Midnight Solitaire Read Online Free Page A

smarter, quicker, better salespeople who every year take just a little bit more of her life, her livelihood, her turf, her soul. A pathetic used-to-be powerbroker reduced to telling stories at diners to other drunks and losers at one in the morning in the middle of fucking nowhere.
    Alone. That’s how she lives and how she believes she’ll die unless she changes things now. Which is precisely why she’s finally listened to that nagging voice in her head, done what’s she’s done, and literally walked away from her life, her job, responsibilities and commitments.
    Where am I supposed to go?
    Pack a bag, get in the car and do it.
    How will I know where to go?
    You don’t have to know. I know.
    But—
    I know.
    The first day she got all of twenty minutes from her apartment in Boston and took a room at a hotel to think things through and make sure this was really the move she wanted to make. Earlier that day she’d been sitting nude on the edge of a bed, staring at the walls and thinking, one more goddamn hotel. She’d glanced at her reflection in the mirrored closet door on the far side of the room and figured if nothing else she was still in good shape physically. Years of working out in hotel gyms, never having had children and a blessed metabolism had all worked in her favor on that count. At five-six and one hundred and twenty-five pounds she essentially still has the body she’d possessed in her twenties. And so what? By morning—this morning—she decides to continue on. She has no choice. Whatever’s out there waiting for her has to be better than what she’s leaving behind. And if not, then so be it.
    Destiny makes no promises. Bitch.
    Memories of the hotel room blur as the rain sluicing along the windshield swallows them whole, sweeps them away with the wipers until all that remains is a dark and empty highway. On the passenger seat Greer’s iPhone vibrates and hums, indicating someone has left yet another voicemail for her. Without looking she reaches over, silences it and drives on. Last check she already had over twenty messages. Certainly understandable, as this is so unlike her. A lot of people at work have surely already begun to panic and assume the worst; that something awful has happened to her. The Machine is always on time, always at work, always ready for the next trip, always leading the pack in sales and balls and attitude. That’s all she has. It’s become her entire life. But now it’s the same as the road rolling away in the rearview. Gone.
    Now, she thinks, I really am a ghost.
    She blows a renegade strand of brown hair up out of her eyes, runs a hand through her relatively short hair and sighs. Are these suicidal thoughts she’s feeling or just the fear and anxiety of uncertainty and loss of control?
    She doesn’t want to die. Does she?
    Before she can think anymore about it, Greer sees the flames.
    Surreal and impossible in the pouring rain, yet there they are on the side of the road, great flickering tongues of fire rumbling and bursting, rising up and reaching for the gray sky. She slows the car a bit as she gets closer, and realizes the flames have engulfed and originate from a car in the breakdown lane.
    She reaches for her phone, eyes squinting through the rain. Christ, where’s the driver, the passengers? Are they still inside?
    Greer pulls over into the breakdown lane perhaps fifty yards from the burning car, careful not to get too close in case the gas tank ignites, if it hasn’t already. Without taking her eyes from the wreckage, she grips her phone and presses 911.
    The line crackles. Reception is horrid, but she can make out ringing on the other end of the line.
    “9-1-1,” a faint female voice answers, “what is your emergency?”
    Greer explains. The operator asks for her name and location, tells her to stay clear of the burning car, asks if there is anyone trapped in the vehicle, the make and model of the vehicle, and if there is anyone else on the scene.
    “Just