Easy Enough, Surely
She considered the phone.
Her name was Kate Marsh, and she’d been a lesbian all her life.
This was something she’d never really told her parents. She knew that Dad suspected, but… he’d never said a word. He’d always insist that Mom would still love her if she was gay - that, if she was gay, then she should tell her. But…
Her mother was a ruthless woman. She had cold, polished steel eyes and a fiery temper. She had a loyalty that was well-known, and made her one of the most devoted christains of her church - but it also made her a very stubborn, strong-willed woman. Kate respected her for that - and she hated it.
She still remembered the moment that she’d realized, Mom had never really been her mother. She’d been the mother of some… made up image of her, that had never been real. Of some mask that Mom wanted her to wear. She’d never really wanted a daughter - she wanted a… successor, of sorts. An heir.
And Kate didn’t fit the position.
She’d gotten more from her mom then she’d like to admit. It was why Max’s words had sunk so deep. They had touched something very vulnerable in her, and it hurt like hell - all the more so because she knew Max was the sweetest person on earth.
She tried to be like Dad - and she liked to think she did pretty well. But her fierce loyalty, her protectiveness, her stubbornness - she’d known these things were all Mom.
Mom would’ve hated Brooke.
Kate had been a lesbian her whole life, and never told a soul. It weighed upon her - not really a secret, but… a heavy piece of information. Something that held down her soul, and tied her to the earth under her feet.
She wasn’t ashamed of it.
She was afraid of it.
(Sometimes, though, she’d regret the fact that she’d never told Mom. Would she really have rejected her? Maybe… maybe it would’ve established trust. Maybe Mom really did love her. She was protective, at least.)
Brooke had a frayed, scarred top lip, and Kate wanted to see more of her.
The sun touched the horizon outside.
It turned out she had Brooke’s number in her phone. From one of the times they’d partnered - though she’d never ended up contacting Brooke. Brooke had just kinda… done the project for both of them.
She dialed.
It didn’t even have a chance to ring.
“This is Brooke Scott. If you’re selling something, get lost. Unless it’s sex toys.”
She blinked. Twice.
“...Uh. Hi, Brooke.”
“Ah. Hello, Kate. What’s going on? ...Unless you’ve become a telemarketer. I sincerely hope not - you aren’t fit for that job. Might I suggest a career in movie making? You seem the type to be a good romantic comedy writer.”
“What? No, I wasn’t… you think I’d be a good writer?”
“Yes, I do. Again, though - preferably romantic comedies. You seem more a character writer then a plot writer.”
“Well… uh… thanks? But I was… calling about something else.”
“Oh. Alright. ARE you selling sex toys?”
“Wh- No! I don’t even own any s-sex toys!”
“That’s quite the misfortune. I probably would’ve been easy to negotiate with. What are you selling, then? Girl scout cookies? Chocolate bars? The cult of Cthulhu?”
“I’m not selling anything, Brooke.” She said - and she couldn’t believe she actually had to say that.
This was the weirdest phone call she’d ever been a part of.
“Then why are you calling? I’m kinda busy trying to figure out what colour would fit best with the plans I have for your room. Do you have any particular love of aqua marine?”
“It’s… good? I kinda prefer mint green, though - wait, I was calling you to ask about something.”
“Ah. Alright. Why didn’t you just say so?”
Good grief.
“I was just… if I insulted one of your friends and said they were untrustworthy, and then called a few hours later to ask forgiveness… what would your opinion be?”
“Is this about that girl you had a fight with, and the subsequent breakdown you had? I must mention, by the way, that the ‘pitiable’ look does not fit well upon you. Try to say not miserable in the future. What was that girl’s name? Maxine, the bitch said?”
“Max. She… prefers Max.” She decided to ignore the rest of that statement. “But… let’s say it was. For argument’s sake. Would you… suggest I call her? To apologise?”
“...That would make you feel better about it, so - yes. I would suggest it. Honestly, I don’t really care about Maxine and/or Max - but whatever brings you catharsis, do that. And don’t call me again unless you have sex toys to offer, or something important to ask. I prefer to text.”
“...Okay?”
That wasn’t really… incredibly helpful, but. Kate supposed she was right, in a way. Calling Max would bring her catharsis, at least - even if Max wouldn’t forgive her.
...Couldn’t hurt to try, right?
“Thanks, Brooke. I’ll call her.”
“Wonderful. We’ll speak tomorrow.”
Click.
So, in summary, she’d learned that Brooke was weird over the phone as well as in person, that she had some odd desire for sex toys, and that she gave very weird but slightly insightful advice.
She took a moment to make a note of all these things in the back of her brain, before calling Max.
Brrrring.
Brrr-
“What?”
That… wasn’t Max.
“...Chase?”
“Noted.”
Click.
Why… why did Victoria have Max’s phone?
She’d… stormed in, asking where Max was earlier…
Actually, that brought a valid question.
Where was Max? Not in her dorm, apparently, and not with her, so probably…
Hanging out with Chloe Price.
After Kate had warned her off.
...But…
No. I won’t let this happen again.
I’ll… give Price the benefit of the doubt. Max says she’s nice - and if you can’t trust Max…
She was going to give a criminal, thief, reprobate arsonist, the benefit of the doubt.
...Okay, I’m not gonna assume she’s NICE, but… I won’t say anything bad. I’ll give her a chance - albeit a very suspicious one.
That… she could manage that.
Maybe.
But that still left the question of why Victoria had Max’s phone.
...Well, she could just ask Max.
She just had to find out where she was.
…
Oh crap.
Oh crap.
Okay, okay - not the time to panic.
Sure, I have literally no idea where Max is for the first time in six years, but… no time to panic.
Can’t panic. Can’t panic.
...Call Brooke. She’ll help.
...Somehow.
Yeah. Yeah, Brooke could help. She was smart.
(She tried not to listen to the tiny voice that asked how on earth Brooke would ever be able to help with this.)
She dialed.
Brrrring.
Brrrring.
Brrrr-
“Well, that was fast. Telemarketing hires quickly.”
“No, Brooke, I need your help.”
“Okay. With what, exactly?”
“I have no idea where Max is - she ran off with that friend, Chloe Price. I need to know where they could’ve gone.”
“How could I-... did you say *Chloe Price*?”
“...Yes?”
“As in, Rachel Amber’s best friend, Chloe Price?”
“...How on earth did you know that?”
“Rachel works at a coffee shop I go to sometimes, and I’m a people watcher. Been doing it for years.”
“Well, yes. I’ve read about them hanging out in my church’s newsletter. Do you… have any idea where they could’ve gone?”
“Well, they could’ve gone to Rachel or Chloe’s house - but I’ve never caught the address of either of those. Less likely but still quite probable is that she took Max and/or Maxine to the junkyard - her and Rachel go their after work a lot.”
“...You don’t actually stalk them, do you?”
“They just aren’t very secretive. Rachel in particular is quite loud, even when trying to use a normal speaking voice. I suspected she had ear damage for a while, but she has no health problems, apparently - according to Chloe Price, anyway. But anyway - the junkyard is probably your best bet that we have a concrete address for. It’s pretty close - a five minute drive or so.”
“That was… actually incredibly helpful. Thanks, Brooke.”
“No need to thank me. I like feeling smarter then other people and passing on important information.”
“...Okay? Thanks anyway.”
“Goodbye, Kate.”
“Go-”
Click.
...Alright. She had a plan. Drive to the junkyard, talk to Max if she’s there, figure out why Victoria has her phone and maybe apologise to both Chloe and Max for being a stubborn low-life.
...Easy enough, surely.