that Sasha realizes why the hooker must choose between fight and flight, and why the choice is so difficult. What Sasha doesn’t count on is illegal immigration, a slumlord in sweats, a Neanderthal bartender, and that designer kitchen wares will both threaten and save Sasha’s life.
As confusing as the case is, Sasha’s personal life is even more in disarray. Her ex-boyfriend is hoping they can make beautiful music together, a forgotten high school romance resurfaces, and - after a bit too much wine - an innocent flirtation moves to the next level. For the moment, though, the only guys on Sasha’s mind are a blond kindergartener, a battered drag queen and a guy who just can’t keep his pants zipped up no matter what city he’s in.
Sasha tests her moral compass as she tries to understand the sex trade and what someone will do in a moment of desperation. She is even willing to look the other way, but then Sasha realizes her ass is incredibly hot and the killer is incredibly cold.
When not talking dirty at her part time phone sex job, or singing cheesy cover tunes in generic suburban bars, fledgling private investigator Sasha Jackson is spending her days trying to figure out how “till death do us part” applies to her jilted client.
Christine Arvisais was dumped by her gold plated fiancé days before mailing the wedding invitations. Four months later, he was shot in a Toronto ravine during his Saturday morning jog. Christine says she was wrapped in seaweed and bathing in mud when Gordon Hanes went to the mahogany paneled VIP room in the sky.
Then another former fiancé falls victim to another femme fatale and it appears Cupid’s bow is no match for the Grim Reaper’s scythe.
As Sasha continues her investigation, she uncovers a pattern of guys who skipped “I do” and now never will. It seems a coincidence, until Sasha learns the real meaning of “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”
With her dad driving her crazy via long distance, and her brother steeped in confusion about his own romantic comedy of Eros, Sasha must figure out who’s whacking would-be grooms before it becomes a case of four funerals and a wedding.
Any bar with good live music is a fave, as is any decent patio not facing a noisy, dirty street.
Sasha's haunts include The Pilot Tavern (Cumberland Avenue), Cafe Diplomatico (College Street), The Hideout (Queen West), Cafe Volo (Yonge Street),
The Wheat Sheaf (King West), and The Horseshoe (Queen West), as well as any authentic dim sum, Indian or Thai restaurant.
Sasha lives in Riverdale, on Carlaw, between Danforth and Gerrard. The renovated red brick detached home she shares with dad Jack and brother Shane is the home she grew up in. Not surprisingly, Sasha loves The Danforth.
Other favourite neighbourhoods include The Esplanade and St. Lawrence Market, Queen Street West, and Kensington Market.
PI Sasha Jackson heads to each of these fave hangouts in her debut caper
Blood and Groom.
Sasha is about 5'9", slim, has long blond hair (um, at least, well, it was long until the fire...) and she doesn't really need to wear an underwire support bra, but is damn glad she did that one night...
She's a Leo and reads her horoscope almost everyday (and always does the exact opposite of what it says). After the horoscope, she turns to the comics strips - which aren't nearly as funny as they used to be. Bring back Calvin & Hobbes! After the horoscope and the funnies, Sasha does the crossword (in ink) but only the regular crossword puzzles, never those damned cryptic ones, and don't even ask about those evil sudoku puzzles, arghh!
Sasha votes in every election (except for that one time when she couldn't get out of bed, ugh...), but she is not married to any one political party. However, if Sasha were an American, she definitely would have voted for Obama.
Organized religion scares the crap out of her, but she does believe in a higher power/superior being/heavenly den mother/cosmic CEO.
Some of her favourite quotations/adages are:
What? Me worry? (Alfred E. Neuman is sorely underappreciated).
Fall down seven times, stand up eight.
Hope is the confusion of the desire of a thing with its probability.
If you have 100 priorities, you have none.
Pickles make squishy bookmarks. (Did Confucius say this?)
Sasha still has a crush on John Travolta, circa the Grease and Saturday Night Fever days; she really thinks Archie should ditch Veronica and go for Betty; and although she loved playing with Barbie dolls, she mutilated every one she ever owned by either cutting their hair or applying ballpoint pen eyeshadow.
Sasha got kicked out of Girl Guides after just five weeks. Her Dad was a little embarrassed about this, but not at all surprised. Soon after her short-lived paramilitary stint, Sasha discovered boys and kissing - both of which were infinitely more interesting than selling cookies.