Page 50 of Final Girls

My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I try to ignore it, thinking it’s a reporter. Or, worse, my mother. Yet the phone continues to rattle against the bedside lamp, insistent. I check the caller ID.

“It’s Coop,” I say.

Jeff sighs, his desire deflating. “Can’t it wait?”

It can’t. Coop had called me yesterday evening, responding to my pretending-not-to-be-worried text. At the time, I was too busy to answer, what with Sam hovering around me in the kitchen while I made dinner. If I don’t pick up now, he’ll definitely be concerned.

“Not while my picture is still on the front page,” I tell Jeff.

Vibrating phone in hand, I spring out of bed and hurry into the master bathroom, closing the door behind me.

“Why didn’t you tell me Samantha Boyd contacted you?” Coop says by way of greeting.

“How did you find out?”

“I got a Google alert,” he says, the answer so unexpected he could have told me “aliens” and I wouldn’t have been more surprised. “Although I would have preferred to hear it from you.”

“I was going to call you,” I say, which is the truth. I had planned to call him right after I got done confronting Jonah. “Sam showed up at my place yesterday. After Lisa’s death, she thought it would be a good idea if we met.”

I could have told Coop more than that, of course. How Sam had changed her name years ago. How she dared me into downing two Xanax too many. How I threw all three back up the moment I saw His picture.

“Is she still there?” Coop asks.

“Yes. She’s going to be staying with us.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know. Until she figures out some stuff.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Why? You worried about me?”

“I always worry about you, Quincy.”

I pause, unsure how to respond. Coop’s never been this forthright before. I don’t know if it’s a good change or a bad one. Either way, it’s nice to hear him admit out loud that he cares. It’s definitely more heartwarming than a nod.

“Admit it,” I finally say. “When you saw that Google alert, you almost drove out here to check on me.”

“I got as far as the end of the driveway before stopping myself,” Coop replies.

I don’t doubt him. It’s that kind of devotion that’s made me feel safe all these years.

“What changed your mind?”

“Knowing that you can take care of yourself.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“But I’m still concerned that Samantha Boyd has come out of hiding,” Coop says. “You have to admit, it’s startling.”

“You’re starting to sound like Jeff.”

“What’s she like? Is she—”

The first words I think of are the same ones Sam used this morning.Damaged goods.Instead, I say, “Normal? Considering what happened to her, she’s as normal as anyone can be.”

“But not as normal as you.”

---