Under My Skin by Jaye Maiman

Author:Jaye Maiman [Maiman, Jaye]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Gay & Lesbian
ISBN: 9781594932076
Publisher: Bella Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

I opted for first class. It seemed that there had been several cancellations due to the snow. Dry socks and new sneakers on my feet, a cup of coffee between my palms, and lobster thermidor in my stomach, I was remarkably content.

A state trooper had responded to my horn’s relentless blare. I lied pitifully about my dying grandfather back in Decatur, until tears formed in the young stud’s eyes. He turned on his siren and in the spirit of the holiday whipped me over to the local airfield. American Express took care of the rest. I had missed my scheduled flight, but caught the eight-forty, which didn’t take off till midnight. I didn’t care. I was warm and full. Best of all, I was alive to take revenge on the bastard who had run me off the road.

Of course, there was the possibility that the driver was unrelated to either Noreen or Maggie. But I doubted it. The timing was too coincidental. For the hundredth time, I reviewed the list of people who knew I was on the way to Atlanta. Dean, of course. Then Helen and Amy. Shoot. I had opened my stupid mouth to Douglas Marks and Fred DeLuca. Who the hell didn’t know I was leaving town?

I downed the last sip of coffee, flipped up the food tray, and dragged my overnight bag from under my seat. A flip of a switch and a perky beep told me that my Dell laptop had valiantly survived the accident. I wasn’t sure my new Subaru had been so lucky.

I stared at the list of names, struggling to figure out who could have been so anxious to get rid of me that they had run me off the road and presumably left me for dead. The only logical explanation was that someone figured I knew too much. Then another thought hit me. Maybe it’s Maggie who knows too much.

After fifteen minutes of staring at the screen, I rubbed my eyes, suddenly bone-tired. I glanced at my watch. Nearly one in the morning. The plane would be landing soon. I tilted back my seat and closed my eyes, the image of a blue-hooded flower flickering just at the edge of consciousness.

The doorman opened the taxi door with a condescending nod. I knew I looked like hell. The flight attendant had mentioned it to me sympathetically when I downed two brandies shortly after take-off.

The Hotel Nikko was a class operation. The place was Japanese-American modern chic, complete with a gurgling rock garden and black glass and marble check-in counter. I propped myself up on my elbows and waited for the cashier to hang up the phone. I was seconds from collapsing and this jerk with a hawk-nose was whining to his girlfriend about having to work a double shift on Thanksgiving eve. After a minute, I thumped the counter like a true New Yorker. He hung up with a grimace, then turned on the charm. I checked his name tag.

“Hi, Billy. I called earlier.

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