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Feed 4: The Corporation
-- The previous books in the series are only 99¢ for a limited time! -- EXCERPT: Isaac Tasha pulled away, a grin spreading across her face. “You kiss like a devil.” Isaac stayed in his role. “The only way I know how.” “Well, your mama didn’t teach you to kiss like that.” “No, obviously,” Isaac said, lapsing into his casual, real nature. Tasha walked to where she’d been standing in the gazebo, and gazed out at the valley. “It’s beautiful up here,” she said with a sigh. “I could get used to this.” “It wouldn’t be hard, though. Would it?” Isaac asked, raising an eyebrow. Having amazing things—the shit you wanted, beauty, wealth, posh possessions—of course that was easy. Being stuck in the gutter for the duration of what some might call ‘a life,’ now that was hard. She looked at him, half her face in shadows, the other half looking at him intently beneath the soft light of the strand bulbs. “You’re right. I can see why you’re here.” “Especially considering,” he said, still leaning on one arm balanced against the top of the banister. “Considering what?” He shrugged. She looked thoughtful before asking, “Where would you be if you could be anywhere, no boundaries, no exclusions, money is not an issue?” “Paris. Or the west coast like San Francisco or Santa Monica.” He looked away from her and thought about what he’d said. That was the goal. Getting to the top of Sweet Life. Being showered with gifts, treated like a celebrity, offered advertising deals, recognized as a creative genius whose presence brought in viewers. He thought of his fans and wondered what they’d be saying right now about what he was doing. “Isaac! You’re selling out!” “Isaac, stay true to yourself!” “Isaac, no!” Of course, there’d be some who’d say, “You got this!” “Paris is nice. There’s a vibrancy in the air and a sense of timelessness. The past and present colliding in this indescribable connection like all things are one. You know?” He nodded, wondering if she sincerely believed that he had been to Paris. Or anywhere like that. Did she know him? Know of his limited background and what he was trying to achieve? Or was he nameless for her? A placeholder? An object to be exploited? He was obviously that, something to exploit. Otherwise how could she . . . how would anyone be OK with that? Dwelling on it was pointless. He knew what he had to do and he was doing it. And if she thought she’d pull him deeper into some kind of weird relationship, she was wrong. 
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