Free Amy Maxwell's 6th Sense by Heather Balog Page A

murmurs, “I meant nothing improper about that, Amy. I am simply offering you an escape from your unruly children. I am nothing but a gentleman and I will be on my best behavior, regardless of how difficult it is to control my urge to ravage you.”
     
    “Amy!” I am being violently shaken awake by my husband.
    I glance around, wondering where Jason and my margaritas have gone. It is semi-dark; I can make out a hazy sunset in the distance. Where the heck am I?
    It takes me a moment, but I finally remember. I realize that I am in a lounge chair on the balcony of our hotel. In my hand, I clutch a margarita glass that was delivered, not by Jason, but by a butler that managed to sneeze fifty times from the moment he walked into the room till he walked out. He also wiped a booger on his arm, I recall with a shudder. I must have taken the margarita glass out to the balcony and fallen asleep.
    Roger snatches the glass out of my hand. “Jesus, Amy! You’re drinking already?”
    I wave my hand in the air and reply, “It’s five o’clock somewhere, Roger.” Actually, it’s probably 5:00 here, no? Crap! Am I slurring my words? They certainly sounded slurred. I cannot possibly be drunk on one margarita! That’s impossible! I quickly cover my mouth with my hand as a hiccup escapes.
    “You’re wasted, Amy!” Roger turns the empty glass upside down. Not one drop escapes, causing Roger to stare at me incredulously. “How much did you drink?”
    I hiccup as I answer, “He only brought me the one! I’m not drunk, Roger! I swear.” I stand up (unsteadily) and lean my head back, closing my eyes.
    “What in God’s name are you doing?” Roger asks with annoyance, while I alternate touching my fingertips to my nose.
    “Field Sobriety Test,” I reply as I successfully pass. At least, I successfully pass in my eyes. Roger is not so convinced.
    “You can barely stand up straight for God’s sakes,” Roger mumbles as he grabs my arms. “Stop this. You look like an idiot. People are staring.”
    My eyes snap open and I glance around to see that people are indeed stopping on the sidewalk underneath our balcony, just staring up at me. I don’t know what comes over me, but I lean over the side and wave enthusiastically. “Hi!” I yell. “How are you fine folks tonight?”
    An elderly woman grabs her husband’s arm, urging him to move on and get away from the crazy lady in room 420. “Hey!” I call after them. “Where ya going? You don’t wanna chat with me?”
    Roger grabs my arm and pulls me from the edge. “Will you knock it off? They’re probably on their way to dinner. Which is where we are supposed to be in exactly fifteen minutes.” Roger glances down at his nonexistent watch. The man hasn’t had a watch since he got a cell phone, yet he insists on looking at his wrist whenever he wants to indicate to me that we are late. Which is quite regularly.
    “Oh, dinner sounds fun!” I chirp, following him into the room. The kids are all standing around the room, and as usual, they are in various stages of undress. And there appears to be two of Lexie. And she’s swaying.
    I slap my face lightly, partly to wake up and partly to get rid of the twin Lexies.
    “What’s wrong with Mommy?” Lexie asks as she watches me slap my own face.
    Roger shakes his head. “Nothing. She’s going to get dressed now, and we are going to go to dinner.”
    “She’s drunk,” Allie scoffs.
    “She’s not drunk,” Roger replies angrily as he throws open my suitcase and starts rummaging through. For what, I don’t know. “She's just... happy. ”
    “Whatcha lookin’ for?” I ask, leaning my chin on his shoulder.
    “Something for you to wear,” he mumbles, unearthing my bathing suit and stack of bras.
    “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I ask defensively. Then my eyes scan my body. Still in a robe. Oops.
    “I highly doubt that robe meet the dress code of the restaurant that we’re going to,” he replies, holding