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A Match Made

by Patrick Ray Garberick

304 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #02-0858; ISBN 1-55395-144-1; US$25.50, C$29.73, EUR21.00, £14.50

When you boil down its murder, abuse, heartbreak, and desire, A Match Made is revealed to be a love story.


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about the book      about the author      excerpt      catalogue info

About the Book

Sterling has been locked out of his house, agonizing over his failing marriage, worried about how his eight-year-old son will handle a separation. Faye is trapped in an abusive marriage, her once abundant will and energy having been sapped.

Their chance meeting at a restaurant in the San Fernando Valley sets off a chain of events... a chess match in Central Park with a ninety-nine year old man named Ben... a revenge murder in New Mexico carried out by a dancer and woman of the sky... a marble ashtray in San Francisco that plays a role in ending years of abuse... and a moonlit beach in San Juan Capistrano, where all the pieces finally come together.

Not all miracles come from a wave of a magic stick. Some come from that place that (for lack of a better word) we call heaven...


About the Author

A resident of Los Angeles for over 15 years, Patrick Ray Garberick now lives in Minnesota. He has one eleven-year-old daughter.


Excerpt


    Faye reached the end of the pool, dipped down in a summersault, and pushed off the concrete with her feet toward the other side. She did the same when she reached the other end. She swam well and looked good while doing it. Finally, she stopped doing laps and just floated on her back. The sky was cloudy. In fact, it looked like it could rain. She was on top of a thirty-story apartment building in Staten Island. The pool came with the penthouse lease. She could always find peace and quiet here, a place for her to gather her thoughts, reflect on her past, and plan her future. Though she nearly always swam by herself, she was rarely lonely. She was lonelier when she was with her husband and his cronies.
    She was thinking about her days back in high school, recalling when she won the Homecoming Queen crown and how sincerely happy she was. She remembered how some of the girls were so jealous and hated her. It all seemed so distant now. She wondered why she had cared if she won or not. She wondered why she just didn't smack those jealous girls right in the mouth.
    She grew up in a western suburb of Minneapolis called Long Lake. Her blonde hair and blue eyes were not unusu-al for that part of the country. What was unusual was her beauty. Life was supposed to be easier if blessed with it, but she found it had its pitfalls.
    It started to sprinkle. Faye ignored it. She reminisced about when she left Minnesota for New York. She was going to be a model and maybe an actress. Now, only seven years later, she was floating in a pool on top of a tall building. She recalled meeting her husband for the first time. He was more than twenty years older than she was, but she was lured by his power and his forceful way of doing things. Later, she would find these things to be what she hated about him most. She had been reading her lines at an audition for a part in a movie that he had some vested interest. He saw her and wanted her. He had been a gentleman at first. There had been fine dining, wine, and candlelight. He had told her that he loved her. He had treated her like a queen. She would never have to work again. He had the money. But she never did love him, not really. It was all just a big mistake, a marriage of convenience. It wasn't long before he changed. Once he had her conquered, he had won, game over. It had started out like a fairy tale, but the handsome prince had turned out to be a frog.
    His grandfather, Antonio Valentini, had possessed one of the largest latifundia in Sicily. After the Second World War, his estate was divided, but he remained a very powerful man. His father, Alphonse, had developed the business in New York, Atlantic City, and Las Vegas. Alphonse had died a year ago in a plane crash over Long Island Sound. That left Mario, her husband, more powerful than ever. The last few years he and his father had not gotten along well personally or professionally. Rumors were that he had arranged the crash of the plane that killed his father, but none could be verified.
    It started to rain harder. Faye swam to the edge of the pool, climbed out, and gazed out over the Hudson River and the Manhattan Skyline. Rainy days in New York were depressing, she thought. She stepped into a small lift, pressed a button, and the door closed. When the door opened, she walked out into a spacious apartment. Her husband leased the entire top floor of the building, but she was not allowed in most of the rooms. The entire wall facing north was glass, providing a magnificent view of the river and Manhattan.
    Mario was coming home tonight. She didn't know what time, but she knew she had to be here when he arrived. She learned that a long time ago. She had to be where he wanted, when he wanted, or there would be hell to pay. She was so surprised the first time he gave her a shiner that she sat crying for hours. That was years ago. She had hardened since then. A broken wrist and three cracked ribs can make one callous. She had become nearly immune to phys-ical pain inflicted on her. Sometimes, while looking into the mirror, she didn't recognize herself. Her heart, it seemed, had turned to stone. Nothing or no one meant anything to her anymore. But other times, she would gaze deep into her eyes and see another person, the person she used to be, the one who cared, the one who was capable of loving some-one. But it was too far behind her eyes.


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