I think I’m asked at least once a month if I’m ever going to give Joey his own book, and the truth is, it is something I planned on doing a few years ago. And there was a time when I was working on it.
But, life. The pandemic. Basically all of 2020.
My mental health took a serious nose dive, and I took a big break from writing after having my little one, and when I returned, I jumped into another story and put Joey’s on hold.
Anyways. Joey’s story may still happen. I’d honestly love to return to it one day. I mean, what in the world is he up to? Aren’t you curious?
I’ll tell you what he’s up to…
He. Is. STRESSING OUT.
In typical Joey fashion, he’s quite possibly exaggerating over something Billy-related (Goddamn-it, Billy!), or maybe he’s completely justified in his freak-out. And for now, only I know the answer to whether or not Joey is over-reacting to this little mystery ‘problem’. And while I can’t tell you what it is that’s got him so flustered, I can give you a little glimpse into how Joey is trying to handle it.
Here’s a little Joey and Brooke, and sweet Mason. I hope it makes you smile. 🙂
I check the time on my watch. 6:47 a.m..
I was trying to be considerate and wait until a more reasonable hour before I called on friendships, knowing full well that most of the women in my life don’t like their beauty rest disturbed this early on a Sunday, but I need help. I need girlfriend time. And for fucks sake, I need air conditioning.
Brooke is up first. Mainly because she’s never threatened to do anything rude to my balls. Not even in her wild days.
When I get a break in traffic, I jog across the street and pull on the yoga studio door, figuring there’s a good chance it’s unlocked.
Mason, Brooke’s hot Aussie husband, gets up at the ass crack of dawn to twist his body into appealing positions. So I’m not surprised to see him limbering up on a mat when I step inside the studio.
I am surprised to see Brooke awake though. I figured she’d still be asleep upstairs.
Sitting cross-legged in the center of the room, eyes closed and her palms open. Peaceful expression on her face.
Huh. Brooke looks Zen as fuck.
Is she seriously meditating?
“Hey. How are ya, Joey,” Mason says, grinning through his pose.
He’s so enjoyable. And always happy to see me. If he were a chick, I’d totally tell him all of my problems right now.
“Honestly?” I fix my sweaty hair. “Not that great.”
“Anything I can help with?”
“Sadly, no. I need my squad for this mess.”
When I finish speaking, I glare at Brooke, who has yet to even acknowledge my presence with a simple glance. Not even after hearing how distressed I am.
Some nerve, right? And I’d consider us close. The bitch used to live with me, for Christ sake. Is she forgetting that?
“Excuse me, Ms. Namaste?” I glare harder. “Could you wake the fuck up?”
Her chest rises with a slow, deep breath. “What is it, Joey?”
“I need you. Obviously… I know you heard what I just said to Mason. I’m having a bit of a crisis and thoroughly freaking out about it.”
“Come back in fifteen minutes.”
The brush off? Did she really just dismiss me?
“What?” I fight the urge to stomp my foot like some child. “No, I’m not coming back in fifteen minutes. I need you now, Brooke.”
“Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“Doing what exactly? Daydreaming about my stellar dick?”
“I’m meditating.” She finally opens one eye and peers at me. “And you’re interrupting. So either shut up or get out.”
“Bitch, are you high? Seriously, did you take some weird, Australian herb that’s completely numbed your ass this morning? Because I just said I’m having a crisis…”
“Which I’m sure can be dealt with after I’m finished.” Brooke closes her eye again and pulls in another deep breath. “Why don’t you grab a mat? You look like you could use some self-reflecting.”
“No need. I self-reflected in the bathroom this morning.”
“Masturbation doesn’t give you a better understanding of your life’s purpose, Joey.”
“Then you’re doing it wrong, Brooke.”
“I hardly even do it anymore, for your information.”
She hardly does it anymore? Oh, she’s definitely smoking something on the regular.
“Brooke, seriously, you can meditate later. This shit I have going on can not wait.”
My mouth drops open when instead of responding with words or, I don’t know, getting her ass up and being an actual friend to me, Brooke makes an obnoxious “aum” sound, holding out the note for as long as her breath allows.
I point at her as if she can see it. “Bitch.”
“Hoe.” Her mouth twists into a smirk.
“I don’t even know who you are anymore, Brooke King,” I snap, heading for the door since my time here is obviously wasted. “I’ll be across the street where people actually give a fuck about me. Mason, as always, it’s been an absolute pleasure. Wish you were gay.”
I’m awarded another grin, this one upside down as Mason holds some God-awful pose, before I step back outside.
Well, lesson learned, I guess. Always go with your bestie first. You really can’t count on anyone else these days.