“Hello?” A man’s voice comes across the line and I wince, looking around me. It’s loud, and I can’t afford to attract attention.

“Is this…,” I clear my throat as fear almost keeps the words in. “Is this the man they call Crusher?”

“Yeah,” he says, sounding alert now, whereas before his voice seemed thick with sleep. “Who’s this?”

I swallow. I’ve gone around and around this conversation in my head. I didn’t know how to tell him, and I don’t want him to doubt that what I’m telling him is the truth. It’s definitely irony, but to get this Crusher person to believe me… I’m going to lie my ass off.

“My name is Rory McDaniels,” I tell him, giving him one of the very few truths I can give him.

“What do you want?” he says.

“Cowboy? Are you okay?” I hear a woman ask in the background.

“I’m fine, Hellcat, go back to bed,” he says, his voice muffled, like he put a hand over the receiver.

“Are you there?” I ask him, looking around in the dark. Something about the way he spoke to the woman reassures me that this was the right man to call.

“How did you get my number?” he growls.

“From a friend,” I tell him… not exactly a lie.

“Lady you need to start talking a hell of a lot more than you are, or I’m hanging up,” Crusher says.

“I live in Whitefish, Montana,” I tell him and that lie… That one hurts.

“So?”

“My boyfriend was mugged last week,” I tell him and that lie… that one hurts too.

“Lady—”

“He’s been in a coma,” I tell him, and my voice shudders with that truth. You can hear it vibrate through my voice, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

“I’m sorry for his bad luck, but I don’t see what this has to do with me. I—”

“He’s awake now,” I tell him and that lie… God! That one burns like liquid fire down my throat. “He’s awake and… he asked me to call you and ask you to come to him.”

“Darlin’ I’m not about to—”

“My boyfriend’s name is Westin Cross. Do you know who that is?” I ask, knowing he will… or at least praying he does. I’m not sure if I know anything these days.

“Fuck,” he says and I can hear the pain in his voice. “Yeah,” he says finally, letting out a deep breath along with the word. “Yeah, I know who that is.”

“He needs you to come to the Westlake General Hospital near Whitefish, Montana.”

“Whitefish, Montana—”

“I have to go now. The doctor is coming in,” I tell him, adding yet another lie…

“But—” Crusher starts to argue, but I really have to go.

I look around in the darkness and the shadows around me seem to come to life. My heartrate has kicked into overdrive and my palms are sweaty against the receiver of the phone.

I’m calling from a payphone… Who knew they still had those? I lay my head against the glass and try to still my nerves. It doesn’t work, but I try anyway.

“I have to go,” I tell this Crusher person again. “Just please hurry. He needs you. We all do,” I tell him, my hand going to my stomach.

“Listen, Ms. McDaniel—”

I hang up before he finishes talking. I pull my black jacket tighter around my body, wishing it was thicker. Then, I leave the phone booth. I slip back into the darkness, letting it hide me. It’s the only friend I have these days.