Page 12 of Choke

Alexandria Donnelly.

She’s been here, living her life, while I’ve spent five years chasing a ghost.

Then Ronan pauses, his finger hovering over a line near the bottom of the page.

“She’s connected to Steve Jackson,” He says. “From college. Remember that guy?”

I rack my brain, but nothing about the name or face comes to mind. “Not really.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ronan says, pulling out his phone. “Steve’s the guy who knows everyone. Let’s see what he knows about our girl.”

Before I can stop him, Ronan has the phone on speaker, dialing the number.

“Ronan Pierce. It’s been years, man. How are ya?”

I return my attention to the photo on the screen, to her blue eyes.

Not a ghost anymore.

Don’t React

Lex

Juliana’s voice is breathy, as usual. Getting her on a call is a mission on a good day, let alone nailing her down for an hour. In the background, her kids scream, and her husband’s sharp voice cuts through, warning them to “calm the fuck down.”

“How did you meet this guy again?” She asks, adding, “He’s hot if you’re into that huge, terrifying thing.”

We’ve been at this for a while. At some point, I sent her his Instagram account, which she promptly requested to follow before going to the team account to view photos. We’ve covered this already, but I would venture to say she struggles to envision me working at a bar. I laugh and start again.

“Remember how I used to live in Costa Rica? When I came back, I was broke, jobless, and desperate. I sent my resume everywhere and took my first offer—a job at GT’s, a dive bar in my hometown.”

“Yeah, no. I got that part. I just, what kind of bar was this place?”

“It was just a regular ass dive bar in my hometown. My uncle was friends with the owner. I think that’s why I got the job, despite being the oldest person employed there.”

There is a pause while she does some mental math.

“Oldest? You were, what, ancient—thirty?”

I snort. “Twenty-eight. But thanks for that. This should give you a clear idea of the bar. Everyone else working there was under twenty-two, and the patrons were even younger. You are focusing on the wrong part of this situation, though. The bar is not relevant. The guy is the point.”

“Right. The guy. I am trying to perfect my mental image of this whole thing. You, working in a bar. When was the last time you went to a damn bar, Lex?” Her tone is incredulous.

I fight back a groan - it’s been an hour. She’s one of my most ‘grown-up’ friends. I want her advice. However, she is stuck on this years-old version of me, who was struggling to pay rent, put food on the table, and was a little lost. She clears her throat, covers the phone, and sternly tells her kids they don’t want her to “get off this phone because they’ll be sorry.” Then, she returns to our conversation.

“Sorry, they are wild today. Have I mentioned lately not to have this many kids? Normal people do not do this to themselves. It’s not manageable or reasonable.”

This brings a genuine smile to my face.

“Jules, you start every conversation like this. Consider it noted—no kids for me. Ever.”

“That is not what I said! You know what, never mind. So you, bar hater extraordinaire, worked in a dive bar in the middle of nowhere. You met a hockey player who you weren’t interested in. Then this week, you run into him downtown, and… what? What is the big deal? The world isn’t that small.”

My cat crawls onto the bed, circling several times before laying down, purring loudly. I run a hand over her velvety body. Juliana’s asking what the big deal is, and I don’t have a good answer. I wouldn’t still be thinking about it if it were anyone else. But it’s not anyone else. It’s Adrian fucking Liberty.

She sighs, “I need to go. We can continue this later. These kids are borderline feral, and I think Aleks might kill me if I don’t help wrangle them before dinner. Plus—I’ll see you in a few weeks! I love you!”

The line goes dead before I can respond. I roll to my side and pull my cat into me, scratching under her chin. My upcoming trip to visit Juliana had completely slipped my mind, and I’m nothing short of elated over it. I’m daydreaming about palm trees and warm weather when my phone lights up with a text message from Rosie.

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