There is a myth that men don’t talk. I don’t know who started it (likely some chatty guy) but it is SO not true. At least not for all men. Believe me, I know. I’m happily married to a salesguy. He talks. And talks. And talks. He talks in his sleep, he talks through movies, he talks on multiple phones at the same time.
He doesn’t talk about emotions or feelings or any of that mushy stuff. A few years ago, he talked to his best friend for hours and never found out the friend recently got married. They were discussing ‘important’ stuff, you know, like the best speaker cable to use with a beat up, I mean vintage Volvo.
My first hero, Philippe in Breach Of Trust, wasn’t a big talker. He could talk, quite slickly, when he wanted to, but English was his second language (French, his first) so he didn’t yap Anne’s ear off.
Hagen, however, wowsers, what can I say about Hagen? Hagen, my hero in Invisible, was well suited for his first serious job as an auctioneer. He doesn’t need anyone else to help him carry on a conversation. He can do that very well on his own, thank you very much. His loose lips drive the circumspect Maeve absolutely bonkers. She knows information is power and here is this big oaf voluntarily offering everyone and his sister personal details about himself.
He was so much fun to write. The toughest part was getting Hagen to shut up long enough to say ‘The End.’
Excerpt from Invisible:
Finally silence, Maeve grumbled to herself as Hagen thumped downstairs to collect the pizza. Just like his uncle there, the guy could talk up a storm. On and on. Sure, some of his stories were interesting. Sure, he seemed to know a lot about the place. Sure, she might have smiled once or twice. But she had a job to do and he wasn’t helping.
Okay, maybe having him around to tilt the sofa back so she could check under it had been handy. And yeah, it was nice to take things out and have him put them back. That saved time but other than that and his ability to reach the top shelves, he was useless.
Maeve lifted up the coverlet and blinked, recognizing the green velvet dress. What was she doing there? Maeve stripped off her gloves. Naughty miss. She didn’t belong in the blue bedroom. Maeve carefully scooped up the doll, dusting her off, flipping her dark curls off her face.
Oh, blast. She sat down on the bed with a thud.
Maeve was still sitting there when Mr. Chatty barged back in.
“Pizza’s getting cold. You coming down?”
She couldn’t look up. “In a minute,” hoping he’d go away.
He didn’t. Maeve felt the mattress sag as he sat down beside her. “Whatcha looking at?”
Maeve didn’t answer. He had eyes, he could see.
Hagen reached over her shoulder to push the doll’s hair back, one thick finger tracing the ugly crack in the German bisque face. “Oh, an Armand Marseille. Great complexion, original paint.” He leaned closer. Maeve could smell the pepperoni on his breath. “Does she have green eyes?”
Maeve gave him a nasty look. What was with the useless questions?
About Kimber Chin:
Kimber Chin writes sexy (and dialogue filled) contemporary romances set in the world of business. Why business? Because men in suits are hot, hot, hot! Don’t believe her? Every week, she features a photo of a man in a suit on her site http://businessromance.com/. She is also an avid romance reader and gives away her favorite romance eRead every month.