Out of Control

One SEVERAL MONTHS LATER Savannah von Hopf's life spiraled even further out of control when she opened her cell phone and discovered that the batteries were completely dead. She stared at the phone in disbelief, unwilling at first to accept any explanation other than that she'd suddenly and horrifically been plunged into an alternate reality. She'd charged her phone last night in her hotel roomsame as she charged her phone every single night of her life. She wouldn't have forgotten something as important as that, and she hadn't. She'd plugged it into the outlet in the bathroom and . . . And then turned out the light to go to sleep. Without the light switch in the on position, the outlet hadn't worked and the phone hadn't charged. Of course. She wasn't in an alternate reality. She was merely an idiot. So now here she was, sans phone, in a rental car with a flat tire, in an unfamiliar part of San Diego. Okay. Cross using her cell phone to call the car rental company for roadside assistance off the list that had the heading "What To Do Now." Savannah kept the motor on and the air conditioner running while she tried to think. What were her other options? Knock on doors and ask to use a phone? She peered out the windows of her car. The houses in this neighborhood was extremely small, and many of them had a grayness to themas if the people living inside had had to choose to spend their money on something more vital, like repairing the roof, rather than on a fresh coat of paint. The yards were all neatly kept, but still, this entire part of town had a desperate feel to it, a hopelessness. The thought of having to get out of her car made Savannah a little uneasylet alone the idea of getting out of her car and knocking on some stranger's door. And wasn't that just great? If she were too chicken to get out of her car in some middle-class neighborhood in San Diego, how on earth was she going to get off the plane in Jakarta? Of course, that was why she was here in the first place. Because she didn't want to get off that plane in Jakartaat least not without a hand to hold. Specifically, Kenny Karmody's hand. She'd gotten what she'd come into this neighborhood for before the thumping front tire had forced her to pull to the side of the road. She'd driven past Kenny's house and made certain there was no circumstantial evidence in his yard that would signal he was married with kids. No swing set, no big wheels, no Barbie hanging by her hair from a tree. No minivan parked in the drive. Adele had told Savannah that, to the best of her knowledge, Ken was still single. But she'd had experience back in college with "the best of Adele's knowledge," and she'd wanted to see where Kenny was living before she called him. And asked him to travel halfway around the globe with her, as a favor. God, how was she going to ask a favor like that? Of a man she hadn't seen in over six years? A man with whom she'd had only one brief conversation, who probably wouldn't even remember her? Savannah could see Ken's house in her rearview mirrorit was one of the better kept ones on the street. Miniature, sure, but not quite as drab. She wasn't going to have the opportunity to ask the man anything if she didn't get back to the hotel and call him. And say what? Adele had been adamant that Savannah not mention her when she spoke to Kenny. According to Adele, he still wasn't over their breakup. "Don't even tell him you metBrockmann, Suzanne is the author of 'Out of Control' with ISBN 9780804119719 and ISBN 0804119716.