Dammit! I missed my wake up call. This is why you don't buy a damn iPhone. I drag myself out of my lovely king-sized bed and slowly make my way down t...e spiral stairs that lead to our grand kitchen. Mom is sitting on one of our stools by our bar, reading a New York Times newspaper. She sips her coffee and looks up at me with her beautiful gray eyes. "Good morning, my dear Angel," she says in a sing-song voice. She quickly hops up and gives me a long, embracing hug. Gosh, it's only been six. I slowed to a walk, angry with myself. When I got my wind again I did some chin-ups from a tree limb, only to have leaves and debris bombard me. I dropped to the ground and lay down, resting but getting angrier.Then I got up and broke into another jog. I heeded Fiore's warning and kept the pace moderate, determined to make it all the way to Martha's. I stopped at the newsstand for a Sunday paper. It was too cumbersome to jog with, and I was getting out of breath again. I waited on the corner of. As soon as I got into the bedroom I attacked the drawer and pulled the bag out. I shoved it under the bed on my side, as instructed, but it made a crinkling sound that would wake the dead! She said I'd need it, I thought, but do I want to announce it? I didn't think so. I emptied the contents on the floor and, one by one, squeezed them between the mattress and box spring. I put the bag back in the drawer where it could stay hidden, then ran to the bathroom. Teeth brushed, peed out and face. When I got back things were a lot better. I even received some beautiful smiles. The ladies had everything all cleaned up and had some oatmeal on the fire and I was starving. They had dressed in what was probably the going attire for actresses. After a late breakfast I inquired what they had decided. Sandra took the lead. “We still want to go to Sante Fe if you'll take us. We can't go back as we told you before. We'll pay you well and I saw you take the money we'd paid those bastards you killed.
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