by Cole McCade
There’s a site I like to read called “Your Fave is Problematic.” It calls out celebrities for saying and doing horrible things and keeps a long-standing record of accumulated receipts on particular prominent people, but it doesn’t expect anyone who reads it to stop liking those people because they did one thing wrong; because they were human and fallible and possibly ignorant (though I won’t say some people don’t deserve to be shunned—I mean seriously, Mel, a pack? Not a gaggle, not a flock, not a gang, but a pack? And you know what else you said). But the point of it is not to condemn what you love, but to acknowledge what you love for what it is. You can love something and yet acknowledge that it’s got issues. Just ask the Supernatural fandom, or bring up the Bechdel test in relation to pretty much anything in popular media. There are issues. Big ones.
But it’s acknowledging those issues that makes a difference.
So I’m going to acknowledge right now: my book is problematic. It may present Gabriel Hart as the better option, but that doesn’t mean he’s a good option even if he may be an exciting fantasy. His assumptions regarding Leigh’s desires where consent are concerned are deeply problematic because, even if he turned out to be right as part of that connection they have where he gets her, he didn’t explicitly ask her first—and that only works in a fantasy where we have the implied contract with the reader that says the better option will turn out okay and will be and do what the heroine wants, when in real life the better option may just be the lesser of two evils rather than the dangerous yet honorable man who’s never a true danger to our plucky protagonist. I’m owning that for what it is, and owning the flaws in what it portrays.
When you recognize that the thing you love is problematic on a social and cultural level, it doesn’t ruin your enjoyment of it. It doesn’t make a critique of that thing into a personal critique of you. It just makes you more self-aware. It can help you understand why you enjoy it even more, and might even prompt some food for thought when you look at what makes it good and how it relates to the problematic elements. But more than anything, it makes you respectful, and cognizant of the fact that this thing you love portrays some issues that really shouldn’t be taken lightly; issues that can be damaging to many people. It makes you more compassionate, so that your pursuit of fantasy doesn’t trump others’ need for sensitivity and understanding.
And I’ve found that acknowledging “Yes, I’m getting off on the fantasy of an abusive power play and I acknowledge it is exactly that” goes a lot farther than shouting “You just don’t get it!” when the subject is brought up.
Acknowledge. Respect. Own it. Love it without shame anyway without demeaning the people who don’t, the people for whom this hits too close to home. And while you’re loving it, check out these organizations that do more than just respect victims of abuse; they help them.
• Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network (RAINN): www.rainn.org
• The National Domestic Violence Hotline: www.thehotline.org
• Find Local Domestic Violence Shelters & Help: www.domesticshelters.org
AFTERWORD: II
WHILE I WAS WRITING THIS book, the real Tybalt died. He suffered a massive seizure after a little over a week of living with feline vestibular syndrome, which was triggered by an earlier, smaller seizure that had previously gone undetected.
It was originally a joke with a friend to name the cat in the book in honor of Tybalt, but now it’s become a tribute. The fictional story of how the female cat in this book got that name became part of Gabriel Hart’s history. Gabriel’s Tybalt is a sour-looking scragglepuss who’s all sugar underneath. My Tybalt was a little pixie of a thing, cantankerous, riddled with anxieties, constantly in need of special handling.
And I loved him more than anything.
He was with me for nearly fifteen years. At my very first job after university, one of my coworkers came in begging people to adopt this little gray and white ball of pure foof she’d found in her neighborhood. She couldn’t handle any more cats, and her neighborhood’s homeowner’s association didn’t allow stray animals; they’d have had him picked up and euthanized. The neighborhood kids were torturing him whenever they could catch him. It took her less than a minute to convince me to say yes, and within a day said little gray and white ball of pure foof was curled up in the palm of my hand, tiny and shivering and looking at me like I was the scariest thing he’d ever seen.
He’s been my constant companion ever since. Through four moves; through one divorce; even through a couple of career changes. He’s been the one constant in my life since I stepped out of college and into the adult world, and I honestly don’t know what to do without him. Losing him ripped the bottom out of my heart, and everything inside it fell down in this tumble in the pit of my stomach.
He may be “just a cat.” But he was someone who trusted me to take care of him, to love him, to shelter him, to give him a good life. And even if we had a good, long run, even if I fought with everything in me to make his last years comfortable, I still feel like it wasn’t enough.
I feel like failed him somehow.
Memorializing him in this book won’t bring him back. It won’t hurt less when I see that urn on the shelf with his collar wrapped around it. But at least I can read back through this and remember the last days I had with him, hunched over the laptop with him purring on my feet while every time I typed his name, I reflexively skritched under his chin with my toes.
I’d rather miss him that way than move on as if he never existed.
So.
Here’s to you, fuzzbutt. I miss you even now.
Since then I’ve adopted Mercutio and Benvolio, two boys who are 10 months old at the time of this writing. Beni is a wiry, playful, energetic thing who loves affection and will make sure you know exactly when love time is and how much petting he expects in tribute. Mercy is skittish and nervous but so sweet once you get him to relax with you, although the slightest noise will send him bolting under the bed; he has this need to be right in your face when you’re petting him, and you’ll usually get a few good nosebumps and headmooshes out of it. They’re adorable boys, but they can’t replace Tybalt. They’re not meant to. I love them for themselves, but will always miss him.
I feel a little guilty for adopting so young, even if they were shelter rescues who’ve been re-homed a few too many times and desperately needed someone to commit to providing a forever home. But I couldn’t stand the idea of adopting an adult cat only to face this again four or five years down the road. I’m not ready. I’m not ready for that at all, and I may need another fifteen to twenty years just to brace to handle that again, and say goodbye. But there are tons of adult animals desperately in need of homes; animals who are often passed over because kittens are cuter and people don’t want a pet that feels like it belongs to someone else even though that means those pets feel the absence of a family’s love that much more. You can find organizations that help you locate animals for adoption here:
• Pet Finder: www.petfinder.com
• Adopt a Pet: www.adoptapet.com
• Petango Online Pet Adoption: www.petango.com
Even if you can’t adopt, consider donating to shelters that do their best to give these animals a good quality of life. Because they’re never “just a pet.” They bring warmth to people’s lives, and they deserve the same.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
NIC, YOU ARE A FUCKING LIFESAVER. I’m just saying, and don’t you dare glare at me for it. I don’t know what I’d do without you pulling through at the last minute, Tarah keeping me going nearly every day, Chas kicking me in the arse to get things done, and Uber reminding me—every time I’m ready to throw a manuscript out the window—that hating it is part of the process on the way to loving it again.
Thanks to Jen McCoy for naming Maxi Manning. When you said you wanted a female character named Maxwell, Maxi for short…this tattooed woman with her strange cat-eyes came to life. I have a feeling she’ll become a fixture in Crow City, so
thank you for the inspiration. She’s become one of my favorite side characters.
And thank you to Sheri, for the idea to name Gabriel’s cat after my Tybalt. Even if it didn’t start off that way, it’s still a lovely way to remember him. Oh—and can’t forget Psuka, for the idea for the firefly scene. When so much of this book was so dark, it was a bright point in the story to write that scene; so were those nights of sharing music and passing virtual earbuds back and forth.
As always, I wouldn’t be here without my readers—especially the support of the McCade’s Marauders street team, and Angie for the time she volunteered as one kick-arse admin. Thank you, lovelies. This is for you, always.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
COLE MCCADE IS A NEW ORLEANS-BORN SOUTHERN BOY without the Southern accent, currently residing somewhere in the metropolitan wilds of the American Midwest. He spends his days as a suit-and-tie corporate consultant and business writer, and his nights writing romance novels when he’s not being tackled by two hyperactive cats. And while he spends more time than is healthy hiding in his writing cave instead of hanging around social media, you can generally find him in these usual haunts:
• Email: [email protected]
• Twitter: @ColeMcCade
• Facebook: www.facebook.com/cole.mccade
• Facebook Fan Page: www.facebook.com/ColeMcCadeBooks
• Website & Blog: www.colemccade.com
• Tumblr: colemccade.tumblr.com
He also runs an advice column called Dammit, Cole, where he occasionally answers questions about everything from romance and dating to the culture of hypermasculinity, from the perspective of a male romance author:
• www.colemccade.com/category/dammit-cole
Looking for more? You can get early access to cover reveals, blurbs, contests, and other exclusives by joining the McCade’s Marauders street team at:
• www.facebook.com/groups/mccadesmarauders
OTHER BOOKS BY COLE MCCADE
A SECOND CHANCE AT PARIS (BAYOU’S END #1)
A second chance at Paris. A second chance at love.
goodreads.com/book/show/23505829-a-second-chance-at-paris
Sweet, lighthearted contemporary romance with the joie de vivre of Paris. Author Ion Blackwell is captivated by astrophysicist Celeste London’s beauty and brains; a chance meeting in Paris brings her into his life, little knowing he’s already met her in high school as punky geek girl Mary Haverford. Celeste has reasons for hiding her identity—but when Ion discovers the truth, will her deception stop them from taking a second chance on love?
ZERO DAY EXPLOIT (BAYOU’S END #1.5)
Bonus content featured in A Second Chance at Paris.
goodreads.com/book/show/24216178-zero-day-exploit
Zero day exploit (noun): 1. An attack that penetrates a previously unknown vulnerability in a computer or system. 2. The kind of infuriating, manipulative man who gets under your skin and refuses to get out. And now, a one-night stand may turn out to be the biggest mistake of Zoraya Blackwell’s career.
SOMETIMES IT STORMS
Part of the IPPY Award-winning Winter Rain charity anthology benefiting RAINN.org.
goodreads.com/book/show/22880874-winter-rain
Ethan has never known how to love without hurting someone—or how to be loved without fear of pain. But Aurelie may be the one person who can understand his personal demons, and teach him how to let someone in.
