Dring, dring. With a groan, I forced open one eye. An overcast sky peered through partially open blinds and the alarm clock advised it was 12:15 p.m. Dring, dring. I stretched a sleep-deprived arm toward the mobile phone perched on a nightstand that was mercilessly demanding I answer it. I vaguely recalled having transferred it in here when I climbed into bed a couple of hours ago.
Dring, dring.Dring, dring.“Yeah?” I managed to squeeze past dry lips.
“You"re still in bed?” Petey May"s raspy voice asked in disbelief. “No wonder you weren"t picking up on the cell. After leaving two messages there, I thought I"d give your business number a try.”
“I only climbed in at ten this morning. A long, crazy night flowed into an even crazier morning. It made for a Friday the thirteenth grand finale.
