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I exhale, then answer the call. “Hi, Colleen, it’s Molly. Royce, sorry, Ryan, left his phone at my place.”
There’s a pause and I start to wonder if anyone’s on the line, then I hear a woman sucking in her breath. “Oh, sweetheart! Thank you so much for picking up. I need to reach him though. Is he alright? Lordy, I’ve been worried.”
Christ, I almost had a heart attack before she spoke up—all I could think was that ‘Ma’ was a code for someone else.
“I know he had a work thing, but I can probably have one of the guys track him down,” I say, just as Mack catches my eye and shakes it head. “It just might take a few days.”
Looking at the man across from me, I throw my other hand up in question. Like, what am I supposed to say?
“Goodness, as long as he’s alright, don’t bother him,” she says, still clearly upset. “My house, oh God, it’s been aday. My house burned down, if you can believe it. I hardly can. I woke up to some popping sounds and managed to climb out of my bedroom window with my phone and a photo album.”
“Colleen! I’m so sorry! What can I do?” I stand up so suddenly that the chair goes flying backwards and Mack nearly shoots out of his seat. Unfortunately, the poor guy almost goes tumbling, so I step forward to help steady him.
Holding my hand over the bottom of the phone, I whisper, “House fire.”
“I’m at Shannon’s house now,” she informs me, sounding forlorn. “My insurance adjustor has been an angel, but I have to figure out what to do. It’s just all gone.”
“Listen, Colleen, I’m going to reach out to a friend of Royce’s and have him relay all of this. Can I get your number in case I can’t open Royce’s phone again?”
“Oh, his code is 2192,” she immediately responds, and I can’t help shaking my head. It seems like the worst kept secret, ever. “It’s our home address, or was, Ryan uses it for everything.”
“Well, let me just jot it down anyway.”
After the call ends, I explain what little information that I have to Mack and he takes the slip of paper with her number on it. Promising to let Jasper know, as he was heading back to the clubhouse anyway.
When he leaves, I notice that the phone’s battery is getting low and I dig around in my junk bin until I find an extra charger for his phone.
All in all. I should have let it die.
Because the graphic messages that are displayed when I wake up the next morning, turn my stomach. I close my eyes and shake my head, praying that I’m still asleep.
This morning I have no qualms about unlocking his phone.
There are images from multiple women, and while his face isn’t included in them, I know his body and his ink well enough to know he’s the man-meat in the orgy.
The final message is the one that hits me the hardest. A video, with three different women showing off their new tattoos. It seems they’re a member of the Nine Inch Club.
I guess they forgot to invite me.
Bringing his wallet and phone downstairs with me, I put them in a bag and shove them to the side.
Half of what I bake that morning turns out to be a disaster and at one point, I just sit on the floor behind the counter and cry.
I hate crying. I hate how fucking weak it makes me feel. I hate that I fell in love with him and gave him the power to make me feel this way.
Then I wonder if my mom ever felt this way. If she ever loved anyone so hard that she turned into a puddle, then decided never to let it happen again.
Picking myself up, I salvage what’s left of my morning’s attempt and set up a table outside and tape a sign above the individually wrapped items.
Molly’s Bakery will be closed today.
Items below are free.
Limit one per person.
*
My damn phone won’t stop ringing.Rolling over in bed, I see that Jessa’s calling me.
