The pitch is
simple enough: Baller is an Agatha Christie mystery on acid, with a suspended NBA player and a porn star filling in for Hercule Poirot. These unique pals are
attending a private party at a posh resort in the mountains when a
blizzard rolls in. The lights go out, a murder is committed, and things
quickly spiral out of hand. None of the prestigious guests who have
gathered at WinterCrest are safe. A game with no rules is being played
and deadly gifts have been scattered throughout this remote retreat.
Can our pair of unlikely heroes figure out who is responsible and save
the day, or will they suffer a gruesome fate?
I provided an excerpt in my previous blog on Baller that details what happens when one of the deadly gifts mentioned in the pitch is opened by one of the guests at WinterCrest. You can enjoy that excerpt here. Today, I'm sharing another excerpt that provides an introduction to the main characters of Baller, Luke Wilson and Devil Wood.
An excerpt from Baller (Warning: Adult Content)
Jagged black
spikes loomed on either side of the winding road, proud monuments of earth and
stone thrusting up into a bleak winter sky that was all but obscured by the
falling snow. The road was narrow and
curvy, a winding strip encompassed in metal guardrails that would give way upon
impact, spilling into the rocky crevices that beckoned below.
Luke tightened his
grip on the wheel; he still had complete faith in the Jeep and his ability to
operate it in these conditions, but he had never seen a storm gain strength and
tenacity with such speed. He was reminded
of a dog devouring food at a frantic pace, eating as though such an opportunity
may never present itself again. As they continued
on, a white haze seemed to overtake them, the blinding mist swelling as the
snowfall intensified. The wind ripped
through the night, driving the precipitation into swirling torrents that danced
through the air.
“Dude, can you
even see to drive?” His passenger
wondered.
Luke smirked. “It’s not so bad.”
“Shit. It’s a good thing you’re the one behind the
wheel. It’s really coming down. These roads will be covered in no time.”
“They salt these
roads.” Luke continued to crane forward,
focusing on the narrow stretch of pavement that was quickly being
blanketed.
“Well, they don’t
salt them enough. I think we’re going to
wind up spending the night at this bullshit affair. If we even get there.”
“We’ll get
there. We grew up in West Virginia,
man. Bluefield’s our hometown. This ain’t nothing new for either of us. As long as we don’t brake too hard or yank
the steering wheel, we’ve got no worries.”
“We?
Ain’t no we, man. It’s all you,
I’m just watching. And praying.”
“We’ve got no
worries.”
“Maybe you don’t.”
“I always thought
you were fearless.”
“Shit. That was before I moved to California.”
“Well, this ain’t
California,” Luke said, straining to see.
He let off the gas a little, squinting as he peered through the falling
snow. “We’ll be there in no time,” he
said, but there was a trace of uncertainty in his voice that made it seem as
though he was trying to convince himself as much as his passenger.
“If you say so.”
“You know you
didn’t have to come.”
“Yeah right. The invitation you received was
issued for you and a guest. If you show
up by yourself, everyone there will think you’re an asshole who doesn’t have a
girl or any real friends. And anyways,
it’s been far too long, man. I want to
hang out with you.”
“Yeah,” Luke
agreed. “It has been a long time. A lot has changed.” He was clad in a pair of jeans and a black
sweater. He hadn’t shaved his beard in
almost a month now and it was becoming unruly, but it suited him. His leather jacket was in the
backseat and he was wearing his favorite boots.
No matter how many zeros they put on his checks, Luke would always be a
country boy at heart. The private party
they were en route to was a first class affair, but this was as nice as he
cared to dress on a trip to the mountains.
As he veered into
a curve, Luke worked the wheel a little too hard and the tires lost their grip
on the slippery pavement for an instant.
“Shit,” he muttered, gingerly tapping the brake pedal as he nudged the
wheel.
The tires regained their traction
and they came through it without a hitch, but his friend was shaking his
head.
“Yeah,” he said
with a grin. “No worries.”
Luke shrugged. “That was
nothing.”
His passenger
responded with a chuckle.
“Look,” Luke said,
eager to talk about something else, “I was thinking about something. Do I really have to call you Devil?
I mean, is that what you’re going to call yourself tonight?”
“Why not?
That’s what everyone calls me now.”
“Well, I mean, why
not just go by Ricky around me?”
“Ricky? Who the fuck is Ricky? It would be Rick by
now anyway, wouldn’t it? We’re not kids
anymore, dude. Nobody calls me Ricky.”
“What does your
mother call you?”
“She stopped
talking to me a few years back. But in
her letters, she refers to me as Richard.”
“Well, maybe I
could call you Richard too.”
Devil shot him a
dirty look. “Get the fuck out of
here. Richard is my father.”
“What does your
mother call him?”
“They haven’t said
a word to each other in over three years, but that’s another story. He calls me Dick, but only because he knows
that I hate it. You can imagine how
thrilled he is with my new life, but it is what it is, bro. Shit, it’s not like we were the happiest
family on the block anyway.”
“There’s an
understatement.”
“Like I said, it
is what is. I’m fine with it. I’m Devil, man. Fuck it.
You are what you do. It ain’t a
bad gig, I’m telling you. Fuck man, we
can’t all be ballers and shit.”
Luke couldn’t
suppress a chuckle of his own. “What the
fuck are you talking about, man? We’re
both ballers.”
Devil thought this
over for a moment. “Yeah, but you play
ball in the big leagues and I ball chicks while the cameras roll. Both are fantasies, but only one of them will
make you rich.”
“You’re not doing
so bad.”
“I’m doing
okay. What? Am I supposed to think this will last
forever? Shit, man. I’m on the road to nowhere and I’ve got my
foot on the gas. I mean, yeah, Randy
Spears is still kicking, and hell, I used to jack off to shit with him in
it. Not because of him, you know, but
I’m just saying. He did this scene with
Raylene in a bathtub that I used to blow up, man. I totally wore out that spot on the
tape. Who knew you could bust a nut that
big? It was like he opened up a fire
hose on that poor girl.” Devil stopped
talking long enough for a wistful longing to creep into his eyes. “I loved that scene, man. It was on a collection I had, one of those
tapes with nothing but six hours of scenes.
Those were the best, man, just get rid of the lousy plots and enjoy the
fucking. Plus, they were funny because the scenes were taken from various movies so there would be little bits of dialogue that didn't make any sense taken out of context. It just sounded like ridiculous dirty talk. 'Damn, baby, you're one hell of a good landlord.' Shit like that. Anyway, I think that one was called Hosed and it was probably the best
collection I ever had.”
“You share too
much.”
“Always have. That probably says a lot about my career
path. Regardless, Randy Spears is an
exception to the rule. Most of us don’t
make it nearly that long. Guys, I
mean. A lot of us wind up impotent,
broke, and strung out before we get to have a midlife crisis, and that’s no
lie.” This potential candidate for such
a woeful fate was wearing pressed khakis and a delicate knit sweater with tan
loafers. His short blonde hair was
carefully styled and he was clean-shaven.
He looked like someone who should have been featured prominently in the
Ralph Lauren winter ad campaign.
Luke was forced to
slow the mighty Jeep to a crawl as the road wound upward in a precarious series
of wicked curves. As he deftly worked
the brakes and nursed the steering wheel, he found himself wondering why he had
agreed to bring Devil along in the first place.
He had wanted to reunite with his boyhood pal, but his friend had
changed a lot over the years. This could
turn out to be quite embarrassing if his old chum didn’t do a better job of
censoring himself at the lodge. His
friend had obviously been in California for too long.
Devil was still
prattling on, explaining some of the finer points of his lurid profession. “It’s different for girls. They last longer in the industry, and they’re
the real stars anyway. They make the
real money and on most sets they call the shots. If you’re doing a flick with a slit with
clout and she ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy, man, you better believe that.”
“No shit?” Luke wondered, immediately chastising himself
for encouraging his friend.
“No shit. Hell, some of the best directors are aging
starlets who don’t want to lube up for a paycheck anymore. They’re the real players in this industry. Maybe one day I’ll get my chance to get cozy
with one of them. If you’re lucky enough
to dazzle one of those dames and she starts using you steadily, that’s your
ticket to the race right there. That’s
what I’m shooting for. Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll get there.”
Luke restrained
himself from commenting, hoping the conversation would end there, but Devil
continued, absorbed in his commentary. “Like
Nina Hartley, man. Nina’s a golden oldie, she’s
been doing this as long as I can remember.
I bet my dad used to jack off to her.”
Luke shook his
head. This was definitely going to be
interesting. Censorship didn’t appear to
be a concern for Devil. Luke was
starting to think that the aloof country boy he had grown up with had been
irreversibly altered by his vulgar profession.
“Forget it,” Devil
continued, though Luke had lost track of whatever it was that he was supposed
to be forgetting. There wasn’t a point
to this winding opus, there was a random series of points. Undeterred, the porn star poet marched on,
gesturing boldly as he spoke. “It
doesn’t really matter. Though Nina is definitely one of the hottest blondes of
all time. That ass? Terrific.
A perfect ten. Maybe the best ass
of all time, and certainly the best ass I’ve ever seen. You could decorate your house with pictures
of that woman’s ass and no one would ever object.”
Luke arched his
eyebrows. “I know a few people who
probably wouldn’t like it all that much.
Like my mom, for instance.”
"Your mom might surprise you."
. . .
