Haunted Flint

Haunted Flint

Tuesday, December 18, 2018

Hot Shot by S.A. Stolinsky - Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza



James Ellroy once said to me, “Go to the museums, the out of the way art galleries, the people in the park, any park, and talk to everyone.  That’s where you’ll get your stories and that’s where you get ideas.” I have no quarrel with that. After I stopped shaking because I was meeting a literary “star” I realized he was interested in the common man, woman, the everyday person whose story was on its face boring, but whose psychological makeup was anything but.

In Hot Shot, my protagonist, Tyler West, is depressed.  He starts out depressed, lonely, unsure of himself, angry, a real Borderline Personality.  He’s tried the drugs, the alcohol, the sex addiction, and now he’s lodged into gambling which turns out to be his worst nightmare yet.

He lost everything.  His girlfriend, his money, his life savings, his friends and almost his family—because there is one woman who still wants to see him---his mother, Sue,  and then I wondered, “Where am I going with this?”  Honestly, the way I write---I start out never knowing where I’m going with a book. I start with an idea and I always know the ending, always the ending.  Like, this one is going to be about gambling.  Okay, okay, what do I know about gambling?  Well, I love Vegas.  I love to watch some cowboy with a gut hanging over his belt, come in wearing a white Stetson hat and sit down at a $10,000 buy in table and literally put down $10,000 dollars!!

I freak out.  I do.  Who lives like that?  My mind goes over all the things I could buy for that much money and why is it so important for this man to chance it all?  Then that leads from one place to another. And then I just tell myself the entire story.  After that, what most of our colleagues call “Panstering” I will do the outline.  Because by then I know the story.

Then chapter one leads to chapter two, and so on. But when I first met the real “Tyler West” the pseudonym for a guy I worked with, I had no idea he was going to end up winning the World Series of Poker.  I mean how many people do that?  Then that led me to researching the book.  Oh, poor me.  I had to go to Las Vegas for a weekend, stay at New York, New York, eat all that glorious food, and wind my way to the Rio where the poker series takes place. 

What an arena---the size of about five football fields with tables bunched up against each other and six chairs to a table and rows upon rows of lighting above.  It’s daunting.  I spoke to some players who had lost, some guards who explained how the series worked and even a winner of three million dollars. 

It's always good for me to go anywhere at Christmas time, too.  I love Christmas and as a child, my mother always had a very ornamental tree with gobs of presents under it.  And at an early age I realized, a good novel must have a Christmas or holiday scene, a rain, scene, a love scene and a death scene.  Pretty good for a 10-year-old, but those were the stories I liked to read.  Especially Dickens.

I discover along with him what’s going to happen next.  When the book is finished, it’s generally around 315 pages, I re-read it and go where the book takes me. So, let me end by saying, along with your central plot, the added texture of a time and place really enhances a story. 


Hot Shot
S.A. Stolinsky

Suspense

November 1, 2016

Book Description:

Payback is a powerful thing...

Actor and bartender, Tyler West experiences a sudden streak of luck -- winning poker games. Determined to change his life, he enters the World Series of Poker. His life is suddenly turned upside down when the Russian mafia fronts him 1.5 million dollars to play at the tables. And then...he loses…

Now on the ride of his life, deceit and deception are his key to uncovering the truth. He must recoup the money, but will it come at a price? Can he stay alive long enough or will his time run out?







EXCERPT HOT SHOT by S. A. STOLINSKY

Tyler pushed his long, blond hair back with one hand and slouched.  He knew she found him attractive.  “I’ll tell ya,” he began, hoping to make it last, keep her interested.  “I pretty much need the start up money right now.”
Ah, too fast.
“Start up money? Now? You think I got a stash under my bed upstairs?” Elsie pushed Tyler into an oversized easy chair covered with a brown mohair blanket. A black cat with white paws jumped off it as Tyler slammed down.
  “We should go up and find out.  My, my we’re in a hurry aren’t we? Easy kid. When you’re hustling, you don’t wanta look too desperate, know what I mean? Take it slow.  Move slow, kiss slow.”
She took a grape from a bowl of them on the center console.
“Well, you are good lookin’ I’ll give you that,” she said. “What’s that piece of paper you got there?  Your birth certificate or something?”
“No, ma’am,” Tyler gave her the certificate. “It tells everybody I’m HIV negative. Made this up on my computer.”
Elsie’s head flew back, her mouth opened and a yell of hysteria came out of her mouth.  She began drooling and wiping her chin with her arm.  She finally calmed down enough to say, “Bullwhippie!”
“Jeez,” Elsie said as she tore up the certificate and put it in a glass ashtray on the glass coffee table. “Nobody’s gonna think you got HIV, okay?”
She sat back on the couch, her old, wrinkled face frozen in amusement and held the torn pieces of paper in her lap.  “Let me explain something to you, kid.  The only thing that makes a lot of money fast is ass.”
“One point five million?” Tyler asked.
“You’re good looking, but park your ego at the door.  Nobody makes that kind of money first time out, even a guy as good lookin’ as you.”
Elsie put her feet up on the foot stool and sat back with her hands folded in her lap, the pieces of paper falling around her.
“Listen, baby. This is just between you and me, okay? I’ve been a madam longer than I can remember. I work on the sly now so when my parole officer comes around, but he don’t bother me anyway. You know why?”
              A still crestfallen Tyler looked at her.
              “Because I got the goods on all those assholes, that’s why. I got video. Don’t ever do porn without a video somewheres in the bedroom. Ya got me?”
              Tyler nodded.
              Elsie continued without noticing. “I’ll never tell where I hid the original but believe me I got plenty of copies. Got a friend does the best photography in the city. I had a couple of tapes made and almost sold ‘em to TV—the porn sites, of course. So, I been thinkin’ real hard about how I can re-establish my rep. And here you come.”
Tyler finally opened his mouth but it was only to use his tongue to wet his lips, they felt parched and he was sure they would crack it he kept his mouth closed any longer.
“Yes, Ma’am,” was all he could think to say.
“I’m gonna start up the biggest whore house in the state, sonny. This time? With men. You know how much a good male hooker can make? Two thousand a night. Now---depending on your stamina…”
“Yeah, I get the picture,” Tyler said.
He wasn’t in to older women, but he had to admit, Elsie was beginning to look visibly younger with the excitement she was projecting. Some people love their work. Her gray roots were beginning to look more like silver blonde streaks and her smile was widening. For a few seconds he didn’t see her wrinkles across both cheeks.  Her teeth, perfect in what were undoubtedly caps, glistened.
“A male whorehouse. I don’t think it’s been done before,” Elsie repeated.
Elsie was spry for a woman her age, but she had gotten fat over the years.  She no longer looked like a professional, but that was probably the point.  He picked up a small, silver framed picture which sat on an end table. It looked like an old studio shot of a glamorous woman, her head tilted back, full makeup and blond hair, her fingers just touching her chin and a large, pearl necklace around her neck and thick jeweled bracelets on her wrists. Tyler put it back.
“A lifetime ago, sweetie,” Elsie said to him. “Women in their eighties still masturbate, you know that? And I figure that is such a shame when guys like you are running around just waiting to service us.”
“Never really thought about it,” Tyler said.
“You sure do look like your pa. He was a crafty one, but always good to my girls. You work out, huh? I got a boob job in my seventies. Hell, nothing stays up forever. They’re just starting to sag again now. Thinking about getting ‘em done again, so this is a good time we connected.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Tyler wasn’t sure where this was going, but he was pretty sure he didn’t want it to go much further.
“Thirty percent on my end,” she said.
“Huh?” Tyler realized his eyes had widened and tried to relax so he wouldn’t look so stupid.
“Thirty percent.”
“That’s a lot of money, Ma’am,” Tyler said, when the hole in his stomach shrunk slightly. “I mean I’m desperate, like you say, but that’s a big cut.”

“Listen, kid. A man looks like you, your age, your height, your…face, could make more than two thousand dollar

About the Author:

Stefanie Stolinsky, Ph.D. is a licensed psychologist and forensic psychologist with a private practice in Beverly Hills, California. She  specializes  in trauma, adults sexually, physically and emotionally abused as children, and PTSD. She is an international speaker and has taught training seminars in overcoming the aftereffects of child abuse. She has also taught licensing examinations to candidates for both marriage, family and child counseling and for the psychology licenses. 

She began her career as an actress in motion pictures, television and stage and created a unique therapy combining acting exercises with psychodynamic psychotherapy to help survivors of all kinds of trauma overcome the aftereffects of abuse. The first edition of "ACT IT OUT" was a top seller for over nine years. A second edition of the popular book was launched in April of this year and is available on Praeclarus Press, Amazon, and Barnes and Noble. 

She is also the author of several award-winning short stories including her newest short story anthology, DATE NIGHT, and numerous comedy mystery. Dr. Stolinsky lives with her husband in Los Angeles.






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