Her cell phone rings. She opens her eyes.
She reaches for the phone. The caller ID reads “PRIVATE”.
Christ, Joe, ain’t I supposed to ask you that when you’re callin’ me on private lines?
Joe’s voice is ragged.
I— I need to know it’s you.
Barron, Charlie. I eat crackers with peanut butter and hot sauce. My mama calls me “Kitty” but if you do I’ll gut you.
Through the phone line we can hear a woman wailing.
Oh shit, Joey, why didn’t you start with that?