20-year-old Caleb Walsh hasnât had an easy life. After a life-altering car accident left him scarred inside and out, his life and education were put on hold to care for his ailing mother. Now, on the verge of being homeless after his motherâs death, itâs a dream come true when he is hired on the spot to be the newest team member of the most popular nightclub in town, Club Euphoria. The neon lights and loud music are almost too much for the quiet and shy Caleb, but itâs the clubâs handsome and enigmatic owner, Marcus that cuts through the noise and captures his attention.
And after an intense, unfortunate encounter during his first night on the job, it seems he has caught Marcusâs eye as well.
Caleb wants to follow his heart, but Marcus wants to keep him at armâs length "for his own safety", whatever that means. It doesnât matter, heâs going to take charge of his life for the first time, even if it means charging headfirst into a dark and dangerous world where monsters are real and the cover charge is paid in blood.
20-year-old Caleb Walsh hasnât had an easy life. After a life-altering car accident left him scarred inside and out, his life and education were put on hold to care for his ailing mother. Now, on the verge of being homeless after his motherâs death, itâs a dream come true when he is hired on the spot to be the newest team member of the most popular nightclub in town, Club Euphoria. The neon lights and loud music are almost too much for the quiet and shy Caleb, but itâs the clubâs handsome and enigmatic owner, Marcus that cuts through the noise and captures his attention.
And after an intense, unfortunate encounter during his first night on the job, it seems he has caught Marcusâs eye as well.
Caleb wants to follow his heart, but Marcus wants to keep him at armâs length "for his own safety", whatever that means. It doesnât matter, heâs going to take charge of his life for the first time, even if it means charging headfirst into a dark and dangerous world where monsters are real and the cover charge is paid in blood.
Caleb furrowed his brow, chewing on the inside of his lower lip as he stared at the neon green HELP WANTED flyer taped to the blacked-out glass of the nightclub before him. He could hear voices coming from inside, dashing his secret hope that the club would still be closed and he could just go home without having to fill out another application. How many had he filled out already at the shops along this street? Twelve? Twenty? He didnât feel good about a single one.
He stuffed a hand into the messenger bag on his right hip, feeling blindly for his cellphone as he stepped closer to the ad and squinted to read the smaller print.
BARBACK. MUST WORK WEEKENDS. $12-$14/HOUR. APPLY INSIDE.
He ran his thumb over the cracked face on his phone to swipe away the lock screen and check to see if he had missed any calls or texts. Nothing. He frowned, the scar tissue running down his lips tingling as he did. Ok, maybe itâs worth a try, but it probably wonât matter. Itâs not like any of the other places have even bothered to give me an interview. Why would this place be any different? He had two weeks left to come up with another $550 for rent or he was going to be out on his ass right as an undoubtedly awful Illinois winter was due to hit.
He didnât hold out hope that things would work out. They never did. Life had a funny way of handing him the worst cards in the deck no matter what he did. He had pretty much resigned himself to the fact that his new life was going to be spent at one of the local homeless shelters. Not one place heâd applied to in the last week had called him back. Why would this place be any different? Theyâre going to take one look at me and throw my application in the trash.
But he really didnât want to be homeless.
He took a deep breath in through his nose, closing his eyes as he breathed out through his mouth to calm the anxiety vibrating in his gut. You can do this, Caleb. You have to.
One of the metal hinges on the front door squealed, forcing his eyes open as he took a step back. A young woman appeared from behind the door, a frown plastered on her tawny, freckled face. She squinted at him, looking him up and down before stepping fully out from behind the door to reveal a small but intimidating figure in an oversized black hoodie that stretched down to her thighs. âAre you going to come in and fill out an application or just stand out there all night?â she asked, her voice sounding both high-pitched and bored.
Caleb opened his mouth but paused. She looked familiar. He couldnât place where he had seen her last. Maybe the hospital? She didnât even look old enough to drive, so she couldnât have been a nurse there. Maybe a visitor to a patient on the same ward his mom had been on? It wasnât like he knew a ton of people to begin with, so he had to know her from somewhere.
The door closed behind her and she leaned back against it, crossing her arms over her chest as she glanced down at her black boots. Her curly, brass-colored hair flattened against the door, making her seem bigger. More intimidating.
âAre you going to come in or just stare at me?â she asked impatiently, a finger tapping against the top of her arm.
Caleb felt his face grow hot. âNo, I wasnâtâI didnât meanâŚâ He bit down on the tip of his tongue to stop himself then cleared his throat. âYeah, Iâd like to fill out an application.â
She unfolded her arms and cocked an eyebrow as she moved toward him, stopping just before her toes touched his to look him up and down again. She reached out and grabbed his bicep. âYou ever work in a bar or nightclub before?â
Caleb flinched, wanting to knock her hand away and take a few steps back. He didnât want to put her off if she was an employee, but her demeanor was making him more nervous. âUm, no, I havenât. But I worked at a gas station that sold alcohol,â he said. He felt his ears growing hot, matching the heat in his face. Why did I include that? Gas stations and nightclubs are nothing alike.
She nodded, her expression blank, as if she hadnât heard what he said. âCan you handle being around weird, horny, drunk people? Or aggressive douchebags who pick fights?â she asked. She pulled her cellphone from her hoodie and took a step back.
He breathed a sigh of relief that she was no longer as close to him. âI think so,â he said. He realized in that moment it didnât sound convincing. Was he blowing this before he even got a chance to fill out the application? âI-I can, but if the job is for barbackingââ
âYeah, youâre not like a bouncer or anything, but shit happens and sometimes we all pitch in,â she said, waving one hand to dismiss his statement as she scrolled through her phone with the other. âWhatâs your availability?â She didnât look up at him, her eyes darting back and forth across the screen.
His gaze wandered back over the front door that she had emerged from, unsure where he needed to focus. He realized his lower lip was partially sucked against his teeth, automatically going to chew on the inside of his cheek before he pursed his lips and tried to relax his mouth. He was trying hard to break that habit.
A sense of dread that he wasnât going to get this job either began to fill his chest. âI want to work as much as possible. Full-time, if possible,â he said, glancing down at the mop of brassy curls below him before his eyes snapped back up to the door as if she were going to look up at him any second. She was very small, but she exuded the confidence of a seven-foot-tall man.
âHe could probably find enough work for you,â she mumbled. âHow soon would you be available to start?â
His heart jumped in his chest, a sudden hot and cold feeling washing over him. âI could start tonight!â he blurted. Too eager. Say something else so you donât sound like a desperate loser.
He opened his mouth before his mind found the words but flinched again as the woman thrust the screen of her phone in his direction.
âAha! I knew I knew you from somewhere,â she said, her eyes meeting his with a light behind them that made him feel more disturbed than relaxed. Something was just wrong about her.
Caleb looked at the phone, waiting for his vision to adjust to the small screen. It was a picture of a yearbook page with rows of faces and names. âThatâs you, right? Caleb Walsh?â she asked, still holding the phone out.
This time he did take a step back, sudden panic washing over him. She knew him from school? He looked at her again, then back at the yearbook page displayed before him, scanning each face until he settled on one that stood out among all the acne and poorly grown-in facial hair. The face on that page was younger, with rounder cheeks and shorter hair, but with the same bored, barely alive eyes burning into the camera.
âOphelia Graves,â he read out loud then looked back at her. âYouâre the one that skipped a few grades, right? And showed up on the back of a motorcycle.â
She withdrew her phone, clicking it off as she placed it back into her hoodie pocket. âYeah, and youâre the quiet kid who disappeared halfway through freshman year. We all just thought you died,â she said with a shrug.
The heat in his face was back. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight onto one leg, staring at the ground and unsure what to say.
Ophelia broke the silence first. âIf you can start tonight, weâll take you. The owner will be available soon and he might want to interview you, but I donât see any reason why he wouldnât hire you. Come start some paperwork,â she said. She turned so they both faced the doorway and patted his back, almost as if she were pushing him to the door with her.
Maybe everything was going to be okay after all? He followed her to the door, hesitating before deciding to open it for her. Was that the right thing to do? She glanced up at him, her eyes narrowing, before mumbling a soft, âThank you.â
She motioned for him to follow her into the club. âYouâre over eighteen, right? So you wonât have a pissed off mom or dad coming to hunt you down if you stay late?â she asked as she walked past the clubâs entrance into a large room.
Caleb stopped and blinked a few times. The darkness of the club compared to the bright evening outside was hard to reconcile. He fiddled with the clasp of his messenger bag as his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, taking in the space. There was a large blank screen against the far wall, with a series of LED lights along either side that gradually changed colors. Beneath the screen was a booth with a single man fiddling with a laptop.
He tried to make a mental note of every aspect he could see of the room while it was still somewhat well illuminated. If he could remember something about the layout for the interview, maybe he could impress the guy and increase his chances of getting hired.
The DJ booth on the main floor was the landing point for the curved staircase. That was most likely how people accessed the second floor, or maybe a back office. He wanted to take in more of his surroundings, but he locked eyes with a man on the landing. Calebâs stomach tightened, an overwhelming urge to look away from the man making his face grow hot, but for some reason, he couldnât. Even with his nearsightedness, the manâs intense amber eyes looked crystal clear from across the room, piercing despite the distance and looking⌠inviting?
âYou want anything to drink?â Opheliaâs voice snapped his gaze away from the man. He glanced toward her, realizing she had moved behind the bar glowing under neon lights. Row after row of alcohol bottles sat on the shelving behind her, each one lit from beneath like they were all display piecesâeven the lower end brands that sat on the bottle shelves. She flipped through a binder, ripping pages out haphazardly without opening the rings.
âNo, thank you,â he said. He glanced back toward the landing near the DJ booth to look at the man with the intense eyes, but he was gone. Had Caleb imagined him?
Ophelia looked even smaller behind the tall bar, just the top of her chest and shoulders visible above the counter. âYou gonna answer my question from before?â she asked, pushing the papers across the counter toward him.
Caleb flushed again. âI⌠um,â he started. What was her question again?
âAre you eighteen?â she asked, turning away to grab a glass. âI ask because whenever we have hired non-serving staff under eighteen, you know, to clean and restock and stuff, weâve found that overbearing parents tend to throw a fit once midnight hits, so there is a strict no-one-under-eighteen policy. Since we were in school together, I figured Iâd double check before wasting Marcusâs time.â
Caleb nodded before realizing her back was still to him. âYeah, Iâm actually twenty, but Iâll be twenty-one soon,â he said. He pulled a pen from his bag, his eyes skimming what appeared to be a generic job application. Ophelia turned around, a drink in her hand that was clear at the top and bright red on the bottom, and she looked at him with her big, blank, dark brown eyes. He shifted uncomfortably and decided to hop onto one of the bar stools. Was she expecting a longer answer? âYou donât have to worry about nosy family members. Iâm on my own.â
For a split second, Caleb could have sworn he saw her smirk. She popped a straw into the drink and took a sip, once again reaching into her hoodie to grab her phone, one thumb tapping quickly across the screen. âThatâs excellent, actually. Fill that out, and whenever Marcus comes down, he can talk to you,â she said.
Caleb waited until she turned away then began completing the application. The same fields that heâd filled out on at least a dozen other applications were there, so it felt like his hand was moving automatically to fill in the boxes. His stomach growled. It had been hours since heâd left his small, dingy apartment or had anything to eat. Paired with the anxiety roiling in his gut, he felt like he could either devour a three-course meal or throw up right there on the sparkling bar top. He knew it was just his reaction to the new place and potentially a job that could keep him out of a shelter, but the way Ophelia looked and acted was making him uneasy.
He tried to remember what else he knew about her. She had been the talk of his high school for a whileâa girl who always arrived at school on the back of her dadâs motorcycle and who was only eleven or twelve years old starting her freshman year of school. He remembered the teachers telling his classmates to be kind, seeing as she was younger than all of them, and to behave themselves. He didnât know what had happened to her after he left school for good.
He looked up as he finished signing his name, doing the math in his head. Heâd been sixteen when she was twelve, so that meant she was⌠sixteen? Her face looked younger, but her demeanor was unnervingly older, like someone who had already lived a lifetime and hated the fact that they had to go through it again.
âSo what happened to your face?â she asked, leaning on the counter with her phone still in her hand.
His stomach knotted again. His scalp joined in on the anxious energy building in him as it began to perspire. His hand went to his forehead, stroking the top of the faded scar that ran from his hairline, through his eyelid and both lips, and curved down to his chin. His scar. He knew it was unsightly, still pinkish in the center even after years of healing, and he knew people stared, but no one ever overtly asked him about it. He swallowed hard, dropping his hand beneath the counter again to fiddle with the clasp on his messenger bag.
âCar accident,â he said, his gaze drifting into his lap. His other scars were a constant reminder of the accident that had ruined his lifeâthe burn scars on his shoulder, the telltale sign on his throat where heâd had a tracheostomy tube that kept him alive in the hospital while his mother and brother clung to life in the same buildingâbut it was that scar on his face that bothered him the most. The one he couldnât ignore that constantly reminded him his life would never be normal again.
âIs that why you dropped out?â Ophelia sipped her red and clear concoction, her expression more animated than before.
Caleb felt his eyes begin to burn, the lump in his throat rising higher as his heart pounded. A wave of nausea rolled over him. He could suddenly smell gasoline and blood again. The sound of a CD skipping over the car radio crept into his ears, the image of his blood-covered hands flashing in his mind. He stood up, refusing to meet her gaze.
This was a mistake. Iâm not ready to be out yet.
He needed to leave.
Caleb turned and bumped directly into a man standing behind him, snapping him out of his memory. Taking a step back, the smell of gasoline and blood in his nostrils was replaced with the scent of cologne, cigarette smoke, and sugar cookies. âIâm sorry, Iââ The apology dried up in his throat as his mouth fell open.
Holy shit. Heâs beautiful.
Standing in front of him was the man from the stairs, his monolid amber eyes bright and warm like the sun had just come out on a cloudy day. He was older than Caleb, probably approaching his forties, but aside from little wrinkles around the corners of his eyes, his face looked youthful, if a bit pallid. His gray-streaked black hair fell shaggily over the left side of his forehead, as though he had just run a hand through it. His face was long and angular, like a modelâs, with a mouth that almost looked too wide for his face, and lips that looked incredibly soft and kissable.
Close your mouth, you perv, he told himself.
âNow, Ophelia, weâve been over this. Those questions are not appropriate if you donât know someone well,â the gorgeous man said, his voice deep and silky with a hint of an accent. His gaze didnât move from Caleb, and Caleb realized he was holding his breath. The man reached a hand out, his smile widening. âWhatâs your name?â
Caleb shook his hand, surprised by both the strength of his grip and the coolness of his hand. âIâm Caleb. Caleb Walsh.â He looked back at Ophelia, expecting her to explain who the man was, but she hadnât looked up from her phone. He looked back at the gorgeous man, unsure of what to say next, but certain he would say something stupid.
âMy name is Marcus. I am the owner of this place. Welcome to the Club Euphoria family,â he said. He draped an arm over Calebâs shoulders and pointed toward the stairs. âLetâs go get you a uniform, yeah?â
Caleb walked with Marcus, his head a mess with nerves. Did I get the job? Without an interview? The guy didnât even look at my application. How did he know Iâm here for a job?
Was that what Ophelia was doing on her phone, texting information to her boss?
He had no idea what was going on. Questions raced through his mind as they reached the stairs. Marcusâs arm fell from his shoulders as he took a step up, glancing back as if to make sure Caleb didnât get lost. He could feel Marcusâs amber eyes move over him slowly, just as Opheliaâs had, appearing to size him up, or check him out⌠or both.
Caleb swallowed hard and adjusted the strap of his messenger bag, following Marcus up the stairs. He had no idea what to expect if tonight was truly supposed to be his first night on the job, but he did know one thing for sure.
His new boss was hot.
In some vampire novels, the fangs might as well be a costume piece. Surface Scratch definitely does not fall into that category: the sex, blood, and violence are very real. The plot also tries to give a realistic take on how a human given immortality might act, and how refined a person's tastes can get over a longer-than-normal life span.
The action scenes, whether fighting or very much not fighting, were among the highlights for me. Vivid descriptions, especially in terms of senses or space, made it easy for me to picture what was happening as I read. Dialogue and a great cast of supporting actors also helped keep me invested despite some of what I found rougher about the novel.
Barely out of his teens, Caleb has already had enough bad experiences to last a lifetime before Surface Scratch even begins. The raw voice of that character drew me in from the excerpt and made me excited to read more. This is someone who's clearly scarred but not broken. Unfortunately, much of what resonated with me at the start began slowly disappearing. Not entirely gone by any means, but the character loses too much agency too fast, even in the context of entering a BDSM relationship with a much, much older man.
How these kinds of relationships are portrayed is my other main concern. Yes, there is more than one instance where someone helps Caleb work through traumatic episodes (never from any of the new ordeals, but still stemming from the car accident that left him so scarred). In fact, one of my favorite scenes involves using the senses to walk him back from a panic attack. Overall though, it was hard to root for a relationship that felt so unhealthy for one of its members. I understand it's hard to marry vampire with safe BDSM practices, but I was hoping to see more of that here. Especially given how inexperienced one partner is.
Given that quasi warning above, I did very much enjoy reading Surface Scratch and am happy that the author is continuing the saga in a second book. Fans of m/m romance with a touch of violence or of morally grey vampires should take a bite.