With trembling fingers, I took the keys out of the ignition and slipped out of my car. It'd stripped me of what made me up pride, perseverance, and apparently, the ability to make good choices.īecause someone who made good choices wouldn't be taking a job from a man like Dex Locke. The knowledge that my bank account was bleeding a slow death had wrung me dry. Staying with Sonny.īeing broke had made me desperate. What in the hell were you thinking, Iris?
My stomach churned at the same time nervous tears threatened to well up in my eyes. The white number on my dashboard clicked to 3:55. It wasn't going to be classy or snot-less, and I'd probably sound like a wheezing baboon. And exactly like my puking, it was going to be nasty. Nasty, projectile vomiting straight out of a horror movie.Īnd if that wasn’t bad enough, immediately after throwing up all over the dashboard of my twelve-year-old Ford Focus, I was going to burst into tears. Foreboding.Īnd it wasn't going to be a pretty puke like when you're a baby and even farting can be considered cute.
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