The Latchcast

Robert Caulder's star continues to rise as he cross over to music. Does the now-bestselling writer have a future as a rock star? And a ghost from the past reaches out to touch him. PROMO: Dark, A horror anthology, available here Download Episode 14

Rob finds himself in Germany with several members of an up-and-coming hard rock band. And he also finds out that the freaks really do come IN at night. NOTE * I've included the text of the chapter because it has several occurences of the German language, which at times I trued to emulate and others, I just left out completely. I still, however, wanted you to have the best possible enetertainment from this episode. Fourteen As it turned out, the story of Rob’s debauchery and car theft didn’t only make the New York papers. It was the buzz of tabloids, online message boards, and legitimate reporting services nationwide. The attention wasn’t all bad, however. Rob’s brush with the law seemed to pay off as far as book sales went. His most recent release, the paperback edition of Fear, hit number four on the New York Times Best-seller List. Amazingly, it stayed there for several weeks. When Bad Season was released in hardcover a month after Fear’s paperback release, it was number five or better on every list Rob checked. His brief incarceration was long forgotten and he was in Hollywood. The producers for the Fear of the Dark film kept their word and Rob had a small speaking part. Hopeful that it wouldn’t be cut in the final editing, Rob left the studio in high spirits. Some of the studio people introduced him to a few prominent folks around the Sony lot. But the best part of the day, save for his acting debut—if you could call a security guard attacking—then promptly mutilated by the film’s antagonist a debut, was meeting Trey Bones. Bones was the lead singer for the popular rock band Razor Bone, which currently had a number one album, Delicate Caress, and number one single, “Just Like We Used To”. Razor Bone was the band of the minute, and if they played their cards right, they just might have one more hit record up their sleeve before slinking away into musical oblivion, like so many had done before and even more were likely to do in the future. 147 They’d met on the set of their new video, Crimson Skies. Sony not only signed the band to their label but also produced their videos in house. This was the first inkling Rob had of how supremely large the corporation was, which made him rethink how much he would ask for the rights to his next release. It could wait, however. Bad Season had already been sold to them for two-point-five. While Rob liked the whole band, Trey was the most outgoing, and invited Rob to hook up with him that evening. “I love your books, man. All of them. I can’t wait to see how twisted the next one is.” “I’ll get you a copy before they hit the shelf.” “That’s a promise?” “That’s a pledge.” “Fucking awesome, man.” And that was that. But they never did manage to get together that night. Rob was packing his bags at the end of the week, preparing for the flight back to New York, when his cell rang. “You got a passport, Robbie, my man?” It took him a minute to place the voice. “Trey?” “The one and only. Do ya?” “Do I what?” “Have a passport?” “Yeah.” He and Ellen obtained one in anticipation of a vacation that never made it to fruition. “Good, meet me at my hotel. I feel up for a trip. You busy?” “Nothing on the agenda. Where we going?” “Ever been to Germany?” “No, but my books sell really well there.” The German translations of his last two novels had all been high sellers. “Good enough, see you in a while.” ~ * ~ Sony Music had been very generous to Razor Bone. They were flying the band to Germany to perform a show for a music fest. Trey added Rob’s name to the roster yesterday. The flight was a series of connections and layovers. The air was remarkably cool when the plane finally touched down on German soil. 148 The musicians and roadies got thoroughly sauced on the flight. However, Rob and Trey refused the alcohol. Rob discovered Trey shared his attraction to pills, and together, they popped an amazing amount during the journey. The term jet-lag took on a whole new meaning for Rob when he arrived at his hotel room. He crashed onto the bed and was immediately out. He was unsure how long he had slept. He was also unsure how long the pounding on his door had been going on. He stumbled to his feet and clawed his way to the door. “Yeah?” he asked in a hoarse and exhausted voice. “Open the frigging door, man.” Rob opened the door and Trey stood there, decked out in rock star attire: black leather pants, black satin shirt, and a huge silver cross around his neck. “You ready?” “For what?” “For what, he says. For the motherfucking show. Damn, man, are you okay?” “Just burnt out.” Trey fished something from his pocket. Three capsules. “Here, take one of these now and—” Rob immediately dry-swallowed all three. “Well, anyway. Shower and get dressed. We have a backstage shindig to attend.” ~ * ~ Rob had been to very few concerts in his life, and never backstage. He wasn’t prepared for it. If he could’ve likened it to anything, it would be the hottest club of the moment during opening night. Countless men and women thrummed together, barely a hair’s breadth between them. Music blared from unseen speakers. Groupies and technicians shared space as musicians clamored around like kings of the hill. “If you think this is something,” Trey said during one of the rare moments they saw one another, “wait till after the show.” While the majority of the crowd was German, Rob was pleasantly surprised to hear only an occasional foreign word. Most conversations were spoken in English. Half an hour before Razor Bone hit the stage, Rob was invited to a small room to share in the band’s pre-show 149 briefing. The concert was in an open-air venue, but there was plenty of room for the bands and their crews to lay in wait. They were just outside Berlin, in a town Rob couldn’t pronounce and he was having the time of his life. The five members of the band huddled together: Trey, Bonner, the lead guitarist, Fletcher Crown, the bassist, Herbert Howell, the drummer, and Jack Strut, the rhythm guitarist. They began to chant words that Rob couldn’t quite make out. There were three other men and a woman in the room with him. The woman was introduced as Nikki, Bonner’s girlfriend for the night. After the band broke their huddle, each took a pull from the same bottle of Jack Daniels. Then, like a college football team, they thundered out of the room. Rob followed them down the white, bright corridors. When the band went up, he went down, and soon found his VIP box seat. The performance went off without a hitch. The crowd sang along to every Razor Bone song, especially the ballads. About forty-five minutes, and two encores later, Razor Bone left the stage. Trey had been right about backstage. If it had been teeming before, it was surging now. The most noticeable difference was that women now outnumbered the men five to one. Trey gave Rob a brief overview of how this happened. During the performance, or even before, members of the band indicated girls in the crowd that should be allowed access backstage. Sometimes this was done by gestures, other times by advanced radio communication. Isn’t that something, Rob reasoned, all the advances we’ve made, and we use them to chase tail. Not that he found anything at all wrong with that. In fact, he admired it. Trey and the bassist disappeared into the showers with several women, none of them dogs, and Rob felt a pang of jealousy. He lost himself in the crowd, listening to people talk, and initiating a few conversations himself. For the most part, however, he just stood in awe of the activity around him. The awe was short-lived. “You ready?” Trey asked, tugging his shirt sleeve. 150 “For?” “For the after-party. It’s at a nearby club. I’d tell you the name, but I can’t remember it, and you wouldn’t understand me even if I tried. But it’s supposed to be very exclusive. Grade-A, prime puss or so I’m told.” “Let’s go, then.” “Yes,” Trey said. “Let’s.” ~ * ~ The Blue Herron Exotic Club was housed in an unassuming four-story structure in a trendier part of the newly renovated section of Berlin. Their car deposited Rob, Trey, and Bonner at the front of the dark stone building. The windows must’ve been tinted, for no light escaped them. The only indication that the building was inhabited was a small neon sign that read: Open. The sign was affixed to a dark glass door. “What kind of place is this, again?” Rob asked. “They say it’s the best place in the country to sample the delicacies,” Bonner said. He was usually so high on pot he didn’t make sense. The subject of getting laid, though, cut through Bonner’s slurred words. “A few guys told us about this place. Damon Crux, from Devil Dare, said he drops ten grand here every time he comes.” “Well, we going to get out of the frigging street and dip our dicks before mine shrivels up and falls off, or what?” Bonner said and stepped to the door. “Well, a poet he is not. But I think we should follow his lead,” Trey said. “I agree,” Rob said. The two pushed through the door. Trey first, followed by Rob. The Blue Herron’s entryway was not noticeably different from the exterior. Cheap industrial carpet, a sour blue color, covered the floor. There was remarkably little in the way of furnishings. A counter sat against the far wall, dusty and ancient. A tall German woman in a faux fur coat stood behind the counter. Her expression was slack, unconcerned. To her right, mounted on the wall, was a simple black telephone. “Gutenabend, Herren,” she said. Good evening, 151 gentlemen. Her accent was thick. “Hello,” Rob said, the other two silent beside him. “Are you lost?” “Uh,” Trey said. “I’m looking for Hitler’s daughter.” Rob wasn’t sure he’d heard his friend correctly. Bonner, as well, look puzzled. The German woman stared at him, her thin, pointed nose not unlike those of evil witches in fairy tales. “I see.” She held her gaze a moment, then picked up the telephone and spoke one word in German. She replaced the phone on the hook. Finally, her placid face shattered and s

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Chapter 6 of Bestseller, written and read by Keith Latch Danielle Greer is a struggling independent literary agent that just started her own agency. Faced with the hard rules of business, it's all she can do to keep her head above water. Then, as she works her way through a pile of manusrcipts, she finds one written by an unpublished author. Robert Caulder, it seems, just might be the thing she's been looking for.   Promos: A Little Dead Podcast

Here's the promo for Bestseller. Take it, share it, spread it, freakin' devour it!

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The Prologue of Bestseller, written and read for you by Keith Latch. Signed copies available at www.keithlatch.com Johnny Krueger is on the run, from what, he has no idea. Holed up in an out of the way motel, a ghost from his past comes knocking. With the love of this rediscovered angel be enough to set him straight? Download Promos: The dARK Hours Podcast