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Chapter 1

W

HEN

his cell phone rang, Peat Harris stood in that breath

of space between car collision and awareness, an instant of
structured chaos. He had made the stupid mistake of calling
home the day before, so he couldn’t curse fate for this
awkward moment about to happen.

Today, as a Repeat day, should be disconnected from

reality like an island from shore. Repeat days, for whatever
arbitrary reason, ended at midnight, hit the delete key and
started with a blank screen. As if the day had never
happened, had yet to happen.

The days disappeared, existing only in Peat’s memory.

He alone remembered the original sequence of events. He
alone remembered the alterations he manipulated each time
after, trying for the right combination.

He had learned that the hard way. On Peat’s first

Repeat, he had written and lost a term paper twice before he
realized his efforts disappeared at the restart of each day. On
a different Repeat day, he’d lost his virginity and now was
the only one who remembered how powerful it was. The
relationship couldn’t develop after that with chunks missing
from their romance.

On today’s original version, he woke with his hands

vibrating like a tuning fork, an icy chill of awareness that he
had just woken up in the middle of a Repeat day. The
accident happened on the I-5 heading south: a pile of
commuter travelers stacked like mis-sized Tupperware, with
razor sharp edges, ready to topple. The dark sky blunted all
the sharp metal angles of the compacted, twisted, mangled
cars and trucks. A Miata bit into the foreskin of a Mac truck
like a Shiatsu biting the forward flank of a Doberman. The

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rusty, dull Cadillac had diced up the Prius into little cubes.
Glass, shoes, and rubber tires garnished the edges. The
dreary pulse of rain made all but the red blood muted,
turned off.

Getting a good visual of the Honda was hard since it was

smashed against a cinderblock wall. Car exhaust and road
dust had been broiled into the road and wall. The rain pearled
on the natural sealant and ran for the nearest storm drain.

The sight turned Peat’s stomach to rotten cottage

cheese. Peat gulped to keep the taste out of his mouth. Six
dead, including a two-year-old and his six-year-old sister, on
their way to daycare.

Getting info on the accident, how it happened, who was

at fault, was proving difficult. Difficult like taking the SAT’s
with a hangover. Difficult like a prostate exam. Difficult like
telling his mom he was gay.

Well, most people didn’t do that last one at all, let alone

every day for a week. He’d called her before his hands
started to vibrate, before he heard about the car accident,
before the day even started.

The day before the Repeat.

In two days he would be finished with finals and would

head home for a brief—God willing—jaunt before his
internship at the architectural firm in Chicago; a polite
weekend across a formal dining room, having plenty of
formal conversations. With two years of college under his
belt and enough life experience to know who and what he
was, it was time to tell the folks he preferred men to women.
He hadn’t been home during that time and had only seen his
parents two Christmases before, when they had met in Vale
to ski for the winter break. It had been a month of spending
time on the slopes but avoiding any real interaction.

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It wasn’t that he needed his parents’ acceptance. He

didn’t. And almost every part of him didn’t want their

acceptance. But he did want their acknowledgment. He was
gay, openly out to the world, and he was proud as hell that
he lived in an intolerant world and said take me as I am or

sod off. Like a kid who’s played the piano for years and
wants to perform in a recital to prove how good he is, to
show those who doubted him that he’d taken the instrument
and made it his own. He’d figured out he was gay, explored
what that meant to him, and made his life awesome. Okay,
well, that part of his life had awesome overtones.

Some days he thought the Repeats would never happen

again, that they hadn’t happened before. He could feel them
fade and he let them go with relief. Relieved that his life was
still happily normal. Normal for a gay college student in
Northern California majoring in architectural design and
engineering. Normal for a Repeater, a person existing outside
the odd paradox of repeating days.

So it was his own fault. He had called late last night,

sleep deprived with studying for finals and a party he’d
attended to say goodbye to the seniors he knew. He went
through periods of self-absorption where everything was
huge and important and the emotions built inside of him
and he knew he was about to explode. The trip home would
be an emotional crash. His anxiety had built until he felt it
skittering under his skin, looking for an exit wound. And
then something tragic would happen, or even just something
sad, and he’d feel like shit that he got caught up worrying
about something so petty.

There were sirens but no screaming, an odd hush as

people tried to react to the shock of seeing such an accident.
The sirens were already on their way because Peat had called
them and given them the heads up.

When his phone rang a second time, he answered on

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autopilot. “Hello?” Stepping carefully around the metal
carnage, he looked for the car with the kids in it. A little
compact car. Maybe the quick ambulance response would
save them today.

“Darling, what is that noise?”

Bloody hell. It was his mom. “Roommate’s got a video

game going.”

“‘My roommate is playing a video game’,” she corrected.

“Can you please ask him to turn down the volume?”

“Mum, I’m going to call you back.” But she’d insisted

her son be trained in etiquette and he just couldn’t bring
himself to hang up the phone.

“Absolutely darling, but first tell me why you called

yesterday. You indicated it was quite important that we
speak.”

He rolled his eyes and cursed. The medics had shown

up, and he stepped to the sideline to watch. The day would
Repeat and maybe he could prevent the accident the next
time. Right now he needed information on exactly what had
happened so he’d know how to save all these people
tomorrow.

His conversation with his mom would reset as well. He

could tell her and gauge her reaction and then decide if he
really wanted to tell her at all.

He laid on his best British accent—which was natural

since Mum and Da were originally from London—knowing
she’d be chuffed to hear him use it. “Mother, I wanted you to
know. I’m gay.” He listened to the silence as the noise
around him picked up in volume, medics yelling to each
other, a helicopter in the distance approaching to aid the
hospital evacuation.

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“So no grandkids?”

“What? I don’t know.”

“Your father and I will need to have our wills redrawn.”

He raised his hands and shoulders in a shrug. “Okay.”

Though he hadn’t expected yelling, he didn’t think she would
bring up death. He’d just told his very proper, business-first
mom that he was a poof, and she wanted the legalities taken
care of? Well, all righty then.

A tire rolled loose from some of the wreckage and spun

toward him, drawing his attention back to the carnage. Had
the accident been more malicious and calculated? Was the
motive to make this a murder hidden in plain sight? Would
there be proof of sabotage or drug use? Both would come up
during the investigation—two or three weeks from now—
which did him no good. He had less than twenty-four hours.

“Do you want me to tell your father?”

“Sure.” He wasn’t really listening. They’d pulled the first

body out, or rather the upper torso of the first body. The rest
stayed in the car. He lifted his eyes to the sky and blinked
rapidly as he took shallow breaths to keep from puking. They
pulled the six year old out of the car; one leg was crushed
and bloody, and Peat keened like a pitiful animal in immense
pain. Pressure built at the back of his throat, and he blinked
rapidly to stave off the tears. He could fix this. The whole
point of living through this horror was the opportunity to
stop it from happening. In a matter of hours, it wouldn’t
have happened. The child would be whole and healthy and
depending on Peat to save him. Peat would stop the accident.

“It would be wise for you to have a will in place. I could

have one of the lawyers meet us this weekend. We could see
what other legal steps he would recommend we take.” He
didn’t hear the rest because the helicopter swooped in to

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land on the highway median. Bits of dust and grass spun in
the baby hurricane created by the rotor blades.

He yelled into the cell phone that he was sorry and

flipped the phone closed. The engines were cut and more
medics poured out of the helicopter. Four dead, one child
who would need his leg amputated, and an old lady in the
back with a concussion. He looked at his watch. Less than a
half hour from when he called 911. Better than the first day,
yesterday, when all six died, but still nowhere as good as he
wanted it to be. He had to find as much as he could about
the cause of the accident and the people involved.

And maybe when his mom called next time, prompted

by the same actions she had been today, he just wouldn’t
answer the phone. Save him the hassle.

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Chapter 2

“M

R

.

M

C

G

RUTTY

?”

Peat called out to the middle-aged man in

a brown duster, dressed for the expected rain. “Mr. McGrutty?”

“I’m not interested. Thank you.” Chevy McGrutty was

late to work and—as far as Peat could tell—the cause of the
accident.

“Sir, if you have just a moment.” A few minutes and

little two-year-old Oishi and his sister would be safely off the
freeway.

“I really don’t. I’m running late.” McGrutty opened his

car door and had one leg in before Peat grabbed the door
frame. McGrutty jerked away from the car and looked Peat
over with wide eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I just need a moment of your time.”

“Young man, I will call the cops if you don’t let go of my

car.”

Peat let go and raised his hands so they were visible and

to make it harder for McGrutty to close his door, still
standing in the opening. “I’m sorry but I’ve been trying for
days to get you.” Such a lie, of course, but vague enough
that Peat was hoping to pull it off.

“I live in 4D,” which he did, just in the dorms on the

other side of town.

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McGrutty turned to look down the parking lot at the

complex buildings. His tried to withdraw into his shoulders
like a protective shell.

“I’ve seen some kids in the neighborhood messing with

your car. Young kids. I don’t want them in trouble, but it
might be a good idea to have your car looked over.”

“What? Messing with my car? How do you mean?”

McGrutty stepped away from the car and Peat stepped back
to give him space. Two minutes down—eight more to be safe.

Peat shrugged. “Messing with it.”

“I have a teenage son. Maybe you saw him.” McGrutty

looked at his watch. “Either way, I’m late and need to head
out, so….”

Shit. Do something. “John? No, it wasn’t John.”

“How do you know John?”

Peat’s head went blank. Frankly, he had no idea how he

remembered that John McGrutty was Mr. McGrutty’s oldest
son. He tried to keep the hesitancy from his voice. “Umm….”

“I think I better call the police. You can tell them what

you saw.”

McGrutty wasn’t buying his song and dance and Peat

did not want the police up his crack today, getting in his
way. “Wait.” He looked at McGrutty’s car. “Is this your car?”

McGrutty raised an eyebrow, jingling his keys in his hand.

“I meant that car….” Peat looked around and cussed his

shitty luck. Two trucks, a motorcycle, and a minivan were
the only vehicles left in the parking lot. Well, shit. It had
been at least five minutes, and that should be enough. He
put on a bright smile and waved at someone behind

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McGrutty’s back. “John.”

As soon as McGrutty turned to look, Peat took off

running. Three blocks later, he dived into a coffee shop and
stood in line for the counter. He pulled out his shortwave
radio to listen to the police and ambulance dispatch lines.
The call went out for the accident and he listened to the
chatter and tried to decipher if there were injuries. Man, had
McGrutty still caused the accident, or did someone else drive
aggressively? Had it been McGrutty at all? Was this the same
accident or another altogether?

His cell phone rang and he answered it.

“Peat, darling.”

Peat groaned. He needed to give his mom’s number a

distinctive ring tone. Maybe “She Hates Me” by Puddle of Mudd
or “Gives You Hell” by All-American Rejects. “’ello, Mum.”

“Are you bringing someone home with you this

weekend?”

“I wasn’t planning to do so.”

“Oh well, after your message last night, I thought you

might have a big announcement for your father and me.”

He snagged his coffee and nodded his thanks to the girl

behind the counter.

“Well, I do.” He sat in a booth and hunched his

shoulders toward the window so he could pretend he was
having this conversation in private. The rain was drizzly thin
still on this side of town. The summer heat felt years away.
He turned the shortwave off and concentrated on talking to
his mom.

His mom worked in the film industry. She created

perfect reproductions of life in short, controlled time frames.

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She directed the viewer to see exactly what she wanted them
to see. No more and no less. She didn’t do mother-son
activities. She didn’t bandage banged-up knees. He didn’t
think she even owned a thermometer. She didn’t know his
roommate’s name, that he was a Repeater, or that he was
gay. So why did he even care what her reaction would be?
The pressure built in his chest.

He gripped the phone tighter so it wouldn’t slide out of

his shaking hands. He swallowed to moisten his dry mouth.
It wouldn’t matter tomorrow, when the day repeated. It
wouldn’t matter. But the knowledge didn’t lessen his
pounding heart. “Mum, I’ve known for a long time that I was
different. That my life and the life you want for me is
different. I… Mum, I’m gay.”

“I’m sorry, dear.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s not like you could

have known. And you can have all the time you need to—”

“No, darling, I meant I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you

said.”

“Oh.” Crap. How could it be any more difficult? What if

his mom was just pretending not to hear? Should he pretend
too? That it was okay if she didn’t want to talk about it? He
wasn’t going to let her off that easy. If there were no
casualties today, or maybe if the accident involved different
people, the reset cycle could stop and he wouldn’t have
another chance. He wanted it to be just right. He never
wanted to go through the emotional twist of telling her again.

“Mum, I appreciate the opportunities that you and Da

have given me.”

“I know that, son, but it is nice to hear you say so. Is

that all you called about?”

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“No, I have something important to say.”

“Well, say it then. I’ve got a photo shoot in an hour for a

DVD cover, and I’m meeting with a client who wrote his own
script.” She sighed. “It will be my job to rewrite it so it
actually works.”

He raised his voice, just a little; he didn’t want to make

a scene. “Mum.” He took a steadying breath. “I’m gay, Mum.
And I want you and Da to know.”

“Well, I for one know how sexual tastes and preferences

can change throughout your life. Just make sure you keep
an open mind until you’re sure you’ve found the right one.
Your father and I have done very well together. I would hate
to see you miss out on that kind of opportunity just because
you have some misguided impression of yourself. You’re not
even….” She paused, perhaps trying to calculate just how
old Peat was. “Well, you haven’t been twenty-one all that
long and, well, like I said, people change.”

She turned their discussion to the weekend schedule.

“Make sure you bring a couple of suits with you. I doubt the
ones you left in the closet at the house still fit you. You’ve
grown and filled out in the shoulders. Haven’t you?”

“Yes, Mum.”

“Janis, can you schedule Rod to tailor my son’s suits?

Sometime this weekend.” Janis must be her assistant, and if
he remembered correctly Rod was his dad’s tailor. Next she’d
be making him a hair appointment with his dad’s barber.

“I’ve got to go, darling, but that thing you mentioned—”

“What? Being gay?”

She ignored his interruption and hacked tone. “We’ll

have a nice chat with your father while you’re here. Ciao.”

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He used his phone to access the Internet. “Pileup on I-5,

Two Deaths So Far”. He would head over to the police station
and chat up the first responders. He knew all the officers at
the local shop though most of them had no memory of him.
He left his coffee on the table without drinking it. He didn’t
think his queasy stomach would tolerate the black abuse.

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Chapter 3

H

E LOST

count somewhere after the fifth day. No matter

what Peat did, Jenny Zweig was involved in the car accident,
but not always the first car to get hit. The Hanasaski family
always ended up in the hospital or the morgue. If he didn’t
delay McGrutty, all six cars ended up in the accident. The
precise location and order of the pileup and the extent of the
injuries varied. If the cabby called in sick, it only changed
the number of cars from six to five. Mrs. Hanasaski didn’t
speak English and treated him like a leper when he tried to
talk to her.

There were just too many variables. He wrote it all out

on a whiteboard in an empty classroom. Six different dry
erase marker colors, one for each car involved. He started
writing after midnight so he wouldn’t lose the work as the
day restarted. He abbreviated the names and used symbols
to identify who was injured and the preexisting conditions
for each attempt.

“Man, you are not an easy guy to find.” His roommate,

Zen Conner, hopped up on top of the professor’s desk and
set a pizza box next to him. His legs tapped a rhythm against
the wood. “I’ve got a slice or two left if you want.”

Peat thanked him and leaned a hip on the desk as he

chewed on a slice of pepperoni with anchovies. Zen always
ordered anchovies. He liked them and no one else did, so he
wouldn’t have to share with anyone. But he always offered to

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share so people wouldn’t think he was a jerk. Zen had
moments of brilliance, like with the anchovies, little things to
make life smooth or easy. His shirt proclaimed Take It As It
Comes. Peat had learned to like anchovies.

Zen nodded to the whiteboard. “Probabilities, right? For

Statistics.”

“Sure.”

“I hate the word problems. My mind just wants defined

parameters, you know?”

“Sure.”

They chewed in silence for a minute. “So did you tell

your mom?”

“I called and no one answered, and then I did something

really stupid.”

“What?”

“I left a message.”

“Dude, what were you thinking? You never leave

messages. She’s going to think something is wrong and be all
on edge and stuff.”

“Well, I don’t want to spring it on her either.” Actually,

he didn’t want to see her reaction. It would be better for her
to process and come back with a calculated, strategic
response, it would allow her the control she thrived on.

“Whatcha you need to do is tell her you’re flunking out

and… and—” he snapped his fingers and grinned at his idea.
“That you’re selling all your possessions and your trust
thingy and giving the money to some Kool-Aid cult.” He
laughed, his eyes sparkling with little twinkle lights from the
land of mischief. “I don’t have the trust fund going for me,
but if I told my parents I was flunking out, they’d break out

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in hives and kill me.” Zen laughed again and Peat grinned at
him.

“You’re such a dork.”

“No, seriously, dude. You give them bad news and then

tell them you’re a fag and they’ll be like, What? That’s all?
Well fuck, you’re just a fag.” When Zen said “fag” it was like
Peat saying “dork”. The names were true so what was the big
deal, no malice meant among friends.

“I’ll give it a try and let you know how it goes.” Peat

swallowed his last bite and wiped his mouth on the back of
his hand.

“I’ve taught you well, Kimosabe, but I brought napkins

too.” He handed Peat a crumpled napkin from his pocket and
then nodded toward the board as Peat hook-shot the trash
toward the bin.

“What’s the question?”

“How to stop an accident.”

“Naw, man, like—‘Six cars are driving along the freeway

and one loses control, how much torque is exerted on the
solid frame of the third car’—like that.”

“More like, ‘How hard does a child’s neck snap when

such a collision occurs?’” Little Oishi’s pale skin and dark
hair were giving him nightmares. Well, daymares, since Peat
hadn’t slept in over thirty hours.

“No way, man. With those car seats they’ve got

nowadays? They are totally tricked out with Indy level
harnesses. Little dudes are super secure. My older sister
paid three hundred bucks for my nephew’s seat and has it
tested each year, you know, to make sure it’s still up to code.
Make sure she’s buckling the ankle biter in right.”

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Peat’s mind shot full of new possibilities. “Car seat?”

The words on the whiteboard slipped accordion-style into
each other. “Zen, you still dating that exchange student from
the Philippines?”

“Still dating? You mean am I dating her yet? It’s not

official or anything but, well… let’s just say she likes
anchovies too.” He nodded his head toward the empty pizza
box and wiggled his eyebrows.

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Chapter 4

P

EAT

stole McGrutty’s car battery. Kids messing with your

car? Yeah, that was Peat at three a.m. while McGrutty slept.
Peat stowed it in the trunk. Once McGrutty found it there, it
would still be a twenty minute job to put it back in place.
Peat made sure there were no fingerprints and left the trunk
ajar so it would rock open when anyone bumped it.

Next, he met Zen and the exchange student, Pon Fena,

at the Hanasaski house. Zen, God bless him, didn’t ask why
they were needed and Fena was too polite to ask.

“When they answer the door, just let them know we’re

students from the college and heard about their car
accident.”

When Mrs. Hanasaski opened the front door she said,

“Me husbands not home.” Peat knew from previous visits
that was all the English Mrs. Hanasaski knew.

Fena introduced them and Mrs. Hanasaski hesitated

behind the door. Until the end, when she got upset.

“She says there has been no accident.” Fena listened for

a minute, and they all took a step back as Mrs. Hanasaski
came out of the house. Her cheeks puffed out and her words
sounded rushed. “Actually, she thinks we are saying we hit
her car. Did you?”

“No.” Peat hurried to assure her and Fena translated.

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The lady kept talking as she walked up the driveway and
pulled the garage door open, checking to make sure the car
was okay. Peat asked Fena to apologize for the
misunderstanding. He just wanted to make sure the car seat
was in properly. Peat decided he would go and buy her one if
it wasn’t in the car. It was so not okay to be driving around
without one.

“Ma?” Oishi’s six-year-old sister came out of the house

to see what was going on and her mom yelled at her to go
back inside.

“Did she tell her to call the cops?” That was all he

needed.

Fena laughed and bowed her head at Mrs. Hanasaski.

She talked at some length, kept pointing with her body to
Peat, and Mrs. Hanasaski kept nodding her head up and
down. They talked for a whole five minutes back and forth,
and Fena didn’t translate a single word.

Peat could see into the back of the compact. There was

a car seat as well as a booster seat for the older child.

“Isn’t she totally hot?” Zen asked.

“Totally,” Peat whispered back. He didn’t have to be into

girls to appreciate a good-looking woman when he saw one.
The best part was the goofy grin Zen had when he talked
about Fena. With her actually there, it was like Times
Square on New Year’s Eve.

“Okay, looks like I have a babysitting job.” Fena seemed

very happy. “I miss hearing my own language.”

Zen gently touched her hair and smiled, a look of

worship in his eyes. “It must be hard.”

Blimey, his boy had it bad. Hopefully Peat didn’t get as

sappy over the boys he crushed on.

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“Mrs. Hanasaski will let us check the car seat for little….”

“Oishi,” Peat said.

“Oh, you picked that out? That is very good.”

“He’s gay,” Zen said.

Peat and Fena rolled their eyes.

“He’s been fiddling with the seat belt and she keeps

meaning to check it herself.” Fena had no accent that Peat
could discern, and he wondered how long she’d lived in the
States.

Zen got into the car and did a little presentation on how

to make sure the car seat was secured and even added the
headrest anchor. Fena translated, and then Mrs. Hanasaski
seemed to be giving Fena advice about American boys that
made her blush and say “yes” a lot.

They were invited into the house, and again Zen and

Fena got to show off their skills by rounding the kids up to
head off to daycare. Fena had one more final exam that day,
but would start her new job the following week. Oishi
climbed into Peat’s lap and pinched Peat’s cheek. The
chubby little tyke yammered and everyone laughed.

The boy had waved from the front window each time

Peat came to the house, as if he remembered or recognized
Peat. Peat had seen Oishi broken and bleeding. Seeing him
whole, smelling his baby shampoo, and feeling his warmth
saturate Peat’s chilled nerves, softened something in Peat’s
chest. Yeah, with the right guy, he could see himself having
kids, protecting them, teaching them. Peat stifled back his
tears and squeezed the little boy gently before carrying him
out to the car and buckling him in.

“Say goodbye,” Fena instructed.

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Oishi bowed his head forward. “Bye, Peat.”

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22

Chapter 5

P

EAT

listened to the shortwave as they walked back to

campus, Zen and Fena shyly holding hands.

“Fender bender on the freeway.”

Fender bender sure didn’t sound as bad, but that could

just be the initial collision or a different accident all together.
Even if he hustled, he wouldn’t get there in time even for the
cleanup. Without a car, he had no way to get to that section
of the I-5 in time to watch the clean-up. However, it felt right
today somehow.

“Funeral March of a Marionette” began playing from his

pocket. He flipped his phone open and said, “Hello, Mum.”

“Hello, darling.”

He took a deep breath and went for it. “Mum, I was in a

car accident today.”

“Dear lord. Are you all right?”

“Yes, Ma’am. It made me realize, though, that I need to

tell you something.” Before she could interrupt, he
continued. “I’m gay, Mum. I like boys instead of girls. I hope
one day to find the right guy and still give you and Da
grandchildren. I need my mom to know who I am. I’m proud
to be out, Mum. I’m glad I’m gay.”

There was silence on the other line. He finally asked,

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“Did you hear me?”

She whispered, “Yes, Peat. I heard.”

More silence. Zen and Fena had slowed when Peat’s

phone rang to give him privacy, and Peat waved goodbye to
them as he left the path and headed into a nearby park.

“I need a little time to….”

“Adjust?” Peat said.

“Yes.”

“That’s okay. It took me awhile to get it all figured out in

my head too.” He thought she might ask when he had known
or if he was sure.

“Peat?”

“Yeah, Mum?”

“Yes,” she corrected automatically. “I appreciate you

telling me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I love you, Peat.”

Something hot loosened in his chest and unfolded to

cover him in liquid trembles. He couldn’t think of the last
time she had said that; maybe in high school? His ribs
constricted. He knew she was telling the truth and yet he
had doubted her, doubted that anyone could love him. “I’m
so glad. I love you too.” He felt the first glide of rain against
his cheek. His bones felt lighter and he felt sapped, drained
of all the false energy. The relief made him stagger forward to
lean on the back of a park bench. His mom loved him. He
was lovable.

“When you come, I’m going to have you meet with Rod.

Closet Case | Amberly Smith

24

He can alter your suits while you’re visiting.”

“Okay. Have Janis set it all up. I’ll see you this

weekend.”

The shortwave relayed that no ambulance would be

needed. No deaths, not even a single injury. No Repeat. And
he was out to his mom. In a few more days he would be
working like a slave in Chicago, but tomorrow he’d get the
chance to hug his mom. He had a feeling that this Repeat, at
least, wouldn’t completely fade from his memory.

A

MBERLY

S

MITH

didn't learn to read until the fourth grade,

when she was placed in special tutoring. At eleven she read
her mom’s romance novels, pausing every other page to have
her mom read a unknown word to her, so she could
memorize it. Back then, authors were mythical creatures
and like unicorns, only existed in people’s imaginations. It
never occurred to her that she could be a writer.

Amberly lives in the Northwest with her husband, two
children, mother-in-law, and a cat named Cat. She has a
bachelor’s degree in communications and works for a
telecommunications company. She likes to read in bed, lurk
in bookstores, and cuddle on the couch with her kids to
watch TV, just to hear the beautiful sound of their laughter.
Her husband is a computer addict who she lures away from
the latest PC game with promises of a good story, sex, or
food that she hasn’t made.

After many years and a lot of hard work, Amberly is an
author. Now to find that unicorn.

Visit her at

http://amberlysmith.blogspot.com/

or connect

with her on Facebook as Amberly Smith.

Published by
Dreamspinner Press
382 NE 191st Street #88329
Miami, FL 33179-3899 USA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the
authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Art by Anne Cain

[e-mail]

Cover Design by Mara McKennen

This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is
illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon
conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No
part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher. To
request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 382 NE 191st Street
#88329 Miami, FL 33179-3899 USA http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

Released in the United States of America

eBook Edition
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61372-3

86-9

Closet Case ©Copyright Amberly Smith, 2012

March 2012