You Had Me at Halo(47)

“Oh, for some reason I thought we’d get ready together,” Holly tried to hide her disappointment before groaning. “Though on second thoughts, perhaps not.”

“I think that might push the weird factor a bit too high today,” Gemma agreed as she glanced at her watch and arranged to meet Holly outside The Pool Palace at quarter to nine.

Since Gemma was heading in the opposite direction they both walked toward the main road and hailed separate cabs. As theirs headed back in the direction of Baker Colwell and Bar One, Holly rubbed her head.

Talk about exhausting. Had it always been like this when she had been alive? Especially the mood swings. She wasn’t sure if it was Vince’s testosterone or her own blind panic, but it seemed like she’d spent most of the day on a wildly teetering see-saw. It really wasn’t good for the nerves.

Vince, who as normal seemed to pick up on her every thought, set a wave of reassurance through her as he paid the driver and they got out.

Are you okay?

I think. She gulped. I guess we just have to work on the assumption that nothing else could possibly go wrong?

Whenever they say that in the movies, it’s just a link to the next disaster.

This is hardly a movie, Holly reminded him. And it’s true. The day’s almost over and we’re back to the beginning, so how on earth could things possibly get worse?

Well, since that spiritual realigner guy of yours seems to be walking towards us, I’d say that was a good indication. I sure know my life takes a dive every time he’s around.

Holy felt sick as she realized Vince was right. Here came Dr. Hill. Oh great.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


Holly stared at him. He still had the same ginger hair and chubby fingers, but he sort of looked different this time. Less fuzzy. And instead of the white garb, he was wearing a regular pair of Levi’s and a multicolored shirt, while in his hands were several familiar looking bags. Had he been shopping?

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come down to give you your mid-manual purging analysis, of course. Honestly Miss Evans, you could’ve at least brought the rulebook with you for a bit of light reading. Then you might be able to follow the state of play a bit better. It’s standard procedure.”

“My mid-manual purging? You’ve got to be joking.”

“I don’t think he’s joking,” Vince commented.

Dr. Hill pushed his two red eyebrows together in surprise. “Why would I come all the way down here to joke?”

“See.” Vince grinned.

“Same reason you’ve come down here to go shopping?” Holly pointed out.

“Oh.” His face turned red as he kicked the bags. “You mean these old things. They’re nothing.”

“Yeah right. I might be stuck in Vince’s body but I can still tell a designer-outlet-end-of-season-sale bag when I see one.”

Dr. Hill dropped down onto the nearby bench and raised his hands. “Okay, guilty as charged. So I like my clothes. Really if you had to do as much inter-dimensional travel as I do, you’d make the most of the perks as well.”

“Preaching to the converted,” Holly assured him. “You don’t need to tell me the joys of shopping. Just a pity I can’t exactly try anything on in this state.”

“I’m right here you know,” Vince reminded her.

“Ah yes.” Dr. Hill fumbled around in his pocket for a notebook and a pen. “So how are you both coping with the transition?”

“The transition has been fine, but trying to get anything done has been pretty much impossible. Just for the record I think it should be known as an oxymoron when you send a girl back in a guy’s body in order to sort out her issues, because I’m sure this experience is creating more problems than it’s solving.”

“I know it isn’t an ideal situation,” Dr. Hill admitted as he chewed at the end of his pen. “But it’s the best we can do. So, anyway, I guess we’d better get on with it then.” He reached down into one of the shopping bags and pulled out a small electronic device with a red laser light at one end.

Holly eyed the device. “Get on with what?”

“The mid-manual purging analysis of course.”

“I thought that’s what you were just doing. With the notebook and the questions.”

“Oh no, that’s for a sociological paper I’m writing on the side. These days if you don’t publish you don’t get promoted. The real test is with this machine. It measures the amount of negative and destructive thoughts in your mind and can tell how close you are to shedding your earthly issues.”

“You mean there’s a machine to do that?” Holly, who had spent her life cheating at the various magazine quizzes she’d done (from “Is that guy really into you?” up to “Are you ready to push through the glass ceiling?”), looked horrified. Even the Baker Colwell Potential Employee Personality Test had been a breeze to get through as long as you could recognize which were trick questions and which were legitimate qualifiers.

“It’s foolproof,” he agreed.

“But how does it work when there’s two of us in here?”

“Well, actually.” Dr. Hill pulled a strange looking needle out of his case. “That’s the first thing we need to talk about. In order for me to get an accurate reading, I need to make sure Mr. Murphy isn’t around.”