Page 37 of 7 Days and 7 Nights

JoBeth nodded her head, gritted her teeth, and focused on the pins. In her mind’s eye she drew a picture of Dawg and Emmylou huddled together on the headpin, his big hand on her big ass.

It was the tenth frame. If she knocked all the pins down with her first ball, she stood a good chance of breaking 200. Even a spare could get her there.

JoBeth shut out everything around her. She brought the ball down as she made her approach, and when she reached the line, she let it fly. The ball spun madly down the center of the lane and crashed into the center pin. Pins exploded off the floor, bashed into each other, and fell down. When everything went still, only the ten pin remained standing.

“Damn, JoBeth. You are looking good, girl. Go on and pick that sucker off.” A glance at her teammates showed Paul practically dancing with excitement, while Dawg continued to play the ham to Emmylou’s rye.

“Hey, JoBeth. You sure are on fire!” Todd Miller, the captain of the other team, waggled his eyebrows at her, but Dawg’s hand still rested on Emmylou’s rump.

“Don’t mess with my concentration, now, Todd. That ten pin needs to go.” JoBeth kept her tone light and her smile bright, but her whole face hurt. The strain of forcing her mouth muscles upward when they wanted to turn downward and maybe even let out a whimper, was beginning to tell. She could feel the weight of tears forming and blinked her eyelids against them.

JoBeth brought the ball up to her chest, paused for a moment, and then went up on the balls of her feet. With her gaze riveted on the remaining pin, she stepped out with her right foot and swung the ball down into its backward arc. After three quick approach steps, JoBeth swung her arm forward and released the ball. There was a hush on both lanes as the ball made an initial hook to the right, skirted up the edge of the gutter, and then began to veer left. It came within a hair’s breadth of the pin, and she heard a collective gasp as the pin rocked precariously in place. For what seemed like an eternity.

“Shit.” JoBeth stared at the lone pin in disbelief as it stood by itself, swaying in her ball’s breeze, taunting her. It just stood there, too stubborn to fall down, until, at long last, the mechanical arm dropped down and swept it out of sight.

Conversation resumed as Paul stepped up and clapped her on the shoulder. “A hundred and ninety-five is nothing to sneer at, you know. Do you want me to go beat up Dawg for you?”

She’d come so close she could almost taste it. Just as she’d come so close with Dawg. "Close,” her father used to say, “but no cigar.”

She gave Paul a small smile and shook her head. “Thanks, but if I let you do that now, I won’t have anything to look forward to.”

JoBeth left the alley and walked over to the table.

“You almost got it, JoBeth.” Emmylou’s voice had lost some of its Marilyn sound, and she looked a little nervous.

Dawg met her gaze and held it. “You’re bowling real well tonight.”

“Thanks. You’re playing a pretty good game yourself.”

He shrugged, the motion sending his ham shoulder sliding up and down between Emmylou’s slabs of rye. “You set the rules. I’m just following them.”

“So I see.” What was there to say, really? Unhand that bimbo or I’ll... what? She’d already put a pie in the man’s face. Should she humiliate herself further by staging a catfight in the middle of the bowling alley?

Telling Dawg to go out and find somebody to have fun with was one thing—watching him do it was quite another. The fact that he’d chosen Emmylou to flaunt in her face made things immeasurably worse. The slow burn that had kept her going all evening turned into cold, clammy dread. “I’m going to go to the ladies’ room. I’ll be back before the final game, but I think you’d better find a replacement for next week.”

“I’ll come with you.” Emmylou bent to pick up her purse and in the process released Dawg’s shoulder from her bosom. "I need to powder my nose.”

They covered the distance to the ladies’ room in silence, but once inside, Emmylou put a hand out to stop JoBeth. “Are you finished with Dawg, JoBeth?”

She forced herself to look Emmylou straight in the eye. She saw the sparkle there, took in the becoming flush on the blonde’s cheeks—all of it put there by the man JoBeth wanted to marry. The thought of Emmylou, or any other woman, taking her place was not something she would allow herself to dwell on.

JoBeth squared her shoulders. She shook the other woman’s hand off her arm and reached down deep for some attitude. “He’s not exactly table scraps, Emmylou. I’m not going to wrap him up and send him home with you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You know what I mean. I’m asking if you’re through with him. Is the man fair game?”

JoBeth closed her eyes for just a moment, totally aghast at what she was about to say. If she had the first idea how to stop this thing she’d started, or knew any way to step back off the ledge she’d stepped out on, she’d do it. But she was already looking down at the traffic below, and the time had come to take the final leap.

“He’s not mine to hand over, Emmylou. Dawg Rollins has a mind and will of his own—neither of which I seem to understand as well as I thought I did. If you want a run at him, have at it. I believe I’ve already given it my best shot.”

Chapter Thirteen

This is Liv Live. It’s Thursday morning, my fourth day in captivity, and I’m still kicking. Best of all, we’re doing awesome in food donations.” Olivia turned up the volume on the wild-applause sound effect and stood to make a half bow to the cameras. “Way to go my friends!”

Taking her seat, Olivia lowered her voice and attempted to set the tone for the remainder of the show. “It’s been an interesting morning so far, lots of phone calls coming in, but I think we’ve spent just about enough time on Matt Ransom. Let’s move on, shall we? I’m here to talk about you—your thoughts, your problems. Go ahead and give me a call.”

Olivia checked the monitor for the identity of her next caller. “Hi, Michelle.”

“Hello, Dr. Moore.”

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