Goody One Shoe by Julie Frayn

Author:Julie Frayn [Frayn, Julie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Published: 2015-05-23T23:00:00+00:00

Sunday

BILLIE JERKED AWAKE, trembling and bathed in sweat. The remnants of a crazy dream, justice revisited, edited and corrected, had come alive in her head and gone horribly awry. She rubbed her eyes and blinked. Sun streamed in through the vertical blinds.

She tossed the covers aside and eyed the alarm clock. Nine forty-three. She put both hands over her eyes and moaned. The gym would be packed by now, her usual treadmill probably four deep in line. And she’d slept through her editing time. At this rate, she’d never get Annabelle’s novel finished. Good start to freelancing, Billie. Lose your first client.

How on earth had she slept so long? She picked her phone up from the nightstand and poked in her password.

Three text messages from Bruce.

She flopped back against her pillow, unable to keep her smiles on the inside anymore.

Hey, movie’s starting. Did you miss the subway? I knew I should have picked you up.

Movie? That was tonight. Man, he needed a break. He must be stressed. She scrolled to the second message.

Knock, knock. Billie, where are you? Is everything ok? I’m calling you.

The furrow of her brow deepened. She switched screens. Four missed calls? How did she not hear her phone? She listened to the messages, each from Bruce, the panic in his voice a bit edgier with each subsequent recording. In the final message, he said he understood. They’d been seeing too much of each other. He was moving too fast. He’d leave her alone for a while.

Leave her alone? Too fast? She bolted upright.

No, God damn it, no. She was screwing everything up. Total, epic failure. As usual.

Her phone buzzed in her hand.

I know I said I’d leave you alone. Just can’t. Missed you last night. Be a good girl at church. Call me later?

Church? She switched screens and checked the date. Sunday, July Twelfth?

The cat lay at the end of her bed, his tail swatting side to side like a furry whip. “Peg Leg, tell me what day it is. What the hell, did I sleep through Saturday?” She tossed her phone on the bed and buried her eyes behind the heels of both hands. She breathed long and steady, urged her heart to calm down and beat slower.

She was supposed to go to the movies with Bruce tonight. Or, last night. She searched her memory for yesterday and came up empty. A flash of water, breaking glass. Damn it all to hell. Doc Kroft’s red glasses floated by. Dissociative fog. Or whatever. Billie dismissed that notion, and the doc’s spectacles, with a wave of her hand.

Sunday. Church. She should go to church. Meet God in His own house and ask for His guidance. Or at the very least, shed a little holy light on just what the hell was happening.

She sent Bruce an apology text. Vowed to call him and explain later. If she could just figure out what the explanation was.

She hopped toward the bathroom. Her father’s clothes lay in a heap in the middle of the floor.

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