Page 45 of Exclusive

She exhaled. “Right. Did I mention that the video from yesterday has gotten quite a lot of play?”

I frowned. Realization hit. I’d gotten punched in the face on TV. Of course the video was being passed around. “I’ve gone viral.”

“Afraid so. It might have been onLate Talklast night. It’s also on my Instagram feed. And making the rounds on Twitter.”

Late Talkwas national. “No.”

She winced. “Yes.”

“How are we doing today?” I turned at the sound of a very enthusiastic voice entering the room.

Carrie pointed. “Your nurse. Tinky.”

“Like Tinker Bell?” I asked. Why was my life so weird?

Tinky brushed a strand of extra-curly blond hair from her forehead and beamed like the magical fairy she was. “Exactly like that. I have medication for you and good news. You’re getting out of here.” She handed me a paper cup with two pills.

“That’s fantastic. Key question. Have you seen me get punched in the face?”

Her eyes went wide. “Oh yes. The whole nurses’ station has.”

“Wonderful.” I popped the Tylenol. “Thank you, Tinky.”

“Anything for you. Back with that discharge paperwork shortly.” She floated away to medical fairyland once again.

“Cheer up,” Carrie said with a smile. “This can’t hurt any worse than that eye.”

I touched the swollen-feeling skin. “Is it black?”

“Oh yes. But can I have your autograph?”

I sighed. What a week.

Chapter Eleven

I know you.”

“You do?” I squinted at the cashier at the grocery store. She looked like maybe she was in college. Maybe even a broadcast journalism major. I added my bananas to her conveyor belt, wishing they were a little more ripe. “Have we met?”

“No.” She tapped her lips with no real interest in ringing me up until this mystery was solved. “Where do I know you from?” She jumped up and down a few times as if the motion would jog her memory.

I decided to help. “Do you watch the news?” Now that I’d been at the station for a decent period of time, my face had become more recognizable, and I was noticed more and more. It was fun, in a way.

Her eyes went wide. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. You’re the one who took the punch.” She covered her mouth with both hands and took a step back.

I sighed and dropped my spinach in front of her. “No.”

“Yes, you are.” She extended her hand and pointed. “My roommate Timothy loves you. He plays that shit on repeat.” She straightened and adopted a more presentational style of speech. “In fact, Lissette, it might be wise if we—Boom. Right in the face. Ouch. Are you okay? Like, you’ve healed?”

I relented. No point in fighting my public. “I’m doing great. Thank you.” And you know what? I was. The bruise had all but faded, and after a short break and TLC from my cousins, I was back at work this week. In fact, Carrie had just left me a sweet voice message to make sure I was having a good day. The low, soft quality of her voice had tickled my ear, and I couldn’t wait to see her. Hell, maybe I’d even figure out how to cook something with all these groceries, and we could have a nice dinner in.

“Will you say hi to Timothy?” she asked, holding up her phone. “I’m recording. Say hi.”

I smiled at the uninvited lens. “Hi, Timothy.” I pointed at my eye. “All better, see?”

She dropped her arm. “He’s going to die. He’s going to lose it. I can’t wait.”

A few minutes later, I handed her my credit card and got the hell out of there, certain that there would come a time when I would be known for more than viral-victim status. But worse things had happened in the world than one little video.

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