Hours later, we pulled up to the house, a nondescript split-level out in the burbs, The Strip visible far off in the distance. My stomach was gurgling in nervous anticipation as we carried Joseph up to the front door. His eyes seemed to be focusing more now, his reflexes returning. Which meant that our time was running out, the last grains of sand trickling down the hourglass. But we’d made it at least, and now I had Mitzy and…
“Hello, gorgeous,” he said, the door swinging open as Ted and I stared in shock and just a bit of awe.
“Mister Daniels,” I managed with a polite nod.
“Please, call me Barbra,” he corrected, all nasal-Brooklyn-accent-like.
I held out my free hand, the other one still wrapped tightly around Joseph’s waist. “Barbra,” I said with his rather mannish, though exceeding
