Broken Marilyns

WRONG NUMBER

WRONG NUMBER

In the morning, I woke up just like I did any other, but the events that took place last night swirled around my head and reminded me that the days to come would be forever changed. 

Jack had snuck out at some point this morning and there was no trace of him ever being around.  Was he ever really here?  A hot panic spread inside my chest, biting like a colony of hostile fire ants.  There was no going back. 

Getting ready for the day, I washed my face and remembered Jack's lips moving over mine.  Pouring my coffee, I could feel his hands clench and push mine up against the head board.  With each spark of excitement came a deep thud of guilt in the center of my core and then the cycle started all over again.

I needed to make some headway with Julia’s story.  I’d never contacted Second Chance about Mr. Henley, I wanted to make sure he would cooperate first, but after our last meeting I needed to pull something big out of my bag of tricks to get his attention.  Going through my purse, I couldn’t find the papers I’d printed out on Second Chance and who knew what I’d done with them between now and when I left the prison.

Dissecting the Second Chance website for contact information and submission criteria, my phone buzzed against the table.  Letting it go to voicemail, it immediately began to ring again.

"Hello?" I breathed into the phone, annoyed that I was being distracted.

"Hi...is this Rachel?" a woman's voice asked warily.  A wrong number, great.

"No, this is Jenna.  Who is this?"

“Jenna who?” the woman dodged my question.       

“Pierce.  Who is this?” I asked again, sternly but realized after a few seconds of silence that I wasn’t getting an answer.  “I think you have the wrong number,” I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, I don't think I do," the caller said menacingly and then hung up.