Two weeks or so ago, we discussed "Show, Don't Tell". I wanted to follow up and see if you had any questions. If you do, please leave it or your comments below. I'll be happy to answer them!
Also, here is my personal conclusion to the story I started! Enjoy. If you want to read the story at the beginning, click HERE.
Emma looked up. The scent of masculine cologne hit her nostrils, and she immediately met the bluest eyes she had ever seen....
"Uh, yes," she stammered. A prickling sensation ran up her spine and she realized she was blushing. Stop acting like a schoolgirl, she scolded herself.
Blue-eyes seated himself opposite her. His grin was warm, almost, well, flattering. "Well, enter your hero of the day. What can I do?"
Emma bit her lip. Something about this guy was too friendly, too confident. Her instincts shot warnings into her mind. Don't accept candy from strangers. Don't talk to strangers...
Wait a minute. She was an adult, not a tot. Those rules didn't apply. Or did they?
"You wouldn't happen to have a laptop charger, would you?" She forced herself to ignore the prickles of warning and speak calmly.
Something like amusement flickered in the face of Blue-Eyes. "Of course. I always carry one for emergencies like these." He wriggled a cord out of the bag at his side and coiled it on the table. Everything was... snake-like.
Emma looked sharply at him. "Thanks." She paused. "Why are you helping me?"
"I told you. I'm your hero of the week." He laughed. "Seriously, though, I just can't stand to see a writer in distress."
Emma blinked. "How did you know I am a writer?"
"Intuition. I get this feeling when I see a writer. You know, warm and kind of acidic, like ink." Blue-Eyes held out his hand. "I'm Kyle."
Warm and acidic? This guy was getting stranger - and friendlier - by the minute. "I'm Emma." Emma barely rushed his hand. OK, hero. Time to hit the road. "You know, I appreciate your help, but my older brother is supposed to meet me here any minute now."
Kyle's eyes flickered. "Older brother? Sweet. But don't worry, I don't mind waiting. Charge your battery."
Emma bit her lip as she plugged her laptop in. This dude was not intimidated by the mention of her older brother. Maybe she should hint he was a black-belt? She could see the headlines now: Writer abducted by Blue-Eyed Assassin. "So what do you do for a living?" she heard herself ask.
"I am an agent."
"Literary agent?" Thoughts spun rampant in Emma's mind.
Kyle smiled. "Is there another kind?"
"Well, I've heard of drama agents."
"True." Kyle sipped his own cup of coffee. Emma peered into the cup. Black. Deep black. Hopefully it wasn't a mirror of his soul. "But, you know, being my kind of agent is pretty fascinating. You always meet new people."
Yes. Emma squirmed. Your point, dude? Oh, why had she always been too polite for her own good? "It does sound fascinating."
Kyle studied her. "Hey, you want anything? A piece of lemon bread, maybe?"
"No. Actually - I'd rather have the money." Emma immediately felt stupid. That remark always worked in the movies. She waited for Kyle to get mad and storm away, leaving her to her peaceful writing.
Instead, his eyes warmed. He actually threw back his head and laughed. "Gotcha. I sympathize, Emma. Writers don't make it big, do they? Royalties, splitting commissions with agents... I have to applaud you for struggling through it."
Emma sunk in her chair. This wasn't working. Kyle was determined to be charming. A cold breeze whistled around her ears as the door opened behind her. She felt a shudder run down her spine. Writer Forced Out of Warm Coffee Shop. The headlines were getting worse.
Kyle leaned closer. "Hey, will you excuse me a moment?"
"Absolutely." Emma fairly gasped the words.
She watched as Kyle strode casually across the shop. The guy who had just entered stood at the counter, apparently perusing the menu. Kyle stood just behind him. Too close. His hand brushed his pocket.
Emma's heart thudded. What was he doing? Hey, what's going on...
"Turn around slowly." Kyle pulled a Glock from beneath his coat with ominous swiftness. His voice was low, dark. His finger touched the trigger, ready. The man obeyed, shock written all over his face. Kyle's gaze narrowed. "I'm Agent Nikolai Thompson. You're under arrest."
The coffee house seemed to shake on its hinges. From the behind the counter, through the door, from the back room, sitting on couches, Secret Service agents sprang to their feet. Ominous clicks sounded through the room as a dozen firearms were aimed at the man.
Swallowing, the man raised his arms. Before Emma's stunned, bewildered eyes, he was handcuffed and led out the door. She put a hand over her heart, feeling it thud straight through her chest. This could only happen to me. Only to me.
Agent Nikolai Thompson aka Kyle paused by her table. "Sorry to break up our little chat, Emma. I enjoyed it."
Emma blinked. "W-What about y-your charger?" How stupid she sounded.
"Keep it, cutie." Nikolai flashed her a grin as he holstered his Glock. He laid a hand on the door, and again Emma felt the cool wind caress her cheeks. "Give you something to remember your literary agent by."
He was gone. The coffee shop lapsed into silence.
Emma laid her head on her laptop. She had gotten absolutely no word count in. But she did have story plots for a lifetime.
OK, folks, my imagination just went rampant there! Hope you enjoyed it. Remember, everything is copyright of Alicia A. Willis. Until next time!
Alicia A. Willis is a home-school graduate, published author, and avid historian. She is a firm believer in the principle that one can accomplish anything by substantial amounts of prayer and coffee. Visit her at her blog to view her historical-fiction novels and all the goings-on between writing!