You Had Me at Halo(57)

Holly shot him a skeptical look. “What sort of good news?”

He held the machine up in the air. “You’re making progress.”

“No, I’m not.” Holly scowled at the annoying machine that couldn’t be tricked. “I’m going backwards. So far I haven’t a clue how the pills got into my system. I can’t talk to my boyfriend, and I’m on a date with a girl who dresses like Morticia Addams. There is no progress.”

“I beg to differ.” Dr. Hill held the machine up to Holly’s face. “See those little lines? Well they indicate a considerable change in the impulsesomatons that are being emitted from your brain.”

“Is that even a word?”

“You’re dealing with your issues,” he explained. “I see that you found out Miss Gulliven had been putting suicide posters up around your building and you reacted in a very calm manner. And yes, for the record, impulsesomatons is a word.”

“Oh.” Holly blinked in surprise. “Well, I was just pleased that she wasn’t being weird about Vince. I mean as far as the posters go, she was just doing her job. It’s no big deal.”

“But it is a big deal.” Dr. Hill clapped his hands. “It’s real progress, Miss Evans.”

“I don’t understand.” Holly clutched at her head. It was still banging like a drum and this conversation wasn’t helping matters at all. “Why would that make such a difference? I haven’t even spoken to Todd yet.”

“I don’t know,” the doctor admitted. “The mind is a powerful thing. All I know is that something very large was blocking you from being receptive to the normal purging process and whatever it is, has started to disappear.”

“So I’ll be okay tomorrow?”

“The block is still there, but it has lessened considerably. You just need to keep working on it. Stay positive.”

“Wow, this is such a relief. So even if I don’t find how the pills go there, if I talk to Todd tonight you think I’ll have a chance?”

“The more outstanding things you get resolved, the better it will be,” Dr. Hill agreed. “Clearing the air with your boyfriend will make a big difference.”

“Excellent, because I’m going to talk to him as soon as I manage to ditch Amy,” Holly explained as she resisted the urge to jump up and hug him. She had a feeling that somewhere in the stupid rulebook was a paragraph about patient-doctor conduct. But she was so happy.

There was a chance she would make it back to heaven and Level Three. Memory intact.

She just needed to do what Dr. Hill said.

First stop was Todd.

“Good,” he said just as the music came back on and the buzz of general conversation resumed its normal frequency.

“Hey, what’s happening?”

“Oh, did I forget to mention my little trick only lasts for five minutes?”

“You did forget to mention that,” Holly agreed as Amy walked back to the table, nodding her head in rhythm to the music. Holly stared at Dr. Hill and wondered how on earth she was going to explain why there was a ginger haired man sitting on top of the table—looking particularly unbothered about the situation, if Holly could just add.

“Oh, Amy, I suppose you’re wondering what’s going on here?”

Dr. Hill coughed.

“You mean about why you’ve been acting so strangely?” She quizzed before she did a scary little half smiley thing with her lips and reached out to touch Holly’s arm. “Though I think I know the answer to that.”

Holly had always thought Amy Jenkins was two sandwiches short of a picnic, but now she was just being weird.

“I mean about my...er...friend here.”

Dr. Hill coughed again. You know he should really get that checked out because it was becoming a bit annoying.

“What friend? Vince I think that hanging out in this place is getting to you.”

“But—”

“Sorry,” Dr. Hill whispered with an apologetic shrug. “I might’ve also forgotten to mention that this time I am invisible.”

To think that for just a minute Holly had almost liked the guy. She poked her tongue at him as he got up and headed for the door. Then he waited until it opened before slipping out into the night just as Todd walked back into the room—with his arm draped over the shoulders of the biggest tart in the whole world. Rochelle Jackson.





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO


“Vince, are you even listening to me?” Amy pushed back her long black hair and scowled.

“What?” Holly managed to drag her stunned gaze away from Todd and Rochelle as they sat down in the booth next to them. Though sat probably wasn’t the right word to use.

Lying on top of each other would be more accurate.

Lying on top of each other looking like complete and utter jerks would be even more accurate.

Unbelievable.

She could see the look of horror and concern on Gemma’s face over by the pool table, but the main thing she could see was that her boyfriend—the man whom she one day had intended to love, honor and wash his horrible dirty boxers for the rest of her life—was sticking his tongue down Rochelle Jackson’s throat. In public. As if it was a normal thing to do.

How could he?

She’d only been dead thirteen days. Thirteen. Was she that forgettable? Was there no period of mourning over such things?