visitor.”
He had the same ramrod posture as his father, the same blonde hair cut high and tight. This morning, he wore blue jeans and a tee shirt and his eyes were red from either lack of sleep or crying. His leather pilot jacket emblazoned with wings and his rank—Lt. Andrew Armstrong—hung on his shoulders.
The women in the nursing unit seemed to stand a little taller and smile a little brighter. Like his father, he had that effect.
“Just tell me she’s going to be OK, Dad,” Andy said. “Tell me she’s going to be OK.”
*****
“I swear to God, there better be a good reason you’re calling me at this shit-ass hour of the morning.” Joel, my agent, picked up on the third ring.
I sat in an armchair across from the bed, my cell phone clutched tightly against my ear. Charlie lay on her back, spread-eagled, breathing deep and regular, on the room’s only queen bed. I’d laid her on her side when I originally brought her into the room, fearing she’d throw up. She’d soon slumped over on her side and I caught a glimpse of the red satin triangle of her underwear.
The message light on the room phone blinked red. My cell phone showed four missed calls from home—Kay no doubt calling to see how the speech had gone. How could I call her back now?
Sorry I’m calling you so late—I have a drunken woman passed out in my bed. Oh yeah, that would go over really well. Tomorrow it wouldn’t be any better: Sorry I didn’t call you back last night. The country’s hottest-selling mystery author and I got really drunk last night and she passed out in my hotel room. Even better.
“Joel, you’ve got to get me out of a mess. Do you know Charlotte De Laguerre?”
“Charlie? Oh Jesus. Don’t tell me you got booked into this conference with Charlie De Laguerre.”
“I did. She sat next to me on the flight out of Chicago.”
“Where is she? Where are you?” Joel suddenly sounded alert and awake.
“She’s here. With me.”
“In your hotel room? Dude, I’ll do a lot for my authors, but—”
“Joel, it’s not what you think—” Quickly I explained the situation.
“If I’d known she was going to be with you, I would have made certain you were at least booked into another hotel,” Joel said. “She’s a barracuda when she’s been drinking.”
“I guessed that. What’s her deal? She told me she was married on the plane. She sure didn’t act like it in the bar.”
“I don’t know. I think so. I know after her first two books I didn’t want to represent her any more because when she starts boozing, she’s absolutely out of control.”
“Thanks.”
“Has she got her purse with her? Can you find her room key?”
“No, she doesn’t have a purse. Maybe she left it in the bar.”
“Knowing Charlie, she never brought it with her. Once she sets her sights on someone, she’s a rocket on rails. And it looks like you were her target.”
“Great.”
“Go down to the lobby. See if they can find you another room for the night. The extra expense will be worth it. I’ll call your publisher in the morning and see where else they have you going on this book tour—and I’ll check to see if Charlie’s going with you. You’re going to have to get yourself out of this mess tonight, but let me see if I can prevent any further disasters.”
“OK.” Ending the phone call, I stood and
He had the same ramrod posture as his father, the same blonde hair cut high and tight. This morning, he wore blue jeans and a tee shirt and his eyes were red from either lack of sleep or crying. His leather pilot jacket emblazoned with wings and his rank—Lt. Andrew Armstrong—hung on his shoulders.
The women in the nursing unit seemed to stand a little taller and smile a little brighter. Like his father, he had that effect.
“Just tell me she’s going to be OK, Dad,” Andy said. “Tell me she’s going to be OK.”
*****
“I swear to God, there better be a good reason you’re calling me at this shit-ass hour of the morning.” Joel, my agent, picked up on the third ring.
I sat in an armchair across from the bed, my cell phone clutched tightly against my ear. Charlie lay on her back, spread-eagled, breathing deep and regular, on the room’s only queen bed. I’d laid her on her side when I originally brought her into the room, fearing she’d throw up. She’d soon slumped over on her side and I caught a glimpse of the red satin triangle of her underwear.
The message light on the room phone blinked red. My cell phone showed four missed calls from home—Kay no doubt calling to see how the speech had gone. How could I call her back now?
Sorry I’m calling you so late—I have a drunken woman passed out in my bed. Oh yeah, that would go over really well. Tomorrow it wouldn’t be any better: Sorry I didn’t call you back last night. The country’s hottest-selling mystery author and I got really drunk last night and she passed out in my hotel room. Even better.
“Joel, you’ve got to get me out of a mess. Do you know Charlotte De Laguerre?”
“Charlie? Oh Jesus. Don’t tell me you got booked into this conference with Charlie De Laguerre.”
“I did. She sat next to me on the flight out of Chicago.”
“Where is she? Where are you?” Joel suddenly sounded alert and awake.
“She’s here. With me.”
“In your hotel room? Dude, I’ll do a lot for my authors, but—”
“Joel, it’s not what you think—” Quickly I explained the situation.
“If I’d known she was going to be with you, I would have made certain you were at least booked into another hotel,” Joel said. “She’s a barracuda when she’s been drinking.”
“I guessed that. What’s her deal? She told me she was married on the plane. She sure didn’t act like it in the bar.”
“I don’t know. I think so. I know after her first two books I didn’t want to represent her any more because when she starts boozing, she’s absolutely out of control.”
“Thanks.”
“Has she got her purse with her? Can you find her room key?”
“No, she doesn’t have a purse. Maybe she left it in the bar.”
“Knowing Charlie, she never brought it with her. Once she sets her sights on someone, she’s a rocket on rails. And it looks like you were her target.”
“Great.”
“Go down to the lobby. See if they can find you another room for the night. The extra expense will be worth it. I’ll call your publisher in the morning and see where else they have you going on this book tour—and I’ll check to see if Charlie’s going with you. You’re going to have to get yourself out of this mess tonight, but let me see if I can prevent any further disasters.”
“OK.” Ending the phone call, I stood and
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