69 INCHES OF STEEL by Rebecca Steinbeck Page A

house and his mother’s to remind him of the former and a publisher who was willing to do anything for him to remind him of the latter. But as good as he was at what he did and how he looked, God be damned at what he was and what he had been made to do, the son of a drunkard who had been made to live his father’s life, and he hated his father for not having the guts to ever be more than what he was, a man who had the world at his feet but instead of embracing it chose to stomp all over it. But then, to ever be more than what we are we must first admit to what we are and all too often our lives are so bad we just couldn’t be bothered because it’s much easier to live a shitty life than admit to living one. The silver lining of that very dark cloud though, a dark cloud full of venom and alcohol-fuelled violence, was a career that had seen him become successful beyond his wildest imagination. Money poured out of every book he wrote and every story too. His life had become as rich and fast as his car and he loved it. His father on the other hand was killed instantly several months before his son’s first sale when the car he was driving drifted onto the wrong side of the road and collided head-on with another car. Jonathon hated his father more for killing the other driver than he did for killing himself and while he didn’t regret hating him, he did miss him. He was, after all, his father’s son, and the son had succeeded where the father had failed and he so wanted him to see it.
    He came out of the bathroom and sat down with his mother at the dining table. Both of them sipped their tea and both of them looked at each other over the rims of their cups. Jonathon’s mother was so proud of her son and his success. She could see how happy it made him to be who he was and she knew he had worked hard for it. All those long, hard hours in front of a computer screen writing story after story, novel after novel, had paid off and in more ways than one. Not only was he a best-selling author with several number ones under his belt but he had found an outlet through which he could purge the anger and pain he had felt in his younger years at being the son of a man who had no hope and didn’t want one and who had belted the shit out of his mother on more than one occasion and soon enough he paid the ultimate price.
    “Thank you for coming to visit,” she said. As long as it had been since she saw him at his mansion by the beach, it had been even longer since he had been home to Bellingen. She knew the town wasn’t good for him, as much as he loved it, and if it wasn’t for her he probably wouldn’t come back at all.
    “I couldn’t not visit my favorite lady,” Jonathon said with a twinkle in his eye. He was on his way to New York to prepare for the publication of his new novel. It was a four hundred page thumper about a Lady Vampire brought back to life by a group of teenage boys and of this one he was especially proud. It was as well-written and well-told a story as any he had come up with, but this was the first time he had really confronted the truth of who he was, and he knew he had because deep down he knew he was the bogeyman who became the vampire and his audience who were scared out of their wits time and again by the stories he told were the kids who brought the vampire to life, and he returned from that confrontation with enough courage to write two thousand words every day for months on end that often came so close to home it hurt. After all that work, he was glad for a bit of down time before heading for New York, and spending a couple of days with his mother was the perfect chance to let down his guard and recharge his batteries. “Besides, I’ve got something for you. A gift to help celebrate the new book.”
    His mother smiled. “You know you didn’t have to.”
    He didn’t have to, but he did. He always did. He had plenty of money and he liked to spend it, sometimes on the models that clambered to be his