Page 86 of A Dead End Wedding

"What? No, I don't have a cold. What are you talking about?"

I shook my head, trying to come fully awake. "You sound muffled. Look, if it's just allergies, get a prescription. The pollen down here stuffs me up really badly."

"I don't have allergies," the muffled voice continued, getting louder. There was a pause. "Well, actually, my nose runs a lot in the summer. Do allergies get worse in the summer?"

"Mine do. All those flowers in bloom, plus grass seed and pollen. It's awful," I said, shuddering. "Have you tried Claritin?"

"No, I only – um, hang on."

I heard some mumbling and something that sounded like shouting in the background, then the guy came back on the phone. "Look, I don't have time to talk about allergies. You need to mind your own business, or else."

Silence.

Still more amused than concerned, I waited for a beat, but he didn't add anything. So I asked. "Or else what?"

"What?"

"Or else, what? I always wondered about that in books or movies. The bad guys always say 'or else.' Even with my dad, it was 'clean your room, or else,' but nobody ever specifies the 'or else.' So, or elsewhat?" I was speaking in a very reasonable voice, I thought.

There was more mumbling, but I caught some of it. ". . . else what? says . . . else . . . Ow! Right. Can't believe you freaking hit me!"

"Or else you'll get hurt," he said into the phone.

"Hurt how?" I asked, writing OR ELSE HURT on my legal pad, after I peeled the top page from my cheek where drool had pasted it to my face.

That was some nap.

"Now don't startthatup again! Or else . . . or else you'll get hurt really, really bad! And we don't want to hurt a nice little thing like you, even if you are stupid enough to fall asleep in full view of your window. Where the hell are your curtains, anyway?"

A chill ran through me at the realization that somebody had been watching me sleep. Somebody was close enough to my house, in this peaceful family neighborhood, to spy on me through my window.

Suddenly, I wasn't amused anymore. "So you're spying on me and threatening me? That's got to be some kind of criminal offense! Probably a felony, even," I said, voice icy.

"What do you mean,probablya felony? Don't you know if it's a felony or not?" The voice was clear for a moment, as if he'd forgotten to muffle the phone.

"Well, not exactly," I said, suddenly embarrassed. "I don't know anything about criminal law."

"What kind of lawyer are you?" he shouted.

Okay, now I'm honked off.

"Don't worry about what kind of lawyer I am, you idiot . . .criminal! You can't go around threatening people! Get off my phone right now, so I can have the FBI trace you, and you can go to jail for the rest of your pathetic life! I hope your allergies get worse!"

There was silence for a long moment. Then he came back on the phone. "How do you spell that Claretan stuff?"

"Argh!" I clicked my phone shut, then immediately pressed redial, only to hear the "this number is not available" message. I clicked my way over to "recent calls received" but then remembered it had been an "unknown number."

Crap. I finally have something exciting happen to me, like those lawyers in the movies, and I get a loser criminal with allergies and a stuffy nose.

Where's the justice in that?

The air mattress would have been way, way better than the floor, except for the part where Max forgot to give me the air pump to inflate it. I stood in a hot shower for twenty minutes, trying to work the creaks out and figure out how much longer I could go before I had to take my dirty laundry to Aunt Celia's to wash it.

And I thought thebad guywas a loser.

I drove to work in my usual scenic way, down Argyle, down Blanding, by way of the donut shop, and wondered how much longer my skirts were going to fit with me eating donuts for breakfast every day. The waistband was already getting a little snug on the red one I'd squeezed into after my shower.

When I got to the office, it was only eight-fifteen, and nobody was there yet, which was peaceful. Except there were no appointments on my calendar, which meant no clients, which meant no money. I'd work on Charlie's case, but I still didn't have the discovery responses, and I'd given Addison forty-eight hours before I could move to compel.

---