Word Count: 99,000
Mixey is the story of 16-year-old BAYARD ANNISTON, son of the most famous black lesbian sex-toy-shop-owning political activist in semi-upstate New York. His new year is turned upside-down following his mom KENDRA’s regular holiday protest of their town’s all-white crèche. Kendra’s arch-nemesis LABIANCA has hatched a plot to make this year’s arrest a felony, and New York State’s new Three Strikes law has Bayard’s mom — a career arrestee —looking at life in prison.
Bayard’s life takes an even more surreal turn when LaBianca’s daughter Mercury, the audacious, feminist star of the girls’ ice hockey team, declares big hots for Bayard. If the lovebirds can’t reconcile their mothers before Kendra’s trial, third may be a base too far.
Mixey is a funny, feminist, sex-positive romp through two modern families’ stories of loyalty, revenge, secrets and the triumphs and pitfalls of first intimate relationships. It has a laugh-to-cry ratio of 163:2.
First 250 Words:
As was to be expected, Mom got arrested on Christmas Eve. But any resemblance to a normal holiday for the Anniston family ends there.
I was home supervising the turkey in the oven. Mom was more than an hour late.
At 7, the turkey timer dinged, and I got a text from Mom:
>>Bayard, can you meet me at the station w $50?
>>Long story. ATM card’s inside Eyes on the Prize,
>>vol 1. Thanks, buddy!
Normally Reggie, Mom’s old friend and most frequent arresting officer, drives Mom home in the squad car on his way back to New Paltz after a brief arraignment in Poughkeepsie. Something definitely wasn’t going according to plan.
I glanced out the window at thick, swirling new snow. My hands were still practically stuck in shovel-grabbing pose from the two feet I cleared out last week. I sighed, because it feels so good, and grabbed the ATM card from the book.
With all my winter gear on, I looked like a cross between Iron Man and Ernest Shackleton. I heard the magic beans sound from my pocket. Probably Mom again. Dutiful Son de-gloved and checked his phone. The text was from Auntie Cheryl:
>>Favorite nephew. The roads are a frozen mess.
>>Grandpa and I are going to hit a hotel hopefully not literally.
>>Not sure we’ll be able to get through tomorrow.
>>The struggle’s real, Padawan
I stepped out into the life-size snow dome of our town. Family holiday traditions can be so much work.