Very excited! My new novel, Thawing A.C. Nielsen, is now up and available for "pre-sale" (just $2.99 for Kindle or other ebook format, then price goes up before the holidays) on Kindle here:
http://amzn.to/2bULRD1
Selling like crazy- please go to that link and consider ordering the ebook or at least sharing the info with other book enthusiasts! It's already hitting top 100 various genre lists on Amazon!
Newly posted there-- a 5-star review from one of the top reviewing companies! Until it goes "live for sale" there won't be any customer reviews or samples-- that happens Oct. 18th. There will also be a paperback version up soon. Check it out and please spread the word. I need all the publicity help I can get since I am not giving away my book to a mainstream publishing house!
I am wondering if any of you would consider reviewing the book. It will be released on Amazon/Kindle on October 18th. I need reviews from regular folks posted to amazon on the release day, if possible. You get a FREE pdf, word.doc or .mobi (Kindle ebook file) copy and plenty of time between now and mid-October to read it. Let me know, friends!
The humor continues- jus ta different set of characters! Kate needs to visit a research team in Iceland, and Mike tells her to take someone with-get a little relaxation mixed in--she's too tense.So she decides to take her goofball roommate Ari.
They have a blast on the plane there, and learn somethings about eh female-led country of Iceland AND r The Penis Musuem there (a real place!). ENJOY!
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
February
2014
“Mike, I need to run something past you,” Kate
said. “We really need to pick the brains of those people in Iceland. We’re set
to revive the cryo’d cat soon, hopefully with success. But if we’re going to
have animal after animal come back with prion disease we can’t even consider
reviving your human patients. This is critical. I’ve had some e-mail contact
with them and they seem amenable to helping us. I’d like to do one or two
teleconferences with them, okay?”
“No, actually.”
“Just like that—no?”
Kate said, a little ticked off.
“Pack your bags and go
there. And stop standing in the doorway. Come in and sit down.”
“You said go?”
“Fly. Go. Yes, go to
Iceland. You could use a vacation.”
“It’s not a vacation,
it’s work. Vacation would be Florence or Barcelona. Or a beach somewhere.” Kate
noticed for the first time that Mike had nothing on the walls of his office. He sure could use a decorator, she
mused.
“Iceland would have
beaches galore. It’s an island, Kate.”
“Yeah, right. You know
it’s February, right?”
“I can’t fix the
calendar for you. Anyway, book it and go. They’ll share their research? Do they
speak English?”
“Yes, and yes. I’ll bet
their English is better than half of our population. They say they’re happy to
work with us, help us in any way.”
“Who are you taking?”
“Huh?”
“Who are you taking? I
don’t want you going alone. Take somebody with you.”
“Anybody?”
“Yes, anybody,” Mike
said as he fidgeted with a fresh deck of playing cards Franklin had given him
as a gift. A new copy of Poker for
Dummies sat on the desk.
Hm, a new hobby, apparently, Kate surmised. About
time he gave up on his string of half-read biographies. “Does it have to be
an ExitStrategy employee?” Kate
asked, the wheels turning in her head.
“Why? Is Channing Tatum
available for you?”
“You know who Channing
Tatum is?” Kate asked, her eyebrows furrowing.
“Hey, I go to the
movies. I’m not as senile and out of touch as you assume, young lady.”
“Ha, funny. Well, then, um,
could I take my roommate Aria?”
“Of course. Go. Have
some fun. Recharge your batteries. Spend some time with the brain trust at the institute
between soaking up the sun on Iceland’s white sand beaches. Just don’t fall
into a volcano, okay? They have active volcanoes there, I believe.”
“Wow, thanks, Mike!”
Kate said. She bopped happily back down the hallway to her office. Some travel, R and R, and some research.
Just what I need!
“Road trip? Really? All expenses paid?”
“Yes, Aria. Can you swing
it? What’s going on with the symphony?”
“Not much. About ten
more days of ho-hum and then there’s a two-week break.” Aria got up and
wandered into the kitchen to pop open a bag of BBQ potato chips, then leaned
against the fridge and stuffed her face.
“I need to leave soon,”
Kate said, “can you get a sub on short notice?”
“Yeah, after the next
three or four days, we hop on into an All-Sibelius program. Anybody decent
knows it all with their eyes closed.”
“And they won’t fire you
for putting a sub in on short notice?”
“Nah, I’m too good-looking
to get fired. Not that many hot blonde symphony girls for the horny old rich
male benefactors in the audience to stare at. Haven’t you noticed I’m in a hell
of a lot of the promo shots? I’m whatchoo call it? Photogenic!” Aria
said in her best hillbilly drawl, crossing her eyes and sticking her butt out
as far as she could while stuffing an entire handful of chips into her mouth
all at once.
Kate did a belly laugh.
“Aria, if you ever get sick of playing the violin seriously, I bet you could
get a job in a Branson, Missouri, show. Put on your Daisy Dukes, braid your
hair into pigtails. Draw on some big-ass freckles. Hell, you’d make a fortune
there on some dumb country fiddle show for the senior citizen crowd. Course
they really go there for the buffets. Get on a senior bus, go to Branson and
feed yer pie-hole. I think the shows are just intermissions between the buffet
hogging-out.”
“True. I think Branson’s
got it all: buffets, Elvis impersonators, and Bass Pro. But I’ll never go over
to the dark country music side.” Aria sighed dramatically. “I can’t stop lovin’
classical and mah sweet violin. We’re BFFs.”
“I thought you and I
were BFFs,” Kate protested.
“No, we’re um, um, BCSCFFs.”
“Huh?” Kate cocked her
head sideways, trying to figure out the ridiculously long acronym.
“B-C-S-C-F-Fs. Best
Crazy Sarcastic Chick Friends Forever.”
“Oh, I get it. Natch.
Totes fer sure. Yeah, that’s us!” Kate laughed.
“Wait, so where are we
going? I better clean out my car, right? So road trip where?”
“‘Where we’re going we
don’t need roads!’”
“Right, Doc Brown. Ha,
nice reference. Come on, seriously. Where?”
“Iceland.”
“Excuse, me. What?”
“Iceland. Exotic,
enchanting Iceland. I have to go there to talk to some research people about
issues going on at my company. Mike says I can mix work and play. He thinks I’m
stressed.”
“Iceland?” Aria whined,
slumping her shoulders.
“No, it’s really
interesting. I read a little about it. I can actually spell Reykjavik—I’ve practiced.
They have active volcanoes. It’s pretty awesome in a sparse, cold kinda way.”
“We already have sparse
and cold in the Midwest, Kate. Wait, so do they have men in Iceland?”
“There’s a rumor.”
“Okay, I’m in. I’ll bet
they’re tall and blond like me. I’ll find me an Olaf or a Sven and pop out
tall, blond babies.”
“Hmm, how tall would
those babies be, Aria?”
“You know what I mean.
They’ll grow to be tall—duh. I’ll feed them lots of whale blubber and narwhals.
Can you eat them, do you think?”
“Jesus, Aria, you’re so
weird. Okay, so tell me when for sure you can leave.”
“I have a great sub who
can take over for the Sibelius. She grabs everything she can get. She lives in
Downers Grove, out in the western suburbs. Ever been there?”
“No. Sounds like a bunch
of barbiturate dealers hanging out in the woods, ‘Downers Grove’?”
“It’s a nice town. It’s
where famous New York Met Opera baritone Sherrill Milnes grew up. Also, some
choral music composer was born there—I forget his name. Anyway, I’m sure I can
be free in five days, okay?”
“Okay, I’ll book the
flight. And guess what, Mike’s sending us first class.”
“Sweeeet! Maybe I’ll
give him a kiss when you finally introduce us.”
“Are you up? Hello? Are you alive?” Kate said softly while
tapping on Aria’s bedroom door.
“No, no. Not alive,” Aria
said drowsily.
“Limo is here in ninety
minutes to take us to O’Hare.”
“Umph,” Aria grunted,
trying to shift her kinked-up body around and shake off the cobwebs. “Why did
you make me drink those damn gimlets of yours last night? I’m wasted, Kate.”
“I didn’t make you do
anything. Free will. Heard of it? Anyway, you actually made the last round. You
had me show you how to make ’em. You spilled the Rose’s Lime Juice all over the
counter, remember?”
“I did? Shit, no I don’t
even remember. Okay, I’m getting up. Sort of.”
“Good, I’m making
coffee.”
“All right. Hey, I’m
jumping in the shower first, okay?”
“Yeah. Just don’t
creative in there with the shower wand. I need time in there, too!”
“Shut up,” Aria shot
back.
“Love you, too!” Kate
yelled.
The limo driver did his best to negotiate the midmorning
traffic and dropped Kate and Aria at ORD, terminal five for international
flights. After a quick, uneventful trip through the TSA line, they sank into
some almost-comfortable seats in the waiting area. Two whole hours to kill now
until boarding.
“How long is this
flight?” asked Aria.
“I think about ten
hours. Bless my boss man for the first-class seats, right?”
“Totally. And what’s the
weather again? I forgot what you told me.”
“You forget everything.
Not bad, considering it’s February, like twenty degrees. Not much different
than here.”
“Do you think they have
any ice bars? You know, carved out of solid ice. Serving drinks that freeze
your tongue off?”
“How would I know? Is
that a thing for you now, a special fantasy?”
“Shut up, Kate. I know
there are some in Sweden or Norway. I’ve seen pictures of them. All the
deep-freeze and ice-bar ice should remind you of ExitStrategy. You’ll feel so at home,” Aria teased.
“Hey, why don’t you nap
instead of irritating me?”
“I think I will. Yes,
indeed I will. Good night.” And just like that, Aria stretched her lanky legs
across to another set of seats, crossed her arms, and closed her eyes.
Geez, she can sleep anywhere, just pass out and enter sleep
mode, thought Kate. Lucky! But now without Aria’s distractions, Kate could open the
tour book she had found in the little bookshop in Winnetka. The cover had a
dramatic photo of tundra-fringed sea cliffs and inside was info on both Iceland
and Greenland. She looked through and dog-eared some pages of places they might
want to visit in her downtime. Active volcanoes—that would be wild to see. And
Reykjavik sure seemed like a bustling, busy city. Still, only 350,000 people on
the whole darn island? A small, isolated world. So go do some work, some play.
Talk to the research people a couple times plus have some fun. Time passed
quickly as she flipped through the pages.
“Time to board,” Kate
said as she nudged Aria out of her slumbers. “Hey, wake up, we’re boarding,
Disney Princess!”
“Hey, Kate, while I was
asleep I had a dream you were in Iceland and some bad guy knocked you into an
exploding volcano and you were doing that slo-mo movie ‘noooo’ thing,
windmilling your arms around as you fell away from me.”
“Like a typical scene
from any Michael Bay film?”
“Hey, I like Michael Bay
movies. There’s good Michael Bay movies.”
“Seriously? I hope you’re not referring to Armageddon or The Unborn or something.”
“Shut up. You know what I mean. Anyway, the
falling away slo-mo thing is awesome. It works every time, don’t fucking deny
it!”
“Yeah, um, whatever,
Aria. So I died in your Michael Bay movie?”
“No, I woke up just in
time. I saved you by waking up.”
“Well, God bless us all,
each and every one. Excellent. Okay, let’s board.”
They settled into their
comfy first-class seats and relaxed while all the pathetic peons squeezed into
the back. The flight attendant gave the usual safety drill, oxygen bag speech
and so on. No one paid attention, except Aria, of course.
“Ya know, Miss Kate, if
you gon’ go down in the ocean, that seat cushion ain’t a-gonna save yo’ sweet
li’l soul,” Aria drawled.
“Shh,” Kate admonished,
“don’t go all doomsday on me. Or the others.”
“They pretend like you
could even survive the impact. Ha!” Aria ranted. Overhearing the conversation,
a female passenger off to their right looked over and shot Aria a grin.
“Aria, please don’t make
me sorry I brought you!” Kate grumbled.
The plane taxied for
takeoff and was soon on its way east. Wow,
we’re finally on our way, Kate realized. The ‘fasten seatbelt’ light winked
off and it was time to relax, browse some magazines, and have a nice first-class
section drink.
“Here, Aria, look
through this tour book I bought. I dog-eared a few pages for you to check out.”
Aria thumbed through,
squinting now and then. “Oh, this is cool! Oh wait, so is that. Lots of unusual
stuff to do.”
The fellow passenger who
had grinned at Aria earlier got up from her seat and walked over, kneeling down
gracefully in the aisle next to them, trying not to disturb others. She was
about forty and stunningly beautiful. Tall, blonde, with piercing blue eyes and
striking cheekbones. Kate thought she looked like a Norse goddess.
“Hi. Are you girls on
vacation to Iceland? Do you want some tourism advice?” the woman said in
perfectly fluent English.
“Hi. Well, I’m flying
there for business and pleasure. I’m a biologist. My name is Katherine Pearson,
but you can call me Kate. My oddball friend here is Aria Grumman. She’s a great
violin player when she isn’t frightening people to death on planes.” Aria
nodded guiltily at their new friend.
“Oh, you’ve got
interesting occupations! Glad to meet you. My name is Greta Jónsdóttir. Native
Icelander, but I like the US, too. So you are here to study our wildlife?”
“Oh, actually not at
all, although I’m sure it is fascinating,” Kate said. “I’m a microbiologist—not
macro. I’m here to talk to your amazing research institute about certain types
of rogue protein cells they have been studying. Actually, I’ve discovered that
they’re leading the way on a lot of the research that I need to learn about for
my job.”
“Oh, that’s what we do.
Lead the way. We’re a small country, but with big brains and a big drive for
success. We have to keep moving so we don’t freeze in place, you see. I was just
in Chicago for a conference. Loved the ‘Bean,’ as you call it. Also, the
amazing French Impressionist collection at your Art Institute.”
“We aims to please in
The Windy City, not that we really call it that. That’s kind of a touristy
name,” Aria said.
“Oh, I understand.
Tourists, yes. Sometimes they come to Iceland looking for penguins. Here, let
me see that tour book you’ve been staring at.” Aria handed it over to Greta,
who leafed through for a moment. “Well, first you surely won’t be going to
Greenland, correct? So we can ignore that part of your book. You know,
Greenland is not green and never was. The old Vikings said it was lush and
green to try to lure foolish people to that hunk of ice. You’ve heard the story,
I assume?”
“Yes, I have,” Kate
answered. “I even Snoped it. You see,
I have a coworker who Snopes everything
because he can’t stand it if any of his precious store of trivia isn’t one
hundred percent true.”
“Who are you talking
about?” Aria asked, peering sideways at Kate.
“Miles.”
“Oh, that makes sense.
OCD nerdy kinda dude,” Aria told Greta.
“What is ‘Snoped’? I
don’t know what that is.”
“Snopes-dot-com, it’s a
website that tries to figure out if other sites have their stories right. Or it
checks out urban legend stuff,” Aria explained.
“Hmm, I’ll have to look
at that.” Greta went back to digging through Aria’s tour book. “Aha,” she
exclaimed, “it’s here. Page seventy-five. A must-see and sure to amuse. Go
ahead and read it out loud.” Greta grinned from ear to ear at Kate, tapping at
the page and handing the book over to her.
Kate read, “‘To
experience Icelanders unique sense of humor, visit The Icelandic Phallological Museum,
boasting an impressive collection of animal penises from around the world. And
actually, dear travelers, this is the only penis museum in the world.’” Once
Kate had come across and read the word “penises” out loud, she lowered her
voice the rest of the way and began to giggle. Giggles that would not stop.
Aria giggled, too, and then finally she burst into a shrieking laugh, tears
streaming down her face. Fellow first-class passengers stared disapprovingly at
the three strange women—interlopers into the rarefied world of first class.
Kate finally settled down and hoped that no one had really heard what she had
read aloud. Greta had set her up.
“Go on, continue now.”
Greta tapped at the page in the book and gave Kate an encouraging nudge with
her elbow.
“Argh, okay.” Kate
continued softly, “‘Along with giant dried whale penises and tiny phalluses of
mice and such stored in formaldehyde, you’ll also see a gift shop filled with
whimsical gifts, including lampshades made of scrotum skin. All guaranteed to
amuse adult visitors. Laugavegur 116, 105 Reykjavik. Open daily 10 a.m. to 6 p.m.
Gift store, cash only.’”
“Weird. Why cash only,
Greta?” Kate asked.
“Oh, I think as a
customer you’d want it that way. Do you think you’d want a family member coming
across a charge card summary listing ‘The Penis Museum’?”
“Wait, did you just say
‘member’ and then ‘cumming’?” Aria asked. They all burst into howls of
laughter. Once again, the heads of other, more conservative passengers in first
class swiveled over to glare at the trouble-making troika of women. After a bit
Kate, Aria, and Greta were able to stifle their laughter and continue their
conversation.
“So where are you
staying, Kate?” Greta asked.
“At the Hotel Vendavik. Is
it okay?”
“Oh, it’s wonderful. You’ll
like it. And you’re doing a volcano tour? You have to. It’s really what makes
us so unique for the tourists.”
“Yeah, we are,” Aria
said.
“That’s wonderful.
Here’s my card with my phone. Call me soon and we can get together. Anyway,
here’s something more you might like to know about things in Iceland. We women
run the country, and the bedroom. We’re the most feminist country in the
world.”
“Oh, I like that. I like
that a lot,” Aria said, grinning back and forth from Greta to Kate.
“We often take extra
partners,” Greta explained. “Partners we
choose. Understand—we choose who, the men don’t. Female paradise. The men
acquiesce. It’s part of our history.”
“So who knew? That’s not
in the tour book!” Kate said.
“It just turned out that
way. And our men are not wimps. We love them. The rest of the world is catching
up, but just barely. Pray we can take the Middle East away from the men there.
They’re brutal savages, almost every one, no matter which so-called religion
they claim to be. Listen to me, espousing my beliefs so much. Sorry!” Greta
slowed down to catch her breath. “In Iceland we don’t hate men. We love them
dearly. But when it truly matters, we women insist on ‘wearing the pants,’ as
the English saying goes. So, I’m going to go back to my seat now. You’ve
already made my flight time quite memorable for this trip. Thanks!”
“Of course, Greta,
you’re a dear,” Kate cooed.
After Greta left, Aria
leaned over and deadpanned to Kate, “Hey, do you think they have any scrotum
coin pouches at the museum? Might make a great birthday gift for your mom!”
“Ew, shut up, gross
person!” Kate groaned. “Ew, ew, ewwww!”
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