I’ve always had a weakness for charismatic bastards in stories. They’re fun to imagine and deeply entertaining to write. The first picture I had in my head of Evan, the entrepreneurial drug dealer, was of him sleeping in a car with a hatchet in his hand, looking angelic but also potentially deadly. I realised recently that everything I write has a little bit a cigarette fetishisation involved (this is my outlet since I quit smoking a couple of years ago) so Evan is my dirty smoker in Car Thieves.
You can see my aesthetic reference board for Evan on Pinterest.
From my character notes
Sadist with strong consent-based ethics. Will break your jaw, but only if you ask very nicely and promise to cry. Extremely aware of the power of his appearance and seductive demeanour, uses it to get what he wants, confused on the odd occasion when it doesn’t work. Zero fucks to give about trivial things like the law. Confrontational for his own entertainment. Charismatic, eloquent, manipulative and smart enough to do it well. The eye of the storm and the centre of the orbit. Habitual line-stepper. Fuck the police.
From the book
Glancing nonchalantly in the direction of the beautiful boy who was pretending not to look at him but was looking anyway, Evan was pretending not to notice but was noticing anyway. He knew how this would play out, as soon as he allowed eye contact to last for more than half a heartbeat. It always played out the same way. There was no rush. This one would wait. He was both interested and interesting.
Evan had a preference for a specific kind of broken. He paid little attention to the people who purchased his wares, however well put together they may be, because what he sold was a tool for self-destruction and self-destruction was dull and unappealing to him now.
He liked the ones who needed someone else to do the destroying, the ones who would lean in to his touch as his hands slid around their neck, or melt against his body as his teeth sunk into their lip. The ones who would close their eyes and breathe an ecstatic sigh as his fist connected with their jaw.
There was no grey area, no dubiousness of consent, as far as Evan was concerned. This mattered to him a great deal and he was nothing if not up-front and honest about his intentions. He always stopped when they asked him to. Or he would have, if they ever asked. Which they didn’t.
He had left plenty of them with bruises, some with split lips and blossoming contusions, even one with a couple of broken bones. Only small, comparatively unimportant bones. They probably healed fine. They always wanted it, welcomed it, occasionally begged for it—a delightful sound. And none of them had ever, ever, asked him to stop.
Car Thieves will be available to read online and download free in February! Find it here on 9th, and DeviantArt, Tablo, Wattpad and Instafreebie on 16th.