In Between Dreams Read Free Page B

sleep attacks), and when they got worse, Sierra was great about it. She moved Bailey over to investigative reporting, which had a less of a structured schedule. She and James Mattson were the only two people in the company who had this ability. James used to be employed as a private investigator. Sierra would always dote on him. She was always beaming when she spoke abouthim:
“You can take the job away from the investigator but you can never take the…whatever. James is great at what he does.”
    “I’ll use my usual girl for photographer. I’ll take her out next week and tell her to bill you,” Bailey explained. “I’ll call James and set up a meeting next week.” She yawned involuntarily. “I gotta go, S.”
    “Ciao, SB.” Bailey heard the phone click, signifying Sierra had hung up. SB stood for “Sleeping Beauty” or “Sleeping Bailey.” Sierra once referred to Bailey as if she had an alternate personality disorder, and Sleeping Bailey was Sierra’s least favorite of all the personalities that Bailey supposedly had.
    Bailey yawned and let the blinds go back together; her favorite pastime was watching the city. On nice days, she would take a pitcher of lemonade and a couple of old books up to the roof and watch the city. On rainy days, the view from her window had to suffice. She got back in bed and pressed “play” on the movie, pulling the pillow close to her chest and focusing her eyes on her small television.
    The handsome man on the screen wore a suit and looked out his window at the rain on the streets of New York. The man’s name was Walter Grimsley, and he always frowned, until the last scene of course.
    “You said it yourself, George.” Walter spoke, and Bailey’s lips moved with the words, “This is an impossible crime to solve.”
    The camera moved to a smiling, painfully handsome man with slicked-back hair in a similar suit to that of Walter’s, except his was wet from the rain. “How many times must I tell you, Walt? No crime is too much for us.” His smile was infectious, Bailey let out a tired giggle as she watched George grin at Walter. Her eyes drooped closed as she heard Walter’s words drifting into her subconscious.
    “You need to take it easy on the giggle juice, you dope,” Walter teased George, barely a hint of a grin in his voice. Bailey knew he wasn’t smiling; he never smiled. But his voice gave away the actors feelings, his internal dialogue. Bailey knew that the actor who played Walter must have been infected by George’s contagious grin, at least a little bit.
    Her mind unintentionally focused on George’s contagious grin as she drifted off to sleep.

two.
    B ailey’s dream began with her sliding open the glass doors leading from the deck to the interior of their modest hotel room. She glanced back to see the early morning silhouette of Hong Kong against a gray sky. Her eyes traced the skyline slowly, and she noticed the neon signs and the noise of the streets beginning to pick up. She took a breath of the smoggy air.
    Hong Kong was an overwhelmingly large and crowded city. It seemed like no matter where Bailey was she was surrounded by people. This hotel room was the only place in the entire city where she didn’t feel like a sardine in a can. The city was relatively safe, but with any large city, there was always an overwhelming amount of people. The smells of the city were unlike anything she’d ever experienced. She always figured China would smell like Chinese food. However, the Chinese food she experienced was nothing like the Won Wok back home.
    She saw a body imprint in a lounge chair. There was a small empty teacup on a small table next to the chair with a woolen blanket bunched near the foot. The room she entered was small, but the bed was large with little room to maneuver around the edges. There was just enough room on either side of the bed for standing. The room was white, almost blinding and Bailey squinted when she first came into it. She