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Frankie Petrovic is in over her head. Her one night stand is showing up all over the place, breaking into her trailer and offering her weird propositions. As if that's not enough, she is kind of dating Adonis-like, baseball star who has a strange tendency to peek though other people's windows. The two men she is involved with are incredibly handsome, but are very secretive. That is until she stumbles upon a dead girl and they start opening up. Now one claims to be an FBl agent, while the other claims to be a private investigator. Can she trust either of them?
Chapter 1 How it started
The most important thing you need to
remember about me: I'm impulsive.
Which, I have to admit, doesn't always
make for the greatest decisions.
The biggest amount of trouble I've gotten
into has to be the time when I worked
as a flight attendant. I had a deranged
couple in the first class who fought
through most of the tiresome long-haul
flight. It escalated without a warning
when he smashed his champagne glass
and pressed it against her throat. Instinct
took over and I was on him in a flash.
I rammed him with my beverage cart
before I attacked him with Chanel No.
I may have saved her life, but I had also
gotten fired.
Granted, not fired in an old fashioned
sense, but in a new, modern way. Which
translates into me being rewarded by
getting a paid leave of absence for a
remaining year of my contract. And an
unspoken promise that there would
never be another contract again.
Devastated that I had to leave my dream
behind, I pulled a Frankie Petrovic
classic. I acted on spur-of-the-moment,
bought a trailer and be the rest of the
year on the road.
I glanced out the window of Mary's Diner
just in time to see four friends stumbling
out of a bar from across the street. They
were laughing, having the time of their
lives. I couldn't remember the last time I
had tumbled out of a bar.
I grabbed a tall glass from the table I sat
at and took a sip of water, wishing the
diner offered wine. Cracking a smile as
an idea occurred to me, I pushed away
my half-empty plate of grilled vegetables
and fries. I waveda waitress over, paid
for my dinner, left a generous tip and
said goodnight.
Walking across the street, I let my hair
down. Thick blonde waves fell on my
shoulders and cascaded down my back.
A few turquoise highlights could be
seen- yet another consequence of my
I-got-fired breakdown. I ran my fingers
through it, trying to tame the lion's mane
look I rocked.
I inspected my clothes critically. Browwn
boots, worn-out jeans, and a form-fitting
green top. Nothing fancy, but my
lucky top would help me pull it off as
a going out outfit. I rarely wore it out
of superstition that its magical powers
wouldn't work if I wore it all the time.
With some difficulty, I pulled the
ridiculously heavy doors of the bar open
and stumbled in. Right at the entrance, I
halted to let my eyes adjust to the dark
and foggy room. The smell of cigarettes
was heavy and the smoke slowly weaved
through the thick air.
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