Katie looked over her shoulder. She was wondering what was keeping the professor. From what she could tell, the man she was supposed to be and the woman and the boy and the girl who said she was a surgeon were all part of the same family, since they all had a distinct family resemblance. The girl who was apparently Rick, though, didn't. Perhaps she was a friend of one of the kids?
The final member of the family was another little girl. This one claimed to be Professor Whitaker, one of Katie's teachers, in fact. She had left the room to make a phone call, but she had been gone a long time. Katie was beginning to worry, so she stood up from the living room chair and entered the kitchen. The little six-year old girl was there, holding the phone up to her head.
"They don't believe you, do they?" Katie asked.
"I'm on hold," the little girl said. "But that's probably a good sign. They could have just hung up on me." She paused for a moment, then said "Wait a minute. I think someone's answering."
"Where do you think you're goin'? Your act ain't over yet. Now get back up there, bitch," Larry said, before grabbing the arm of who he thought was Gloria Reynolds, the hottest attraction at the Pussy Kat Klub. Suddenly, the club was filled with a bright light. And when it was gone, he found himself in a completely different place. "What the hell? Where'd the club go?"
He looked down at himself and nearly had a coronary. He was wearing one of the sexiest sets of lingerie he had ever seen. And that's saying a lot, since he owned a strip joint. He looked around more and saw that he was sitting on a bed with silky red sheets. The more he looked at it, the more familiar the place looked to him. And then it dawned on him. This was that whore house out on 38th. He had been there a couple of times, but not like this.
He stood up and began to walk, but then stumbled. He looked down and saw that he was wearing stiletto heels. "What the fuck is going on here? Why the hell am I dressed like this?" No one answered, because no one else was in the room. Yet.
After hearing the gunshot, Chris had run downstairs to see what had happened. Sarah probably wouldn't have in the same situation. But Chris wasn't Sarah, not really.
"What's going on?" he asked, cautiously walking into the living room. He saw Sarah's father sitting on the floor, rocking back and forth with his head buried in his arms.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the middle-aged man kept muttering. Tears were running down his face. After Chris moved further into the room, he saw that there was a handgun lying next to Sarah's father and there was some blood on his shirt.
"What happened?"
"He ... uh ... accidentally ... uh ... shot ..." Sarah's mother said. She was acting very peculiar, nothing like how she acted when Chris came home. Could it be that what happened to him had also happened to her as well? Maybe Sarah's father had switched too.
"Who did he shoot?" Chris asked.
"It was a boy," she said, still sounding timid. "He kept saying he was ... uh ... Sarah, his daughter. And ... uh ... he shot him."
Chris' eyes went wide, as he realized that Sarah had come home with his body and got herself shot. What if she died from it? What would happen to him? Earlier, he had decided to embrace Sarah's life. But knowing that he could never go back (if Sarah died) changed his perspective on things. Was he really 100% sure that he wanted Sarah's life permanently?
