Tristan Drue Rogers Character Interview
Brothers of Blood follows Belle Whynecrow in her final year of highschool. Her best friends Josue, Xavier, and Jesus the hobo welcome the new kid, Chris, with welcome arms. The only catch? To quell their boredom, Belle tells them to create a kill list, marking off the names as they complete their goal before senior year ends. While struggling to pass their classes with flying colors, this band of merry murderers seems to be on a delightfully bloody roll until Belle's long imprisoned older brother, Beau, arrives at her doorstep. Now a devout man of God, the brotherhood schemes for his return to his original, and highly exaggerated, bloodlust. That is, if Chris's jealousy doesn't destroy Belle's ranking in the gang first. Not everyone will survive, but those who do will certainly have a year to remember because those that kill together live forever.
"This reminds me of what Less Than Zero would be like had it been written by Chuck Palahniuk.""- The Platform author, Alex Bernstein
Excerpt:
"I don’t mean to be rude." Ms. Lefkae cleared her throat. "But would you two mind if we said grace before we chow down?"
Belle raised an eye at her mother, whom almost scoffed at the idea. It had been a long harrowing process destroying the belief system within her mother. If her husband dying didn’t already do it, most certainly her son did.
To Belle’s surprise, Norma extended her hand to them both and bowed her head in silence. Belle followed suit.
Ms. Lefkae cleared her throat. "Dear Lord, thank you for all and all and more. Many blessings have befallen me: a new school – off to a great start – and Belle’s invitation to dine within her beautiful home all the more benevolent. Give Belle and her mother, Norma, what they truly deserve in life: the same kindness that they’ve shown me ... Oh, and thank you for the food we are about to receive!"
"Amen," they all said in unison. Hands lifted.
"That was lovely," said Norma.
"I’m a little rusty, too. Eating alone usually has me praising Him in my thoughts alone, less so out loud."
"It was perfect," said Belle, although that what they deserve section of the prayer had bothered her.
The room was quiet until the forks began hitting through the paper plates, against the table. Belle felt good as she watched them dig in. That is, until Ms. Lefkae took a bite of the chicken.
"You know," covering her mouth delicately, then swallowing, "this tastes an awful lot like what I used to make for myself while I was off at college. I didn’t have too much energy or money to waste, nor the skill to combat a chicken in the kitchen, but I made do with what I could find." Ms. Lefkae winked at Belle and proceeded to eat.
Interviewer: Hello, my name is Detective Walker and what might your name be?
Belle Whynecrow: Well, I’d first like to learn what I’ve done to get myself in this predicament, Sir. You may already know my name, or why would I even be here?
Detective Walker: Or perhaps learning your name is exactly what I need in order to dismiss you from questioning?
Belle: Perhaps. That certainly sounds like something the police would do.
Detective Walker: Right. So how do you know Josue Carmona?
Belle: I don’t.
Detective Walker: His apartment has been under surveillance for quite some time. If you’d take a look at these photos, that’s you two smoking outside on the patio. This one is of your dog being fed some takeout that you dropped on the floor. And if you’d be so kind, you’d clearly see in these photos they show—
Belle: Okay, I get it. Yeah. I am his friend. We’ve known each other for years.
Detective Walker: Same goes for a Xavier Williamson?
Belle: Who?
Detective Walker: Well, he was a young man who went to school with Josue before he moved up here.
Belle: Was?
Detective Walker: You all of sudden care about Mr. Williamson, I see.
Belle: No, that’s not it. I just pay attention to obvious cues like that. Apparently, the guy’s either dead or he transformed from a young man to a disheveled old crony.
Detective Walker: He died in prison. He was accused and proven guilty for a string of murders. Mr. Carmona, your buddy of many years, was also his friend until the day he left for college and wouldn’t you know it, that’s when Mr. Williamson, who stayed behind due to a lack of interest in his studies, goes down for killing handfuls of people that couldn’t possibly have been done by one 135 lbs. boy.
Belle: Boys will be boys. Ya’ll like to say that, huh? I hear it a lot when a brave enough woman is accusing a man, but who’s accusing me? Why am I being questioned? Do you really think little ol’ me could have anything to do with hurting people? I may be a rambunctious squirt, but I am certainly less capable of hurting a fly than your average wittle boy.
Detective Walker: No one said we were considering you a suspect, but now that you mention it, could you repeat your name into the microphone?
Belle: I want my lawyer. I saw that in the movies, I’m supposed to have representation or else whatever I say can be used against me, isn’t that right?
Detective Walker: Oh, do you have one? What’s their number and who may I say is calling?
Belle: Oh, fine, you big bully. My name is Trixie, if ya weren’t already aware. Now hurry up with the rest of these questions, or I’ll have to be leaving on account of my belly generating a hell of a rumbling, Detective Bumbling.
Detective Walker: You’re a spunky one. So, how’s school been treating you?
Belle: Not too shabby, I guess. I get to meet new people and it certainly beats going to high school, having to hall ass to the cafeteria if you wanted pizza before the other students ate it all right in front of you. Jerks.
Detective Walker: What’re you going to major in?
Belle: I don’t know. I want to do something with forensics, but I’m not sure if that’s just a cool thing or somethin’ I’ll actually be any good at.
Detective Walker: Aww, the little would-be serial killer wants to stop bad guys. Didn’t I see that on TV once or twice?
Belle: Murderer? How do you have the gall to call me a serial killer? You’re really reachin' for the pendulum to swing in your direction here.
Detective Walker: Am I … really? The way I see it, you have two options, kKddo.
Belle: Oh, and I’m sure you’re about to tell me them, huh, Old Man?
Detective Walker: Well, Trixieee, I’d wager that if you ever do go a few years living in this city without committing another murder that you’re gonna get rightfully cocky one day. And once that day hits, you betcha I’ll be ready for you. In fact, I reckon I’ll be there to wipe that condescending freakin’ stare off your pimply and freckled face, Sweet Child.
Belle: Or option two, Detective Bumbling…
Detective Walker: You know, Josue already told me all about who you two are. Not just the murders, but the sex, the drugs, the betrayals, your poor, poor docile mother. Oh, and don’t let me forget about the history your brother has been involved in. Tell me about your dear brother, Beau.
Belle: My brother is a devout man of God and worship, so you take his name out your mouth, or I’ll have to shove my unmentionables in it! And let me tell ya, I’m the one who may be a little lax on the whole hygiene situation, ya basic blip on the radar.
Detective Walker: So Beau Whynecrow is your brother, huh? Belle, what a fine pleasure it is to meet you. I do apologize for that crack about your mother, Norma. I heard she was such a lovely woman.
Belle: Are we done yet?
Detective Walker: One more question.
Belle: Shoot. But don’t shoot.
Detective Walker: This brotherhood of yours terrorized your small town home, yet you all kept so close together and in the shadows. If I’m not mistaken, it was only recently that it came to dwindle, unwinding like a loose thread. It’s obvious, but it’s there.
Belle: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Detective Walker: So, my question is this, and do take your time: how did a rambunctious—what did you call yourself? Squirt—like yourself become leader to such a successful gang of murderers?
Belle: I am not a murderer, Sir. My friends are wonderful—gentle yet spirited, like the lost boys, and I am their Wendy. So please back off. I haven’t done anything wrong, and all we got here is another case of a white-skinned, blue-eyed police officer butting his hairy astronomical snout in matters he doesn’t dare understand or belong in, let alone be mentioned in the same sentence. Get me a lawyer, or I’ll really give you a reason to keep me here, Detective Bumbling. Now, Sir, may I go?
Detective Walker: Do you have different accents for different moods or what?
Belle: Hmm. That’s a second question, innit? I’m over this and for the last time I’m hungry.
Detective Walker: Now hang on, darlin’. I’ll let you go after this.
Belle: Can you see my eyes?! They are so far into the back of my head, and I’m not even sure if I’m over it or under it, but fine. Proceed, Fool. I’m hangry, Man. Don’t you know what hunger does to a woman?
Detective Walker: Okay, I get that you think acting this way will receive no repercussions, but we are recording this, so maybe you should keep that in mind.
Belle: I didn’t hear a crescendo-pitch in your voice, where was the question?
Detective Walker: Tell me what you think Xavier Williamson’s last words were?
Belle: I don’t know him, buddy. I’m sorry to hear about the kid dying, but I cannot even attempt to guess without being disrespectful. I hope it was quick, is all I know.
Detective Walker: Well, he is noted as saying these words … “Belle did it,” before clarifying, “Beau’s sister, Belle Whynecrow. Don’t let her get away with it.”
Belle: That’s a mighty interesting string of words. Are you sure that boy put them together himself?
Detective Walker: Awe, well, you know I cleaned it up a bit, Darlin’. But more was said, you get the point.
Belle: Right. Alright, I’m taking off now.
Detective Walker: You may go. Now, Kiddo, don’t forget. I’m not just gonna let some skinny little girl, possibly one of the most dangerous young woman in the state, get off clean as a whistle without some due diligence and repercussions in your history. Watch your back. I’ll see you around and thanks for the riveting conversation.
Belle: Ta-ta and bye-bye for now.
Tristan Drue Rogers continues to misspell his middle name despite it appearing that way on his birth certificate. He is an author, an expectant father, and a husband.
You can purcahse your copy of Brothers of Blood on Amazon and IndieHound.