“Thank God it's night, she thought. Only a few drunks down on Bourbon Street had noticed her and were shouting for her to jump. No one paid attention to them in the huge festive crowds on the street. "Lizzy, bring that man down here. I mean, now! You might drop him. That would be bad." "He's mine!" Lizzy shrieked. Though she was barely five feet tall and perhaps ninety pounds in weight, she shook the six-foot-two dark-skinned man like a paper doll. Melinda couldn't tell if he was still conscious... or not. "I found him. I get to keep him!" "He is not yours," Melinda said, willing herself to be calm. "He is mine. I am paying for our hotel room. What I pay for belongs to me. I have had to pick up hundreds of thousands of dollars of expenses in the last two months because you had your little accident." "Not my fault!" Lizzy cried, her eyes filling with tears. The irises looked like disks of fused, multicolored glass. They seemed to whirl when she was upset. They were virtually spinning then. "It was that bitch!MoreLessRead More Read Less
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