Page 8 of Ghost

“Sounds great,” she said with a smile. “If you want to ride to Borrego Springs, we can cross another thing off my list.”

If things like going to Borrego Springs were on her list, it made taking a ride with a real biker seem like not that big of a deal. Suddenly, I felt unimportant and easily replaced.

“A trip to Borrego Springs? That is on your list?”

“Not Borrego Springs, specifically,” she said. “But holding a live rattlesnake is, and that’s the closest desert.”

I chuckled at the thought of her hunting rattlesnakes in sneakers and a dress that came to mid-thigh. “You’re going to hunt rattlesnakes bare-legged?” I asked, stifling a laugh. “That’s a good way to get bitten.”

“We’re all going to die sooner or later,” she said. “I’d rather it happened while I was having fun than when I was asleep.”

One week earlier, I was at a strip joint in Oceanside without a care in the world. Now, I was mentally planning my death and preparing to go rattlesnake hunting with a fearless Covergirl makeup model.

I’d always wondered what life would be like if I could truly throw caution to the wind.

Without warning, she lifted my hand and looked at my watch.

“Crap,” she said as she released my wrist. “I’ve got to get this meeting started.”

She stood and brushed the wrinkles from her dress. “Hi, I’m Abby, and I’m a survivor.”

“Hi, Abby,” everyone chimed.

Everyone but me.

I wondered what being a survivor meant.

If the doctor’s diagnosis was accurate, I’d have twelve months to find out.