Lady Bomb Escorts

you know you want it…

July 13, 2006

 
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Chapter Two

Choking back the urge to panic, I rushed to her body and felt for a pulse along either side of her neck. Nothing, but she was still warm. I rolled her over and tried mouth-to-mouth, even though I really didn’t know what I was doing.

It didn’t work.

Poor Jackie. What was she doing here? How did she find me? Was that purple lipstick I was wiping from my mouth? When did she start wearing that color?

My mind raced to try and remember what had happened, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that I had probably killed her. The likelihood of a third person doing the damage seemed pretty slim, even though I had visible signs of fending off an attacker. Nope. The killer had to be me. And Jackie had to be the attacker. But why?

I looked around the room and it was only slightly more out of order than normal. I kept a pretty sloppy house and an overturned chair here and there was a common sight, but more than a few things had been knocked around and there were books on the floor, some open and face down, others face up with torn pages. I was always careful with books, even when I was drinking.

There was also broken glass in various places around the room. Something had caused a ruckus, that was for sure.

I sat down heavily on the chair across from the sofa and tried to make sense of the whole damn thing.

"What was the last thing you remember doing?"

I was startled for a second before realizing that I had said this out loud, and it was my own voice that I heard. "Oh my God," I added. "What have I done?"

The very last thing I could remember was working on the fucking blog. Oftentimes I use a hand-held cassette recorder to make verbal notes about possible stories before researching and typing them up. It’s also an indispensable joke-writing tool. As I sat there searching my mind for some memory of what happened, I spied the blue plastic casing of the recorder on the floor by the couch, half hidden under a book that had been tossed there.

My hand was trembling as I picked up the recorder. The tape had run to the end and was stopped. The ‘record’ button was still pushed in.

I thumbed re-wind and held my breath.




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