Xander Horranger, former Forensic Squad actor and sleazeball who demands Richard Stapke’s entire literary output
An excerpt from CommWealth:
Allan parked the Maserati on Walnut Street and slammed the door with what he hoped was appropriate showdown force. A few customers on the patio looked up, then went back to their beers and chessmen. Allan sprang over the bushes onto the concrete patio. A lovely young woman gave him a sidelong glance, then snickered to her friends.
“Xander, man, we need to talk,” Allan said, moving towards Xander’s usual table. Xander’s back was to him, his ragged dark hair below his collar, his beer mug gleaming in the afternoon sun.
Chunky Darco Stevens raised his own mug. Plater Hampton squinted beneath his thunderhead of wiry gray hair. “Allan, man!” Plater said. “We’re on our fifth pitcher, man!”
“Xander, we need to talk,” Allan repeated.
Xander slowly turned. “Make it quick, buddy, I’m a busy man these days.”
Plater Hampton, Xander Horranger’s gangly, weak-willed confederate
Allan took the empty chair to Xander’s right. “Pour me a beer, man,” he ordered Plater.
Time to reassert a little authority. These twits have been screwing Forensic Squad from the beginning. Dammit, I used to have the upper hand with these guys! Now they sass me! All they ever do is sit here at Lastor’s and guzzle beer! They aren’t actors! They aren’t artists! How’d I ever get mixed up with these jerks?
Plater shrugged. “Don’t got no empty mug, man. Ask goddamn Suzy.”
Allan spotted Suzy across the patio. “Hey, Suzy, I need a mug!”
Suzy grimaced, balancing ten mugs on a tray. “Hold your damn horses, for Chrissakes.”
Well, at least she’s got that low cut German thing on today. Nice.
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