“Ooh, soap Landon is a total tool,” Thistle supplied, smirking. “I should’ve seen that coming.”
“Jericho is a tool,” Landon corrected, doing his best to keep the nurse from stroking her hands over his chest. “Jericho is not me.”
“Of course you’re Jericho,” the nurse countered. “We’ve been together for a year.”
“Yeah, well … .” Landon licked his lips and looked at me. “Do you want to help?”
“Far be it from me to get between you and your fiancée.”
“Knock it off. This isn’t my fault.”
“No, but it’s still irritating.”
“Fine.” Landon’s eyes fired as he turned back to his randy nurse. “Listen … um … what is your name?”
“You don’t know my name?” The nurse was incensed.
“He has a head injury,” Marcus offered helpfully. “He has partial amnesia.”
Landon made a growling sound. “Like she’s going to believe that.”
“It’s a soap.”
“You have amnesia?” The nurse’s voice turned soft. “My poor baby!” She grabbed Landon’s head and pressed it to her ample breasts. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll make you remember me if it’s the last thing I do. We’ll fall in love all over again.”
“Oh, geez.” Landon struggled to pull away, although he didn’t quite manage it. Part of me couldn’t help but wonder if he was putting his full strength behind the effort.
“My name is Summer Glade,” the nurse announced. “We’ve been in love since the moment we locked eyes across a smoky bar.”
“A lovely story,” Thistle said. “Just out of curiosity, did you sleep together the first night you met?”
“Of course.” Summer’s expression didn’t shift. “I told you, it was love at first sight. We even got a great song for the big montage at the end. I just can’t remember the name of it. I believe it was by Nickelback.”
Landon groaned. “What does she mean about the song?”
“On a soap you always get a song for sex,” I explained, my tone icy as I glared. Landon’s head was still pressed against Summer’s chest and he’d ceased struggling. “It’s like a montage. By the way, are you trying to see if you can hear the ocean in those things?”
“What?” Landon furrowed his brow. “Oh.” He gathered his strength for a final push and jerked away, raising a hand when Summer reached for him a second time. “Don’t! I have amnesia. You’re making me uncomfortable.”
“I bet you’re glad I gave you that story, huh?” Marcus winked as Landon scowled. “I’m starting to get this world.”
“And Landon still isn’t,” Thistle said. “It’s kind of funny.”
“You’re all on my list,” Landon said. “I won’t forget this.”
“I thought you forgot everything,” Summer challenged. “Isn’t that why you don’t remember me?”
“Do you know what I don’t get,” I offered. “Why do you have fiancées all over this place? Who has more than one fiancée?”
“We’re not engaged yet,” Summer corrected. “He’s going to propose once his undercover assignment is completed.”
“I must not be very good at the undercover thing if everyone knows what I’m doing,” Landon noted.
“No, honey bunny, you’re the best.” Summer grasped at Landon’s head again, but he smoothly sidestepped her.
“Knock that off!” Landon extended a warning finger. “I’m not your honey bunny. I’ll never be your honey bunny.”
“Excuse me?” Summer turned shrill as she planted her hands on her hips. “If you’re not my honey bunny, whose honey bunny are you?”
Landon jerked a thumb in my direction. I totally should’ve seen that coming, by the way. “I’m her honey bunny. Er, well, she’s my sweetie. It doesn’t really matter. I’m not going to marry you.”
“Oh, really.” Summer narrowed her eyes until they were nothing but glittering strips of hatred. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“I guess I am.”
“Well then.” Summer took two deliberate steps forward, grabbed the front of Landon’s shirt before he could slap away her hands, and tugged as hard as she could. The shirt, which should’ve held together better, ripped down the center, and Summer gripped the tattered remains in her fist as she began to vibrate with anger. “You’ll be sorry you did this! I’ll make you sorry.”
Landon, his face awash with disbelief, stared down at his bare chest. “Again? How did this happen again?”
Thistle was laughing so hard she bent at the waist, resting her hands on top of her knees. “Oh, this is freaking priceless!”
“Why aren’t women throwing themselves at me?” Marcus complained. “I look more like a soap star than he does.”
Thistle sobered. “Are you honestly complaining about that?”
“It’s not that I want another girlfriend,” Marcus stressed. “It’s just … I’m better looking than him. You believe that, right?”
“Oh, I’m not answering that.” Thistle turned to me. “This world is kind of funny at times. I’m starting to like it.”
“That makes one of us,” I said. “We need to find Sam and Clove to see if they have the diamond. In fact … .” I trailed off when I saw Clove darting in our direction. She looked paler than normal – even more ashen than when she realized she would have to sit in and participate with brain surgery – and she made a beeline straight for us. “What’s wrong?”
Landon straightened his shoulders and swiveled. “Did something happen?”
Clove remained focused on me. “You have to come. We have a situation.”
“I’ll say we have a situation,” Thistle said. “Landon apparently has girlfriends stashed everywhere, and all of them are batshit crazy.”
“Bay’s not crazy,” Landon shot back.
“Oh, you’re driving me there,” I said. “What’s wrong, Clove?”
“Sam is in trouble.” Clove was grim. “We lost Flynn on the operating table – and wait until I tell you about that situation – and now he’s been called in front of the board for disciplinary action.”
“So? Tell him to get out of it,” Landon ordered. “We don’t have time for that.”
“He can’t. Guards took him away.”
“In a hospital?” That made absolutely no sense. “What do you want us to do?”
“They want to see all of us, too. They’re waiting for us.”
It seemed our story had taken another turn. I heaved a sigh. “Okay. I guess we know where we’re going next.”
“Let’s just hope Landon doesn’t have another girlfriend in there,” Thistle said. “They seem to be getting crazier. The next one might very well be armed.”
Now that was a sobering thought.
Only on soaps is it possible for a character to walk into a room looking like a blond god and come out with an entirely different face and a different hair color and have nobody comment on it. That’s not even remotely believable … and I want realism when I’m watching a guy figure out that his father had a woman locked in a secret mansion room for twenty years.
– Winnie on the plausibility of soap operas
Eight
Landon grabbed another shirt from the lost-and-found box. This one featured a smiling cow wearing a tiara. While I found Landon’s new shirt adorable, one look at him told me he felt the opposite. Apparently Aunt Tillie’s sense of humor was an acquired taste.
“Why would they call a medical board hearing right after a death?” Landon asked as we followed Clove down the hallway behind the nurse’s station. “Usually these things need an investigation and sworn statements first.”
“It’s a soap.”
“That seems to be your excuse for everything.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say!” I snapped out the words with more vitriol than I intended. The look on Landon’s face told me he didn’t appreciate my tone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so … mean.”
Landon ran his tongue over his teeth, debating. “Sweetie, you can’t let this get to you. That’s what she wants. I know it’s easier said than done, but this is all her being … well, her.”
“I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s not your fault every woman in this world goes crazy and rips your shirt off.”
“Yeah, what’s that about?”
I shrugged. “Just Aunt Tillie’s sense of humor rearing its conical hat … and then laughing at us from afar.”
“Well, it’s getting old … and fast.”