“Why don’t you use your own damn cellphone?” he asks, clutching the device close to his chest and giving me an indignant look.
“Well, I would, but I don’t have one,” I say, biting back my inner bitch so I can get what I want.
“You’re not one of those anti-technology freaks, are you?” the man says, eyeing me nervously.
I throw my hands up in exasperation, “Ugh. I just need to find my friend. Can I have it or not?”
The guy actually snorts in my face and walks away, muttering under his breath, “I ain’t a phone booth, bitch. Didn’t your momma teach you manners?”
My jaw slacks open wide and I search for anyone else with a phone in their hand. A woman down slope has her cellphone out as she takes some photos of her kids against the backdrop of the skyline.
Racing down to meet them, I skid to halt.
“Excuse me,” I say, trying to catch my breath, “do you—do you speak English? I need to find a friend. I was wondering if I can use your phone to try and locate him. I’m getting worried something happened to him.”
The woman and two kids turn to look at me. Their dark, heavy eyebrows kiss their hairline as they stare back at me in surprise.
“Please?” I repeat, pointing at the phone.
The woman looks down and nods—clearly not understanding anything else I’ve said but understanding what I need.
“Thank you, thank you,” I repeat, walking a few steps away from the three of them.
Taking a deep breath, I clutch the device in my hand. I stare down at it, trying to figure out how the hell to turn it back on.
Dammit, I really should have figured these stupid things out by now.
Blinking back tears, I start pressing every button on the sides of the black box. The woman walks up to me, gently resting a hand on my shoulder and pointing to the middle circle.
Through her touch, I get glimpses of her life. She and her two children are here on vacation from Turkey and this is the first time they’ve been to Greece. Though I can—I don’t need to speak her language, because the energy binding us all is universal.
I touch the button and the screen flashes to life. My body trembles, but I nod my head.
“Thank you—er—teşekkür ederim,” I breathe.
The woman presses something on the screen and the dial pad pops up.
Taking a deep breath of relief, I freeze. I don’t know Blake’s number.
“For fucksake,” I curse. “Can’t anything just go right?”
Why didn’t we think of this? Why didn’t we have a plan in case we got separated? How idiotic are we? I don’t even know Aiden’s number—
“Aiden—” I practically scream.
The woman beside me steps back, surprised by my sudden outburst, but I can’t worry about that now. I need to connect with Aiden and lift his number somehow—or a way to reach him.
Closing my eyes, I reach out to the universe, asking for guidance back to Aiden. I hone my senses so they narrow down all the information beginning to assault my awareness. A Helena telephone number raises into my perception and my fingertips instantly start dialing.
The first attempt ends in a screeching sound, telling me I need to add a country code to dial out. A new, longer number flits in my mind and I redial.
Clutching the phone, my fingertips dig into the sides of the metal and plastic as I wait in anticipation.
Finally, the phone rings—a breakthrough in communication for me.
“Hello?” Aiden’s voice fills my ear.
Relief washes over me and I breathe out.
“Aiden? It's Diana. Quick, have you heard from Blake? Or do you have his number?” I blurt everything out as quickly as possible.
“Diana? Wha—what time is it?” Aiden says, his voice groggy sounding.
“Oh my God, I'm so sorry. It's still the middle of the night over there,” I say, shaking my head.
Aiden clears his throat, “It's okay. What did you need again?”
“I can't find Blake. We split up for a bit and now I have no idea where he is. Stupid me, I didn't think to get his number in case of emergencies. Do you have it?”
“Are you both okay?” Aiden says, alarm playing at the edge of his tone.
“I'm fine, but I really need to find Blake. You haven't heard from him, have you?”
“No, I haven't. Okay, you got a pen and paper? I’ll give you his number.”
“I don't, but I'll remember it. Go ahead,” I say, eyeing the woman whose phone I'm borrowing as she edges a little closer. Impatience is starting to take root in her aura and I'm going to need to make this quick.
Aiden rattles off the number and I curse myself for not having a pen. I really should write it down, just in case I can't pull the recall, thanks to Blake being a blind spot.
“Thanks, Aiden. I gotta go.”
A tiny protest echoes from the phone as I pull it away from my ear, but he's not my concern. I have to call Blake before this woman gets pissed.
Hitting the red button, I turn to her and hold up my pointer finger.
“One more call. I'll be super quick,” I say in Turkish.
Her eyebrows scrunch in and she takes a step away, saying something to her kids as she jabs a thumb back my direction.
As quickly as I can I dial the number again. Kicking up dust as I pace back and forth, I wait as the connection picks up and the line starts ringing.
“C’mon, c’mon,” I mutter, clutching the phone tightly.
The ringing stops and I cease pacing as I hold my breath.
“Hi, this is Blake Wilson. Sorry, can't come to the phone right now, but feel free to tell my answering machine whatcha need. It can't keep a secret, so I'll find out about it eventually.”
“Fuck,” I curse, waiting for the BEEP.
As it sounds, I grip the phone close to my face and say, “Blake, so help me, you had better be okay. I’m sorry I wandered off—I
