by Patrick Doyle

Book Cover: Catching Hanif's Eye
Editions:Kindle: $ 4.99
ISBN: B0F89K9NCS
SKU: B0F89K9NCS
Pages: 268

A mystery. A romance. An ocular adventure.

Tom's a data analyst. It's not a passionate affair. Neither is his relationship with Mario, although Mario thinks it is. That's Tom's way. He makes things work, whether they work for him or not. With anyone else it would be called low expectations. Not Tom. His passion lies elsewhere. He's a secret writer.

The commitment is unusual and he keeps it to himself. Life has already dealt a few blows and he's reluctant to test its limits. Undemanding relationships. Unpublished books. A job that requires little thought. A bad attitude. These are the markers that keep him in place.

But when an accident leads him to discover he's losing his sight, life screeches to a halt. His writing, his career, his very independence are at stake. Time, once the future, is turning into the past.

Then a man appears. Beautiful yet damaged, Hanif brings light to Tom's darkness. The irony isn't lost on him, if it's irony at all. Just when he's about to give up on life, he finds a new reason to live. But things may not be as they seem. Lies can be told. Accidents can be arranged. Identities can be assumed.

Tom's story is a trip down a nebulous road. From an easy life to an erotic adventure, from a modest employee to a man on the run, he must see the truth while he still can. Ophthalmologists. Optometrists. Lovers. Friends. Some wish him well. Some don't.

Played out against a backdrop of political intrigue and haunted by ghosts from the past, is this story of love at first sight no more than a game of blind man's bluff?

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Excerpt:

"Hey."

Jerking himself into an upright position, he opened his eyes as far as they'd go. "Wha..?" he said with a stifled yawn.

"The bus," a voice said. "It's almost here."

Now awake, he stared wildly at the speaker. Tall and blurry, he was standing at a distance. Still drowsy, Tom checked the time, and when he saw that a half hour had passed, he promptly stood. Rejuvenated from the nap and more than ever unwilling to cram himself into a can on wheels, he thanked the man and turned away. He'd walk home, he decided. The exercise would do him good. Then he stopped. He recognized the guy. Or at least he'd seen him before. The memory eagerly resurfaced. Very carefully, he turned around and was met by a grin.

"I remember you," the guy said.

So did Tom. He'd know him anywhere, and not only because of the patch. They'd met at the hospital. Not met exactly, but connected, which in some circles was as much of an introduction as a handshake at a party.

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"Me too," he mumbled as he closed in for a better view.

In the medical world, they called it triage. In the real world, they called it the once-over. Tall, but not as tall as he'd thought while rotating through the door, the guy was memorable. His wide shoulders were highlighted by a brilliant red sweater that hugged him down to a slim waist below, where a pair of jeans kept no secrets.

But it was the face that drew him in. Smooth and dusky, his roots looked to be Mediterranean or somewhere in the Middle East. Either way, his eyes, or rather his eye, was as black as the night and it glowed as if that night was fueled by a harvest moon. Naturally, Tom's gaze wandered to the other eye, the one he couldn't see, until he realized he was being rude.

"Thanks for waking me."

Ignoring the visual inspection, the guy nodded toward the bus as it lumbered to a stop. "Not getting on?"

Tom shook his head. "Gonna walk. I don't live that far."

"You sure? I get wiped out every time."

"Excuse me?

"I mean every time they have a go at me." He gestured back toward the hospital. "It wipes me out. Not you?"

Tom nodded. "Oh, you mean the doctors. Yeah. For sure. But it looks like I just had a nap, so I'm good."

The guy kept staring. "I never saw you there before. First time?"

"Yeah. You?"

"No, I'm a regular." He winked, and for a moment, the radiant light in his face disappeared. "They should have a coffee bar."

"Or a bar period," Tom said like he meant it. He was warming up.

Cocking his head, the guy smiled. "Well, never before five."

"AM or PM?" Tom shot back.

"Both! Neither!" the guy happily declared.

At that very moment, the sun burst through and evaporated all the chill. Suddenly, Tom felt infinitely better. There was nothing like a hottie with a sense of humor to pull you back from the edge.

He didn't actually follow the guy as he took his place in line. They were chatting and it was fun - until they broached the subject of doctors and Tom let his negative opinion slip. They were, he said, like robots.

The guy quietly disagreed. "I know it seems that way, but they're good. You should have seen me the first time. I was a mess. But they took care of me. They'll take care of you, too." His eyes glittered. "I used to see them once a week. Now I see them once a year. And you know what? I kind of miss them."

Tom ate up the words. They were just what he needed, and he wanted more. There was a connection here. He could feel it. And it had nothing to do with anyone's condition. The guy could have said, "Why don't you hop on the bus and come along with me?" Or Tom could have said, "Why don't you forget the bus and come along with me?"

But neither did, and as the guy got on and the doors began to close, Tom stuck out his hand and said, "Tom." The guy did the same and said, "Hanif." They shook, they smiled, and the doors cut them off. Suddenly happy, Tom watched the bus pull away.
The walk home was exhilarating. It wasn't far enough.

COLLAPSE
Reviews:Rainbow Reviewss on https://rainbowreviewss.wordpress.com/tag/patrick-doyle/ wrote:

Catching Hanif’s Eye is, well, kind of a wild ride. It’s part mystery, part romance, and part full-blown espionage thriller. The story kicks off with Tom Pryszlak, a data analyst who moonlights as a novelist, getting hit with a double whammy: a glaucoma diagnosis that threatens his vision and a sudden, magnetic connection with Hanif Tavassoli—a man who wears a black eyepatch and carries more secrets than he lets on. This is a story about seeing clearly, both literally and metaphorically. It’s a story about choosing connection over isolation, even when the cost is high. It’s impressive, it’s bold, emotionally resonant, and weirdly tender.


About the Author

I write queer stories: three loosely related mysteries that follow the adventures of a stranger in a strange land; a trilogy that tells the story of an unusual couple along with their friends, lovers and kids. Along the way, I've written two more mysteries and a fantasy/sc-fi. But, no matter the genre, all my books are woven through with elements of romance, wit, sex and adventure.

My goal is to write stories about lives that, while entirely fictional, are rooted in some kind of reality. My characters are imperfect. They make mistakes. Some are loveable. Others can be hard to like. Until we find out why. But they all have one thing in common. They want more out of life. And they get it.

I live in Montreal with my partner and not far away from the child we raised. I live in French, write in English, and work in both. I try to bring that experience to my novels. All my protagonists are faced with the challenge and excitement of loving someone from another world. I’ve been there. It’s worth the trip.



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