Page 148 of Foreplay on Words

“You’d save my ass if I needed it. Now, go get your girl,” he laughed. I closed the door, pulled my suitcase out of the trunk, and went to check in for my flight. I’d be getting into O’Hare around 2:00 pm and hoped I’d make it to the book reading and signing before it was over.

When I reached Boston Logan International Airport and finally got through security and to my gate, I had twenty minutes until boarding.

“Let’s see if I can get you to work.” I unwrapped my new phone and took it out of the package. Plugging the power cord into a charging tower beside my seat, I tried to power it up. The guy at the phone store had activated the SIM card and my phone number, but I still had to sync it with the data in the Cloud.

Following the prompts, I finally got it to start syncing information and waited impatiently. I didn’t memorize many phone numbers, but I knew my sister’s. I would have to beg for Kelly’s help to get to the bookstore on time.

She answered on the first ring. “Do you need bail money?”

“I don’t even get a hello?” I laughed.

“You never call me during the day, so I’m guessing you need something,” she deduced. My sister may have been a pain in the ass, but she was a smart one.

“I need a ride from the airport,” I sighed. Arranging a car would take longer than I had, and who knew how long I’d have to wait for a cab.

“Wait. I thought you were already in the city. Didn’t your flight get in at 10:00?”

I let out a long sigh.

“What did you do?” she asked. She always knew when I’d fucked things up.

“It’s a long story...” A long, weird, messy story.

“I’ve got time. Do I need to make myself some popcorn?” she laughed. Of course, she’d want the dirt before she agreed to help me.

“You’re the worst.”

“So, you don’t need my help anymore? Gonna catch an Uber?” she teased.

“An Uber driver probably wouldn’t give me as much shit as you, but I haven’t had the best of luck with hired transport lately,” I laughed. That cab driver was not amused. I still can’t believe he thought I was on drugs.

“What exactly did you do? Expose yourself in a cab or something?” she laughed loudly in my ear.

“No, but I did basically get dumped in a parking lot by one.” And roughly manhandled by a beefy cab driver.

“What the hell happened?”

“I had a panic attack, and he thought I was on drugs.” Might as well rip off the damn Band-Aid and let her make fun of me now.

“Were you?”

I laughed at her blunt question. “Not until later.”

“Anything good?” she laughed.

“Apparently Klonopin makes me act like a drunk person,” I confessed. And throw up profusely.

“Oh, my God! I would have paid good money to see that.” I cringed at the loud laughter coming through the phone, but I was sure I’d find it funny someday.

“It also makes me drop my phone in a sewer grate and get violently ill. Fun times,” I said dryly. Yesterday truly was a clusterfuck.

“Oh man, wait till Mom hears this one.”

“No! Please don’t. You know she’ll tell the book club.” I shuddered. Those ladies were brutal. I couldn’t even imagine the social media messages they’d send to make fun of me. Not that I’d know how to check them.

“Speaking of, they got T-shirts made,” she laughed. Great.

“Kill me now.”

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