I finished Seven. The introduction of John and John. I'll wait for my reviews and see what they think.
So, in the meantime I moved on, back to Marvin. I have to get him under the wheels of Maribeth's roadster. But, I wrote a problem in, back there in Chapter 6. She has her Mercedes locked on top of a fire hydrant in Cheesman Park! Can't very well run over Marvin without a car. Hey! Maybe I have them meet in some other way...after he torches the Men's Clothing Store! ?? Daddy is p.o.ed big time at his daughter, which sets the tone perfectly for Maribeth to sneak Marvin into the Mansion. Hmm...
Anyway, here's the rest of 7, then I'll put in 8 right beneath it.
She let the Bauer file slip down onto the desk again and reached for them. Two or three stems of daisies had already begun to droop their heads. Delilah’s spindly fingers were twitching, nervously she thought, taking them from his outstretched hand. She looked up into his face. His cheeks were rouge-red. She could almost feel the heat emanating from them. His lips had curled just slightly, and his eyes had a schoolboy beseeching quality suddenly, as though he wasn’t at all sure she wouldn’t scorn him and return them.
“You are a darling, John. Thank you so much. They’re beautiful.” Even though they were not. “I’ll find a vase…that was so thoughtful of you.”
Roget was near, hovering at the end of the desk. He peered between them at the flowers, then turned his gaze to John, who it seemed might need a steadying hand, to Amy who was smiling, and then back again to the urchin bouquet. A quick breath, a passing of his fingertips across the blooms was all that it would take. The flowers would enjoy a resurrection; a re-erection, he mused with a smile. But he thought, no. Amy was about to raise the indigent Marvin from the dead. Her touch would be enough with simple, wilting flowers. He brought his fingertips near her already shining hair instead. That was close enough, he was certain. The air in the small room seemed charged suddenly; the light taking on a warm, golden glow around her face and shoulders and chest. The strange phenomenon brought a rush of goosebumps that danced from her toes to every strand of hair on her head. Her delicately molded cheeks went suddenly white hot. Her fingers tingled. The blossoms responded, as though they’d sucked up a pot of super-octane water drawn from the wells of heaven. Which in a way they had.
What had a moment ago been a clutch of sickly flowers with puny, yellowing stems and stringy leaves, were now robust kings and queens that would have made the most profoundly glorious rose blush and fall to its thorny knees in any garden.
Amy stood weak-kneed and stunned at the waves of hyper-driven tingles that continued to swell beneath the soft layer of her skin, in a momentary trance, seeing bursts of stars in front of her eyes. John Delilah’s jaw dropped. His owlish eyes popped straight and opened wide. He let the briefcase he had been holding with fingers clenched around the handle as if it had been his soul preparing to vacate the shell of his body fall helplessly to the carpet at his feet.
She blinked once, twice, and then a third time, until her vision cleared. Amy glanced at the bouquet quickly, and then over to John. His shoulders were drooping forward. He had seen many strange and wondrous things in his life, but nothing like this.
“Holy smoke,” was all he could manage in return. Holy something at any rate.
“Amy! Where’s the Bauer deposition?” Sampson’s booming voice broke the trances. “I’m due at McDougal’s office in an hour. Hustle it up.”
“Yes sir,” she said in a whisper, staring at Delilah, wondering if he could come up with an explanation. He stared back, wondering if she might be able to do the same.
“I’d better get him a vase…or the, uh…something,” she said, lowering the flowers onto her desk.
(c) Patrick Lee-2010
Well, maybe not. Eight is several pages