Phoenix Chapter Thirteen: Phoenix

Phoenix Chapter Thirteen: Phoenix

A Chapter by SweetNutmeg


Chapter Thirteen: Phoenix

Rogan's guitar collects dust, with no G string. He starts drinking more. One night, drinking beer and mindlessly watching TV, his thoughts drift back to life before the snakehouse. He may have lost his band, he may be in a rut in his life, he may be stagnating, but he isn't in that hell hole anymore. Sometimes memories from his life under his father's roof come back and cripple him with pain. But tonight it strengthens him. He made it through that, he can deal with the destruction of the band. 

He won't get what he wants lying around drinking beer and watching TV. He pours out the remainder of his beer and gets in bed, determined to start fresh the next day.

The first order of business is getting a new G string. The following day after work he drives into town to visit Jewel Music. He finds a parking space and walks toward the music store. He decides to detour in order to walk past the Artists' Guild, on the off chance he might run into Allison. But no luck.

As he walks, the sun comes out and the air feels slightly balmy. How did it get to be May? He unzips his motorcycle jacket. Time really slipped away from him. It seems so recent that the band had their first show. He will always remember that date, March the 14th. But now it is May... He checks his phone. May the 4th. 

Earl helps him at Jewel Music and he quickly gets what he needs. He casts a longing eye on the Mesa Boogie amp on display on his way out. Maybe one day. 

He detours past the Artists' Guild again, and still no Allison. Oh well, he got what he came for. 

Once back at the snakehouse, he replaces the string and tunes up. He decides to start with Paranoid, moves on to some Maiden, then switches to some of the Ancient Doom original songs. The music seems to pour out of him and he regains his old pleasure in playing. It is like coming alive again.   

On a Thursday a few weeks later, from the service bay Rogan sees Allison sitting in a tow truck, an old Pontiac on the flatbed behind. He drops tools to go out and help her down from the high cab, but the driver gets there first. He jogs to catch up with her and meets her at the door to the waiting room.

“Allison!” She turns her dark eyes on him and gives him one of her dreamy smiles. He opens the door for her. “What's wrong with your car?”

“I don't know. I am hoping you guys can tell me. It won't start.” 

Ryan is at the cash register and gives Rogan a funny look. He has no business leaving his work in the service bay, and he knows this. 

Ignoring this, he walks Allison up to the counter. 

“Ryan, this is a friend of mine, Allison Reynolds.” To Allison he says, “Ryan will take good care of you. Let me know if you need anything.” 

As he returns to his proper work station, Rogan's heart lifts. It is almost quitting time. All he has to do is complete this Forester he's working on. He's almost finished and hurries through the last steps of replacing the wheel and tightening the lug nuts. There, he's done. 

Washing his hands seems to take forever, the gray oily water splashing down the dirty sink bowl. Finally his hands are clean and he clocks out. To his delight, Allison is still in the waiting room. She's talking to Ryan, who seems to be explaining something to her. It doesn't look like good news. As he approaches them, Ryan is saying, “So you'll have to leave it overnight. We'll get to it first thing in the morning. It should be ready by tomorrow afternoon.” Ryan hands Allison a pen and she signs off on a triplicate form. 

When she turns away from the counter, Rogan says, “Hey Al. What's going on? What did Ryan say?” 

“He said it's the starter. It'll be ready tomorrow.” She starts rummaging around in her bag and comes up with her phone.

“You're not using a Lyft or an Uber to get home, are you? I can give you a ride home.”

“Actually, I need to get to Shermer Tech first, so I'd better just get a Lyft.” She looks up into his eyes. 

His stomach does a funny flip and he says, “I'd be happy to bring you wherever you need to go. It's no problem.”

“Really? Thank you. That would be much easier. I'm dropping off a painting for a show tomorrow night. I need to get it out of the car.”

Rogan follows her as she goes to her car and opens the door. She seems to be struggling with an awkward package, so he approaches to help. 

“Here, let me.” He carefully pulls out a bubble wrapped rectangle, about three feet long and two feet high. Getting a good grip on it, he heads over to his Tacoma, Allison following.

“So you've got a car?” Allison asks.

“Yeah, bought a truck a few months ago. Here, grab this for a second while I open the back.” He opens it for her and helps guide the bulky package in. He secures the rear, leads Allison to the passenger side and opens the door for her, ready to give her a hand, but she climbs in just fine.

As they pull out of the Midas parking lot, Rogan asks, “We're headed to Shermer Tech?”

“Yes, Hanger Hall. Off Victoria Road. Thanks for giving me a ride.”

“No problem. You said a show? What kind of show?” He's thinking of music shows.

“Shermer High and a couple of other high schools are using this space in Hanger Hall for the end of the year showing of student works.”

“Oh, so your picture will be hanging there. That's cool.” Rogan makes a left onto Victoria Road. 

“Yes, the space is good, track lighting and lots of room. I'm doing the wine and cheese, the night of the opening.” 

“That's a mighty big picture you've got.”

“It's of the lake, at night.” 

“I bet it looks great. You're very good.”

Allison points and says, “Take that right, up there by the brick house. It's the second building down.”

Rogan backs into a parking spot near the door to a glass and stone building and goes around to the back of the truck to unload the painting. Soon Allison is guiding him through a lobby, to a space with stark white walls. There are arm chairs and sofas and side tables crammed together in a muddled group. Apparently they have just been pushed aside, and still need to be arranged properly. A few young men are moving them under the direction of an older woman wearing a stylish black outfit, pants and some kind of tunic. 

“Here, you can lean that right here, next to the others.” Allison points to a wall that has several paintings leaning against it, all wrapped in bubble wrap. “Can you wait? I have to talk to Mr. Lucas real quick.”  

“Sure.” Rogan looks around and sees one guy trying to move an armchair by himself and hurries over to grab the other end. 

The woman in black looks a bit harried and gestures Rogan and the other guy to the other side of the lobby. Over the chair, he asks Rogan, “Are you from Shermer High?” 

“Nah, just helping a friend.”

“That girl over there, talking to Mr. Lucas? The one in the black sweater?”

“Yeah. Her car broke down and she needed a ride.”

They set down the chair and walk back to the confusion of furniture.  

“She's cute, but her boyfriend is a nightmare. Jealous type. I found out by trying to ask her out.”

Rogan laughs grimly. “I think I've seen that side of him.”

“Take that one next,” the woman says to them and points. This is a heavier sofa and they move it a bit more slowly. Eventually all the furniture is arranged to the woman's satisfaction and Rogan wanders over to the place where they are now hanging pictures. Allison is talking to a man who is presumably Mr. Lucas. She sees Rogan hovering and closes her conversation.   

“OK, let's go. Mr. Lucas wanted to tell me what kind of wine and cheese to get.” As they cross the lobby, she says, “It was nice of you to help Mrs. Monroe with the furniture. You should come to the opening. It's tomorrow night.” 

Allison rummages in her purse and produces a large glossy postcard with an abstract painting on one side and details about the show on the other side. Rogan notes it is at 7 pm. He gets off at 5 tomorrow. 

“Yeah, I'd like that. But...” Rogan pauses.


“I don't want to be punched by Andy again.” 

“Oh, him. You don't have to worry about him.” What does this cryptic statement mean?

They exit the building and head for the truck, Rogan's heart feeling light and jumpy. Allison continues her own train of thought. “I hope my parents remember we need to go to Martin's Wine Cellar. I can't buy wine myself.”

“If they can't do it, I've got a good ID. I could get it for you.”

“Oh, could you? They always forget about me.”

Rogan unlocks the truck and Allison clambers in before he can open the door for her.

“It's criminal, the way they ignore you.”

“I'm used to it.” Allison settles herself and buckles up as Rogan gets into gear. 

“Listen, why don't we get a beer at Marco's on the way back?”

“Marco's? The pizzeria? I don't drink.” She must see his disappointment because she suggests, “We could have a coffee at the Retro.”

He's never heard of the Retro and doesn't care where it is or what it's like. He'd gladly drink piss in hell if only he can do it with Allison Reynolds at his side. 

He follows her directions and pulls his Tacoma into a spot in the gravel parking lot in back.

Once in the Retro, he orders a coffee. The black haired counter server looks annoyed and asks him what kind of coffee he wants. She points to a chalkboard. The chalkboard has dozens of items on it.

“A coffee. All I want is coffee.”

In a most snippy tone she asks, “Peruvian dark or Kenya double A?

“Double A my--” he starts, but Allison intervenes.

“Marcy, give him a Kenya. Leave room for cream.” She looks at Rogan for approval. He shrugs. 

The total for two coffees and a Danish astonishes him, but he insists on paying. He sees Allison slip a dollar bill in the tip jar when she thinks he isn't looking. He had carefully given the server exactly five cents.

The Retro is a dimly lit cave, hung with odd art and furnished with what appears to be the contents of a junk shop. Allison leads the way to a velvet sofa tucked away in a nook. It is soft and sort of saggy and Rogan feels as if he is floundering until he finds a way to prop some pillows around himself. 

“So you're going to go to Shermer Tech for the summer semester?” Rogan asks. 

“If these headaches get better.”

“You're still having headaches from the car accident? I thought the docs said they would go away.”

“They can't say how long that might take. I hope it clears up by fall. I got a full scholarship to the School of the Art Institute.”

“Hey, congratulations! That's great news. So you'll be moving to Chicago in the fall?”

“If everything goes right, yes. How's your band doing?”

Rogan's smile fades. “Drugs messed things up.”

He explains about J.D. 

Her face falls. “Oh, I'm so sorry. That must have been tough.” 

Because he thinks she really does understand, he quietly says, “Al, it was horrible. We were doing so great and then it was just-- gone.” Rogan looks away, remembering Buzz's harsh words, feeling the loss all over again.

He feels Allison's hand on his. His stomach does a back flip and he is pulled away from his recollections, turns towards her. Allison looks at him earnestly and squeezes his hand. “My headaches will go away and you'll find a new band. We'll be ok.” 

Rogan turns his hand up to clasp hers, brings his other hand to hold hers between both of his own. Her dark eyes rise and he looks into her clear gaze. Wordless communication flows between them. He leans closer and-- Marcy clatters a dustpan on the floor, begins sweeping just beyond their nook. Their private bubble bursts and Rogan remembers where they are, in a public place. They release their hand clasp. 

Allison picks up her coffee and drains the mug. “We'd better get going, they close in ten minutes.”     

Rogan doesn't bother drinking the coffee he didn't want in the first place, just tries to rise out of the sofa gracefully. Which is difficult as the sofa is so yielding and spongy.

On their ride back to Allison's house, they chat about the things to see and do in Chicago. Rogan has never been there, but Allison has been several times with school to see museums, like the Art Institute and the planetarium. Rogan thinks about Shermer with no Allison in it and sees no point in staying. Maybe he should move to Chicago too, like most of his friends have...

At Allison's house, she unbuckles and gets ready to get out of the truck. 

Rogan says, “Call me, if you need help getting wine.”

“Thank you, Rogan. For everything, the ride, the coffee, helping Mrs. Monroe.”

“No problem.” Rogan hopes to touch her again as they say goodbye, hug her or grasp her hand again, but she is out and slamming the truck door. He watches her go up the steps to her front door and sees that she gets in safely. 

The next morning at Midas, on his first car, Rogan screws up replacing a brake pad, a simple task. As he redoes the rear brake, he mentally shakes himself. He can't work with his mind on Allison. 

The day passes slowly. On his afternoon break he notices the Pontiac Allison had dropped off is gone. She must have picked it up while he was working in the bay. Ryan confirms this.

“Your girlfriend came for her car a few minutes ago.” Rogan doesn't say anything but feels ridiculous for being so disappointed to miss seeing her for even a brief few minutes. “She is your girlfriend?” 

“Not exactly.” 

“No one can tie you down, eh?” 

Rogan shrugs.

Finally it is quitting time and Rogan washes up and clocks out. As he is walking to his truck, he gets a text.

Parents forgot, can you help?

Sure, np What do you need?

They work out the details. Rogan will pick her up at 6 and they will go buy wine and cheese together, then head to the show. He barely has time to go home and change into something respectable. He decides to wear his one nice shirt, a black men's dress shirt, tucked in to show off his skull and crossbones belt buckle. He also gives himself a close shave and tries to get the grease out from under his fingernails. He doesn't have much luck with the latter. 

Allison comes down the front steps wearing the same slim black dress and scarlet scarf she wore on January the ninth. He goes around to the passenger's side to open the truck door for her, but she doesn't need help climbing in. He wishes he had something a bit more elegant to drive.

Once buckled in and on their way, Rogan says, “You look beautiful, Allison.” 

“Thank you.”

“It really is a crime the way your parents ignore you. Did they forget, or just lose interest?”

“They forgot. Mom took the Pontiac to go play bridge with the Van Blunt's and dad is still at work. I'm very lucky you were able to help.” 

“It's never a problem. You can always count on me.”

Martin's Wine Cellar also has a cheese counter. Since he knows nothing about wine or cheese, Rogan loiters as the shopkeeper helps Allison find what she needs. When it is time to check out, Rogan presents his ID and they are swiftly taken care of. 

They arrive at Hanger Hall with 20 minutes to spare. Rogan carries in the box of wine bottles, trailing Allison. There are many people getting the refreshment table organized, so Rogan deposits his wine and gets out of the way. When Allison beckons, he approaches to see a neatly arrayed table, cheese and crackers, finger sandwiches, pitchers of lemonade, 2 liters of sodas and Allison's wine. 

“Do you like Champagne?” Allison asks, proffering a bottle.

Rogan leans close and murmurs, “I don't know anything about wine.”

“You'll like this, it's very sweet.” Allison pours him a plastic flute of pale gold bubbly wine. He sips and finds he does like the light, fruity taste. 

Allison steers them away from the table and toward the slowly milling crowd viewing the paintings and sculptures. “Let's look. There are works from other schools I haven't seen yet.”

They enter a space sectioned off in the student center, white walls with bright spot lights over the paintings and sculptures. Everyone seems to be making a circuit, starting on their right, so they join the slowly drifting crowd. He first looks at something that seems to be a combination of a cardboard box, a woman and an exploded paint truck. The head (if it's a head) is sort of crooked so he turns his own head a bit.

“Cubism,” Allison volunteers. 

Rogan drags up old information stored away from high school and remembers a name. “Like Picasso?”

Allison looks pleased and they move on to an incredibly ugly sculpture of a chicken. Maybe a chicken. Then a pretty good portrait, an accurate sketch of a pair of ballet slippers, a fairly nice painting of a riverside in summer, and then something that arrests Rogan's attention and he stops. It is a large painting of Lake Michigan at night, under a full moon. The shore undulates and the Chicago skyline emerges from steel gray water. Streamers of cloud partially obscure the moon. It is a bit somber, dark but very clear. It touches something inside him, making him feel his heart expand, but also feel sadness.

“This one is good,” he says.

“It's mine.” Allison looks even more pleased. 

After examining the painting for a while, they move on again. Allison's painting is by far the best in this lot of amateur pieces. He sees why she got a full scholarship.

They move towards the refreshments again. Allison replenishes the cheese and crackers and organizes the wine. Rogan snags a tiny sandwich and when Allison offers the bottle, holds out his glass for more Champagne. 

The young man who Rogan helped last night walks by and Allison says, “He's very good, he did the Cubist painting.”

Thinking about the conversation he had with the guy about Allison's jealous boyfriend, Rogan asks, “When is Andy going to show up? He's coming, isn't he?”

“No. We broke up. He won't be here.” 

Rogan's pulse quickens and a lightness fills his chest, more intoxicating than this glass of wine.

“I'm sorry, Al,” he lies. He's not sorry at all. 

“Oh, don't be,” she says with asperity. “We broke up because he was such a caveman about that night we spent together. He seemed to think he owned me or something.” They have been moving away from the exhibition, towards the grouping of furniture he helped arrange last night. “Let's sit.” 

Rogan sinks onto a love seat, Allison next to him. 

“How long do you have to stay?” Rogan asks.

“To the very bitter end. I have to help clean up.” She looks at him. “If you need to go, I can get a ride with someone else.”   

“No, I don't need to be anywhere, but this jacket is getting hot. I'm going to stash it in the truck.”    

Rogan heads out to the truck, humming an Ancient Doom song. Allison is finally single. She's single and there was that moment last night. When she let him take her hand. Surely that means something. Something good. 

Rogan unlocks the truck door and leans in to put his jacket in the back. As he backs out of the driver's side, he glimpses something shiny on the passenger side floor. That's odd. He bends over and stretches out to reach for it. He just barely brushes it with the tips of his fingers and it rolls away, under the seat. D****t. He slams the truck door and goes around to open the passenger's side door. He gropes under the seat, feeling nothing but carpeting. He tries to look under the seat but can't. He fumbles some more, no luck. So he folds the passenger seat down and tries feeling under the seat from behind. Ah ha, he's got it. It's some kind of slippery sphere with a chain attached. He pulls it out and holds up a spherical compass key chain. Must be Allison's. He closes the door and locks the truck, tucking the compass key chain into his front pocket. 

As Rogan approaches the entrance to Hanger Hall, he sees three people coming out the glass doors. As he gets closer, he sees two are campus security officers and they are escorting a struggling third man between them. Feeling uneasy, he steps up his pace to intercept the trio, find out what's going on.

The man being escorted looks familiar. Rogan jogs closer and sees it is Andy. When Andy sees Rogan, Andy struggles harder, trying to shake off the security officers.

“You lying b*****d! Cheating, lying f**k! I knew it, I knew you were both lying. F**k you, you s**t. You were waiting for this all along. Backstabbing b*****d!” 

Rogan has changed direction and is heading straight in the doors. He looks around for Allison and is relieved to see her talking to Mr. Lucas and Mrs. Munroe, looking unhurt. 

“Al, are you OK?” He has to reassure himself. “What happened? That was Andy? What was he doing here? Are you OK?” He finds he is gripping one of her hands, his other hand clutching her elbow, pulling her towards him. 

Allison looks up at him and says, “Yes, I'm fine, Rogan. That was Andy, and he sort of came at me. I think he was drunk, saying crazy things, begging me to go back to him.”

“Did he hurt you?” 

“I'm fine. Really, I'm fine.” Allison yields to Rogan's attempt to draw her closer and puts her arm around his waist. He folds her up in a gentle hug. 

“What happened?”

Her voice is muffled as she answers, “He tried to grab me and I pulled my pepper spray on him. Then Mr. Lucas came over with two cops, campus cops, and they took Andy away.”

He looks down on her and sees how white her face is. “Oh, hey, are you feeling alright?” He loosens his embrace and steers her towards the nearest sofa. “You need to sit down.” She sits and pulls him down next to her, leans against him. He puts his arm around her.

“Try to breathe. Slowly in,” he encourages her, “and out. That's right, breathe.” She relaxes against him and they sit silently as she calms her breath.

After a minute, Rogan asks, “Feeling better?” There is more color in her cheeks.

“I feel a little shaky. It got scary there for a second, while I tried to find my pepper spray. That was a huge adrenaline rush.” She snuggles closer. “Thank you for taking care of me.” 

“Hey, I didn't do anything, the campus cops did it all.”

“That's not what I'm talking about.” She looks up at him. “Andy always wanted to punch people, always wanted to protect me by beating someone up. That's not what I need. All that male ego stuff isn't about me. And my parents... they never care if I'm ok or not. You care and pay attention and help me. Really help me.”   

“I try.” Heat is creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. “Let's get you home. I think they might let you off cleaning up, considering.” 

“It's almost over anyway. I'll just tell Mr Lucas.” 
Allison rises and goes to Mr. Lucas. Rogan gets to his feet as well, heads in that direction.   

Before he reaches them, Allison, turning away, has her purse over one shoulder and a bottle in her hand. As she joins Rogan, she gestures with the wine bottle. “Mr. Lucas said I earned this.”


“Not just any old wine, it's that Champagne. It's open and will go flat soon, so we need to drink it up,” Allison says, gesturing with the wine bottle. “Let's go to your place.”
“Don't you need to get home?”

“No, my parents won't notice and I don't have to be anywhere tomorrow morning. I can go wherever I like.” They reach the truck and Rogan opens the passenger side door for Allison. He clambers in and starts the truck, wondering at his good fortune. 

After driving in silence for a few minutes, Rogan recollects the purpose of their evening and says, “Your painting is very good.”

“I painted it when I was pretty depressed about... well, about some things. Driving to Lake Michigan was the only thing that made me feel better. I felt free, out there.”

“I could feel that. Your painting made me feel sad, but also sort of...” He gestures, trying to describe how his heart had swelled. “Sort of big? Inside?” He isn't explaining very well.

“You felt that? Looking at my painting made you feel that?”


“Thank you, Rogan. That is the best compliment any artist can receive, to evoke feeling, emotion.” 

“Yours was the best there.” They drive on in silence again, until Rogan turns onto Hanover Street and pulls up at the snakehouse.

“Here we are.” Rogan unlocks the front door and allows Allison to precede him. Going up the creaking stairs and to his padlocked door makes him think of the last time she was here, on Lucy's anniversary. Once again, he ushers Allison in, again wondering how this has come about. The universe seems to be on his side tonight. 

Looking around, he says, “I don't have any glasses up here. You want to sit while I grab some?”

“Oh, hold this,” Allison says, and gives Rogan the Champagne. She rummages in her purse. “I have a couple of flutes right here.” She brings out two plastic Champagne glasses and sets them on the mantel, then says, “I'll pour.” 

He hands over the bottle and watches as she tilts a glass and the pale wine fizzes slightly as she pours. She passes him the first glass and pours the second.

“What shall we toast?” Rogan asks.

“To our futures, your music and my art.” Her pale face seems to glow from within.   

Rogan raises his glass and salutes Allison. “I'll drink to that.” He gestures to the couch and they seat themselves.  

“So you're going to Chicago in the fall?” Rogan asks. 

“Yes, August 29th. If my parents remember.”

“You can always call me. Any time at all.”

“Oh, I guess if I remind them 12 million times, I can get them to remember.” 

“I'm always here.”

“Thank you, Rogan.”

“You'll be living in the dorms?”

“Yes. All freshmen do.” 

They talk on about Allison's plans, sipping their Champagne. When Allison drains her glass, Rogan takes it from her and sets both of their glasses on the coffee table. When he turns back to her, he finds her looking at him intently. 

He tries taking her hand again. “Allison, you are beautiful.” She does not speak, but she doesn't need to. Her dark eyes meet his in an intense gaze. He leans in again, and this time, nothing interrupts and she doesn't pull away. All his hoarded desire spills over into their kiss.

“You don't know how long I've wanted this,” he tells her.

“I do. As long as I have wanted it. Since the car accident, I've wanted this, too.” 

They plunge again into a delicious kiss, which goes on and on. His hands move as he had wanted to move them that night after the car accident, touching her warm skin, stroking her curves. She is as pliant as he could have wished. His wandering hand finds the zipper of her dress and he whispers, “Yes?”

She breathes the word, “Yes.”


The automatic door to Davis County Health and Behavioral Center opens and Rogan walks into the unit. He sees J.D. engaged in a lively card game with three other guys. When J.D. notices Rogan, he throws down his cards and says something that makes the other guys laugh.

Full of his customary energy, J.D. greets Rogan with a vigorous handshake. 

“Hey, man, how's life been treating you?” J.D. asks. J.D. seems healthier, more color in his skin, and looks toned and fit.

“Pretty good. I came by because I'm moving to Chicago and didn't want to lose touch.”

“Oh yeah? Congratulations. I need to lose this town, too. Without Ancient Doom, there's not much keeping me here. What inspired you to leave?”

“My girlfriend will be going to school in Chicago in the fall. I want to be with her.” 

“You hear anything from Buzz or Roy?” 

“Nope, not since I picked up my amp.” 

“I tried calling Buzz a couple of times, but he never returned my calls.” J.D. looks down, studying his hands. “Kinda harsh, but that's how life is sometimes.” Looking up, his eyes brighten. “So you've got a girlfriend now? And you're going to Chicago? When are you moving?”

“In three weeks. I'll be staying with a friend, guy named Anton, until I get set up. He's got a line on a good roommate situation and one of the Midas shops in Chicago can take me on, so it won't take long. Anton is in Feast of Sins, too. I used to play with them and they need a rhythm guitarist now. Their regular guy is moving to Kentucky, so I can slip right in.” 

“Feast of Sins? I've heard of them. That's great.”

They talk on about bands they've known and Rogan's prospects in Chicago. 

When visiting hours are over, J.D. gives Rogan a back thumping hug.

“Look me up if you come to Chicago.” J.D. assures Rogan he will, and walks him to the unit door. 

On his way down the steps to his truck, Rogan whistles an Ancient Doom song. That's a bummer about Buzz, but seeing J.D. looking so good encourages him. Hopefully everything will work out for all of them, J.D., Buzz, Rogan, all in their own ways. 

© 2020 SweetNutmeg

Author's Note

Thank you all for staying with me right through to the end. As always, all comments are welcome and appreciated.

My Review

Would you like to review this Chapter?
Login | Register

Featured Review

Bravo! The name of the chapter and the book itself, Phoenix, makes total sense now. It is a very fitting name. Brownie points from yours truly!

This was a heart-warming chapter, warmer than the morning coffee I was drinking while reading it. One of the things I really like about your writing style is how you make so many things relatable to us, the readers.

I loved every word of this chapter, but my favorite is probably -- as expected of me -- the ending of the chapter before the epilogue: His wandering hand finds the zipper of her dress and he whispers, “Yes?” ... She breathes the word, “Yes.”

It's just so good. And so soon after, Rogan refers to him as his girlfriend too!

The ending of the epilogue, where we know Buzz wouldn't pick up J.D.'s calls, is a bummer, but -- as J.D. says -- life is like that sometimes.

If you plan to write another book, you can be 100% sure I'll stal-, I mean, *ahem* read and review every chapter of it.

Posted 6 Months Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


6 Months Ago

Thank you so much for such warm praise. And thank you for sticking through to the very end. This was.. read more

6 Months Ago

I enjoyed every minute of reading it. Thank you for writing and sharing this with us.

.. read more


In all, it's a curvy ride through ups and downs, thrills and disappointments, (as real life tends to be) finally ending with romance rising from the ashes of Rogan's despair. (Perhaps Allison's, too) Clean and well-written. (Okay, there's a comma or two) So now the reader is left wondering if their romance will flourish and whether or not Rogan will get into another band. In their hearts, I imagine they both see wine and roses and sunny days ahead.

Posted 6 Months Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


6 Months Ago

Thank you for all you've done and for sticking with this through the end. You've been an invaluable .. read more
Bravo! The name of the chapter and the book itself, Phoenix, makes total sense now. It is a very fitting name. Brownie points from yours truly!

This was a heart-warming chapter, warmer than the morning coffee I was drinking while reading it. One of the things I really like about your writing style is how you make so many things relatable to us, the readers.

I loved every word of this chapter, but my favorite is probably -- as expected of me -- the ending of the chapter before the epilogue: His wandering hand finds the zipper of her dress and he whispers, “Yes?” ... She breathes the word, “Yes.”

It's just so good. And so soon after, Rogan refers to him as his girlfriend too!

The ending of the epilogue, where we know Buzz wouldn't pick up J.D.'s calls, is a bummer, but -- as J.D. says -- life is like that sometimes.

If you plan to write another book, you can be 100% sure I'll stal-, I mean, *ahem* read and review every chapter of it.

Posted 6 Months Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


6 Months Ago

Thank you so much for such warm praise. And thank you for sticking through to the very end. This was.. read more

6 Months Ago

I enjoyed every minute of reading it. Thank you for writing and sharing this with us.

.. read more

Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


2 Reviews
Added on November 11, 2019
Last Updated on February 17, 2020



I am back and returning all reviews of "Phoenix." I'm here to improve my writing. I love critiques that give me critical feedback, as well as praise. (Although, I do like praise. Gotta be honest.) .. more..

Phoenix Phoenix

A Book by SweetNutmeg