Sharon managed to bring her SUV to a stop as gently as she could muster. Heat shot through her body. Nearly swooning, she swallowed hard over and over, keeping her lips clenched shut.

The taste of her meal-replacement drink lurked in her mouth, spiced by the lingering flavor of bile and stomach acid from her previous breakfast revisitations that morning.

Not a stomach virus, oh, please, not today, she told herself.

Eyes closed against the rolling wave of nausea, Sharon fingered the window controls. Cool air from the parking garage filled her vehicle. Her stomach settled enough for her to sigh without fear of projectile vomiting.

"Hi."

Sharon started with a jolt and screamed a small scream. She turned to see Jaye standing next to the SUV. All composure lost, Sharon promptly leaned out the window as far as the shoulder belt allowed and puked.

"Nice to see you, too."

Jaye avoided what little that came out, but her sister did not stop when the faint trickle did. Sharon's body convulsed violently, again and again.

"Hey, hey, breathe." Jaye put her hand on her sister's shoulder. "Just swallow the urge and breathe. It'll help."

The older woman jerked twice and sniffed wetly. Once, then again. She pushed herself upright and inhaled hesitantly through her nose. A few deep breaths later, one red-rimmed eye opened and looked at Jaye. A wan smile came to her lips. "You look like shit."

"What can I say? I wanna look just like my big sister." She stepped back as Sharon opened the door to her vehicle. "So, what's with the urffing? You're not thinking about turning anorexic, are you?"

Sighing, Sharon said, "Yeah, like that'll ever happen. I don't know what's wrong. Probably need to quit eating Chinese take-out all the time." Stepping down from her SUV, she continued, "Okay, now I know your finely-tuned senses didn't bring you here because you were concerned about me being queasy. What do you want? I have to meet a client in –" She glanced at her watch. "Hell, in like five minutes."

"Better chew some mints."

Sharon glared back.

"All right, all right. I was wondering if I could get Linny's number from you."

A cold stare was the short response.

"Hey, it's legitimate. I want to ask her if she happened to see the dog that was in your car last night."

"What dog? Oh. Oh, damn, you mean that fat, farting rat was in my SUV?" Sharon went up on her toes, scanning the back seat. "At least it didn't crap on the leather. Why didn't you mention this last night?"

"Hello? Does the accident ring a bell? Not to mention I was a little sub-par last night." Jaye waved her hands in dismissal. "Anyway, it probably belongs to someone in the trailer park."

"So?"

"Well, it must have gotten out when you backed into Linny. I didn't see it this morning when I picked up my car at The Barrel, so I thought I'd ask Linny."

"Hold this," Sharon said, slamming her briefcase into Jaye's chest. She crouched down, licked her right thumb and began worrying a spot on her shoes.

"Linny is a very private type of person. Let me talk to her, okay? I'm supposed to meet her for lunch, and I'll call you at work as soon as I know something."

"You missed a spot."

"Damn it! Why can't I keep my shoes clean? Crap, puke – what's next? Blood?"

"I don't think they make Jimmy Choo's in that color. There's a bit on the back of your heel."

Sharon grunted, made a vague attempt at the spot she really couldn't see, then stood up, smoothing her dark skirt and readjusting her suit jacket, blouse and bra. Turning to Jaye, she began, "Look, I really have to – "

"Go. I know." Jaye already had the briefcase in Sharon's arms. "Just go. No more puking. Take care of yourself. Go home early if you can. Tell Linny I still mean it about paying her back. And I'm not working today, so I'll get back with you, and why the hell are you still standing here? Go!"

Sharon waved and took off at a fast walk. Halfway to the elevator, she glanced back, but Jaye just smiled and made a shooing motion with one hand.

Once Sharon vanished into the garage's elevator, Jaye sighed, allowing herself to glance at the puddle of sick next to the SUV. She shook off a thought that didn't seem to want to gel, then brought her other hand from behind her back. Sharon's day-planner, overstuffed and smelling faintly of cigarettes and expensive perfume, filled that hand.

"Oh, damn, Sharon, I guess this must have fallen out while I held your briefcase. I'll just keep it safe, shall I?" Then she turned to find her own car.