The biggest dilemma I faced when the idea for Kensington Equation first surfaced was to choose my protagonist. Alternatives tore holes through my cerebral cortex trying to traverse the myriad squiggly grooves and make it to the front of the line. Then I fell asleep one night, exhausted, and dreamed I was engaged in a battle with those relentless alternatives. A secret weapon magically appeared with instructions on its deployment, and manifested into my tool for victory.
I walked through a landscape littered with dead alternatives, toward a vision of beauty standing with open arms and a wanting expression. She was five-foot-eight and wore a fashionable jogging outfit. Her running shoes looked brand new. As I approached, she removed her baseball cap letting her ponytail fall from the strap and kiss the back of her neck. We were now face-to-face. My pulse raced when two priceless emeralds stared into my weary eyes. She untied the ponytail and let her flaxen hair fall to her shoulders. A flacon of perfume appeared in her hand and she sprayed a fine mist on her chest just above the cleavage formed by her full breasts.
“My name is Dominique Fontaine and I will spare you from pain if you make me your protagonist,” she said.
Her secret weapon was stronger than mine.
“Yes,” I said - a fallen soldier.
She stood silent.
I contemplated my next strategy.
“I would need to interview you … to be certain you can play the part.”
Without hesitating, she sat in a chair facing me. My chair appeared and I sat, clicking my automatic pencil and writing her name on the top line of a yellow pad. Dominique Fontaine. It exuded dominance, leadership that my protagonist needed and power as forceful as the water canons at the Trocadero in Paris.
“Tell me about you.”
THE INTERVIEW WILL BE POSTED AS SOON AS I TYPE THE HANDWRITEN NOTES. That will be the middle of this saga.
You already know the ending. I hired her.
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