Create Space

In order to have Heathen hearts made into a "print" book not just an ebook, I have gone to Amazon's Createspace.
Because the story is so long...though riveting the entire length...and because of book construction details, Heathen Hearts will be published in a series starting with Heathen Hearts, Book One: The King's Grave. This will be followed shortly by Heathen Hearts, Book Two; American Dreams and the rest as times allows.

https://www.createspace.com/4951172?ref=1147694&utm_id=6026

An interview with Heathen Hearts author Jack Kunst

Interview with Jack Kunst, the author of the novel, Heathen
Hearts

I understand that this story was not what you had in mind for your first novel.

JK- No, it wasn’t.  I had been working on several ideas, one was a contemporary Fantasy involving
magic but it was not the front runner. I had spent a lot of time researching a
historical novel based on the South African War of 1899-1902 but a very good
author from Calgary beat me to it. Instead I was putting together a “Viking”
story. This involved not the Viking raids on Britain but the Norse exploration
east along the rivers of modern Russia and Ukraine. There is a very active
Viking re-enacting group here in Alberta and I thought it would be fantastic if
a script could come out of the story. Alberta would be ideal for filming a
story with the river journeys of the Norse in mind. I still want to do this.

So what happened?
Where did Heathen Hearts come from?

JK- The basic concept came from a discussion with a friend
on past adventures shared and from that it developed into the idea of alternate
histories. The premise came from the question; if you had the chance to do it
all over again, would you? From there it moved on to the idea of a forgotten
past, that is; what if a year say, or two of your past or your memory was
somehow erased? What if some years were missing? From that sprang the idea of a
character who had misplaced some memories from a crucial time in his life.
Heathen Hearts is based on this premise.

Where did the characters come from? Was it difficult to create Mac or Anja?

JK- Mac was there right off the bat; he just elbowed his way
into my conscience. He said, “My name is Mac Macleod and I want you to write my
story.”  For Anja, I may have been inspired
by a sketch of the Norse goddess Skadi but as soon as I searched “Swedish
female” a photo came up of an early test shoot of a now famous Swedish model. This
was my Anja! At first I didn’t think I’d use the name Anja, but then I kept
finding the name in various goddesses and it just had to stay. I must say here
that the names I used were originally just for me to keep mental track of the
different characters. My wife Eunice was once reading a book with so many
characters that she cut out pictures of various people from catalogs and
magazines and assigned them names from the story. This is how she kept track of
who was who. In the same way I took faces from my memory, familiar friends and
relatives using variations of their names. I had no intention of keeping these
names but the different characters needed to be identified. As it turned out,
most of them grew into those names of convenience and couldn’t be altered.

So were these characters based off actual friends and relatives that you knew?  

JK- Not really. The borrowed names and pictures were just to
get me started. Let’s get this straight, if someone thinks they see a
resemblance to themselves in one of these characters...don’t...because all
these characters are fictional.  The
“actors” if we could call them in this story, walked into the kitchen late at
night and introduced themselves. There was very little manipulation on my part.
Sometimes I set up the situation, but every time they react in their own
individual ways. Many times when Mac would get them into a situation, I would
have no idea how it would be resolved.
I would have to wait on the characters to sort it out and then let me know!

But some of the story takes place in Alberta.  Are these places fictional too?

JK- Nobody would make up a name like Pincher Creek for a
story. I wanted the characters to have some legitimacy. In order to do that, I
felt they had to be interacting with a real landscape. All the locations exist in
some form or another though I will admit that at least one has shifted
locations. At one time, about half way through the writing, I thought that
maybe I should change the names of the locations. If I made everything
fictional, then no one could come down on me for any geographical errors on my
part. Then I thought no, if the reader is interested, they can follow the
action on a map if they wished. There is some changes, some fictionalisation.
For example; there are no ship burials at Gamla Uppsala. Through my research, I
could not locate the “Statue to the Victorious Red Army” in Budapest, though
I’m sure there must have been one.  I
don’t know for sure where the Clark County Courthouse was in 1976 Las Vegas.  In these cases, I will fall back on the fact
that this is a work of fiction. Everything doesn’t have to be historically
accurate. There is a Wayne, Alberta and a Buffalo. There is also a Prospect
Creek which I must admit is a bit of a political/environmental bur under my
saddle. I used that area of the “Coal Branch” not only because I’ve been there,
but because today, and I must say that it was not by any means “pristine” in
1976, but today this piece of wilderness sits on the edge of a huge strip-mine
and you need permission from the company to get in.

When and why did the Norse Gods and Goddesses get involved in this story?

JK- Well, Skadi is in the opening chapter though some might
say, she is a Giantess not so much a Goddess.
The Norns were always amused by Mac’s story but I must admit that I didn’t
know how involved the Norse gods were until much later in the story. With so many
unexplained happenings, there just had to be reasons other than bad luck on
their part. Someone says, and it may have been Anja, that they might never know
the reason why this was happening to them. They could have been bit actors in
someone else’s play. Ever so slowly the pieces of the puzzle came together. In
fact I don’t know where the story would have led if the Norse gods had been
more subtle about their involvement or remained hidden.

The characters professed heathenism; does this explain the sexual content as well?

JK- I think it has more to do with the era in which the
story takes place. The 1970s was a time when young people were pushing the
boundaries of society, sort of recoil... a released spring reaction in response
to the 1950s and 60s. I know there were times when I thought I was writing, “a
bit o’ porn”.  I also realize the
characters were trying to explain or justify their intimate relationship by
playing the heathen card. They also suggest the possibility that a spell or a
hex had been cast on them long before. In my opinion it may have been of all of
the above combined with the closed or tight circumstance of the band. Mac was
bound to get involved with the three women; it was just a question of when and
how. You will notice that he is not always happy about it but more often than
not, he just goes with the flow. Like Gitte says about taking life full in the
face like a puppy with its head out the window of a speeding car.

What would you say to the criticism that the story takes a long time to get going?

JK- In the early stages, the story is just a history if you
will, of those missing years. You have to remember that Mac in particular, but
Deedee, and Gitte don’t know that anything is going on. Whereas Anja knows the
back story to a degree, her desire in life has always been to be ordinary, at
least as long as she is able. The idea is to portray the characters as ordinary
people who slowing realize they are caught up in extraordinary events. By
filling in all these details of their life together we get to understand the
bond that grows between them. We can also see why none of them would bolt and
leave the others in the lurch when things get decidedly...unnatural... In one
scene Mac can’t understand why “good people” believe a word they are saying. He
wonders why they haven’t sent for the people in white coats to come and take
them away. You see that’s part of it. The main characters are not aware of or
not privy to the whole story at first. It comes to them slowly, maybe even
slower than to the reader. Again, it is a story of ordinary people facing and
reacting to a very strange situation.

The story is actually three stories and each takes place in its own time period. Was that hard to
write?

JK- Though the story starts in the present, most of the
information and the plot line revolves around Mac, Anja, Gitte, and Deedee in
the 1970s. It was difficult to remember at first. I had to keep bringing the
reader back to the present to show how the modern Mac was reacting to the
information he was relearning. The story also brings you back to the present in
the final part so that the issues uncovered in the 70s can be resolved.
Originally there were just hints in the form of Mac’s dreams as to what
happened in the distant past to set all this in motion and why the gods were
involved. My proof reader became so fascinated by the earlier characters and
the part of the story around them that she asked for more.

 I thought of putting Torkel Redwolf into a whole new book sort of as a prequel but decided time did
not permit. Thus the Redwolf “saga” actually leads off the story and as I
mentioned, keeps the reader ahead of the main characters as to the wherefore
and the why their story is unfolding as it is. I’m not sure I’m entirely happy
with the way that turned out but it is what it is.

Any plans for a print version of Heathen Hearts?  

JK- Plans yes, I’ve been looking at Amazon’s Create Space.
This is a print on demand option in conjunction with Kindle.  It has been difficult because Heathen Hearts
is a very long story. The book is divided into four parts but these parts,
though natural divisions in the story are not equal. Part two is as long as
part three and four combined. The question is; would the reader buy four or
five books just to get the whole story. Now I have seen some very long books
with 1200 or so pages but number one, they are usually a well known author.
Secondly, books of that many pages, especially paperbacks, tend to rip or break
in half which is one of the technical problems I am facing with trying to get
Heathen Hearts onto the printed page. If I ever get the time to work on a
solution...I’ll let you know what it is.

You were going to give us a reading...a small sample from the book?

JK- Alright...let me think...

They came through the lobby doors, like a band of
outlaws from the old west. Except for the sunglasses and bikini tops, they
looked the part, in their dusty denims and mud spattered cowboy boots. In their
hands, each of them carried a suitcase or a guitar, slung low like
six-shooters. Sunbeams, slanted through the front glass as they passed from
light into shadow and back again. Mac led the way to the check-in and helped
them load up a porter’s cart. Anja picked up an actual key and received
directions. It seemed that there had been another change. The room reserved for
performers at the main floor club had been upgraded. They now would be staying
in a ninth floor suite with two bedrooms, a lounge and a bar. This room was
typically reserved for businesses or corporations, wanting room to entertain or
be entertained, as well as have private sleeping arrangements. Perhaps this was
part of the package.

Mac wondered out loud, if it was a reward from
Malcolm Forsythe for the use of their bodies to sell his magazine. “That way he
doesn’t have to pay us any extra.”

Anja had a hunch that it was more likely Gitte,
using her own money in defiance of her lover, to try and make it up to them. No
sooner had the words left her lips when who should walk in through the front
door.

Gitte took off her own sunglasses as she stepped in
from outside. She must have seen Big Mac in the parking lot or
spotted them coming down The Strip, for now she looked around as if
hoping to see them. The shopping bags over her arms showed that she had been
enjoying her day in Vegas. The joy in her face at seeing them, as they stood
over by the elevators, seemed genuine as well. Mac began to doubt her
complicity in the clandestine photo shoots. Maybe they were wrong and she
really wasn’t in on it. Perhaps it was only that she didn’t know that the
pictures she helped Malcolm get for his magazine were already published. She
looked so happy as she hurried over, so beautiful. Mac felt his resolve weaken.
He wanted to believe her and give her the benefit of the doubt but instead, he
held on to his anger.

Mac was the closest so she came toward him first.
At the last moment he held up both hands, to make her stop. She was confused at
the fire in his eyes and the anger in his face. It held her locked in
mid-stride, as the seconds passed. Hissing, as if to scare off some unwanted
vermin, Mac leaned toward her, “You’re poison!” he said, his voice heavy with
emotion. Then slipping past her, he headed back outside for some fresh air.

Now that Marion was face to face with Gitte, her
anger vanished, replaced with tears. “How could you?” she tried to choke them
back. That was all she could get out, and she too followed Mac out onto the
streets of Vegas.

By now Gitte was distraught, obviously unaware why
this was happening to her or what she had done to warrant such a reception.
Deedee stepped up to Gitte, pulling the magazine out of her bag as she did so.
“Our poor Gitte,” she said with a sad smile on her face. “Yous know it’s one
t’ing when it’s yous and me. It’s not such a big fookin’ deal ta have tha whole
world gawkin’ at our tits. We’re a couple o’ sluts anyway, what’s tha
difference?” Deedee opened the magazine to the full-page spread of Anja and
Mac, on Marion. “But this was a fookin’ dirty trick. Look at their faces, this
ain’t an act for tha fookin’ camera. This is an intimate moment between very
private people. You know them, they are your friends, your family, yous said so
your fookin’ self. Do yous t’ink our Anja and Mac deserved this? Not from their
sister, not from yous.”

Gitte’s face crumpled as she realized what she had
done and what everyone was so upset about. Then Deedee flipped the pages to the
photos of them by the pool.

“If you had asked us, we moight have said no. We
moight have said yes, if there was some negotiations, enough money, an’ we’d a
gotten some control over these pictures of us. But yous didn’t even bother ta
fookin’ ask us. Yous tricked us. Yous told us tha fookin’ cameras were off.
Yous knowingly lied ta your friends… ta your family.”  

Deedee smacked Gitte on the shoulder with the
magazine.

“You led us into a trap,” she smacked her again.
“For your fookin’ boyfriend and his sick mates ta laugh at us while they were
jerkin’ off.”

Deedee smacked her even harder on the other arm.
“Yous lied to us, yous tricked us, yous betrayed us. Yous betrayed us your
friends and family to fookin’ Malcolm Forsythe for what, Miss Brigitte? So that
yous can fookin’ delude yourself inta t’inkin’ that asshole loves yous? Yous
can’t be trusted girl; we...can’t...trust...yous.”

Deedee stuffed the now crumpled and torn magazine
under Gitte’s arm. The elevator door opened at that moment. Deedee pulled the room
key from Anja’s hand and stepped into the elevator. “I hope ta fook this place
has lots of fookin’ hot water. I’m feelin’ real fookin’ dirty for some reason.”
The elevator door closed with Deedee pointing a finger at Gitte.

Gitte stood helplessly in the lobby, tears
streaking her sad face. She let the offending magazine fall to the floor.
People had stopped to look on, as Deedee had scolded her and hit her like a bad
dog. She turned to the only familiar face left. “I...I don’t know what I should
say!”

Anja had wanted to walk out on Gitte like Mac and
the others. She was very angry and upset about being used by her supposed best
friend. Deedee had hit the nail on the head. They may be provocative on stage,
they may flirt and look the part, but it was acting. She and Mac were very
private. They only shared themselves with the ones they loved and trusted.
Gitte had violated that trust and so deserved their rejection.

But this was Gitte and Anja was the forgiving Earth
Goddess. Relenting, she gave a sign and Gitte put down her shopping, fell into
Anja’s open arms and cried on her shoulder.

Anja stroked her hair. “S-h-h, hush now I have
you.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are.”

“Why do I do these stupid things?”

“Love,” Anja whispered into Gitte’s hair. “Love makes
us do all sorts of things, we normally wouldn’t think of doing.” She began to
notice all the faces in the lobby looking on. The staff behind the front desk
looked uncomfortable, with embarrassed expressions.

“Come,” Anja took her friend by the shoulder as the
elevator door opened once more and some people stepped out. “Show me the suite
you got for us.”

Drying her eyes with the back of her hand, Gitte
looked surprised. “How did you know it was me? How do you always know?”

“Who else do we know here who would want to make
things better for us?” Anja pushed the cart while Gitte gathered her shopping
and held the door for her. They both knew that Malcolm would never have helped
them.

Deedee had left the door open, even though Gitte
had her own key. They walked into a bright, well appointed room.

“Well?” Gitte was starting to feel a little better
and tried to smile.

Anja looked around nodding. “It looks...expensive!”

Gitte shrugged, as if to say that the cost didn’t
matter. They could hear the water running and Deedee singing from the shower.
Gitte looked worried in the direction of the bathroom.

“You know Deedee,” Anja was checking out the well
stocked bar, which came with a small fridge for mix. “She’ll be her old self as
soon as she comes out.”

Gitte sat on a bar stool and leaned on her elbows.
“What about Mac and…Marion. I hadn’t realized she’d still be with you. I was
hoping it would just be us again.”

“You’re staying here?” Anja was doubtful at first
but when Gitte nodded, she relented. “I suppose Malcolm can’t be traipsing
around after you, he has a business to run.”

Gitte looked sad again. “He said he’d come out for
a day when he gets a chance.” Anja held out her hand and Gitte rested her face
against it.

“As for Mac…” Anja paused and waited for Gitte to
look up. “You know him as well as any of us. He can’t live without you in his
life. Give him a little time. He won’t stay mad for long. You know how much he
still loves you.”

“Why?” Gitte sighed. “I always thought he wanted me
to find someone else. I thought he wants it to be just you, Anja.” She pointed
toward the other doors in the suite. “See, I have one room for you two and I
thought Deedee and I… the music widows, could share the other.”

“He wants you to be happy, you can count on that,”
Anja poured a little Jack Daniels into a glass, sniffed at it and then shot it
back. She made a pained face and shook her head. “For either of you to be
happy, it means that both of you are going to have to let go. I’m not sure if
you are ready for that.”

“What about Deedee?” Gitte turned over a glass and
motioned for Anja to pour some of the golden liquid in.

“What about Deedee?” Deedee came from the bathroom
wrapped in a towel, drying her sandy red hair with another. “Great shower by
the way!”

Anja and Gitte looked at each other. “She wants to
know...” Anja started but Gitte finished.

“I want to know if you still love Mac.”

Deedee saw the glasses and the open bottle and sat
on the stool next to Gitte. Anja acted the bartender and poured her a glass. “I
wish yous fookin’ wouldn’t ask me that,” she looked at Anja over the edge of
her glass. “Then I wouldn’t have ta lie.”

They sat in silence as Anja refilled the glasses.

“We’re kind of a pathetic lot are we not?” Gitte
shot back her drink and grimaced. “We nod and point accusing fingers at The
Farmor, but I think it is Mac, who has us all bewitched. He has cast a spell on
us and we can’t get out.”

“Oh aye, that’s been in tha back o’ me mind for
some toime. Let’s drink ta us and pathetic lots everywhere!” Deedee raised her
glass and they shot the fresh drinks with the subsequent face pulling. “I don’t
t’ink you’re supposed to shoot Jack Daniels. I t’ink it’s a sippin’ whiskey.”

They all laughed as Anja rolled her eyes. “We
haven’t eaten since breakfast,” she giggled and poured them another round.

“I still t’ink it’s your fookin’ Nanna’s fault,
yous know.” Deedee tipped her glass in Anja’s direction.

“Why, what did Grandma do?”

Deedee squinted at Anja, thinking. “Freja, that’s
her name isn’t it? Tha old Norse Goddess o’ fertility, fookin’ roight? Why did
she put a curse on Gitte, was it just ta get her out o’ tha way?”

“She’d never...”

“Ho, she tried it on me too. I fookin’ kid yous
not, but I laughed at her I did. I says, you ol’ fookin’ witch, I’m fookin’
Irish. Your fookin’ curses don’t work on us. We kicked your fookin’ Viking
asses out o’ Ireland back in 1014, remember Clontarf an’ Brian Boru?” Deedee
chuckled into her Jack Daniels.

 Gitte was smiling again. Even if it was
alcohol induced, it was good to see. “Freja? Is that The Farmor’s
name?”  

“Oh aye, an’ tha’s me point. Why didn’t she make up
tha biggest bed in tha house? Why didn’t she say, Get your fookin’
asses in there an’ make us some Heathen bastards? Why didn’t she say
that instead?”

Deedee and Gitte laughed, holding on to each other
as the whiskey took effect. Pushing their glasses back at Anja, they expected a
refill. To their surprise, Anja stood behind the bar with her full glass in one
hand and the almost empty bottle in the other. She was holding them up on
either side of her forehead with her eyes closed.

“Wha’ tha fook are yous doin’?”

“Farmor!” Anja said. “I’m asking her why she didn’t
just do that.”

Deedee and Gitte looked on, trying to comprehend
what Anja could mean. When she opened her eyes and they saw that mischievous
smile, the two started laughing again. It took a while for them to realize that
Anja hadn’t joined them. She just kept on smiling, the light seeming to emanate
from deep inside those blue eyes.

Deedee stopped herself. “Well, wha’d she say!”

“She said...” Anja lightly bit her lip and looked
sheepishly at them, as if she wasn’t sure if she should tell them. “She said
she was only trying to help, but that you should be careful what you wish for.”
Anja filled each of their glasses then took the last pull from the bottle.

Curious now Gitte leaned forward trying to read
Anja’s expression. “I had a Bagymama…a Grandma who could read fortunes. Was
that all The Farmor said… be careful of what we wish for?”

With a brow furrowed in concentration, Anja
squinted and curled a finger around her chin. “She also said...that there’s
another bottle of Jack in the cupboard, under the bar!” With that
pronouncement, Anja stooped down, opened the cupboard door below the bar and
produced an unopened bottle of Whiskey. Looking up she praised the ceiling.
“Tack, Farmor”.

Gitte noticed that as Anja said this, she pressed
her two Thor’s Hammers between her thumb and finger, making some small
ritualistic movement. She shared a look with Deedee who was also observing this
strange behavior from their friend.

“Anja, stop it. You’re freakink us out.”

 For one more moment Anja kept her poise, then
tipping her head back she started to laugh. Not an insane witch’s laugh but her
friendly one as if to say, I got you!

As she slowly joined in with Anja, Deedee let out
her held breath. “For a minute yous were scarin’ the piss out o’ us, woman.”

When Mac and Marion came to the suite from their
walk in the streets, the women were all laughing and very drunk.

“Mac!” Anja called as if she expected him to come
over and join them. He did not and one by one, they stopped what they were
doing, to turn and look at him. He watched them with thoughts full of mixed
emotions. It was good to hear them laughing, even if it was the booze. He was
taken back to better times when everything was brand new. Like Gitte had once
said: back when they were puppies, hanging out the window of a car, taking life
full in the face.

Looking at Gitte now, Mac knew how easy it would be
to believe everything she said, to trust her implicitly. He couldn’t help
himself. But she had lied and betrayed them. Common sense said she would have
to earn their trust...his trust, all over again.

Mac took Marion by the elbow and steered her to the
bathroom door. Finding her suitcase by the wall, he returned to the bathroom,
holding it out to her. Instead of taking the case, she grabbed his wrist and
pulled him into the room. Then stepping out briefly, Marion located Mac’s bag.
The three girls were statues, watching her carry Mac’s bag back into the
bathroom.

Marion started the water running, then kissing
Mac’s lips several times before getting a response, she began to undress him.
Mac did not stop her. When she had finished and he was naked, she kissed his
chin, neck and chest. She kissed the soft hairs on his belly then began gently,
kissing and breathing his member into life. Now he lifted her to her feet and
face to face they could see the need in each other’s eyes. As his fingers
worked, her clothes fell in a small heap on the bathroom floor. Then Mac picked
her gently up and as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, he slid her down
onto himself. They would use the shower after.

When they finally came out from the bathroom,
washed, scrubbed and in fresh clothing, the suite was empty. Mac checked the
bedrooms but the girls were gone. Marion looked over to the bar where empty
glasses marked the place Anja, Gitte and Deedee had been sitting. She gave a
small shudder as she recalled their inscrutable faces.

“Come on,” Mac said and he took up her bag again,
holding out his hand for her. Marion smiled not quite sure what he meant to do
but trust made her take his hand. 

“Where are we going?” she really had no idea what
Mac had in mind.

In the elevator Mac kissed her eyes, her hair and
held her close. She realized it was probably the most attention he had given
her since that first, well second night. Then it came to her, Mac was sending
her away.

He held the door of Big Mac and
helped her up into the cab. This was also the first time she rode in the front
seat, but of course it was to be her last.

“Why?” Marion asked, as they started down Las Vegas
Drive toward the airport.

Mac searched for the right words. “Because I can’t
save you, I can’t save everyone. I won’t even be able to save myself! I’d like
to give you the attention you need, you deserve, but I’m too...”

“Divided?” Marion was about to make excuses but he
stopped her lips, with his fingertips.

“You deserve better than Mac Macleod, besides...”
Mac maneuvered the big truck through the evening traffic. “This could get ugly;
it could be the end of the band. Write for us about the good times. Record our
happy memories, such as they were.”

At the airport, they stood in front of the
departures board. There were flights to and from Los Angeles practically every
hour.

“There!” Marion pointed. “There’s a flight to
Denver in an hour.”

“Denver?”

Marion looked up at Mac. “I don’t think I could
take going home to an empty apartment, right now. You have filled my days and
my thoughts constantly, for...most of the past month anyway. You and Anja,
Gitte not so much, she is a troubled soul. I certainly will miss Deedee more
than I can say.”

Mac bought the ticket, one way to Denver and they
stood holding each other like lovers, until the last boarding call.

It was late when Mac unlocked the door to the
suite. All the way back up Las Vegas Drive, he ran through scenarios as to what
he would say to Gitte. He wanted to be angry; he wanted to be firm, like in the
hotel lobby that afternoon. Just the thought of her stricken face though, broke
his heart along with his determination.

The suite was as he and Marion had left it. The
three girls had not come back yet. Mac felt his anger rising. Was he the only
one to think it wrong to go out partying with the very one who would sell her
soul… sell their souls, to a devil like Malcolm Forsythe and for what?

He was going to wait up at first. This had to be
settled, explained, whatever! After a while, pacing around the room, Mac
realized how tired he was. His thoughts were befuddled after such a long day.
He would never be able to articulate his concern or his arguments tonight.
Turning off all but a solitary lamp, he carried Anja’s and his bags into one of
the bedrooms. Dropping the suitcases, he pulled back the sheets and after
kicking off his clothes, crashed face first into the fresh pillow.

“He’s in here, asleep!” Mac could hear Anja in the
doorway. What time it was, he had no idea. “No, he’s alone… Good night guys,”
she rustled around in the dark after closing the door. She was probably getting
undressed. Mac could smell stale booze and cigarettes as she crawled under the
sheets. He had been facing the wall but Anja came around to that side and
backed into the spoon position.

Draping his arm over her, Mac pulled her back into
his chest so she was sitting on his knees. “You stink like a bar,” he whispered
into her hair.

Anja laughed. “Yah, I love you too!” she kissed the
arms and hands that surrounded her.

“You gonna puke?”

“No, I’m good,” Anja chuckled some more then
sighed, “For now anyway.”

 

An hour or so after dawn, when the sun tried to winkle
its way around the heavy window fixtures, Mac could smell coffee. Slipping out
from the sheets and into some jeans, Mac quietly stepped out from the bedroom
door. A room-service trolley stood over by the bar where Gitte was laying out
croissants, pastries, toast, butter and jam. A coffee pot perked away on the
counter top.

Mac watched her. As she worked she hummed a little
tune. He thought it was one of theirs.

“Oh, it’s you!” Gitte was startled and seemed
suddenly nervous when she noticed Mac there. “I’ve had them brink up a
breakfast tray, for when we’re ready that is, and if we’re up to it.” She gave
a small laugh. She wore a burgundy floor length dressing gown, which made the
olive skin of her face and throat, glow. Her black eyes matched her raven hair,
brushed down in small ripples to just above her waist.

“You seem the same,” Mac canted his head. “But
you’re not. You told Marion that if any of our private life… and you pointed to
our bed… if any of our private life, made it into print, how did you put it? “I
am Hungarian,” you said, “Full blood Magyar, terror of the steppe,
experts with knives and swords.” And then you said, “If what we do in
the privacy of our own room gets out, I will skin you alive and,” What was
it? “Wear your hide as an apron”?”

Gitte stayed rooted to the spot. The only change
was the colour of her cheeks, as she watched Mac’s face and listened to his
words.

“All the while it was you...you were the one
selling us out to Malcolm Forsythe, you were the traitor. What did you get for
those pictures, thirty pieces of silver, or was it a couple of kilos? I would
hope that you got to spend the night in his bed as a finder’s fee, at least.”

“I didn’t get paid!” Gitte’s eyes flashed in hurt,
anger and guilt. “It is not like that at all, you don’t understand. Malcolm is
not like that.”

“Malcolm Forsythe is a
fucking asshole!” Mac
fought back, gaining control of his temper and his voice. “I can’t for the life
of me figure out what you see in him. He certainly has no regard for you.”

At first Gitte lashed out. “Everybody keeps
sayink that!” Then it was her turn to gain control of her emotions. “I
think there is a sweet person under that tough guy exterior, no really. If I
can just earn his trust...I can change him.”

“Gitte can you hear yourself?” Mac took two steps
toward her. “So, in order to gain his trust, you would be
willing to lose ours? Where is the logic in that?”

“If you are my friends, then you will understand. I
love him Mac, I love him so much! Can’t you see?”

Mac held up his hands in a helpless expression.
“This is not a healthy relationship! This man has spent his life taking
advantage of beautiful, young women and exploiting them, for love Gitte? No,
for money, for gain, for profit, can’t you see? You’re just
someone he can manipulate, the flavour of the week. How the hell can you see
love anywhere in this?”

Gitte put up her arms, as if to ward off his words,
like they were physical blows. Mac strode the rest of the way across the room
and took her hands. She tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let her go.

“All I ask is for you to be honest for a change,
with us and with yourself. If Malcolm wants something from us, tell us Gitte.
Tell us and for you...we would see what could be done. Tell us to our face,
don’t sneak around or stab us in the back.”

“I didn’t stab you, I didn’t know.”

“Gitte!” Mac sadly shook his head. “Whatever you
do, don’t lie to us.”

Then she was in his arms, face pressed against his
shoulder. He could feel the warm tears on his bare skin. Mac had no
alternative. He put his arms around her, holding her to him and rocking her
gently.

“Look, we’ll do anything for you, you know we
will,” Mac didn’t like what he was about to say one bit. He couldn’t help but
wonder, what black magic Malcolm was using to keep his claws into this girl.
“If you want us to help you...land this guy. If you think he is worth it, just
tell us what you want us to do. If we can help, I promise we’ll do our best.”

“Oh Mac,” Gitte put her arms around his neck and
kissed his unshaven face. “I’m so sorry. I promise I won’t do this again. I
won’t let this sort of think happen anymore, honest.”

“Now if we’ve all fookin’ kissed and made up,”
Deedee came out from the bedroom tugging at the bottom edge of her short nightshirt.
“Can we get us a cup o’ fookin’ coffee, before me head explodes?”

Anja too, had been standing in the doorway of their
bedroom. She smiled at Mac as he shook his head in defeat. He was not happy at
the way this issue had ended. He remembered what the girls had said in the
truck the other day. Gitte was going to have to find out about Malcolm Forsythe
on her own. Unless by some strange fluke she was right and could actually
change him into a new man, their job was to stay close, give support where able
and to catch her or at least try to pick up the pieces when she fell.