She had no clue what was going on.
Phone!
For some reason, her best friend Krissy was the only one she could think of to call. Krissy would at least come over, give Becca some company.
But where was the damn thing? When she had gotten home, it was all about hitting the sack and nothing else.
Her purse!
Okay…where was her purse?
Shit!
A few moments frantic search led her to the discovery that she had left her purse on the floor of her bedroom, apparently dropping it there before collapsing on the bed. Locating her phone inside it she turned it on and…
“What the fuck is going on?” she shouted, her eyes staring at the screen.
Becca was used to turning on her phone and seeing that she’d missed three, maybe four calls—and those were usually spam anyway; maybe her parents. But now her phone was telling her she’d missed 89 calls!
And that was just phone calls. Her iPhone was also helpfully informing her that she’d missed nearly that many text messages, a shitload of Twitter notifications, another shitload of Facebook notifications and had more voicemails than she’d ever care to listen to.
She checked the missed calls first.
Most were from numbers she didn’t know. Of the others…
Krissy.
Her parents.
Krissy.
Her sisters.
Several firefighting buddies.
Krissy.
Her parents.
Her volleyball buddies.
Krissy.
Krissy.
Krissy.
Becca called Krissy.
“What the hell?” she asked as soon as the call connected.
“You’re famous!” Krissy exclaimed.
Becca blinked.
“Famous for what?”
She heard Krissy scoff.