Chapter 2
His head was heavy, throbbing. He didn't dare open his eyes, anticipating the headache that awaited him.
He wasn't even close.
He was lying on the bed, sort of, one leg hanging off onto the floor. He tried to sit up, get his bearings, take something for his head...
Sitting up proved difficult, and he reluctantly pried his eyes open to find out why.
Amanda was laying across his chest. Funny, she must have colored her hair or something, it looked darker. He moaned, partly from the throbbing pain in his head but also hoping for a little TLC, a little coddling, something he could always get from his wife.
"Manda.--"
The woman in the bed turned over, a sleepy eye shifting to his gaze. The woman who *was* a brunette, but was most definitely *not* his wife.
"You say somethin, babe?"
Startled, Lee sat up, pushing her nude body onto the bed. "What the hell? Who are you?"
"Wow, you DID do too many tequila shooters," she muttered, turning her face back into her pillow.
"Who *are* you?" he demanded again, "and what have you done with my wife?"
"Your wife? Oh, Jesus. I warned you about eating the worm". Resignedly, she rolled over to face him. "Sleep it off, Scarecrow. It's too early for this."
Incensed by the now constant pain behind his eyes, he grabbed the woman by the shoulders, forcing her to sit up and look at him.
"Tell me who you are, or I swear I'll..."
"Lee, honey, it's me, Lisa." She reached a hand up to his face, stroking sensually. "You always tell me I'm unforgettable, babe."
"Okay, Lisa," he growled as he caught her hand. "Now I want you to tell me what you're doing here," his jaw tightened, "and what have you done with my wife?"
She laughed, the sound like the clinking of glasses at an embassy party. "Oh, Lee, is this some little game you've come up with?" Her smile became dangerous. "I didn't know you liked to play games," she purred.
Frustrated beyond belief, Lee got up from the bed before he did something more than yell at her. He noticed for the first time that he was naked. "Where are my clothes?" he barked.
"Over there, with mine." She pointed to the doorway before falling back into bed. "Mmm, if you're going out, get me some breakfast like a good boy."
Lee sifted through the pile, sorting the men's clothes from the women's. It was the best he could do, since they certainly weren't his clothes, but they fit and they were better than nothing.
Dressing quickly he walked into the living room to try and figure out where the hell he was.
"Well, I'll be damned."
This was *his* apartment.
Well, not one he ever remembered having, but his nonetheless.
Lee circled the room in a daze. A picture of his uncle with President Reagan stood on the mantle.
His college diploma hung on the wall.
His autographed baseball rested in a glove atop the stereo.
His wallet lay on the coffee table. Full of cash, brimming with pictures of various women, including whats-her-name in the bedroom, he noticed. His federal ID was there, too.
Four black books sat near the phone.
His gun and shoulder holster were draped over a barstool.
Furious now, he marched back into the bedroom.
"They did a really good job."
