Read Amy Maxwell's 6th Sense for Free Online Page B

hand’s mistake at that very moment, and I instantly wish for a pair of those shoes Dorothy had in Oz. Maybe if I squish down really small, like cube size, Mr. Meathead won’t notice me.
    “What in holy hell are you doing, Amy?” Roger has suddenly broken free from the parade of breasts, and is now at my side. Perfect timing, of course. Now I can’t pretend to be invisible.
    I open my mouth to speak, but I am immediately cut off by a bleached blonde with insanely tanned skin. It’s like Oompaloompa orange. She also has big teased-up hair, is wearing seven necklaces, and gigantic gold hoop earrings. She pokes her blood red nail into my chest. And by poke, I mean, drives it in so hard I think she may have broken the skin. Obviously, I have offended her husband.
    “I’m sorry,” I stammer and I realize that Evan is no longer in my line of sight. I crane my neck to peer around the woman, hopping on my tiptoes as I do.
    “Look at me when I’m talkin’ to you,” she screeches. “How dare you slap my Anthony! Why he is nothin’ but a sweetheart. If you’re one of those whores who’s been botherin’ him, you can just go back to Jersey and leave my baby alone.”
    She reaches up and strokes the imprint of my hand on Mr. Meathead’s face. He crooks his head toward her, pouting like he is about to burst out into tears. It takes me a second, but I realize that the blonde isn’t Meathead’s wife. She’s his mother . I decide this is good—I can implore to her maternal side.
    “Listen, I’m really sorry, but I’m chasing after my four-year-old son, and I needed Anthony to get out of the way before I lost him. Which is exactly what has happened.” I turn on my own waterworks, but they aren’t fake. I’m in full blown panic mode now.
    “Coming through!” I hear an amplified male voice call near the front of the line. The crowd parts as a man in an airport uniform, carrying a megaphone, pushes through the pack. As he approaches, I see he is also carrying a small child in his arms. One with a red shirt and looks suspiciously like Evan.
    “Oh thank God.” I breathe a sigh of relief as Evan spots me and holds out his arms.
    “Mama!” he cries, nearly catapulting out of the man’s arms. I catch him mid-leap.
    “What the hell is that guy doing with Evan?” Roger asks incredulously. Obviously my husband has not heard a single word I have uttered in the last five minutes.
    “I just said that Evan took off, and I was chasing him!” I growl as I spin around to face my husband.
    “For God’s sake, Amy! You gotta keep a better eye on him!” Roger shakes his head like I am also four-years-old.
    “I was keeping an eye on him! You know how fast he is!” I growl as Evan interlaces his fingers through my hair. He shoves his thumb in his mouth and nestles his head on my shoulder, all signs that he plans on taking one of his record breaking, eight and a half minute naps. Apparently being on the lam from your neurotic mother is exhausting to him.
    “Then how did he get so far away?” Roger challenges. “I know he’s fast, but for crying out loud, he’s four !”
    “Maybe,” I retort, “if you were helping me instead of staring at some bimbo’s boobs and—”
    “Excuse me, I hate to interrupt,” the gentleman who has returned my child is saying in a very smooth Cuban accent. “I just wanted to let you know, you need to be extra vigilant with your children here.” Well no duh. He leans closer as if he is going to share a secret with us. “There have been a lot of crimes involving children in the past few months around here. Kidnappings and theft of property.”
    I gasp involuntarily and gape at Roger. “Crimes, Roger! Kidnapping!”
    Roger rolls his eyes and pats me on the head like a sheepdog. He turns to our informative airline employee. “Thank you so much for your concern. My wife usually keeps a better eye on the children, but she took some Dramamine on the flight and got a little loopy.” He