Downfall

Downfall by Jay Crownover



Hi, Friends!



I really hope you take a second to read this if you are new to my books and if you are new to me as an author.

Downfall is a book I wrote exclusively for my monthly newsletter throughout 2018 and early 2019. Subscribers were able to read along with me as I wrote my rough draft. It’s something fun I started doing a few years ago and plan to keep doing in the future.

This version is expanded, edited, polished, and pretty, so don’t worry.

BUT!!!! Yes, big but: if you are new and unfamiliar you may wonder why there isn’t a name for the city in which the story is set, or why a handful of pivotal characters don’t have names or fully explained backstories and physical attributes.

All that vagueness is on purpose. I am not lazy. I am not forgetful. I wasn’t cutting corners. I want this book to stand on its own, no question, in case it is your first book by me. I don’t want new readers trying to figure out who characters are and how they fit into this story vs. who they are and where they fall in their origin series.

This book is an island in an ocean of a bigger series; however, you don’t need to worry about what you may have missed to read this one… I PROMISE. This one is its own thing. It has its own vibe, feel, pacing, and history.

If you read and do find yourself wondering about The Boss, Boy Genius, The Devil, and his wife, and anyone else who fills out the cast in the city, please check out my internationally bestselling Welcome to the Point series here:

https://www.jaycrownover.com/welcometothepoint



Love & Ink

Happy reading,

Jay





Orley



Being out on the streets when the sun went down was not a good idea in any part of this no-good city.

Not that being on the streets during the day was any better, or safer, but something about the daylight seemed to keep the worst of the predators at bay. When it got dark, all bets were off and the shadows took on a life of their own. Anyone foolish enough to be caught out in the dark, distracted and unaware, was considered prey.

I knew all of this, had learned that lesson the hard way the first few days of living in this god-awful neighborhood. But tonight, everything that could go wrong had, which meant I was walking with my head down, clutching the tiny, sleep-limp body of my daughter in my arms, trying not to draw attention to either of us. It was a nearly impossible task. One look at the fear stamped all over my face, the anxiety which kept my posture tight and stiff, or a glance down at Noble’s designer sneakers, and it was obvious to anyone looking that neither of us belonged here. Unfortunately, not fitting in made us even more of a target. We stood out like a beacon in the darkness instead of blending into the shadows that seemed to come alive at night.

Noble muttered something groggily into the side of my neck where her head lolled. My almost-four-year-old daughter was a champ. She took the move to this hellhole far better than I did. She was excited by the noise, the traffic, the endless amount of colorful characters littering the sidewalks during the day. I was the one crying into my pillow at night, not her. She could sleep through anything, including me hauling her like she was a sack of potatoes while I sprinted the six blocks from my broken-down car to our tiny apartment. I put a hand on the back of her head, letting her dark curls slide comfortingly through my fingers and prayed the rest of the journey home would be uneventful.

She had no idea I was frantically scanning every alleyway I passed. She had no clue my car was dead as a doornail, abandoned on the side of the road, useless and billowing smoke. It was going to have to stay there. I didn’t have the means to get it towed or fixed. Being carless wouldn’t be a big deal if my job wasn’t all the way across town in the more affluent district of the city. I had to have my car to get to work, but I could get Noble to her babysitter by foot in a pinch. It was a slightly scary six-block walk in the daytime; at night it was downright terrifying.

Not that I’d need to worry about getting either of us anywhere tomorrow. Right after the car malfunctioned, Mrs. Sanchez, the lovely older Hispanic woman who watched Noble for me during the week, informed me that she would no longer be able to watch her. It seemed her husband was tired of coming home from work and finding an extra mouth to feed. What she didn’t say was that her husband hadn’t ever approved of her babysitting Noble in the first place. Apparently, he never liked her “privilege” and the fact she wasn’t a child from the inner city. He didn’t like her bright attitude and endless questions. My daughter was very different from the quiet, solemn children from the Sanchez’s neighborhood, and that never sat well with the man. But, instead of crumbling into a hysterical ball of emotion at Mrs. Sanchez’s door, I thanked her for everything she’d done for Noble up to that point and told her we’d be in touch.

I could see her sympathy for my predicament, but her unwillingness to defy her husband did me no good, especially when she patted my arm and told me, “I’m so sorry, Orley. You know how much I love having Noble here.”

The only reason I stopped myself from wilting into a mess of tears and desperation was that I’d already had one breakdown today: my boss at the salon had pulled me aside right before closing and informed me that she had a cousin who needed a job, so she was cutting my hours to accommodate the teenager. Working less than part-time with minimum wage barely kept my kid fed and the lights on in our apartment. Losing a single cent of that moved us into dire straits, but I refused to let my snotty boss see how terrified her words made me. I knew I could get another job, or two, if need be. At least I could have before my car crapped out on the way to pick up Noble tonight.