Page 34 of Truth, Lies, and Second Dates
“Yeah.”
“That is rather unbelievable.” He sighed. “I know we aren’t… anything. Anymore. I just wanted to reach out and let you know I was thinking of you.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine.” Well, not quite. Blake’s kindness right on the heels of G.B.’s was making her eyes water. Stupid allergies!Change the subject, quick!“Hey, Blake? You sound tired.” In point of fact, Blake sounded like hell on toast:exhausted and faint, like he was calling from Mars. His baritone rumble was barely sexy, which she hadn’t thought possible.Please don’t be my fault. Please be something totally unrelated to me breaking up with him a few days ago. Not that we were ever officially going out.“Are you okay?”
“My mother and brother are trying to kill me,” he reported calmly.
“Huh.” Okay, so, a good news / bad news scenario. Whatever was wrong, it was nothing to do with her. But his family might be trying to kill him, which was less great. “How’s that going?”
“Like the Wars of the Roses: unspeakable property damage, vicious infighting, betrayal, and a horrifying body count. A figurative body count, but still.”
“That sucks.”
“It does indeed suck. And I’ve been charged with saving Sweetheart, North Dakota, from destitution and ruin. And the dry cleaner misplaced my best slacks.”
“Sorry to hear it.” Soooooo in the few days since she’d heard from him, Blake had fled to the plains of North Dakota and gone clinically insane.*This shouldn’t comfort me, but it does, a little. Nice of him to check in, too.“Gotta say, you’re helping me put a few problems in perspective.”
“Delighted to serve.”
“So… good luck with all of that.” Inadequate, but it wasn’t like Blake actually wanted her help. This was a controlled Blakevent.TMHe wanted to talk and then jump back into whatever he was neck-deep in. “And thanks for reaching out.”
“Of course. And good luck dealing with your, ah, situation.”
Situation, she thought as she hung up. Yeah, that was one word for it.Disasteralso fit. As didnightmare.
And on that thought, she dozed off. No surprise; she’d gotten little sleep the night before. But she should have held off on her nap until she was thinking of something pleasant, like a perfectly ripe golden kiwi. Instead, she was thinking of nightmares, and got one.
A bad one.
Eighteen
Haven’t you ever wanted to disappear?
“You’re going to be murdered tomorrow. I think we should talk about that.”
Yawn. Nothing very interesting ever happens around here. Which is the point. It’s why everyone was so surprised. Bad things happen, sure, but not interesting bad things.
“Again: you’re going to be murdered tomorrow. Believe me, it’ll be plenty interesting. Cops and news vans up the wazoo. Your mom’s gonna alternately hate and love the cameras.”
And for what? For nothing. BecauseWRONG.
“You don’t sound like yourself.”
Right! And why would I? I’mWRONG.
“Okay. I still feel like you’re not internalizing this—”
Yawn.
“—so I’m gonna go over it again: you’re about to be the murder victim of a grisly murder because you’ll be murdered.”
Redundant.
“Well, yeah, for sarcastic effect.”
Grisly murder is redundant.
“No, murder isn’t always grisly.”
