Drunk Dial(6)
“So, he sticks his hand up your shirt?”
My eyes nearly popped out of my head. “What?”
“Just kidding.”
She liked to fuck with me like that.
“Don’t scare me.” I placed my hand on my pounding heart. “You little jerk.”
She played with the gummy worm hanging halfway out of her mouth. “What kinds of things did you guys do?”
“We hung out, talked, rode bikes…stuff like that.”
“Why did he call you?”
“I called him, actually, the night before, so he was calling me back, I guess.”
“Are you going to see him?”
“No. He lives in California.”
“I’ve always wanted to go visit television.”
I squinted. “What?”
“Everything on TV is located there. California is television to me.”
“Ah.” I smiled. “Well, maybe we can take a trip there someday when you’re old enough.”
“My parents won’t let me.”
“Well, when you’re older, you can make that decision for yourself.”
“We won’t know each other anymore then.”
That hurt me to hear her say that. She just assumed I would ditch her at some point?
“What makes you so sure of that?”
“You’ll get sick of this. And I’ll be too old for this Little Sister stuff.”
“Don’t be so sure. I kind of like bugging you every week. This would be a hard habit to break.”
Lilith abruptly changed the subject. “Does anyone ever call you Jasmine?”
“What do you mean?”
“You look like Princess Jasmine from Aladdin, except your skin is a little lighter, and your eyes are green. Your hair is exactly like hers, though. Do you pretend to be her when you’re dancing at that Gyro place?”
“Gyro place.” I chuckled. “You’re funny.”
Barely out of my belly dancer garb, I rushed to pick up the phone when it rang at eleven on the dot.
Out of breath, I answered, “Hello?”
Landon sounded full of energy. “Hey!”
“You seem…happy. Are you drunk?”
“Full disclosure. I am drinking, but I hold my liquor pretty well, so sadly, I’m not drunk like I’d hoped I would be.”
“You’re failing at this drunk dialing thing.”
“I know. I’m more like a buzzed dialer.” He laughed. “So, how was work?”
“It was okay. My feet are tired.”
“When did you learn to belly dance, anyway?”
“I taught myself. Video tutorials. I have the exotic look, so I figured I’d go with it. Took a while to learn and find a gig, but I put my mind to it, and it finally happened.”
“I still can’t picture you belly dancing.”
“That’s because you’re picturing roly-poly Rana Banana.”
“Maybe. So…you look different? What do you look like now?”
“You won’t get to find out.”
“I’m starting to think that. I’ve tried to look you up on social media, but I couldn’t remember how to spell your last name for the life of me. The best I could come up with was Salami.”
Laughing, I corrected him. “Saloomi with two ‘O’s. But I cancelled all of my social media accounts, and there are no pictures to be found of me.”
“I don’t have Facebook, either,” he said.
“I know.”
“Oh…so you looked me up before the drunk dial? Was that like the prelude to dialing me? I guess I should be grateful. If you could’ve just quietly stalked me, you might not have called.”
I promptly switched gears. “What did you feel we needed to talk about tonight?”
“You seem to have some misconceptions about me that need to be cleared up. When you first called me, you started spewing crap—assuming things. You said you believed I thought my shit didn’t stink. You also assumed I lived in a mansion. What kind of fuckery is that? You seem to have the impression that I think I’m high and mighty.”
“Now, I just think you’re mighty high.” I snorted. “Just kidding. Sorry, I wasn’t in my right mind when I said those things.”
“Okay, but alcohol is basically like truth serum. Those assumptions were there before that night. Let me clarify something, Rana. I never thought I was better than you growing up just because we had more money. I never thought about those things. Anyway, my parents aren’t supporting me financially anymore. I’ve fended for myself for a very long time.”
“Where are they now?”
“They’re still in Michigan.”
“How did you end up in California?”