Over the last two months, I have had the opportunity to work on a solid rough draft for my third novel, all together lovely. I had the idea for this story when I was in college. (Think Tales of the City meets On the Road.) I wanted to write about a group of individuals trying to figure themselves out in San Francisco. But it took me almost ten years to get to the right place—creatively and emotionally—where I could write this story.

Two years ago I wrote a coming of age story, Cast the First Stone, about two of the main characters, Denise Stone and Haley Fisher. For those of you who read that book (THANK YOU!!!), I think you’re going to like reading the first chapter of all together lovely.

* * *

Chapter One of all together lovely. Copyright by Gwendolyn Glover.

Ray Stone was hung over. Not just a little hung over, but dead dog hung over. He’d woken up on the bathroom floor with a killer headache. Last night’s puke sat in the toilet bowl.

He had gotten butt ass drunk the night before. Drank a whole bottle of Jim Bean by himself in his motel room, watching late night TV.

Ray had had good reason to get drunk.

He’d run out on his daughter, his only child. For the second time.

Denise Stone, his flesh and blood, had driven by herself all the way from Oklahoma to California. She’d left her home and friends. She’d dropped out of school. She’d given up everything. Just to be with him.

Ray Stone. Failure.

Ray peed, brushed his teeth without looking into the mirror, and wandered next door to the tiny diner. He gobbled down the scrambled eggs and toast. He waited for the nausea to dissipate.

The redheaded waitress stood at his table. “More coffee, sweetie?”

Ray nodded. “Yeah. Coffee. That would be good.” He tried to smile but couldn’t get the right muscles to move.

He felt like the devil.

What kind of man does that? To his own kid?

This kind. This kind of pathetic, used up, messed up, hung over loser.

Ray missed Ruthie. Ruthie could always make him feel good. She knew just what to say, where to touch. She could toss away storm clouds with her smile. Move mountains with a sway of her hips.

Ah, Ruthie.

But she left him one hundred seventy miles ago in Portland. That’s when she realized that he wasn’t planning on returning to San Francisco. He wasn’t going back to the two bedroom apartment that they had been sharing with Denny. He was leaving her with the rent, the bills, everything.

So Ruthie had left, taking the band with her.

Ray inhaled the second cup of coffee and laid crumpled bills on the table, wishing he could have left more than a quarter for a tip. He knew he didn’t deserve kindness from anyone.

“Have a good day,” the waitress said as he walked out of the door. He lifted his hand. A simple human gesture, sure, but it made him feel less like a dog.

Ray walked in no direction in particular. He just needed to walk. One step after another. It didn’t matter where he went. He just had to go. It had always been this way. Denny’s mother hadn’t understood his wanderlust. His need to run.

Ray knew it had been wrong to leave them sixteen years ago, but Denny had been in good hands. Her grandparents had money and stability. Two things that Ray had never had and never would.

When Denny had found him during her visit to San Francisco, Ray was stunned. He hadn’t pictured her as a young woman, all grown-up and standing there in front of him. Smoking, for godssake.

Yeah, she was his kid, alright.

They had had good times, of course. At first it was awkward. Ray and Ruthie had cleaned all the junk out of the guest room and bought a bed off of craigslist for Denny. She was his flesh and blood. No doubt about that. Ray and Denny got into screaming matches every other day. But she loved music, so they stayed up late at night, listening to old records. He taught her everything he knew about jazz, classical, rock, folk, punk, everything. He was her teacher and she was his student.

It had felt really good.

But after two months, Ray thought he was going to go crazy. The walls were pushing in on him. It was too much to handle. He didn’t have what it took to be a good dad. He didn’t have the patience. Denny required a lot of patience.

So he told Denny that he had a gig in Portland that weekend. When she was at work, he packed up the suitcases and the band drove off in their rusted Dodge Caravan.

He had left her behind.

He had lost everything.

Again.