I hate to burst his bubble but he’s wrong. The most important thing right now is figuring out how the hell to get Tristan back in his body.
15
It was hard seeing Danny with Dusty yesterday, even though she is technically me. Well, in Danny’s eyes, at least. Holy crap, this is all so crazy. How is this my life?
I find myself idly wandering around my flat. It’s weird, not needing to sleep and not feeling hungry. Mrs Abernathy has planted herself neatly on the sofa, back straight and her ever-present handbag resting on her knees as she grips the handles like someone’s going to steal it from her any moment. She’s staring at the TV avidly even though the screen is blank.
I’m killing time until Dusty wakes up. I’ve never known anyone to sleep so much, it’s like she’s catching up on the last six months. She took another nap in the hospital while they kept her… I mean me… in for observation. It’s a toss-up whether all the sleeping was just an aftereffect of the sedatives or her way of avoiding awkward conversations with Danny.
My attention turns to the bedroom as Dusty, wearing brightly coloured silk pyjama pants and a matching robe which flutters around her as she moves, sails regally out into the hallway and heads toward the kitchen
“Dusty, what are you wearing?” I follow her into the kitchen with a frown. “That’s not mine.”
“Chan left a bag last night with a few essentials.” Dusty yawns and reaches for the kettle, filling it under the tap before flipping the switch on.
“Essentials?” My eyes narrow on my hand as she reaches up into the cupboard to get a cup. “Is that nail varnish?”
“You really are very short, aren’t you?” She shakes her head as she places the cup on the counter.
“I am not,” I reply with a huff of indignation. “You’re just used to wearing heels that could double as scaffolding.” She turns to look at me consideringly. “Don’t you dare,” I warn.
“I’m just saying”–she shrugs innocently–“maybe a cute little pair of Cuban heels.”
“I’m not bloody Prince,” I reply dryly.
“Mm-hmm,” she hums as she turns back to the kettle and makes herself a coffee so strong and sweet you could stand a spoon up in it.
“Don’t ‘mm-hmm’ me. I mean it, Dusty. While you’re in my body you’ll abide by my rules.” I cross my arms. “And why are you wearing nail varnish?”
“I’ve been telling you for months you need more colour in your life, boo.” She lifts the cup to her lips. “Besides, I thought you liked it?”
“I do on occasion, but usually blues, black, dark green, sometimes black cherry. What on earth is that?”
She smiles. “Coral sunrise.”
“Oh sweet baby Jesus.” I close my eyes and sigh. “I can’t wear that for work.”
“It’s just as well you’re not at work then, isn’t it?” she points out with a raised brow.
“Dusty,” I warn. “They may have given me today off because we just got out of the hospital, but I’ll still have to go back tomorrow. And if you’re still encamped in my body, it means you have to go.”
“What?” She blinks rapidly. “Oh no… no, no, no.” She waves her hand. “I’m not cutting up any dead bodies. I don’t even like to handle raw meat.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard,” I say dryly.
“Touché,” Dusty sniffs. “But the fact remains, I’m not slicing and dicing anyone. Unless you’ve forgotten, I’m not actually a doctor despite those amateur clips on PornHub.”
“PornHub?” I stare at her. “Really?”
“It was a phase.” She shrugs. “But the facts remain the same, I don’t think some previous kinky role-play qualifies me to cover for you. I’m not a doctor, I don't have a medical degree, and I can’t perform a post-mortem.”
“It’s not brain surgery, Dusty. I’ll be there talking you through it and besides, look at it this way, your patient will already be dead. It’s not like you can kill them again.”
“That’s a big fat nope.” She sips her coffee again, staring at me over the rim of her cup.
“Oh come on, Dusty, my job is really important to me,” I whine. “Just this once.”
“Sorry, Sweeney Todd, still nope.” She continues to sip thoughtfully and watch me. “We need to figure out how to switch back, then you can do your own hacking up of corpses.”
