Countdown to

Breaking Point

6/20/05

22 days (and counting to Breaking Point, in stores on July 12th)

Quote of the day: "Maybe perfect Max had a perfect sister who was beautiful, brilliant and great in bed, too. And maybe Sam and the sister and Max and Alyssa could all double-date." -- Sam Starrett's point of view, from Gone Too Far.

Note from Suz: Today we've got our first official excerpt from Breaking Point!

RED ALERT FOR PEOPLE WHO DON'T LIKE READING EXCERPTS!

My apologies to those of you who prefer not to read excerpts -- there's nothing else on the countdown page today. (As I'm creating this countdown, I'm also helping my son, Jason, prepare to leave for his first semester at a music/theater/dance conservatory program! He's going to New York City for a year and half of intensive training and I have to go convince him that there'll be no room in his teeny tiny Manhattan dorm room for all seven seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on DVD. I mean, come on. How am I going to survive missing him without the support of Buffy and Giles...?)

Excerpt approaching...

Note: If you haven't read the excerpt posted on my Breaking Point excerpt page, you should read it first! This excerpt is also from Chapter One -- it is the first part of the scene immediately following the previously posted excerpt!

Arlington, Virginia
January 12, 2004
Seventeen Months Ago

Max forced himself to relax. He kept his shoulders from tightening, his fists from clenching, and -- hardest of all -- the muscles in his jaw from jumping as he made certain he didn't grind his teeth.

He managed to cross his legs and slightly raise one eyebrow. He knew that this, in combination with the half-smile that he let flicker about the edges of his lips, made him look friendly and open to any and all conversation.

He'd been an FBI negotiator-- no, he'd been the FBI negotiator -- for more years than he could count on all his fingers and the toes of one foot. He'd worked his magic on hardened criminals and desperate terrorists -- men and women who far too often were ready and willing to die.

This should be a cakewalk, this civil discussion between three rational, clear-thinking adults. Max. Gina. And Rita Hennimen, the couples counselor Gina had found in the Yellow Pages.

No doubt under the heading, "Max's Worst Nightmare."

Max had never been so terrified in his entire life.

Gina was watching him from the other side of the sofa. She'd purposely dressed like a teenager today in a snug-fitting T-shirt that didn't meet the low-cut waistband of her jeans. It was impossible to look at her and not think about sex, about her wrapping her legs around him and sending him into outer-space.

Max cleared his throat, shifting in his seat -- which made him lift his left arm just a little too high -- zinging himself in the process.

Christ, would the pain in his shoulder ever go away? He'd been shot in the chest. There'd been a freaking hole in his lung, but it was the end result of that bullet ricocheting up and smashing his collarbone that continued to bother him the most.

As Rita finished reading through the forms they'd both filled out in the waiting room, Gina leaned closer. "You okay?" she asked Max.

"I'm fine," he lied.

She gazed at him for a moment before she spoke again. "One of the important rules of therapy is that you have to be honest. When we come into this room, we absolutely have to tell the truth. Otherwise, it's all just more bullshit."

When he'd first sat down, he'd hooked his cane on the arm of the sofa, and it now fell onto the floor with a clatter. Thank God. He bent to pick it up. After he straightened up, Rita was smiling at them, ready to begin.

"So," the counselor said. "Where shall we start?"

Gina was still watching him. "Good question. What do you want to talk about, Max?"

"Basketball?" he answered, and she laughed as he'd hoped she would.

"I suppose that's my fault for telling you to be honest." She turned to Rita. "Here's the deal. According to Max's definition, we shouldn't really be here, because we're not a couple. We're not together -- we're friends. Only there's this thing between us. History. Chemistry. Oh, yeah, and the fact that I'm in love with him probably plays a part in there somewhere. Although Max will tell you that I don't really love him, that after years and years and years, what I feel is still partly "transference." As I told you on the phone, I was on this plane that got hijacked, and Max saved my life--"

"You saved your own life," Max interrupted.

"Apparently that part's subject to interpretation, too," Gina told the therapist. "I know he saved my life. He, no doubt, can argue that he didn't. Factor in the age difference thing -- which frankly, I don't have a problem with..."

Rita glanced down at her clipboard, obviously checking their dates of birth. It wouldn't take long for her to figure out that Gina was twenty-five, and Max was nearly twenty years older. But the woman was a highly trained professional, so she didn't so much as blink. She did smile when she looked up and met his gaze.

"Love doesn't always stop to do the math," she pointed out.

Yeah, but everybody else did and most of them passed judgment, too. Debra, one of the nurses in the physical rehab facility, for example, sure as hell disapproved. If she could have, she would've turned Max into a smoldering pile of ashes weeks ago. But right now he just kept his mouth shut and let Gina go on talking.

"I can't get him to talk to me," Gina told the therapist. "Every time I try, we end up..."

Oh no, she couldn't--

"...having sex instead."

Oh yes, she did.

"I figured if we came here..." Gina continued. "Well, with you in the room, I thought we might actually be able to have a conversation, instead of, you know."

As far as nightmares went, this could have been worse. He could have been transported back into his scrawny, undersized sixteen-year-old body, forced to wander the halls of his high school, naked, while searching for his locker.

No doubt about it, it was time for him to wake up. He grabbed for his cane. "I'm sorry. I can't do this."

He pushed himself up off the couch, even as he realized how ridiculous it was to run away. He could leave the room, sure, but he'd never outrun the chaos that clamored inside his head.

Gina stood, too, and blocked his route to the door. "Max. Please. There's so much that we just never talk about, that we just pretend never happened." She took a deep breath. "Like Alyssa."

Oh, Christ. Max laughed because laughing saved him the hundreds of dollars in dental work he'd surely need after damaging his teeth from excessive grinding. And even he, the teeth-grinding master -- couldn't manage to grind his teeth while laughing. He turned to Rita. "Will you excuse us for a minute?"

But Gina crossed her arms. She clearly wasn't going anywhere. "This is the point of therapy, Max. To talk about things we can't otherwise seem to talk about. Right here, in front of Rita."

So okay. Now he was actually longing for the naked locker scenario. Or that doozy of a recurring nightmare he'd had as a child. Giant forks from outer space. He'd slept on his side for years, so as to slip between the tines and avoid death by impalement.

"Why don't we come back to this a little later?" Rita suggested. "This seems like a particularly sensitive topic."

"Okay, no," Max said. "You're wrong. It's not." He turned to Gina. "Alyssa Locke doesn't work for me anymore. You know that. I haven't spoken to her in..." Weeks, he was going to say, but that wasn't quite true.

"I know she came to see you at the physical rehab center," Gina said. "Don't you think it's odd that you didn't so much as mention that to me?"

What was odd was talking about this in front of an audience, like participants in some horrible reality TV show. True, Rita was only one person, but it still felt as if she were somehow keeping score on that notepad. At the end of their fifty minutes, she was going to lean toward Max with a sympathetic smile and tell him, "Your journey ends here. You're going home."

God, he wanted to go home.

To be continued on June 27th!

That's all for now! Be sure to come back for tomorrow's installment in the Countdown to Breaking Point!

See you tomorrow!

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