Pre-Fix by Linda Grimes

Author:Linda Grimes
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2015-03-09T04:00:00+00:00

Read on for a preview of

The Big Fix

Linda Grimes

Available in hardcover and e-book in May 2015 from Tom Doherty Associates

A TOR BOOK

Copyright © 2015 by Linda Grimes

Chapter 1

It’s not that I’m averse to holding on to something long and cylindrical, even if it does wiggle a bit. But when it hisses at me, I get nervous.

Relax, I told myself. That snake is probably more afraid of you than you are of it.

Yeah, right, myself answered, noting the distinctly un-afraid reptilian glint in its eyes. You wish. (Myself can be an unsympathetic bitch sometimes.)

I inhaled—slowly—fighting the impulse to gulp in air until I hyperventilated and passed out. As much as losing consciousness was starting to seem like an attractive option, it wouldn’t put a paycheck in my wallet.

You need that money, you need that money, you need that money, I chanted. Mentally, of course. Saying it out loud wouldn’t do a thing to enhance the image I was being paid to project. And paid extremely well, I reminded myself. Better than ever before.

The snake hissed again, its head dancing dangerously close to my own, forked tongue flicking in and out between curved fangs. Gaaah. You need that money …

(Myself took the opportunity to point out that some things are not worth the payoff. Like I said. Cold. Also, not helpful.)

Maybe I could get away with lengthening my arm. Just an inch or two …

The snake stretched.

… or three or four. A foot, tops. Surely no one would notice. At least, not until my sleeve suddenly appeared shorter. Rats.

“Don’t hold it so close, Jack!” The woman glued to my side whisper-screamed at me through unmoving lips, calling my attention back to her existence. As if her chest pressed hard against my ribcage wasn’t enough of a grabber. If those sweater puppies were real, I’d eat the stupid Indiana Jones knockoff hat I was wearing.

“I’m try-ing,” I ventriloquized right back at her, barely audible.

Holding my current self erect (all ruggedly handsome six-foot-three of me, complete with requisite three-day scruff), I tossed the snake into the murky subterranean pit situated within easy falling distance … only to have another one drop immediately onto my shoulder from the ledge above. Crap. I squeezed what’s-her-boobs convulsively, but managed not to scream like a girl. Score one for self-control. Maybe I wouldn’t ruin this guy’s reputation after all.

At least the new snake wasn’t as big. That had to be good, right?

The rattle started in the vicinity of my left ear. Or possibly not …

The new snake’s head swayed in front of us, ominously close to the woman now scrambling to disentangle herself from me. I took a deep breath, grabbed the wiggly bastard by the tail (wondering fleetingly—and perhaps irrelevantly—how one was supposed to tell where a snake’s body leaves off and its tail begins), twirled it twice above our heads, and sent it into the pit to join its buddy, maintaining my cool it’s-all-in-a-day’s-work attitude by the skin of my teeth.

Boobs Galore stopped her escape effort and wilted against me in an orchestrated flood of relieved tears.

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