Drunk Dial(3)
“What made you call me tonight?”
“I was drunk.”
“You drunk dialed me?”
“Yes.”
“You’re still drunk?”
“Unfortunately, it’s wearing off.”
“How did you even get my number?”
“You’re the only Landon Roderick in the United States, apparently.”
“Lucky me. Why are you drunk on a Thursday night?”
“There are too many answers to that question. Let’s see. I got groped at work again. I’m late paying this month’s rent—I know what you’re thinking, that apparently some things never change, right? Oh! And my roommate is a psychopath. I’m pretty sure he’s plotting my death as we speak. Shall I go on?”
“What the fuck?” He chuckled.
“Ready to hang up now, Landon?”
“Are you kidding? This is just getting good.”
“Don’t you have anything better to do? What were you doing when I called you?”
“I was just smoking out on my balcony,” he said. “My place overlooks the water. It’s not a mansion, though. Sorry to disappoint you.”
“You smoke? You never used to smoke.”
“I was thirteen when you knew me. I barely knew where my balls were back then. A lot can change in thirteen years.”
“That’s for sure.”
“Plenty of time to fuck up and develop bad habits.”
I sighed. “Yep.”
“Like your Thursday night drunk dials. Have there been other unsuspecting victims? Or just me?”
“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever done this before.”
“Well…that you can remember.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. His laughter followed and the mood lightened.
I could hear him light up another cigarette before he said, “Back up for a minute. You said you got groped at work. What do you do? Are you a prison guard or something?”
“Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know. First thing that came to mind, I guess.”
“I’m a belly dancer.”
“What? Get out of here!”
“Why do you find that hard to believe?”
“You used to dress like a dude…baggy clothes. I just can’t picture you dancing around and shit.”
“Well, like you said, a lot can change in thirteen years.”
“Apparently.” He exhaled deeply. “It’s good to hear your voice, Banana.”
“Your voice is a lot different. You sound like a man.”
“Last time I checked, I am, in fact, a male. I thought you were, too, at one point.”
“Asshole.”
“I’m kidding, Rana—kind of.”
I blew out a breath. “Anyway, I’d better let you go.”
“Wait…one more question. Why do you think your roommate is trying to kill you?”
“Okay, well, his name is Lenny. I had put an ad out for a roommate a while back. I wasn’t getting any bites and really couldn’t afford the rent. Lenny answered the ad. He doesn’t really talk to me, but sometimes, he mutters things under his breath. I get the feeling he’s obsessed with me but hates me at the same time, if that makes sense.”
“It doesn’t make sense, no. But neither do you, really.” He laughed. “Is the apartment under your name…the lease?”
“Yes.”
“So, why don’t you kick him out if he’s a fucking weirdo?”
“Because I’m afraid he’ll kill me.”
“So, you’re afraid to live with him, but you’re also afraid to kick him out.”
“More afraid to kick him out, yes. He hasn’t tried anything. It’s just…this sense I get.”
Landon was cracking up.
“What’s so funny?”
“You. You’re just funny. Not funny ha-ha…but freaking funny. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this.” He spoke under his breath, “Holy shit. This is an interesting surprise.”
Just then, I heard someone else’s voice.
A woman called out, “Landon? What are you doing?” She seemed to have an accent.
He answered her, “I’ll be right there. I need to take this phone call.”
“Who’s that? Are you married?”
“No.”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“No. I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Then, who is it?”
“Her name is…um…”
“You don’t know?”
“Valeria.”
“Venereal?”
He laughed. “Valeria.”
Clearly, I’d interrupted some kind of tryst.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to that.”