Susan Mallery: Sizzling

“Damn it all to hell,” Reid muttered and picked up Gloria’s phone. He punched in the number the kid had written on his letter and leaned back in his chair.

A woman answered. “Hello?”

“Hi. This is…” Reid hesitated. The letter was three months old. Maybe he should wait to say who he was. “Is Frankie there?”

“Oh, God.”

The woman’s voice came out in a sob. Reid stiffened as he heard what sounded like crying.

“Ah, ma’am?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…” More crying. “He’s gone. It’s been two weeks. Frankie died. I knew it was going to happen. It was inevitable. We all knew it. So I expected to be sad, you know? But why am I shocked? Why do I keep expecting to see him? To hear him? He was just a little boy. So little and now he’s all alone.”

Reid felt as if he’d taken a ninety-mile-an-hour fastball to the gut. The air rushed out of his lungs and he couldn’t speak. Probably a good thing, because what was he supposed to say? That Frankie was in heaven and hanging out with the angels? Who believed that after losing a kid?

“I’m sorry,” he managed at last. “I’m really sorry.”

“Thank you.” The woman cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean to go off like that. I just can’t seem to get it together.” She drew in a breath. “I didn’t get your name. Why are you calling?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Reid said. “I won’t bother you again.”

He hung up the phone and let the letter fall to the ground.

Two weeks. Two fucking weeks. If he’d bothered to read his fan mail even two weeks ago, he could have been there. Could have gone to see the kid.

Not that his showing up would have made any difference, but at least the kid wouldn’t have thought his last wish didn’t matter.

He picked up another letter from a pissed kid, basically telling him off for not bothering to show at some benefit. There were dozens more like it.

Reid closed his eyes and did his best to forget. He wasn’t a bad man. Sure he had his flaws, but he worked hard at his job and he didn’t deliberately hurt anyone. At least that’s what he used to tell himself. Now he had no real job—the sports bar didn’t count—and it turns out he’d hurt a lot of people.

His cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and saw it was Seth—his so-called manager.

“What?” he said by way of greeting.

“Turn on CNN. And brace yourself.”

Reid grabbed the remote and flipped to the appropriate channel. There were two former centerfold twins being interviewed.

“So this is a self-help book?” the reporter asked, barely able to keep from staring at their matching DDD boobs.

“Uh-huh,” one of the blond twins said, her voice high and lispy. The sound made Reid cringe. It also made him remember a couple of nights in Cincinnati, a king-size bed and a whole lot of room service.

“We’ve been in a lot of relationships,” the blonde continued.

“We’ve had a lot of men,” the other one said with a giggle.

“Right.” The first one smiled at the camera. “So we decided to share our experiences with other women. You know, the ones who aren’t as pretty and sexy, who don’t get out as much as we do.”

“There are things they can do,” her sister said earnestly. “Ways to be more sexy. Not just in how they dress, but in what they say and how they act.”

This fabulous offer to American women everywhere came from big-haired twins wearing matching halter tops and hot pants.

“You also talk about some of the men you’ve been with,” the reporter said.

Both sisters giggled. “Uh-huh,” the one on the left said. “We know it’s bad to kiss and tell, but we couldn’t help ourselves.”

Reid got a cold feeling deep in his gut.

“One name popped out at me,” the reporter said. “Reid Buchanan’s been in the news lately.”

Reid groaned.

The twins looked at each other and sighed.

“We didn’t want to say anything in our book,” the first one said. “That would be tacky. But honestly, it wasn’t that great. I mean most guys have trouble with two women, so we expect that. Sure, it’s their fantasy, but when faced with the reality of us naked, it can be a little much.”

“It wasn’t too much,” Reid yelled at the television. “It was fine. It was better than fine. I did great.”

“The earth didn’t move,” the second one said in a low voice. “It happens.”

The reporter leaned forward. “Was it a size issue?”

Reid turned off the TV and sprang to his feet. He paced the length of the room and swore. He didn’t need this in his life. He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t that horrible a person, was he? He should get a break.

Only no one seemed willing to give him one.

He continued to pace back and forth, but the room was too small. He had an excess of energy and no way to burn it off. He had to get out of here, but there wasn’t anywhere to go.

He headed downstairs for the one person guaranteed to distract him.

Talk about idiotic, he thought as he walked into the kitchen. Lori had made it very clear what she thought of him. Did he need to be beat up more?

Except as definitive as she’d been about not wanting him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he got to her. If he did, she would hate that. Which, in a twisted way, made him happy. At least annoying her was interesting.

But she wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room. He headed for Gloria’s temporary bedroom.

“Where’s Lori?” he asked when he saw the nurse wasn’t there. “She’s not avoiding me, is she?”

His grandmother slipped off her glasses, put down her book and stared at him. “Amazingly enough, the whole world doesn’t revolve around you, Reid. Lori’s sister is sick and Lori took her to the doctor. She’ll be back in an hour or so. Can you survive on your own until then, or should I call 9-1-1 for emergency assistance?”

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