Late Night Phone Calls

Next to me, the phone drones on obnoxiously. I groan, rolling over.

“You gon’ geh thah?” Harper mumbles, her voice thick with drowsiness.

“Yeah, sure.” I reach for the phone. “’Lo?”

“Rae. Do you have any idea what time it is right now?” Jack’s voice explodes from the receiver.

I yank the phone away from my ear, blinking at the glaring red LCD clock. “Actually, I do. It’s 1:23. In the AM.”

“Excuse me, but I didn’t quite catch that. Would you mind speaking up?” I don’t buy into his feigned innocence.

“Its 1:23 in the FREAKING MORNING, Jack.”

Harper pulls the covers over her head. “I’m trying t’ sleep,” she grumbled through a stifled yawn.

I lower my voice. “Look. I’m tired. Its late, or early, depending on how you look at it. Unless there's a fire, or something equally tragic, I’d appreciate it if you would-“

“Come outside,” he interrupts eagerly.

“What?” I ask incredulously. “No!”

“Please?” I can practically see his puppy dog pout.

“No, Jack. As I have already mentioned, I am tired. Ergo, I am going to bed. Goodnight.”

I have just settled back into sleep mode and am about to drift off when: RINGRINGRINGRING!

“Uuuhn.” Harper rolls over onto her other side.

“Hello?” I answer, annoyed.

“Look, if you’d just come outside, I’ll explain everyth-“

I cut him off. “Jackson Thomas Wise. I swear upon a stack of every comic book you hold dear, if you call this phone one more time I will burn aforementioned comics AND your copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide.”

“But if you would just-“

“No. No. Not another word. Am I understood?”
He sighs, and then cheerily (Too cheerily, I think to myself) says, “Okay. I won’t call again,” and the click, the line goes dead.

There was a note of mischief in his voice that makes me too suspicious to be able to get comfortable, so I just lay there, staring up at the water-stained ceiling. Sure enough, my suspicions prove valid, because not even ten minutes later comes incessant knocking on the door.

I leap off my bed, the lumpy paisley printed comforter tangling around my ankles. I fall to the ground with a faint thud; springing up, I jerk the door open. There is no one there, but a tiny slip of whitish paper on the mat catches my eye.

Unfolding it, I read the thick, uneven script:

                        PLEASE COME OUTSIDE ITS IMPORTANT

                       -J.T.W.

I stomp across the room and snatch a pen off the nightstand. After storming back over to the door, I slam the paper against the doorframe. I scribble a big fat NO on it, crumple it up, and throw it toward the parking lot.

No sooner have I flopped down on the uneven mattress than I hear:

Knock, knock, knock. “Rae.” Knock, knock, knock. “Rae.” Knock, knock, knock. “Raeleigh.” Knock, knock, knock. “Raeleigh Patton.”

“Uuhhhn. Make eht stahp Rae,” Harper grumbles, pulling the covers farther over her head.

I roll out of bed and over to the door.

Knock, knock, knock. “I know you’re in there.” Knock, knock, kno- I yank the door open; his closed fist stops centimeters in front of my nose. “What do you want?” I hissed.

He scratches the back of his head. “Well, I WANTED to know if you maybe wanted to hang out or something. But I can see that now isn’t really a good time.”

“Now. Isn’t. A. Good. Time? It’s… it’s…” I laugh breathlessly, without any humor. “IT’S TWO IN THE FLIPPING MORNING, JACK. What kind of twit is up and at ‘em at this ungodly hour?”

“Um. Well… I am, for one. And you are.”

“Because you woke me up. Do you not remember that!?”

He shrugs. “Well, think of it this way: Its three in the afternoon in Beijing.”

“Arrrrrrgh!” I cry; he was just so frustrating.

“Hey now, mate. Keep it down, would ya? People are trying to sleep, you know.” He winks. As if to prove his point, Harper complains unintelligibly.

I narrow my eyes and begin to close the door.

“You're just gonna leave me here? Alone. In the dark. By myself. Cruel.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, I was going to get dressed, since you obviously aren’t going to let me sleep. And, unless you plan on watching, I am shutting the door.”

“I mean, if you're offering… “ He grins madly.

“NO!” I shut the door firmly, leaving him chuckling on the other side.

I pull a dark pair of jeans and a peach tank top out of my duffle bag. Shoving my feet into a pair of navy Sperry’s, I mutter,  “Who does he think he is… waking me up at this indecent hour… honestly, of all the inconsiderate things… some people… I just want to sleep, but noooo.”

Before I left, I decide to write Harper and explanatory note:

                        Harper:

Taken by You Know Who. Exact destination unknown. If not back by noon, assume I have been kidnapped and contact the proper authorities.

                                    -Rae

I pause, and then add:

                        P.S. Don’t actually contact any authorities �"RDP

Because, honestly, I just never know what that girl would take seriously.

I shrug into a jacket and pop outside. “Okay, I'm here, now what?” I grumble.

“Well, for starters, you're going to need this.” He pulls a black sock cap down low over my forehead. The itchy fabric irritates my skin, so, I push it back an inch or so.

“Why, exactly, do I need this?” I ask.

“Two reasons. One, we’re going into incognito mode.” I roll my eyes as he continues. “And two, it covers your bedhead nicely.” He smirks.

I glowered. “You know, I wouldn’t have bedhead if somebody hadn’t woke me up at 1:00 in the morning.”

“Actually, it was 1:23, if I recall correctly.”

I snort. “Oh, like those twenty three minutes really matter.”

“If I'm not mistaken, that IS long enough for a short REM cycle.” Noticing my aggravated stare, he adds in a softer, less arrogant tone, “Oh, come on. Your bedhead is quite endearing. I find it unbelievably attractive.”

I blush scarlet; I didn’t mean to. Stop it, I tell myself sternly. You're not some giddy schoolgirl who can be easily distracted by empty compliments. He probably says things like this to every girl.

But, counters Harper’s voice in my head, How many girls does Jack meet in a backwards town like this? And how many does he was up at 1:23 AM to take… somewhere? Hmmmm? (Yes, she is even obnoxiously right in my thoughts.)

Questions I can’t answer, possibilities I don’t want to consider. Logic certainly isn’t on my side here, and I absolutely hate it, so I shake my thoughts away. Because that’s the mature way of dealing with one’s issues.

“Where are we even going?” I ask.

He presses one long finger to his lips. “It’s a secret.” He opens the passenger door to his black F150 and held out his hand. “M’lady.”

I take his hand, saying, “You do know what they say about guys who drive big trucks, right?”

He gives me a slightly quizzical look as he boosts me inside.

“It’s to compensate for their tiny little-“

“Hey now,” He interjects, reddening. “Lets not start something you don’t want me to finish.” He stands there for a minute, trying to regain his nonchalant demeanor, but I have flustered him.

I smile triumphantly. It’s nice to win one with him every once in a while.

Reviews

[Lavorther]

This one was quite long in comparison to the others, but i had read through it all before i knew it. It just feels like i am reading a book be a published author, it is really good.

I did feel like there was some part of the story missing. In the previous chapter Rae walks with Jack to her car to have him take a look at it. First thing you read here is that she is sleeping somewhere. You don't have to write about every little thing that happens, but this raises some questions, like:

Where are they? How did they get here? What happened to the car? How did Jack get her number?

You might want to add a chapter in between this one and the previous. Or you could add some narration or dialog to this one to answer some of the questions i mentioned.

Btw, REM Cycle? Now that is something i haven't heard anyone say/write for a while. Seems like you (like me) have done some research into sleep cycles, as i don't know a lot of people who know that kind of thing. But i think the context makes it quite clear, and it is not that important to the story to understand the word.

[Kayle Ann]

Yeah, I'm not done with this yet. I'm just kinda writing what comes to me and I'll string it all together eventually. I'm not good at writing it from beginning to end. Actually, one of the last "chapters" that I have posted was the first one I wrote.