Merry smiled again. “Least that’s good.”
“Yeah,” Mike repeated then grabbed his phone. “They had an incident. Gotta call her, see if she’s okay then we’ll hit the road.”
Merry tipped up his chin and turned to his computer. Mike tagged his phone and called Dusty. It was the third time that day. None of which he’d connected. This wasn’t surprising, she’d told him the day before she had to get down to it in order to get ready for her showing.
His call went to voicemail.
This time, he was surprised especially after she’d had an incident.
Maybe she was at boot camp.
He left a message. “Hey Angel, it’s me. Checkin’ in. Rivera called. Call me back. Let me know you’re good. Later.”
Then he hit the button to disconnect, caught Merry’s eyes, Merry hit a few keys on his keyboard and Mike pushed out his chair. He grabbed his jacket then they hit the road.
*
Tuesday afternoon…
Dusty’s phone rang a-fucking-gain. Beau swiped it off his coffee table and stared at the display.
Mike Calling.
Fourth time that day.
Well, fuck Mike.
He dropped the phone on his floor, lifted his foot and slammed the heel of his cowboy boot down on it.
The phone crushed instantly to pieces.
He kicked the pieces across the living room of his shitty-ass new apartment that was more of a mess than Dusty could create.
This was because he hadn’t cleaned it in four months and he no longer had Yolanda.
Pulling his eyes from the scattered phone debris, he stomped to his kitchen to get a beer.
*
Wednesday afternoon…
Clarisse was in the kitchen to grab some corn chips when her Dad’s phone rang.
She jumped and stared at it guiltily. This was because it was after school. No was at some girl’s house supposedly studying. Her Dad was at work. And she was supposed to be doing her homework but she was watching TV. This was reiterated ten minutes ago when her Dad came home unexpectedly to get something, caught her watching TV and reminded her she should be doing her homework.
His phone was sitting on the counter. That was weird. He’d gone to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and he must have put it down and forgotten it.
She moved to it and saw the screen said, “Dusty Calling”.
Dusty.
Was that a boy’s name or a hot babe’s name?
Before her mind told her hand to do it, she did what she knew she shouldn’t do. She did what she knew her Dad would get totally ticked at her doing because he got work calls on his phone. She did what she’d catch it for if her Dad ever knew she did it.
Heart hammering and hands suddenly sweating, she hit the button to take the call and put her phone to her ear.
“Uh…hello, um…Dad’s phone.”
This was met with silence then a very pretty, adult female voice asking, “Clarisse?”
It was the hot babe.
And she knew Clarisse’s name.
Clarisse didn’t know what to think of this.
“Uh…yeah,” Clarisse confirmed.
“Hey, honey. This is Dusty. Is your Dad around?”
“Uh…no. He, uh…forgot his phone.”
“Oh,” the woman called Dusty mumbled then she said, “Right, okay, can you do me a favor and tell him I called? Tell him I lost my cell, can’t find it anywhere and if he needs to call, he should call the house or the shed. Can you do that?”
“Um…sure.”
“Thanks, Clarisse.”
“Uh…you’re welcome.”
“Okay, you take care. You hear?”
“Um…you too.”
“Bye, honey.”
“Bye.”
Clarisse listened as the woman called Dusty disconnected.
She called Clarisse honey just like her Dad called her honey. It came easy, natural but, even never meeting her, it sounded weirdly real.
She didn’t know what to think of that either.
Then, before her mind told her fingers to do it, before she even knew why she did it, her thumb started hitting buttons. Like any child born in the technical age, she didn’t know her father’s phone but without delay or effort she found what she needed to find. Then she deleted the woman called Dusty’s call from her father’s history.
Then she licked her lips and put the phone down on the counter hoping she placed it exactly where her Dad left it and she was careful with this. He noticed stuff. She didn’t know if this was because he was a cop or a Dad. She had no idea in reality it was both.
And as she stood there, she began to wonder why she’d deleted the woman called Dusty’s history from her Dad’s phone. Then she began to wish she hadn’t. Then she really wished she hadn’t.
She jumped nearly out of her skin when she heard the front door open. Layla, who’d been hanging out in the kitchen with Clarisse wondering if Clarisse was feeling generous, dashed to the door. Clarisse whirled toward it and saw her Dad walking in, Layla at his heels.
He smiled at her and said a soft, “Hey, honey.”
“Hey, Dad.”