10
" This,” The Actor turns to indicate me, one arm casually wrapped around his good friend’s shoulder, “is the secret weapon I was telling you about. Amie Martine.”
“Amie,” he takes my hand, “you look surprised.”
“I’m sorry,” my smile’s so nonstop, it’s mechanically difficult to speak, “I guess, when he said ‘producer,’ I—”
“—didn’t picture me?”
“I’m guilty. Of thinking of you as an actor first.”
“Me, too.” His smile antes mine, then wins the bet. “I’m always an actor at heart. That’s who I am. You got it absolutely right.”
Compelling dark brown eyes with hints of golden amber. His body conducts such radiance, I’m sure the circuits in this room have all been blown by the solar flares in his present emanation. "
― Laurie Perez , The Look of Amie Martine (The Amie Series, #1)
14
" IN HIS PRESENCE, I FEEL OUR AXIS RECALIBRATING. Where North was once —and for eons — the assigned pull of the Earth, in Sunny’s universe, all magnets drive us South. Or West. Or deep into the core because that’s more interesting to him. He’s a world-creator; he doesn’t walk from A to B the way most humans do, seeing what’s provided then dealing with, lamenting or pondering it. He creates what he wants and when you walk a path with him, you get shaped and reinvented, too. Not against your will, but more in tune with aspects of it, unfolding into the potential of a secret craving, fully funded.
~Amie, getting to know Sunny in The LOOK "
― Laurie Perez , The Look of Amie Martine (The Amie Series, #1)
15
" At the last minute, he broke the rule and he looked. He was so rapt in his view of the light at the end of the tunnel, he got excited, tuned up, he got crazy nervous and for a second he wavered in his confidence and he looked! To confirm or affirm or just firm up,’ students laughing ‘his manly love for her and in that motion of divine stupidity, he killed her dead forever with a glance. Hades ripped her back into his den and that was, proverbially, that.’
A girl across from me says bitterly, ‘No second, second chance for Orpheus.’
‘He was fucked,’ D continues, nodding. ‘Not because the gods were heartless, but because he fucked up. The guilt of that. Can you imagine? Spent the rest of his pathetic days wallowing, lamenting, composing (or was it decomposing?) heartbreaking tunes upon his lyre, dissolving in grief and music and art, never being the least bit happy or lovable. The saddest sap of all. How do we tell a story like that without being sappy? Oh woe! How do we shape into lines our most harrowing mistakes and losses without drenching them in sticky poetic sap? "
― Laurie Perez , The Look of Amie Martine (The Amie Series, #1)
