Read Online GEN13 - Version 2.0 by Unknown Author - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Unknown Author
Tags: Sholly Fisch
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resume face down, and started writing on the back. “Until we know for sure that anything’s going on, there isn’t much for us to do anyway, right?
“So, here—I’ll write down my schedule and all the places where I’ll be. That way, if anything does break, you can track me down, and I’ll come straight home. I promise. But meanwhile, during the time that I’d just be sitting around waiting anyhow, I can go ahead and make it to my interviews. Okay?”
Lynch didn’t say any tiling. Kat decided to take the lack of protest as grudging agreement.
She finished writing, and gave the paper a quick pat before heading for the door. “There!” she said. “Now, I really do need to run. Wish me luck, guys!” She gave them a quick wave. Then, she was gone, the door slamming closed behind her. Of course, in her haste, Kat’s super-strong slam made the entire wall shake and broke the lock again. But that wasn’t really at the top of anyone’s mind right now.
Lynch stood there, just watching the door. After a moment, he turned and stormed off into the other room.
Finally alone, Sarah opened her eyes, and picked up the small towel that lay at her feet. Neither Kat nor Lynch had sought to bring her into the argument, and that suited her just fine. She used the towel to wipe down her face and neck, draped it over her shoulders, and stretched out to melt into the comfortable sofa.
Once she was settled in, Sarah reached down to the floor and picked up one of the dozens of pornographic magazines that Bobby had strewn around the apartment as “surprises” to tempt Grunge when he woke up. She flipped idly through pages upon pages of naked women who were bending themselves at awkward angles across motorcycles and pool tables.
At another time, Sarah would probably be mortally offended at this exploitation of women. But in the quiet, and with her body feeling so relaxed, she just couldn’t muster up the energy. Instead, as she scanned the pictures, Sarah contented herself with noting the fact that she just didn’t get it. Oh, the women were attractive enough, and Sarah shared the guys’ interest in such things. But there was no ... subtlety here, no romance. Were men really that obvious?
She thought of Grunge. I guess that answers that, she thought with a smile.
Since the photos didn’t hold her interest, Sarah decided to amuse herself by reading the captions instead:
“A devotee of classical music, we asked Bambi whether she saw Amadeus. ‘Anthony Schaeffer is a jerk!' says the tawny eighteen-year-old. 'Mozart wasn’t some cheap vulgarian. He was one of the greatest musical geniuses of the ages!' ”
The caption accompanied a photo of the “tawny eighteen-year-old devotee of classical music” spread-eagled across a baby grand piano, her hair cascading across the keys.
Lynch came storming back into the room, carrying his coat and looking determined. Without so much as a pause, he headed straight for the front door. “I’m going out,” he said without looking at Sarah. “There are some things I need to check into.”
“Whatever,” Sarah replied, in an off-handed tone. To her way of thinking, the morning’s events all made for entirely too much angst before breakfast.
Once the door slammed behind Lynch, Sarah closed the magazine and let it drop to the floor. She peeled herself off the sofa with a languid air and a knowing smile.
“You’re just in a mood because you know she’s right,”
Sarah said to the space her absent mentor left behind. “Otherwise, you never would’ve let her leave.”
Sarah headed for the gym. She still had a workout to finish.
CHAPTER 5
At precisely five minutes past nine, J. B. Heffler looked at his vague reflection in the frosted glass of his office door, and ran a hand through his thick, gray hair. Ever since “the MBAs took over” (as he put it) back in the 1980s, his work day had started at nine o’clock sharp. So he made it a point to arrive exactly five minutes
“So, here—I’ll write down my schedule and all the places where I’ll be. That way, if anything does break, you can track me down, and I’ll come straight home. I promise. But meanwhile, during the time that I’d just be sitting around waiting anyhow, I can go ahead and make it to my interviews. Okay?”
Lynch didn’t say any tiling. Kat decided to take the lack of protest as grudging agreement.
She finished writing, and gave the paper a quick pat before heading for the door. “There!” she said. “Now, I really do need to run. Wish me luck, guys!” She gave them a quick wave. Then, she was gone, the door slamming closed behind her. Of course, in her haste, Kat’s super-strong slam made the entire wall shake and broke the lock again. But that wasn’t really at the top of anyone’s mind right now.
Lynch stood there, just watching the door. After a moment, he turned and stormed off into the other room.
Finally alone, Sarah opened her eyes, and picked up the small towel that lay at her feet. Neither Kat nor Lynch had sought to bring her into the argument, and that suited her just fine. She used the towel to wipe down her face and neck, draped it over her shoulders, and stretched out to melt into the comfortable sofa.
Once she was settled in, Sarah reached down to the floor and picked up one of the dozens of pornographic magazines that Bobby had strewn around the apartment as “surprises” to tempt Grunge when he woke up. She flipped idly through pages upon pages of naked women who were bending themselves at awkward angles across motorcycles and pool tables.
At another time, Sarah would probably be mortally offended at this exploitation of women. But in the quiet, and with her body feeling so relaxed, she just couldn’t muster up the energy. Instead, as she scanned the pictures, Sarah contented herself with noting the fact that she just didn’t get it. Oh, the women were attractive enough, and Sarah shared the guys’ interest in such things. But there was no ... subtlety here, no romance. Were men really that obvious?
She thought of Grunge. I guess that answers that, she thought with a smile.
Since the photos didn’t hold her interest, Sarah decided to amuse herself by reading the captions instead:
“A devotee of classical music, we asked Bambi whether she saw Amadeus. ‘Anthony Schaeffer is a jerk!' says the tawny eighteen-year-old. 'Mozart wasn’t some cheap vulgarian. He was one of the greatest musical geniuses of the ages!' ”
The caption accompanied a photo of the “tawny eighteen-year-old devotee of classical music” spread-eagled across a baby grand piano, her hair cascading across the keys.
Lynch came storming back into the room, carrying his coat and looking determined. Without so much as a pause, he headed straight for the front door. “I’m going out,” he said without looking at Sarah. “There are some things I need to check into.”
“Whatever,” Sarah replied, in an off-handed tone. To her way of thinking, the morning’s events all made for entirely too much angst before breakfast.
Once the door slammed behind Lynch, Sarah closed the magazine and let it drop to the floor. She peeled herself off the sofa with a languid air and a knowing smile.
“You’re just in a mood because you know she’s right,”
Sarah said to the space her absent mentor left behind. “Otherwise, you never would’ve let her leave.”
Sarah headed for the gym. She still had a workout to finish.
CHAPTER 5
At precisely five minutes past nine, J. B. Heffler looked at his vague reflection in the frosted glass of his office door, and ran a hand through his thick, gray hair. Ever since “the MBAs took over” (as he put it) back in the 1980s, his work day had started at nine o’clock sharp. So he made it a point to arrive exactly five minutes
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