Page 4 of Joey

“Do you need help?” I ask. Because now I’m a little worried.

“Maisy,” an older voice says. A man. “Who are you talking to?”

“Joey,” she says.

And this time my heart doesn’t skip. It sinks.

Because I know who this is.

“Hey,” I say, a little bit urgent. “Maisy?”

“Hmm?” she says.

“Where are you?”

“Give me that,” the man says.

And then the call drops.

I look at my phone. It beeps three times. And the word BLOCKED stays lit for just another moment before it disappears.

“Fuck!”

“Who was that?”

I whirl around to find Wald standing in the doorway of his bedroom, shirtless, pair of old surf shorts hanging off his hips, his big hand rubbing his cropped hair.

I open my mouth to say something but find I cannot get the words out.

“What?” Wald says. “Why the fuck are you looking at me like that?”

“Dude,” I say, then just… stare at him.

“What?” he says, louder now. “Who the fuck was that?”

“Wald,” I say, shaking my head.

“Will you fucking tell me already? Just spit it out.”

“It was my kid, Waldo. I think it was my fucking kid!”

CHAPTER TWO - BROOKE

One month. That’s how long I’ve been here in the city.

I have a new apartment, new clothes, new car, new furniture. Everything I need. Except for a purpose.

I have no purpose.

It’s not a new thing, this lack of purpose. I’ve never had much of a purpose. But I had people.

Well, mostly just one person. But sometimes one is all it takes.

I was grounded. I knew who I was, even if it was a lie, and I thought I knew where I was going.

Now this. Here. Alone.

I turn twenty-nine tomorrow and there’s this new urge that might possibly be a panic building inside me.