Cherry Blossom Girls by Harmon Cooper

Author:Harmon Cooper [Cooper, Harmon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Harem, SciFi, Contemporary
ISBN: 9781986583718
Google: lr4BtQEACAAJ
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Published: 2018-03-16T23:50:37+00:00

Chapter Fifteen: A Hand in the Shower

Kudos to the waiter for showing up drunk and transferring his drunkenness to Veronique. With both women out – Veronique on the king-sized bed in one room and Grace on the queen-sized bed in the other – I was finally able to focus a little more on my writing.

Of course, it took me all of twenty minutes to calm down and parse through what had happened in the restaurant.

That was some pretty crazy shit, and I couldn’t get the image out of my head of Veronique and me moving through the pandemonium as screws and bolts and nails and knives zipped all around us in the air.

There was something beautiful about it; something utterly frightening too. This was another side of the superhero story most people didn’t get to experience: what it felt like from a civilian perspective.

So, I was ready for some peace and quiet, and I’d just sat down to write when Veronique stirred.

“What’s wrong with me?” She asked as she sat up. Her stomach grumbled as she looked at me, her face bright red.

It wasn’t so easy to answer her, especially because there was a flattened coat hanger floating in the air before me.

“You poisoned me,” she said, and with the flick of her wrist, the coat hanger shiv began to rotate.

It was aimed at my face, and I knew exactly where it would go if I didn’t tell her what she wanted to hear.

The only problem was, I didn’t really know what she wanted to hear, nor did I know how to explain everything to her in a way she’d readily understand.

Deep breath in, and I started with the basics. “Do you know what drunk is?”

She didn’t nod, but the coat hanger flinched as if to replicate a nod.

“Okay, so you know what drunk is. Good. I mean, bad. Drunk is bad. I think the waiter was drunk,” I said, recalling that his eyes had been glazed over and that he’d stumbled a bit on the way to the kitchen.

“You tried to poison me,” she slurred.

“Veronique, please, please don’t fucking stab me with that goddamn hanger.”

I thought about swiping the hanger out of the air but quickly bottled that thought, knowing all too well that this would end poorly for me.

Instead, I tried reason.

“Where the hell was I supposed to get some poison over the last couple of hours?” I asked her as calmly as possible. “I have no idea how to poison you, nor anyone for that matter. I mean, aside from making you drink bleach or something, which I clearly don’t have the power to do, I’m pretty much clueless when it comes to killing people. Hiding the bodies too. Well, I didn’t do too poorly back at the Home Depot parking lot.”

“Enough talking,” she growled.

“Okay,” I said, clearing my throat. “But I just want to be clear: I don’t even know what’s poisonous, aside from certain snakes, some cleaners, spiders, and, um, mercury. I think mercury is poisonous.

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