Chapter 9
Joey
Mr. Moore’s office was in a building that looked like it had been last renovated decades ago. For some reason I felt uneasy stepping inside.
Owen’s hand on the small of my back gave me enough strength to walk up to the front desk where a receptionist or an assistant, possibly both, beamed at us. She looked to be in her fifties, with a bleach blonde perm and heavy makeup, and for a moment I felt like I’d stepped back in time somehow.
“Joey Laine to see Mr. Moore,” I said, when her slightly creepy, expectant smile didn’t turn into a greeting.
“I’ll let him know you’re here, Mr. Laine. You can take a seat while you wait.”
Owen walked with me to the worn vinyl seating and we gave each other this look of are you thinking what I’m thinking and then giggled like little chi
