Free Six Bullets by Jeremy Bates

in diet? Change in sleeping habits?”
    “No.”
    “Are you drinking
any more coffee or alcohol than usual?”
    “No, no. It’s none
of that. It’s just stress. From work—and other things. My life’s been a little
hectic recently.”
    Dr. Blair nodded,
but didn’t say anything right away. Scarlett found herself wondering whether he
knew about her and Sal’s marital problems. God knows the affair had been played
to death on all the television entertainment channels, including several
respectable news outfits. Not that she cared if he did know. She’d long ago
become desensitized to what the general public thought of her personal life.
“Welcome to the jungle,” her agent had told her six years back when she was
still starry-eyed after her first big feature film success.
    Dr. Blair said,
“Are you feeling any nausea now?”
    “No.”
    “Can you touch
your nose?”
    She did what he
asked.
    He held a finger
in front of her face. “Follow my finger, please.” He moved his index finger
left, then right. “Any blurred vision?”
    She shook her
head.
    He straightened.
“It doesn’t seem you have any post-concussion symptoms. But I’d like to keep
you overnight for observation. I believe the police would also like to get a
statement from you. After that, in the morning, you should be good to leave.
However,” he added, “I want you to take it easy. That means nothing stressful
for the next seven to ten days. Understood?
    “Impossible,” she
said. “I have too much to do.” Her mind was already fast-forwarding to the
weekend. The calls and apologies she’d have to make. Rebooking the venue for
the party, sending out fresh invitations, the appearance Monday on Good
Morning America…
    “Miss Cox,” Dr.
Blair said. “You said so yourself. You believe stress has been triggering your
recent spate of migraines. That sounds reasonable to me. On top of that, you’ve
just been in a serious car accident. You’ve suffered a mild to moderate
traumatic brain injury. True, you seem to be doing fine. But any sort of TBI
should be taken seriously. Just because you’re not currently exhibiting certain
symptoms doesn’t mean they won’t emerge tomorrow, or the day after that. And
the best prevention against that is to take a break, relax, slow down.”
    “I really don’t
think—”
    “I’ll keep an eye
on her,” Sal cut in.
    “Make sure you
do. Now, I have to continue my rounds. A nurse will be in shortly.”
    They thanked Dr.
Blair, and he left the room.
    Scarlett looked
skeptically at Sal. “You don’t really think I need to sit around the house for
a week, do you?”
    “You heard the
man, cara mia. You need to relax. Whatever you have to do can wait.” He took
her hand in his again and rubbed the top of it with his thumb. “It’s good to
see you.”
    She wanted to
tell him the same, but she bit back the words. She didn’t want to confuse her
gratitude at surviving the car accident with her still uncertain feelings for
him.
    Unable to meet
his eyes, she looked down at the hand holding hers. It was tanned, strong, manicured
nails, platinum wedding band on the ring finger.
    “Listen,” Sal
said, clearing his throat. “What about we take a trip somewhere?”
    Scarlett raised
her eyebrows in surprise. “You mean, just you and me?”
    “Sure,” he said,
pushing up his bottom lip. If lips could shrug, that’s how they’d do it.
    “I don’t think
that’s such a good idea right now, Sal.”
    “I meant what I
said about getting through this. I want this marriage to work.”
    “I want it to
work too, I really do, but I don’t think the next step is us vacationing
together.”
    “But it is,” he
insisted. “It’s exactly what we need.”
    She searched his
eyes. “What about the hotel?” she said cautiously. “The opening?”
    “I’ll have my
phone. I’ll keep in touch with the office.”
    “I don’t know—”
    “It’ll be good
for you.”
    “Humor me then.
What do you have in