#TeaserTuesday - 12/5

 

One of the challenges of Lord Have Mercy, from a writing perspective, is the novel's sheer heaviness. It's going to be physically heavy, in its final compiled form, no doubt, a doorstop to rival Fearless. But it's also, by necessity, heavy in an emotional sense. So very much has happened since the series began, for each character individually, and for the club as a whole, and it would feel cheap to ignore all of that. The last few books and Legacy books have been hinting at the approaching storm; the skies break in this book, finally, and it's "rolling thunder, pouring rain" here at last, as the club's maneuvers and under-the-table deals lead them to a crescendo. Things will get worse before they get better, but I want to gently remind that I have never written a book with a sad ending, and I don't intend to start now. The only way out is through, and so tensions will rise, and that tunnel will narrow, until the light at the end of it seems distant and unreachable. 

That's pretty melodramatic of me, huh? I'm looking forward to writing the debrief posts for this installment of book ten, specifically talking about the themes of parenthood, and legacy, and the strangling weight of being responsible for the destinies of others. Like with all my work, Lord Have Mercy is not a book that seeks to address society at large, or its failings. The themes here are all very individual to the characters and their situations. I'm not writing about what a nebulous "someone" should do in this situation...only what these specific people will do. As challenging as it's been to weave the narratives, to draw back upon the themes and lessons of previous books, it's also proving to be one of the most satisfying things I've ever written. I don't think a group of characters has ever felt more flesh-and-blood alive than these do right now in this moment, penning this book. 

I truly can't wait to share it with y'all. 

I'm knuckling down this week, fingers and toes crossed, and the finish line is in sight. 

Today's teaser is one of those that really does show my personal bias: Walsh is still my favorite special biker boy. 

From Lord Have Mercy Part II: Fortunate Son
Copyright © 2023 by Lauren Gilley 

**Warning for strong language. 

Ghost turned his head to regard the door’s last vibrations, jaw working under a bristle of stubble that had more gray in it than it had just a few months ago.

With only the sort of casualness he could muster, Walsh lit a fresh cigarette off the butt of the first and said, with it bobbing off his lip, “Tango’s right.” Matter of fact, but his gaze, when it lifted, was cold, and harsh, and dared anyone to argue with him. “We can’t go back. Over the past ten years, the club has made steady, agreed-upon progress, step-by-step. Each expansion, each investment, each involvement within the underworld has been voted on and passed by unanimous decision. When I patched in, it was explicitly as an accountant. I was told, by my presidents – James first, Ghost second – that my main objective here in this club was to build wealth, for the club itself, and for its members. A rich club is a powerful club, and that’s what I’ve done, every day, since I first sewed my top rocker on.

“We’re tangled in some deep shit right now, yeah,” he said, voice taking on a rarely-used, bitter-cold edge. His eyes were chilling. “But when was the last time any of you couldn’t pay your utility bills?” He gestured with his free hand in invitation. “Child support?” he asked Briscoe in particular, who ducked his head, shame-faced. “Rent?” This to Dublin, who’d recently moved out of his shitty apartment into one with reliable heating and air. “When did any of you last have to ask a brother for a loan?”

It was perhaps the longest speech Walsh had ever offered at church. Everyone had either ducked his head, or looked appropriately chastened.

Ghost lifted his head, still standing, hands braced on the table in a way that made him look supplicating, rather than dictatorial. “Any of you could have protested at any time, but you didn’t. And now we’re here. Backed by a British millionaire, fucking…running both coasts. And our primary nemesis – yeah, boys, welcome to comic book land, we have a nemesis – is way more powerful than we ever thought possible. And none of that – none of it – has anything to do with what we’re dealing with right now.”

He looked at Mercy, and then everyone else did. “One of our own is in trouble, and we’re going to get him out of it.”

Mercy folded his hands on the table and felt a vicious bolt of tenderness attempt to pierce the indifferent screen his brain had erected around his heart. “Actually, our beef with Abacus gives Boyle leverage over me, and over the whole club. So.” He shrugged. “It’s all related.”

Ghost met his gaze head-on and repeated: “One of our own is in trouble, and we’re going to get him out of it.”

Mercy grinned. “That’s real nice of you, Daddy-o.”

“Shut up,” Ghost said, and turned to Walsh. “Alright. What are our options?”