sleep,” she mumbled.
“Do you know where you are right now?”
She shook her head. “You’re waking me up. I want to sleep. I can’t believe you’re still here.”
Emily’s outrage was surprisingly funny. He perched on the edge of the couch.
“Let’s see if I can torment you some more.”
She tried to push him away. “Noooo. I want to sleep. Leave me alone.”
She let out a contented sigh as she snuggled into her pillows again.
“See you in two hours. I’ll be the hot guy you can’t resist.”
“No,” she protested. He couldn’t stop laughing.
“Damn, you’re cranky when you first wake up.”
Emily definitely wouldn’t be starring in Sleeping Beauty . He knew she was probably in pain and a little cranky as a result, but he couldn’t resist teasing her a bit.
She let out an irritated groan.
“How would you feel . . .” Her words trailed off as she turned into the pillow once more.
B RANDON TRIED TO adhere to the doctor’s schedule, but Emily was surprisingly resistant to his efforts.
“Hey, it’s time for you to talk with me again,” he said.
“Don’t wanna.” This time, she pulled the blanket over her head. Brandon pried them away from her face. She rewarded him with a glare that should have melted flesh.
“You said that last time. You’re going to have to come up with something more original. Dazzle me.”
“Bite me.”
“The kitten has claws.”
She let out a long, tortured sigh. “You’re really enjoying this.”
“I’m wounded, sugar. And here I thought you liked me.”
“Oh, yeah. Just like a cold sore.” He saw her lips curve into a smile. She shoved herself into a sitting position. “Did anyone call?”
“It’s been quiet.”
He was surprised her mother hadn’t called. His parents would have been on the next flight out if he left a message like that on their voice mail. Then again, he hadn’t asked them for help for several years now. Maybe her parents were out of town.
T HE NEXT TIME she opened her eyes, Emily decided she could stand up without falling over. She needed to make a few phone calls. The sound of the television from upstairs told her Brandon was otherwise occupied, at least temporarily.
Emily’s manager David took the news of the spill in the parking lot much better than she thought he would. David never missed an opportunity to panic. Today he seemed somewhat calm.
“I’m assuming you think you’re going to rehearsals tomorrow,” he said.
“There is no way Anna will be singing this role.”
“Let me call the floor director. Nobody would call anyone with a concussion ‘difficult,’ so don’t worry about it. Just get better. Amy must be there with you.”
He’d always been a little sweet on Emily’s sister. Of course, Amy thought he was a mutant.
“She’s at the shop today, David.” Maybe Amy should tell David to buzz off. Again. Emily got tired of relaying his messages.
“Be sure and tell her I said ‘hello.’”
“I’ll keep you updated.”
Moments after she hung up with David the phone rang. Amy didn’t even bother to say “hello.”
“You never called me.”
“There was a little accident,” Emily told her.
“That’s awful. Are you okay?” Amy paused, but only for a moment. “There was something on the news about a huge bunch of Mylar balloons that are now tangled in the grid work on top of Sharks Stadium.” Emily was silent. “Please tell me they are not the balloons that were supposed to go to Brandon McKenna.”
With more than a little trepidation, Emily told Amy her tale of woe. For once Amy listened without interrupting, except the few times that she gasped.
“Brandon drove me home.”
“Brandon. Brandon McKenna? ”
“That’s what I said. Please don’t yell.”
“Where is he now?”
Emily knew that if she didn’t confess, Amy would get in the car and come over to find out for herself.
“Upstairs watching TV,” she finally admitted.
Amy let out an “Oh, my God” Emily