Amy slid back the panel and dropped down to the edge of the desk, then hopped to the floor.  She was covered in a white residue and felt like the Pillsbury Dough boy.  She hoped it was dust and not some chemical agent that would deform her children and give her cancer by the ripe old age of forty-five.

Veronica held the syringe like it was a smoking pistol.

Amy gazed at the snoring Chad.  “What did you give him?”

“A shot of Propofol with a little Midazolam thrown in.  He won’t remember a thing.”


Bug, Bug, Who’s Got the Bug?

Veronica pulled Chad’s cell phone out of his back pocket.  His butt muscles twitched reflexively.

“What’re you doing?” Amy asked.  “You’re not going to steal his wallet, are you?”

“I’m just looking at his phone.  Aha!” Veronica smiled triumphantly and showed Amy the screen on his phone.  “It’s a GPS tracking device, see?”

“What’s that pulsating red dot?”

“That’s you,” Veronica said.  “He has you bugged so he can follow you.”

“Oh my God,” Amy breathed.  “That’s how he always knew where I was.”

“We have to find out where he planted the bugs.  Then we can turn him loose back into the wild.”

Amy shuddered.  “Do you think he planted a bug on me, like inside one of my body cavities while I was unconscious from slipping on the, you know?”

Veronica raised an eyebrow.  “Eww, I hope not.  I’ll search a lot of places, but that’s not one of them.  Let’s see your purse, your jacket and anything else that you always carry with you.”

Exactly seven minutes later they had found a tiny silver bullet-shaped device in Amy’s purse, one in her kit bag and one neatly inserted behind the calendar in her DayTimer.  “What on earth is he thinking?  I didn’t know these things even existed and I’m covered in them,” Amy said.

“Come on, there’s certainly one in your car,” Veronica said.  “We need to go check it out.”

“What do we do with him?” Amy said, pointing at Chad’s twitching buttocks.

“Don’t worry about it.  He’ll be out a while.”

They slunk out of her office.  Amy didn’t know why they were the ones slinking around.  None of this was her fault.  Chad was the crazy person.  “What exactly do you think is wrong with him?” Amy asked, as they rode the elevator to the parking garage.

“I really don’t know.  He must have always been a little off his rocker and this thing with you has sent him over the edge.  Maybe no one has ever turned him down or maybe it’s this girl-on-girl thing you have going on.”

“You know about Jordan and me?”

“Honey, most of the hospital knows.  All the boys are jealous and all the girls think you have great taste in women.”

They exited the elevator and walked directly to Amy’s Smart car.  “Where do we look?” she asked.

“Usually, in the movies they’re hidden under the car because in most cases the perps can’t get in the car.”

“Perps?”

“The bad guys.  You don’t watch TV much, do you?”

“Nope.”  Amy leaned down and looked under her car.  It was so low to the ground that it was hard to get a good look at anything.  Its low clearance had been a beef with some of the car’s reviewers but since Amy was short she hadn’t much cared and she didn’t go in the mountain wilds so it didn’t seem an issue.  Unless of course, your crazy-ass-one-night-stand person put trackers everywhere.  “I can’t see anything.  Should I crawl underneath?”  She was wearing dark blue scrubs so perhaps parking lot dirt wouldn’t show, but then she’d be unsanitary and would have to change anyway.

“I think so,” Veronica said.  “I’d do it but I might get stuck.”  She pointed to her breasts.

“We wouldn’t want to have to call 911,” Amy agreed.  “They’d probably think I ran over a large-breasted woman.”

Amy laid down flat on her back and looked at the short space she was supposed to crawl under.  She’d heard once that mice could squeeze themselves flat in order to crawl under doors.  “Think like a mouse, think like a mouse,” she thought as she scooted under the bumper.  She managed to jimmy herself under the car, but once under she couldn’t see a damn thing.  It figured Chad wouldn’t just stick it under the doorframe or under the tail pipe, no, he’d go as far under as he could and then the fucker would put it by all the other mechanical stuff.  “Crap, I can’t tell what’s what.  I don’t want to mess up my car.”

“What’re you doing here?” she heard Veronica ask.

When Amy turned her head she saw a pair of shoes standing on the other side of the car next to Veronica’s shoes. Big shoes.  Big men’s shoes.  She bumped her head.  “Ouch!  Please, tell me that’s not Chad.”

“It’s not Chad.  It’s me,” Jeremy said.  He squatted and peered under the car at her.  “Why are you under your car?”

Veronica answered for her. “She’s looking for a GPS tracker.  Chad had her wired with three others.  We’re trying to find the one he put on her car.”

Amy shimmied back out from under her car.  Jeremy extended a hand and helped her to her feet.  “Where’s Chad now?” he asked

Amy tried to brush herself off, but managed only to smear the oil and dirt around.

“He’s in her office,” Veronica said.  “I had to tranq him.  Like how they do when a gorilla escapes from the zoo.”

“The dude is seriously going to get fired at this rate,” Jeremy said.  He walked a circle around the car, looking it over.  He kneeled down and peeked under the car.  He rose back up, stood perfectly still, closed his eyes and held his palms out toward the car.  He looked like he was meditating.

Veronica and Amy exchanged a look.  Amy shrugged.

Jeremy muttered, “If I were a crazy man, where would I put a tracking device?”  Suddenly, his eyes popped open.  He reached down and ran his fingers behind the license plate.  He grinned and pulled out a small silver bullet-shaped tracking device with black electrical tape crisscrossed over it.  “Got it!  Now, where’s his car?”  He looked around and spotted The Beemer.  “I’ll put it on his car and then you can track him.”

“Don’t we need one of those GPS tracker thingies?” Amy asked.

“I’ll download the app to your phone,” Jeremy said.  “That way he can never sneak up on you again.”

“The man is seriously deranged,” Veronica said.

Jeremy agreed.  “He should be put in a loony bin.”

“Great idea!” Veronica said.  As Jeremy stuck the tracker under The Beemer’s plate, Veronica dialed her phone.

“Hey, Sis,” Veronica said into her phone.  “Listen, there’s a package in Dr. Stewart’s office.  Can you fill out a 2XC – 49R, put Dr. Jeremy Blevins name on it and give it to Salvatore?  He can transport the package to its proper destination.  Uh huh.  Call me when it’s done, okay?”  She hung up and grinned at Amy.

“What’s a 2XC-49R?” Amy asked.

“It’s a Psych Evaluation Request Form,” Veronica said.  Chad will be in a rubber room before he even wakes up.”

“That is totally brilliant.  I’ve got friends over there that will keep an eye on him,” Jeremy said.

“Why does that not surprise me?” Veronica said.

Jeremy continued, “They’ll take good care of him.”  He winked.

Veronica looked Jeremy up and down.  She must have liked what she saw because she looped one arm through his as they made their way back to the hospital.  “So, tell me, do you like twins?”

“Love them,” Jeremy said.

“Well, isn’t this your lucky day,” Veronica said.

Amy shook her head.  It seemed like everyone around her was falling in love.  Or at least lust.  She dialed her cell phone again.  When Edison picked up, she said, “Me again.  Have you found her yet?”


Welcome to Las Vegas

 

Jordan was jumping up and down on the hotel room bed and chanting, “She loves me!  She loves me!”  The very expensive pillow top mattress of the MGM Grand had quite the bounce factor.  And the louder Jordan yelled, the higher she soared.

Irma had spirited Jordan away from Portland and Amy.  Jordan went willingly.  What better place to get over a broken heart than the land of showgirls, glittery lights, and cheap buffets?  Irma also brought Petronella.  It was their honeymoon.  They had, after all, been together for one whole week.

Irma and Petronella heard the commotion and ran into Jordan’s room from their adjoining room.  They got there just in time to see Jordan wave a letter at them and bounce so high that the top of her head came in contact with the spinning blades of the ceiling fan and…

This part has been censored due to its graphic and bloody nature.

Five minutes later:

“Did you learn nothing from the story of Victor Morrow and the helicopter during the filming of Twilight Zone: The Movie?” Petronella said.  She was sitting on the bed, holding Jordan in her lap while Irma pressed an expensive hotel bath sheet to Jordan’s head in an effort to staunch the bleeding.

“Victor who?” Jordan asked.

“It was a cautionary tale of the eighties,” Petronella said.

“Is my head still attached?” Jordan asked.

“Mostly,” Petronalla said.

“Will I live?  Be truthful.”

“Probably,” Petronella said.  “Do you mind telling us why you were jumping up and down on your bed?”

“I got a letter from Edison.  She sent it FedEx,” Jordan said, pointing to a bloody, crumpled piece of paper lying on the floor.  Irma retrieved the paper and examined it.

“Edison says Amy loves me.  And the whole Chad thing was a mistake.  He’s stalking her.  She says there is definitive proof of both things.”  Jordan sat up, but the movement made her so dizzy that she plopped back down.  “We need to go back.  I need to go back to Amy,” Jordan said in a tangled rush of words.  Then she fainted.