Third Time’s The Charm

A Letter from Mickey Downey, Part Four.

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The following is a letter referenced in Third Time’s The Charm;

Beneath the tray was a bundle of letters, no envelopes, about an inch thick. Mary’s hands trembled and she quickly rubbed them against her pant legs to remove her sweat. She sent a brief nervous glance at the doorway and lifted the first letter up.

~~~

My dearest Mary,

I would say first, that I love you, except mostly these days I despise you the way a man can hate only that which he once loved more than life. I take joy in that, actually, because today I realized I still have a heart. How could I still hate you this much if I didn’t? The truth is I hate you because I still love you and I would give anything if I could stop. You wanted me in prison for my crimes once, well this is a worse punishment by far. I hope you are happy, wherever you are. No, I hope you are empty. Empty like I am. I hope you ache the way I do. For everything we could have had together.

I decided to stop writing you today. It’s not fair to my children. I held my new son in my arms last night and I made a promise to myself. I will not rest until I find you. It was better to let you run and hide when Big Joe was in charge, but now I’m the man in charge and I will find my son and bring him home to his sister and brother. But until then, I have to stop holding on to the past. I thought writing these letters would help. I know now, nothing will help but to see you in front of me instead of in my memories. I’m only left to wonder, which will win out when I see you again? The love, or the hate?

Until We Meet Again,

Mickey.

Read the rest of the letters here: Letters From Mickey Downey

#TantalizingTuesday: An Excerpt From Third Time’s The Charm |#ASMSG|

Here is an excerpt from the forthcoming Third Time’s The Charm (subject to final editing, etc)

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“Would you like some, Mary girl?” he asked with an eyebrow wiggle, a devilish smirk, and a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Michael!” She worried the sternness of her tone was contradicted by the weak nervous laughter that bubbled around it.

“Is that all you can say?” he asked. He took a lighter out of the pencil drawer and lit the pipe. He got up and started walking over to her.

“Michael, what if Tommy or James found that and—oh!” Mary let out when he yanked her by the hand back towards the chair.

He scooped her up and plopped her on his lap as he sat, pipe still in his mouth. She laughed out right this time and cupped his scratchy face in her hands. Fifty-six years old and still spry as a randy old goat, Mary thought fondly. She kissed him on his forehead and he swiveled the chair back and forth, holding her close.

“What on earth has gotten into you lately?” she voiced the question everyone had been asking themselves. “You’re a thousand different moods in one body these days.”

She smoothed the front of his track suit. She far preferred him in his suit and tie—what woman wouldn’t?—but he still looked amazingly fit. Tired…worried…but fit. She looked up into his face again. He was watching her closely but still said nothing. He reached up and took the pipe out of his mouth and smiled a slow contented sort of smile. The smoke whispered around them both. She wrinkled her nose at the herby musty scent. It wasn’t sweet like the tobacco.

“Michael, smoking something illegal to take the edge off quitting something that is legal is probably not a better move,” Mary said, but she smiled as she said it. They both knew she didn’t really care. On the spectrum of laws Mickey Downey had broken over the years, this was pretty low on the totem pole.

“And I’m pretty sure they work the opposite anyway,” she continued. Mary hoped that was a little bit stern. It sounded weak to her ears.

“Or do they?” she wondered out loud. Way to be indecisive, you ninny, she thought.

He stuck the pipe back in his mouth with a chuckle and his free hand played in her russet curls.

“Why don’t you wear your hair long anymore?” Michael finally responded.

“Mmnn, I don’t know,” she said as his large palm teased at her neck.

It made goose bumps rise on her flesh and a shivery feeling snake through her stomach. She sighed and leaned into him. It was an amazingly domestic and normal feeling, sitting on his lap. As if all those years apart had never happened. She wanted to get lost in the moment, at least until his mood shifted again.

His head nuzzled hers. “I haven’t been entirely truthful with you,” he said, so softly she felt it more than heard it. She smiled weakly.

“And this should surprise me?” she answered. She could feel his silent chuckles underneath her bottom.

“Why did you come?” he asked. She shook her head at the rapid topic change again.

“Do you want me to leave?” she parried with another question.

“Mmmn,” he hummed and scooted her closer to him. His pipe was in his hand and his mouth moved to her forehead. He kissed it gingerly and haphazardly, as if he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “How long can you stay with us this time?”

“Can and will are two different words. Are you asking if I’ll stay?”

“Ahh, was I? Seems the second question would be superfluous with an answer to the first.”

“And which was the first, why I came, or what might make me stay?”

“Would your answer change if you knew my mother was going to be staying with us for the weekend?”

“I suppose that depends. Who is ‘us’?”

His deep chuckles moved her whole body and he pressed his lips against her forehead in one long kiss.

“We could do this all night,” he finally said against her skin. “It was always one of my favorite things.”

She smiled. Talk about falling into old patterns… she thought to herself. Maybe Kiki was right, maybe she needed to make the first move.

“I recall your favorite thing to do required no clothes. Maybe—” she squeaked as he squished her in another bone crushing hug. He dropped the pipe on the table and she had the vague thought of chastising him for potentially starting a fire a nanosecond before his hand bunched in her hair and his mouth was on hers.

Ahh, how he kissed. It was like nothing else. He put everything in him into those kisses. The same energy he had put into becoming a billionaire, into rising through the ranks of the mob, into raising his children. Her tongue furiously dueled with his and her arms made their way to his neck. She moved to try and straddle him but his arm was in a vice grip around her and his hand in her hair showed no give. Her lips began to hurt under the onslaught of his, but she made no moves to stop him. Her insides felt like they were melting and her only cognizant thought was marked amazement that he could still make her feel such overwhelming passion.

She panted against his mouth as he let her loose just enough to hiss against her mouth,

“Believe it or not, the thing I loved most was your mind,” he said. “Just sitting with you and our boy and talking.” His hand still held her hair, though not painfully.

Her eyes searched his for answers to this mood shift. They were glimmering with hunger and frustration. Why was he upset again? She thought hazily. One minute they were talking, the next kissing, and now he was moody again. He closed his eyes and kissed her one more time, just a regular, ordinary and gentle kiss. Then he slowly moved her off his lap. She stood up shakily.

“I don’t think I can do this,” Michael said.

–Copyright 2013, Genevieve Dewey. All Rights Reserved.

A Letter from Mickey Downey, Part 3.

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The following is a (partially coded) letter sent shortly before this event referenced in Second of All;

Maeve had turned in the doorway, still ignoring Mary, and said to a sticky faced Tommy, ‘until we meet again, grandson’. When Mary asked Michael about it later he had said that he simply wanted his mother to meet them ‘just in case’. All further prying was met with stony silence until finally, ‘Family’s family, Mary girl. You never know when you might need them.’ And subject closed.

~~~

Dear Ma,

Dublin? I’m to believe you spent a week in Dublin just for grins and giggles? Pull the other one. I say this with love in my heart but what’s a woman of your age thinking? I seem to recall you once saying you’d eat gruel and potatoes for a month before you’d ever spend more than a passing moment there. If you’re needing something to do you might consider visiting your children. Has Rosa told you she’ll be working uptown after she graduates? That’s two of your children situated fine, in case you’re counting. Not that I’m fishing for compliments, I’d never bother to be so modest. Ha!

Truth be told, I wouldn’t mind another visit if you’ve a yen to hop the pond. Recently I’ve been listening to some songs that have me a wee down in the mouth. Makes me think of the bonds of family and days gone buy. Speaking of, I’ve a project I’d like to show you. It’s my best creation yet and near to my heart. It would bring me great pleasure to know you’d seen it. And though I know you hate morbid talk, I would be comforted knowing it had a safe home should mine crumble. After all, the weather in New York is as capricious as ever.

As for those cigars you saw on Arthur, I’ve purchased three; one for your next visit, one for a rainy day, and the other for posterity. For myself, I prefer the Cubans. And, yes, I do believe you are correct, too much Italian food does give one heartburn. Next time I’ll wash it down with some whisky.

All My Love,

Mickey.

A Letter from Mickey Downey, Part Two.

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The following is a letter referenced in First, I Love You;

“Does he like to play Princesses?” Kiki asked. Daddy didn’t answer, just chuckled as he picked up his pen and wrote:

‘Dear Tommy, First, I love you. I hope you enjoyed the present I sent—’

“Daddy, guess what! I read the word love!” Kiki said, proud of herself.

“Very good, sweetheart, very good,” he seemed to choke out the words like something was stuck in his throat. Then he kissed her head and continued to write.

~~~

Dear Tommy,

First, I love you. I hope you enjoyed the present I sent–I’m not sure what a boy your age is ‘in to’ these days but I gathered from your Transformer PJs that you might like those. If you already have this car, let me know, and I will get you one you don’t. And, of course, Happy Birthday! Turning ten is a pretty big deal, it’s not every day a young man busts into the double digits! Do you remember how much you liked playing cars in the living room? We must have lost a few dozen Matchbox cars down that large vent. When you were just a wee tyke you refused to walk over it and you would stand there, stubborn as a mule, until your mother would lift you over. If I was there you would insist I do it because I always remembered to make the airplane sounds. Mothers sometimes don’t understand the importance of these things. Speaking of your mother, I am not sure if she told you that you have a little sister, she’s 5 1/2 and about to attend Kindergarten. Her name is Katherine but we call her Kiki. I’ve included a picture, she’s eager to meet you. You’ll have to indulge her if she asks you to play Princesses, little girls are sometimes pushy like that. But I promise to take you out for an extra large ice cream afterward! And never fear, you also have a brand new brother, he was born just this last May and his name is Giovanni, but we call him Joe. He reminds me a lot of you as a baby. You were always such a good baby, hardly ever cried. Kiki cried all the time but is now quiet as a bug in a rug. And it seems like you will be the only one of my children to have the Downey green eyes. Ah well, who can predict these things?

I’m sure this is a lot to take in, so I will end my letter here and say once again that I love you and I miss you. I don’t know what it is your mother may have told you, but I want you to know you can call me whenever you like, or write if you are so inclined. I meant what I said last week that I will always be here for you no matter what, day or night, whatever you need. And you don’t need to worry, I will not make you move, I gave you my word. You can ask your mother, I always keep my promises.

Your loving father,

Mickey.

PS–I’ve also included my business card which has my personal lines written on the back. You may call any of the numbers, everyone has instructions to put your call through to me at once.

A Letter from Mickey Downey, Part 1.

I thought I might occasionally share with you some of the letters Mickey Downey wrote to his loved ones. The title of the first book in The Downey Trilogy, “First, I Love You”, comes from the letters Mickey wrote to Tommy as a child. Mickey’s letters (not just the ones to Tommy) are a recurring theme in the trilogy, although the reader rarely gets to see one. I hope you will enjoy getting to read one!

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The following is a letter referenced in Second of All; “It was a particularly good one, one Tommy had read several times (though he would go to his grave before he would admit that to anyone).In it, his father dispensed with the usual ‘here’s what your sister and brother are up to’ and spent the letter reminiscing about living with Tommy and Mary in Brooklyn.”

Dear Tommy,

First, I love you and I hope you are well!

A little birdie told me your hockey team didn’t make it to the finals. I am sorry to hear this and I know it is not from any lack on your part. You are quite talented, I am sure. Defeats are a part of life’s lessons for us I am afraid. Sadly they only get harsher as life moves on. But it is how you handle these disappointments that makes the mettle of a man. But I have no worries there, even as a young child you always brushed off disappointments with only a minimal fuss. A trait you get from your mother, no doubt, as it couldn’t have been easy raising you alone but she never complained. Even in the end shortly before she left, for as many arguments as we had she still was as loving and patient as ever. Every day I was able to spend with you, she always had a smile on her face and no matter the struggles she had, she could always find a way to spin a positive out of it. I remember one time when you were only about 2 years old, she had been ill all week with the Flu and had lost her waitressing job from the missed work. I brought her roses and the rent for the remainder of the year expecting to have to comfort her. But you know what she did? She smiled wide, handed you to me, and said, ‘I’m only sad I can’t smell these roses.’ I fed you dinner (spaghetti-os were your favorite) and I even got to give you your bath, something your mother usually did herself as I apparently made too much of a mess playing battleship with you. It was my habit each night I got to spend with you to rock you to sleep telling you stories your great grandfather, Seamus O’Malley, had passed on to me. Now, there is a man whose veins run with pure steel–he never met a disappointment he couldn’t turn into a blessing! He is a full 45 years older than I, yet he can still run circles around me in a spirited argument and still carves every day. If I possess even half of his vigor at his age I will truly be blessed. Anyway, this story was one of your favorites, or I should say, sent you to sleep the fastest, which in retrospect might be saying the opposite. You’ll have to tell me which case it is upon hearing it at an older age: 

Finnegan had been a hard working man, if the work you were speaking about was finding ways to do the least amount of work to gain the most. One of his favorite things to do was trick people in to buying his tales of magical healing wells. Now back then people had heard of Brigid’s Well but few knew where to find it. Finnegan would spin a yarn about how he had thrice been cured by it himself and he knew the secret path to get there. They would pay him in food and shelter and other such comforts to show them where the well existed. But wily Finnegan would lead them around in circles until they were good and dizzy then leave them off at the nearest spring he could find. By the time they discovered the water was just ordinary water, he would be long gone. One night he was sleeping in a barn and a Wee One appeared before him.

“Finnegan,” she said. “It just so happens there is such a well in Kildare as to make a sick man healed. Would you like to know how to find it?”

“Oh, yes, very much,” Finnegan replied, thanking his good fortune, but suspicious of it just the same. “What is it you would want in exchange?”

“You must agree never to trick others again. And, I must warn you, you can only drink the water if you truly seek healing.”

“Of course,” Finnegan agreed, while crossing his finger behind him.

The Wee One told him the well’s location and Finnegan began searching for it, out of curiosity and avarice. But every time he would get near where the well was supposed to be, he would find he was right back where he had started. But he would always begin again thinking this would be the time he would find it. He began to waste away from obsession and lack of food. One day as he was resting on a low wall along came a fair maiden. She gave him some warm bread and he told her of his quest. He figured he had been tricked by the Wee One just as he had tricked others because even now, when he was truly sick, he still could not find the water.

“You poor dear,” the girl said. “I’m afraid Morrigan left out the most important part. You must truly want to get well to find the water in the first place.”

“What foolishness is this?” Finnegan asked. “Of course I want to get well!” And he did, for she was quite beautiful and he could see himself raising goats and children with her as a good and honest man.

“Then drink,” Brigid said and waved her hand. Behind her apace was a small circle of stones with a bucket suspended atop. He drank the cool, mossy water and suddenly felt no desire to wander anymore.

He settled down and made a good life with her. But one day his past came to haunt him as these things tend to do. One of the people he had tricked in the past came seeking justice. When Finnegan offered to let him drink from their well, the man thought he was being tricked yet again and absconded with Finnegan’s bride. Enraged, Finnegan armed himself and his children and swore vengeance upon the man and all who would aid him, vowing he would not stop until he was reunited with his fair love. But he did not know Brigid had sacrificed herself rather than be used by his enemies. So, endlessly he searched, killing all those who dared try and stop him. After each battle, those who would come to claim the bodies of their kin would swear Brigid’s ghost would wander about the dead, crying for their souls, and singing: ‘Until we meet again, my love, until we meet again’.

Then one day, wearied unto his soul from his searching, Finnegan laid down his weapons and gathered his children and grandchildren near and said, ‘enough’ and breathed his last breath, thus finally being reunited with his eternal bride. But his children did not weep, for there is nothing so perfect as a thing with no ending and no beginning, such as a family of souls intertwined.

My dear boy, I think of this story often when I think of you and your mother, not just because it reminds me of when we were together, but because it gives me comfort knowing that eventually, we will be a family again.

Your loving father,

Mickey.

Listen to me blather on You to the Tube | #ASMSG #BYNR |

Some of you ( most of you?) know that I have a YouTube Channel. It’s the Official Genevieve Dewey YouTube Channel, you know, in case I get outrageously famous someday. Anyway, in addition to the Music Playlists I have created for the Downey Trilogy I have done two author readings. Today I uploaded the Radio Interview I did on KLIN last Thursday for those of you who missed it. (Yes, I babble in person just as much as I babble when I blog, haha!) If you guys want YouTube to notify you when I upload new things (like readings/interviews/book trailers/additional music videos on the playlists) then hit that “Subscribe” button! I sure would appreciate it! 🙂 You know what else would be cool? If you’d leave a comment or two over there from time to time on what you liked, want more of, etc…

 

Third Time’s The Charm (Downey #3)

Did you know that you can read the entire prologue to Third Time’s The Charm right here on my website? Yep! Right there in the static page tabs above. I’ve included it as a link here for those of you I know like to stay unspoiled!

Third Time’s The Charm.

Expected release date sometime in October.

(Fingers and toes crossed.)

 

In other news, I will be on Jack and Dave’s morning Radio show this Thursday the 18th around 8:40am CST on KLIN 1400/ 94.5 FM out of Lincoln, NE. You can find them online here: http://www.klin.com/pages/7699995.php and you can listen online to KLIN here: http://player.streamtheworld.com/liveplayer.php?callsign=KLINAM#Main

Pssst…Dom & Kate fans…

Did you know that Kyle Anderson from The Bird Day Battalion  and The V-Day Aversion is briefly mentioned at the end of First, I Love You and shows up again at the end of Second of All?

Yep! Poor, long-suffering Officer Anderson–oh alright, cheeky, laid-back Officer Anderson–has been helping his old friend and former partner Detective Tommy Gates while he was away from the Omaha Police Department.

And as you know, Kyle’s mom Bridgette mentions that Kate once went on a date with Tommy in Bird Day, which is set just a few months before Tommy heads to Chicago for the human trafficking joint task force.

What you may not know is Claire Underwood from First, I Love You–Agent Jack Underwood’s wife and Mary Gates’ best friend–is an Anderson by birth. Her brother, Tom Anderson, is Kyle and Katelyn Anderson’s father. So, if you’ve read the Tommy Flashback, when Kyle Anderson refers to his Aunt Claire she is literally his Aunt, versus the fictive use of the moniker by Tommy. Despite their instant rapport, Tommy and Kyle only rarely saw each other growing up but quickly re-connected when they discovered they would be in the same training class at the Police Academy.

Whew!

All that aside, the reason I drug you all in here is to give you a sneak peek at the next Dom & Kate short story! This is partly the same teaser I put up on Facebook a week or so ago…only with a little more meat and potatoes added, as we say here in Nebraska.

🙂

(Remember the final version will be subject to editing and proofreading and editing, etc etc, of course!)

 —–

 

“Kate?”

“Mmmn.”

“Kaaaatelyn.”

“Mmmn.”

“Yo, Skate!”

Katelyn set her pencil down on the spreadsheet she was double checking—old school style—and took a deep breath.

“Yo?” she replied and finally raised her head. What part of ‘I’m working’ was he not grasping? “Are you Rocky now, Dom? Is this another role play thing?”

Dominic grabbed the back of her chair and rolled it away from the desk.

“Hey! I can’t—I’m almost done—at least let me save my work.”

“It’ll keep.”

“No, it won’t! What if the power goes out or something? I’ll lose all the stratigraphy data I just input.”

Dom reached up and scratched his head, scrunching his eyebrows.

“Are the dead things still going to be dead? Yes. Still buried in dirt? Yes. Are we going to be dead and buried in dirt if we don’t leave now for the engagement party my mother is throwing? Yes.”

Dom grabbed her hands and yanked her out of the chair. Katelyn glared at him.

“I don’t excavate ‘dead things’. Pottery is made of clay, sometimes—”

“Let’s goooo,” Dom drawled. When she started to pull him back towards the computer he looped an arm around her middle and hitched her over his shoulder.

“Oh. Em. Gee. You did not seriously just do that!” She pummeled his butt while he laughed and carried her down the hall.

“Oh, em, gee, I can’t believe a twenty-eight year old woman just said ‘Oh. Em. Gee.’ And please, babe, I’ve known you since infancy. You’ve backed that file up in at least three places and obsessively after each entry.”

She blew the hair out of her face and glared at him after he set her down by the front door. He grinned unrepentantly and handed her purse to her.

“Besides,” he continued, only slightly breathless. “Speaking of role playing… Didn’t you just say the other night you like the ‘caveman thing’?”

Katelyn flushed magenta. “Not when the caveman’s dragging me next door to his mother’s. I usually like to ignore the fact she lives next to me.”

“Well, I usually like to ignore the fact my fiancée lives a town away instead of moving in with me like she promised,” he replied as they walked across the freshly cut lawn.

“A suburb away, technically speaking,” Kate muttered.

“What’s that? Something about a Swingline stapler, Milton?” Dom asked, turning around and walking backwards. He smirked and waggled his eyebrows.

He’s damn lucky he’s so sexy, Kate thought.

“If you trip over a hose and land on your ass, don’t expect sympathy from me,” she said playfully. “Don’t worry, we all know your mommy will kiss it and make it all better.”

“Oh, burn!” Kandace shouted, leaning off the rail on Ramona’s porch. Her husband Steve chuckled and pulled her towards the door.

The smug smirk disappeared from Dom’s face and he froze mid-gait, wrinkling his nose. Katelyn grinned and smacked him on his firm rear as she walked past him. Her sense of victory was short lived, though, because not only was every member of both their families crammed into Ramona’s tiny living room—and looking quite sour about it—but judging from the mischievous gleam in Dom’s eyes as he sat down, he’d be paying her back… intimately… and soon.

“I would just like to start the festivities by getting the most important thing out of the way,” Kandace said as soon as everyone had sat down. Ramona looked affronted. It was rather sassy to upstage the hostess, Katelyn thought.

“And that is to say…” Kandace continued, pivoting in her seat to look Katelyn in the eyes. “I told you so. And you’re welcome. No really, there’s no need to name your first child after me. Just knowing I am his or her distinctly cooler Aunt will be enough payment.” She leaned back against Steve’s chest, crossed her legs on the coffee table, and smirked. Steve grimaced and checked his watch. Three-fourths of the room sent their eyes to the ceiling.

Dom nodded at her with a faux-smile and a falsetto ‘aww’. He flicked a baby carrot at her.

“Stay classy, Kandy.”

Kandace raised her middle finger.

“Quit it, you two!” Ramona and Bridgette said in unison. There was a beat of silence then both Kandace and Dom laughed.

Katelyn leaned forward in her chair and pushed Kandace’s feet off the table.

“Mrs. Valentini—Ramona—I appreciate you having us, but obviously, we’ve all known each other for many years so there’s no need for the ritualized meeting of the families prior to nuptials—”

“What she means to say, Mom, is we’re glad to be here, thanks.”

Ramona’s confused and glazed expression cleared up and she beamed adoringly at her only son.

“Wonderful!” Ramona clapped her hands together once. “I thought we could discuss how each of us can have a part in the wedding. Everyone here is delighted you two kids have finally decided to tie the knot.”

Katelyn looked around the room and ‘delighted’ wasn’t the adjective she’d use to describe the occupants. ‘Bored’ and ‘indifferent’ were more accurate descriptors with a heaping scoop of ‘smug’ from Kandace.

“Mom, actually we—” Dom began to say but Kellie interrupted.

“I’m quite certain I’ve faxed over the information on the venue to you. I’ve managed to reserve Dundee Bar and Grill for the rehearsal supper—”

“Oh, nonsense, it’s so small and such a run-down area,” Ramona said.

“Actually, no, it’s not. And it’s quite a trendy area for weddings these days,” Kellie argued.

“You know, we don’t need—” Dom began again.

“And easier for the out of town guests to see the sights of Omaha,” she continued over him.

“That may be, but it’s nowhere near where any of us live!” Ramona waved a piece of celery at Kellie.

“The point being, it’s close to the park where Kate and Dom will have the ceremony,” Kellie gritted out while glaring at the drooping celery stalk. Kellie’s voice was beginning to get that brittle and pert tone that everyone in the Anderson family knew signaled her digging in her heels.

“Kellie, while I appreciate you—” Katelyn started to placate but Ramona plowed over her.

“I see no reason why they can’t get married at Mahoney Park. It’s much closer. No need to hassle with downtown traffic. Am I right, Bridgette? Right?” Ramona asked Kate’s mother in an equally brittle, slightly hysterical tone.

Bridgette merely puckered her lips while slathering peanut butter in an agitated manner on the poor, battered celery.

“Pick your evil, I guess. Deal with tourists or deal with the Dundee DINKs,” Kandace drawled, placing her feet back on the coffee table.

“Watch your language, Kandace Marie!” Bridgette said and pushed Kandace’s feet back off.

Kyle snorted. “It means dual-income, no kids, Mom,” he said without looking up from his phone. “And can we wrap this up please?” He was still in his Police uniform and unsubtly standing right next to the front door.

Dominic’s sister Demetria laughed softly and somehow it captured everyone’s attention. Katelyn could never figure out how she did it. It was a sort of breathy, tinkling ‘ha-ha-ha’ that resonated on a different existential plane. Like the dog-whistle of laughs. She was perched in a zen-like position on an ottoman at the edge of the dining room, forcing most of the occupants of the living room to crane their necks to look at her.

“Forgive my interruption,” Demi breathed—because she never spoke like a normal person—she imparted wisdom…breathlessly. “Has anyone enquired what Dominic and Katelyn would like to do?”

—

Copyright 2013, Genevieve Dewey, All Rights Reserved

Read an EXCLUSIVE never-before-seen Mickey and Mary Flashback! #ASMSG |

So I have been having a BLAST this week on the Blog Tour hosted by Literati Literature Lovers! How about you? Rosette asked me if I might write her a little bit of Retro Mickey & Mary and I tried really hard to keep it small. WHY?!?! I hear you asking. Well, don’t forget, Third Time’s The Charm is coming…and what not… Those of you who have finished Second of All may doubt this right now, but I love me some Happy Ever After, especially for so-called Star Crossed Lovers like Mary & Mickey.

Anyhooooo, let’s go back to the beginning shall we? Here is the flashback which Rosette named

Mickey Downey and his Mistress, the love of his life..

…quite a bit more swoon-worthy than my original title, which was non-existent. I think it’s quite possible I need more sleep.

Haha!

Have a great Friday!

Edited to add… you know, I wrote this and made the shoes Louboutin (because they are my faves) without remembering that the first time one could in reality get Loubis was 1991, and this flashback was set 1986. Ah well. *shrug* It was also extremely unlikely an Irish gangster would have made it as high as Mickey did in La Cosa Nostra, and I knew that going in writing this series and I did it anyway, so, yeah, just go with it. Haha! PS-I Love you guys.

Downey Trilogy Playlists

Some of you may have heard, I made a YouTube Page where I can log the songs that I’ve enjoyed listening to while I write or that remind me of certain characters. If I get a book trailer made it will be there too. 🙂 Here are the Playlists so far:

My First, I Love You Playlist:

 

 

My Second of All Playlist:

 

 

 

My Third Time’s The Charm Playlist (so far…):