after a drug bust. âShow it to her,â he said, and handed them to me, âbut make sure you mix it in with the rest.â A half-dozen other mug shots, all men, approximately the same age and description, were in the envelope. Burch wrote Sunnyâs address on the outside.
âI hear sheâs some kinda artist now,â he said, as we walked back to our cars, pausing for a last look at the Miami Beach skyline winking in the haze. âYou know, Britt,â he commented, as I climbed into the T-Bird,âyouâre a pretty girl, but you really oughta do something with your hair.â
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My landlady, Helen Goldstein, and her husband, Hy, were out in their patio chairs, enjoying the late evening. âWe couldnât take the TV news anymore,â she told me, when I stopped to share some of my fresh-picked vegetables.
âBut isnât it too smoky out here?â
âItâs chased away the mosquitoes,â she said cheerfully, then peered more closely in the dim porch light. âBritt, what happened to your hair?â
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I left the frozen pizza in the oven too long, nibbled some anyway, and went to bed. Frustration burdened my dreams. I searched in vain for the brown-haired girl in the blue sweater, then tried and tried to make an urgent call, but the phone would never work. I was trapped, on deadline, in impossible, impassable traffic. Then I had to pee but never could find a rest room. The digital face of my bedside clock glowed in the dark when I awokeâ3:24 A.M. Part of my dream was real, I thought, and climbed out of bed to visit the bathroom. I blamed the beer.
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Unable to go back to sleep, I wondered why some women, like Gretchen and K. C. Riley, donât know or care that we should help each other, especially in times like these. Loneliness and fear are always more acute in the wee small hours. Was Lottie right about Fitzgerald? I wondered. Maybeâ¦
I groped for the TV remote and flicked fitfully, hoping for something to occupy my restless mind. A startling image caught my eye. Mesmerized, unable to take my eyes off it, I watched. Finally, knowing I shouldnât, I reached for the phone. He answered on the first ring.
âHey, Fitz,â I murmured.
âDo you have any idea what time it is, young lady?â
âSorry, did I wake you?â
âNo, sweet thing. Matter of fact, I was thinking âbout you.â
âImagine that. I was thinking about you too.â
âJust get in?â
âNope,â I said. âCouldnât sleep.â
âMe too. Just watching the tube.â
âMe too,â I said. âWait a minute! What are you watching?â
He chuckled evasively.
âThe History channel!â I accused. âYouâre watching it too! Shame on you. So am I.â
âIâm missing you, baby. Big-time, right about now.â
I laughed aloud, surprised at the sound in my dark bedroom. âDid you see what those Greeks were doing?â
âHow about those Roman frescoes?â he said. âWhoâda thought? Say, when are we getting together?â
âWish you were here right now,â I said, voice dropping to a seductive whisper.
âMe too. How about Tuesday? Iâve got an early deposition in a homicide case, but I can drive down right after. Iâll put in for the time tomorrow.â
âCanât wait to see you, gorgeous.â
âHey,â he said, âI can get dressed right now, hop in the car, and be there in time for breakfast.â
âDonât tempt me,â I said, voice husky. âYou know we both have to work tomorrow.â
âThe Volusia state attorneyâs office and the Miami News would manage fine without us.â
âSee you Tuesday,â I said.
4
âHow could I have known heâd be watching The History of Sex too?â I said, phone to my ear, as I brewed coffee the next morning.
âIâda stayed up
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley