It's old hat to call people, ask for contacts. She's Jo Harvelle. Ellen & Bill's Daughter. There were people who called in for this type of thing all the time when the Roadhouse was still standing.
Even people who don't know the latest updates had been around, enough to know who they were. The names. It carried. It helped.
She had a name for Sam. When he'd get back.
Which couldn't be too long really.
Which meant. Jo studied the phone in her hand. The door. The ceiling. And then typed the number from the spring.
She rubbed the middle of her forehead. It rang twice, and then the click.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2011-10-16 09:10 pm (UTC)It's old hat to call people, ask for contacts. She's Jo Harvelle. Ellen & Bill's Daughter. There were people who called in for this type of thing all the time when the Roadhouse was still standing.
Even people who don't know the latest updates had been around, enough to know who they were. The names. It carried. It helped.
She had a name for Sam. When he'd get back.
Which couldn't be too long really.
Which meant. Jo studied the phone in her hand. The door.
The ceiling. And then typed the number from the spring.
She rubbed the middle of her forehead.
It rang twice, and then the click.
"Hey, Mom."