accelerating in anticipation of the upcoming row. Sweat beaded his upper lip as he battled an anxiety attack, focusing instead on the trip he’d rescheduled a mere two hours before.
He knew he was forgetting something but, for the life of him, could not think what. Currently, he was in between jobs, master of his own schedule. So, flying to Vermont today instead of tomorrow, or instead of next month as he’d stupidly agreed to last night, would pose a problem to no one.
Except Rudy.
Just the thought of walking in on his lover and a handyman comparing their
tools
, had him sprinting toward the kitchen for a paper bag.
But then there was a knock on the door.
Had to be the cab driver. Better early than late. Bracing himself, he tightened the grip on the suitcase and steamrolled towards the door. There’d be plenty of time to hyperventilate
after
he faced his demons.
Gold Canyon, Arizona
“I think someone drugged me.” Sofia tightened her seatbelt as Joe shifted gears and swerved the jeep off the highway, onto a bumpy dirt road. They’d held silent during the bumper-to-bumper drive from Phoenix to Apache Junction, each simmering in their own thoughts. She’d had twenty additional, nerve-racking minutes to ponder her predicament when Joe had refused to let her accompany him into the local Wal-Mart. He was determined to keep her low-profile. Like anyone would recognize her in the soccer mom get-up—
sans
make-up, hair divided into pigtails—but he’d been adamant.
So, she’d waited. And pondered. “There has to be a logical explanation for this memory gap.” She couldn’t blame it on the alcohol, as she’d blacked out before her asinine drinking binge. “I could’ve been at a party. Someone could’ve spiked my drink. Maybe they lured me into their car with nefarious intentions. Maybe I threw myself from a moving vehicle to escape their evil clutches. Maybe,” she drawled, rolling with the dramatic scenario, “I slid down a rocky slope, ultimately sustaining a conk on the head that affected my short term memory.”
Joe dipped his chin and glanced at her over the rims of his Ray Bans. “
That’s
your logical explanation?”
She gave a righteous sniff. “It would explain my injuries.”
“Don’t muddy the waters by mixing fiction with fact.”
“Meaning?”
He focused back on the road. “You just described an episode of ‘Spy Girl’.”
Specifically episode three:
Dr. Fleshpot’s Revenge
. Her cheeks flushed with pride. “You watch ‘Spy Girl’?”
He flexed and tightened his fingers on the steering wheel. “Read the synopsis in TV Guide.”
“Oh.” Disappointment sang through her blood. She’d secretly hoped that he’d tuned in, out of curiosity if nothing else. True, they weren’t what she would call friends, but they were family. Wasn’t he the least bit interested in his sister-in-law’s accomplishments? Her ascent from “starving actress” to “celebrity icon” had been fast and furious, even by Hollywood standards.
Okay, so she was more of a cult fave than a respected artist, but as far as she was concerned the espionage cable show was merely a stepping stone. Regardless of the farfetched premise and limited production budget, she was still proud of her work. Joe’s apathy hit a raw nerve. Damn him. Damn
her
. The sudden rush of inadequacy intimated she was seeking self-worth in his eyes and transported her to a place she thought she’d left behind.
Striving to keep the bitterness from her tone, she tugged the brim of her cap lower, effectively shielding her bloodshot eyes. “So, what’s
your
take on my memory loss?”
He cocked his head. “Could be psychological rather than a physiological. Could be dissociative amnesia.”
“Which is?”
“Memory loss restricted to a period of time, such as the duration of a traumatic episode, possibly a violent crime.”
Her stomach gurgled with remnants of tequila and newfound angst. “You said not to jump to
He knew he was forgetting something but, for the life of him, could not think what. Currently, he was in between jobs, master of his own schedule. So, flying to Vermont today instead of tomorrow, or instead of next month as he’d stupidly agreed to last night, would pose a problem to no one.
Except Rudy.
Just the thought of walking in on his lover and a handyman comparing their
tools
, had him sprinting toward the kitchen for a paper bag.
But then there was a knock on the door.
Had to be the cab driver. Better early than late. Bracing himself, he tightened the grip on the suitcase and steamrolled towards the door. There’d be plenty of time to hyperventilate
after
he faced his demons.
Gold Canyon, Arizona
“I think someone drugged me.” Sofia tightened her seatbelt as Joe shifted gears and swerved the jeep off the highway, onto a bumpy dirt road. They’d held silent during the bumper-to-bumper drive from Phoenix to Apache Junction, each simmering in their own thoughts. She’d had twenty additional, nerve-racking minutes to ponder her predicament when Joe had refused to let her accompany him into the local Wal-Mart. He was determined to keep her low-profile. Like anyone would recognize her in the soccer mom get-up—
sans
make-up, hair divided into pigtails—but he’d been adamant.
So, she’d waited. And pondered. “There has to be a logical explanation for this memory gap.” She couldn’t blame it on the alcohol, as she’d blacked out before her asinine drinking binge. “I could’ve been at a party. Someone could’ve spiked my drink. Maybe they lured me into their car with nefarious intentions. Maybe I threw myself from a moving vehicle to escape their evil clutches. Maybe,” she drawled, rolling with the dramatic scenario, “I slid down a rocky slope, ultimately sustaining a conk on the head that affected my short term memory.”
Joe dipped his chin and glanced at her over the rims of his Ray Bans. “
That’s
your logical explanation?”
She gave a righteous sniff. “It would explain my injuries.”
“Don’t muddy the waters by mixing fiction with fact.”
“Meaning?”
He focused back on the road. “You just described an episode of ‘Spy Girl’.”
Specifically episode three:
Dr. Fleshpot’s Revenge
. Her cheeks flushed with pride. “You watch ‘Spy Girl’?”
He flexed and tightened his fingers on the steering wheel. “Read the synopsis in TV Guide.”
“Oh.” Disappointment sang through her blood. She’d secretly hoped that he’d tuned in, out of curiosity if nothing else. True, they weren’t what she would call friends, but they were family. Wasn’t he the least bit interested in his sister-in-law’s accomplishments? Her ascent from “starving actress” to “celebrity icon” had been fast and furious, even by Hollywood standards.
Okay, so she was more of a cult fave than a respected artist, but as far as she was concerned the espionage cable show was merely a stepping stone. Regardless of the farfetched premise and limited production budget, she was still proud of her work. Joe’s apathy hit a raw nerve. Damn him. Damn
her
. The sudden rush of inadequacy intimated she was seeking self-worth in his eyes and transported her to a place she thought she’d left behind.
Striving to keep the bitterness from her tone, she tugged the brim of her cap lower, effectively shielding her bloodshot eyes. “So, what’s
your
take on my memory loss?”
He cocked his head. “Could be psychological rather than a physiological. Could be dissociative amnesia.”
“Which is?”
“Memory loss restricted to a period of time, such as the duration of a traumatic episode, possibly a violent crime.”
Her stomach gurgled with remnants of tequila and newfound angst. “You said not to jump to
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