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

up a sundress and panties.
    “Roger, it’s Egyptian cotton. I am sure that such plush luxury meets the restaurant’s standards.” I smirk as I wave my hand over my nearly threadbare robe. A giggle escapes my lips—I’m feeling downright giddy right now. Roger does not share my giddiness. In fact, he seems perplexed and scratches his head.
    “Huh?”
    I shake my own head and snatch the dress and underwear from his hand. “No sense of humor,” I mutter while shuffling unsteadily to the bathroom. Once inside, I fiddle with the latch for a few seconds, ensuring that the door is actually locked. You may think the fact that my entire family witnessed me going into the bathroom would be enough to stop someone from opening the door, but unfortunately it’s not.
    I drop the robe to the floor and pull on a pair of thong underwear. I absolutely detest this underwear, but Roger loves it for some asinine reason. “I bet he’s thinking he’s gonna get some,” I mumble, wriggling into the sundress he picked out. “Ha! Like that’s gonna happen in a room with four kids!” I decide that Roger has definitely screwed himself by not booking the suite. And it’s the only screwing he's gonna get this week.
    I quickly smooth the wrinkles out of the sundress and momentarily wonder if it is too cold for night time. Then, I remember we are in the Caribbean on what should be my dream vacation.
    “Mom, can you get out of the bathroom?” Lexie is begging on the other side of the door. “I’ve got to go!”
    I swear that kid has a bladder the size of a peanut. Every single store we go to, every single restaurant we go to...she’s gotta pee.
    “In a second!” I call back. I lean forward to inspect my now completely dry and frizzy hair. There’s no salvaging this mop once it’s dried, so I reach into the toiletry bag to retrieve a hair tie and put my hair up in Roger’s favorite style...Librarian Bun. That’ll drive him bonkers, I think as my hand grazes the box of sinus headache medicine and it clatters to the floor.
    Groaning as my knees pop, I bend down to retrieve the box. Hmmmm, that’s funny. I thought I took one of these , I muse, realizing the box is unopened. As I stand up, I am certain, No, I definitely took one of them. But the box is closed…unless I’m Houdini, that’s impossible.
    Slightly panicked, I realize I must have taken something else. But what? Searching the counter, I find it. The box of Dramamine. Shit! I must have taken two of these instead of the headache medicine!
    I grab the box and read the label. “Do not consume alcoholic beverages while taking this medication.” Well, that certainly explains how I got completely trashed on one margarita. I shake my head as I shove both boxes back into the bag. You really need to be more careful, Amy. Why, you’re an irresponsible mess! Losing kids and overdosing on anti-nausea medication! What’s next? Drowning in the ocean because you went too far out? Getting run over by a bus because you didn’t look both ways?
    I open up the bathroom door, Colt nearly knocking me down as I do. Lexie is hopping on one foot outside the door.
    “No fair! I gotta go, too!” she screams as Colt rushes in.
    Colt cackles evilly while he closes the door and tells his sister, “I think I feel a poop coming on, too,”
    “Jerk! You better hurry up!” Lexie kicks the door for good measure.
    Lord, having one bathroom is going to be pure torture this week...as if this vacation wasn’t torture enough already.
    I see Evan struggling to pull a shirt over his head. Roger must have told him to change for dinner, not realizing that he couldn’t handle a button-down polo on his own. I step over to the bed to help him when I am accosted by Roger.
    “Amy, where's my blue shirt?” he asks, standing bare chested in front of me. Thank God he has pants on. “I told you to pack my blue shirt and it’s not here.”
    I point to the shirt at the top of the stack on the bed. “It’s