Hello, my alien lovers!
I've been plotting the last few chapters of this book! I already know where the book ends (spoiler: a happy ending followed by a juicy cliffhanger), but I still have to figure out how I get there. The pieces are coming together nicely.
I also realized this is the longest book I've ever attempted to write. I'm still in the writing trenches, but it feels fun and creative. Maple & Salvatore are two cute little mythomaniacs made for each other!
I'm developing more stories in Sobriquet Lake, and in what one of my writing buddies calls the Lonnes Extended Universe (LEU). I wish I could write full-time to give life to all of them at once, but alas. In due time. I just know the world needs more sexy aliens right now, you know?
p.s: tomorrow is the by-election in Vancouver. Make sure you vote, please!
Here's to Chapter 21, and here's to a plot twist I crafted while I was high as a kite on one of my forest walks. (When and where I get my best ideas.)
I don't want to spoil it, but the alien disease was the perfect device to exteriorize some of Salvatore's internal conflicts. Poor Maple! Will she ever catch a break—or at least some alien dick?
Enjoy!
lunus 🩷
If you're new to the story, start with Chapter 1
If you missed the last chapter, Previously on Perilous Love Stars
Salvatore had been right about things getting worse. From the first sip of her morning coffee to guiding him to the car as he appeared disoriented, Maple noticed the glow had gone from bothersome to catastrophe. The strange glow was taking over his entire body.
“Both of your arms are glowing now,” Maple muttered under her breath as she left Salvatore at the passenger side of the SUV.
She’d let him pack their room while she’d gone to the nearest gas station to buy him a hoodie since he’d only packed sexy t-shirts with little fabric and that one suitcase full of funky socks. The XL-sized hoodie was barely large enough to allow his burly muscles some breathing room, but the glowing would be almost imperceptible if he kept his hands inside the front pocket.
Salvatore opened the passenger door, then stopped when he realized what she was doing. “Maple. I can drive.”
She glanced at him. His face was grey, sweat accumulating at his hairline. His fingers trembled, unable to stay steady. His condition was deteriorating. Maple was trying not to panic.
“You’re not well enough to drive.” She raised a finger when he opened his mouth to argue. “Nope. I’m driving you to a hospital.”
“You don’t—” He fumbled, searching for his car keys.
She held up the keys and dangled them from the driver's side. “You are not well. I can drive.”
He grabbed the roof of the car, wincing. Her heart screamed. Seeing him like this was terrifying.
“Get in the car,” she ordered.
“Fine, but no hospital. It’s not necessary. I just need to rest. Let’s just keep driving to our destination, okay?”
They were working against time. Maple wanted to get to Daphne before anyone could tell her about her supposed return to the show. She hated that he made sense.
“Okay. Now, get in.”
He did as he was told. She followed in, helping him settle in the passenger seat. She felt the fabric of his shirt under the hoodie. It was soaked with sweat.
Maple ignored their proximity and said, “This has happened before, right? The glowing?”
He buckled up. “Yes.”
“That day, at the studio, you lied to me,” she continued, things clearing up in her mind. Pieces of a confusing puzzle slowly coming together. “There was a glow around you.”
He shifted uncomfortably. She couldn’t know if it was a reaction to his pain or to being called out on his lies.
“I wasn’t sure I could trust you yet.”
“Why did you change your mind? Simply because another alien is trying to kill me?”
He exhaled deeply. “I decided I didn’t want to lie to you anymore. I’m always hiding. I’m tired. I needed someone to know. I needed you to know.”
She could feel his gaze sweeping her face, looking for a reaction. She contained one the best she could, although she was powerless against the redness on her cheeks. “If this has happened before, what comes next?”
“Sometimes the reaction is faint, like that day at the studio. Either way, it should go back to normal within a few hours. I’m sorry. I was supposed to help you get to Daphne.”
“I can survive a couple of hours driving. I’ll be okay.”
He brought his glowing hand to hers. Maple didn’t pull back. His skin, usually warm and smooth, felt cold and rough.
“I will protect you no matter what.” He squeezed her hand before letting go.
Maple wanted to reach back. But she was the one who’d lectured him about professionalism.
“I appreciate that,” she said instead, leaning back, putting some distance between them. “You should relax, try to sleep. I’ll get us started for the day.”
He smiled at her. “Thank you, Boss.”
She looked away. “Don’t mention it.”
By midday, it was less clear how accurate Salvatore had been about his prediction that things “should go back to normal within a few hours.” Six hours into a frantic drive only interrupted by short coffee and body breaks, all of his body was glowing like a wildfire.
The actor had decided to lie down in the back seat, groaning every so often to remind Maple he wasn’t dead yet. She thought nothing could be worse than crossing the line with Salvatore, but she’d been wrong. If superstar Salvatore Suarez died in the backseat of an unmarked SUV driven by Maple, she’d have bigger problems than being cancelled for inappropriate behaviour with her employee.
“Don’t you dare die on me,” she said to him when the glow of his body and his groans became impossible to ignore.
He chuckled, then choked. “I will not die. I’m fine. It’s like a little cold.”
“A little alien cold?”
“Exactly. It will pass.”
His symptoms aligned with what a severe human cold looked like—cold sweats, palmy skin, fever—but the kind that’d prompt professional expertise. One glance was enough to tell he was unwell. He needed help, and the water Maple kept encouraging him to drink wasn’t cutting it. There were human doctors who could treat aliens, and very few alien doctors. Anything would be better than letting him die in the back of the car.
“We need to get you to a hospital,” she said.
“No hospitals.” His response was sharp and decisive, like when he’d convinced Maple he’d protect her on this trip. He’d been so sure of his strength then, almost bordering on arrogance. Now, he could barely move without wincing in pain.
Maple felt the urge to accept his words, to trust that he knew best. It would be easier. But he’d been wrong about his symptoms decreasing over time. He’d lied to her before. What else was he not telling her?
“How frequent are those glowing crises, and how bad do they get?” She met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Tell me the truth.”
His jaw clenched. “I just need some rest. We can’t go to the hospital. They wouldn’t know how to treat me, and I don’t want people to know about me being an alien.”
Maple understood the need to protect one’s identity in a world that constantly tried to repress it. A part of her, the braver one, the force that’d carried her through a childhood in the wrong gender, protested, wanting to question Salvatore’s motivations. He was rich and famous, full of power and influence. His social activism had made his voice central to the discourse around alien inclusion. There was so much good that could follow someone like Salvatore coming out. But the choice was his to make, and just like she would keep Mrs. Parviere’s secret relationship with Daphne to herself, Maple would never reveal Salvatore’s true identity to anyone.
“I’m human, Salvatore. I only know very basic human medicine. I can’t help you. Maybe someone at a hospital could—”
“Maple, no.” His voice was curt now. “No hospital, no matter what. Whatever happens, keep driving. We need to get to Daphne’s to save our show. Just drive, okay?”
“I can’t save the show if you die, Salvatore.”
“I’m not going to die.” His eyes met hers. “I’ve been through this before, Maple. We need to get to Daphne. Let’s keep driving. I will be fine.”
She couldn’t force him to go to a hospital, so she nodded, unconvinced. “Alright. Let’s drive.”
Another six hours later, when the sun was down, and Maple had stopped to get caffeine into her veins and gas into the SUV’s veins, Salvatore was asleep, glowing like soft embers in the back of the car. His breathing was timid but present. He hadn’t died on her yet.
She’d rerouted the GPS to use more minor and low-traffic roads when possible, looking for deserted paths to allow Salvatore space to safely leave the car to care for his bodily needs or stretch—not that he’d done either so far. She was considering returning to the highway for faster travel and more caffeine.
A thud came from outside, followed by smoke escaping from the hood of the SUV.
“Uh-oh.” Maple slowed down in the middle of the small road. The car stopped, unresponsive. “Fuck.”
“What’s going on?” Salvatore’s voice was groggy and low.
“Something’s wrong with the car. I think we might need to call in reinforcements.”
She dreaded the idea of turning her phone back on to call for help. That meant facing the outside world again.
“Did you put gas in it?” he asked.
“Yes, I did.”
A low chuckle from the backseat. “It doesn’t run on gas. It’s alien tech. It runs on hydropower.”
Maple barely restrained herself from banging her forehead against the dashboard in frustration. “Oh. Of course.”
“I can fix it,” he said weakly.
She turned to look at him. He tried to sit back up, failing miserably. “You can’t even sit. I’m calling someone.”
“They won’t be able to help. It’s alien tech. I know how to fix it.”
“But you can’t fix it now,” she retorted, making a mental note to ask more about that “alien tech” he mentioned. Alien tech was always rare and pricey, mostly sold on underground markets. It made sense that a multi-millionaire superstar like Salvatore had access to some.
“I just need a couple more hours of sleep. I’ll feel better soon.”
The glow and symptoms were lessening, yet she still doubted his certainty. Without a car, she wouldn’t be able to get help if his state suddenly got worse. Waiting was risky.
“And if you’re not?” she asked.
“Give me two hours. If by then, I’m not better, then we can re-evaluate.” He paused, swallowed with difficulty, then said, “Deal, Boss?”
Maple could use two hours of doing nothing. Her entire body ached from the night spent in a bathtub and the day-long drive. Napping in a car wasn’t as comfortable as a real bed, but the SUV was spacious. If she inclined her seat, she could almost pretend she was in a bedroom alone and not sharing a small space with Salvatore.
She set an alarm through the car system. “Two hours. That’s it.”
“Gracias.” She caught his smile in the rearview mirror and hated how effective his charms were on her. Maple needed to stay focused on their mission, not on how good it felt to be flirted with.
She inclined her seat and leaned back, closing her eyes. Two hours. That was all…
Maple woke up, blinking at the light. By her calculation, it should have been two in the morning, so why was there sun outside?
They’d slept through the alarm.
“Good morning!” said a brisk voice behind her. “You’re finally awake!”
She gasped when a teenager with glowing blue skin and crooked teeth leaned beside her.
She pulled her seat back to its regular position, jolting herself. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Ah!” said someone else in the car. “She’s awake!”
Another teenager with glowing red skin and dark, pupil-less eyes grinned at her from the other side of the backseat. He waved at Maple.
“Hiya!”
She was speechless when a third teenager with glowing yellow skin and no eyebrows popped out of nowhere. “Good morning, Maple.”
She screamed.
What are Maple Defleuvier & Salvatore Suarez scheming?
By Peyter Panffer
Rumours are running wild as pictures of Maple Defleuvier and Salvatore Suarez stopping at a motel were leaked yesterday. The photos from the motel’s video surveillance feed show the two Betteraves & Betrayals colleagues talking with a clerk and leaving with one key only.
Are Maple and Salvatore dating? Impossible, say most fans. “Salvatore would never date someone so out of his league,” notes RF C4N4DA on the Soapy Forever forum. “And Maple is clearly out of his league. She’s a mediocre five. Salvatore Suarez is a nine and a half on his bad days.”
Some have speculated that this new development is a media ploy to get attention back to the show, although that theory, too, is unconvincing. Since recent incidents on set and the kidnapping of its primary producer, everyone has been talking about the show. It’s hard to see how a public stunt about a romantic entanglement between showrunner and star might benefit Betteraves & Betrayals. The fans want their show back, and they want it without Defleuvier. Since the pictures went viral, #FireMaple has been trending again.
While the show's production is shut down, the town of Sobriquet Lake, where the show is filmed, has suffered tremendously. Without the activity brought by the show, and with all of Ersweld Included productions on hold until the producer is found, streets have been very quiet as most businesses have opted to reduce their working hours. “I’m doing 70% less business than usual,” Roque Monsieur from local coffee shop Emergencia: Café Brûlant! told Forever Soapy. “Most people who don’t work in entertainment get enough sleep. They don’t need all the caffeine.”
How far down will Defleuvier’s disastrous influence take the show? Fans of the beloved soap are terrified that Defleuvier’s involvement will cause its premature ending. “Maple has to go. The woke indoctrination has to stop. Bring the old Betteraves back!” writes ESPRL2024 on the forum.
We couldn’t agree more.
Forever Soapy, article, May 2XX6