Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“What the fuck are you talking about?” His gruff voice vibrated in my ear.
“Who’s this?” I asked.
“Who’s this?” he shouted.
I hiccupped. “You first.”
“Mark.” He’d said it in an abrupt fashion, almost tauntingly, as if the word Mark were an expletive, the first name that came to mind—that wasn’t his own.
“I can tell you’re lying. You don’t sound like a Mark. And Mark isn’t an exciting enough name for…Mr. Good Time.” I snorted.
“Is this some kind of joke? I don’t have time for your shit.”
“This is 409-5420, right?”
He let out a frustrated sigh. “Yeah.”
“How long have you had this phone number?”
“I don’t know…a decade, maybe?”
“You must be local if your number is posted here. You know Salty’s?”
“The bar? Yeah.”
“How long has Salty’s been around?”
“It’s new,” he said. “Eddie opened it a few years ago.”
“Then, it’s you. It’s your number. You’re Mr. Good Time. Someone seemed to think that if people wanted a good time, they should call you. Your digits are written on the stall here in the bathroom.”
“The fuck? Who would do that?”
I shrugged. “Who would write a man’s name on the stall? You tell me.”
“No. Who the hell would call a number that was written on a bathroom stall. You must be pretty damn bored—or desperate.”
Oh. He wasn’t exactly wrong on the bored part.
“Well, I took a chance. Figured I’d give you a ring, see what all the fuss is about. Clearly there’s nothing to the rumor of a promised good time. All one gets by dialing this number is a person with a stick up his ass.”
“Exactly how much salt have you had tonight?”
“Enough.”
“I can tell.”
“Look…I’m sorry. This was a mistake. You’re totally right. I’m bored—bored with life. I dialed this number on impulse, to challenge myself. Thought maybe I’d find a little excitement on the other end of the line. My friends and I made a vow to be spontaneous. Rule number one of our summer fun pact is that if an opportunity for fun arises: take it without analyzing it. I’ve had a rough year, got out of a sucky five-year relationship and just thought maybe the number was a sign I should have a little fun. Calling you was a mistake. Anyway, I’m rambling now. I—”
His tone softened a little. “What’s your name?”
I sighed. “Lola.”
“That sounds just as fake as Mark.”
“Actually, it’s not. It’s my real name. My mother’s favorite song was “Copacabana” by Barry Manilow. She’s a fanilow. My friends call me Lo.”
“Lo. As in Fan-i-low.”
“I suppose.”
He burst into laughter. I looked down at my shoes, listening to him laugh at my expense until he spoke again.
“This conversation is ridiculous,” he groaned.
This guy, whoever he is, thinks I belong in an insane asylum, and he very well may be right.
I was just about to hang up on him when he said, “I’m Silas.”
“That’s your real name?”
“Sure. What do I have to hide from a drunken voice named Lola…who’s bored and probably won’t remember this tomorrow?”
“I’m not that drunk. My inhibitions are a little off, but unfortunately I’ll remember this.”
“What are you doing hiding out in the bathroom at Salty’s, anyway?”
“Looking for a good time?”
“We established that.”
I giggled.
He laughed again. He had a nice laugh, a deep, sexy one. And now I was officially nuts if I was getting turned on by a voice.
“I’m renting a house here for the summer with my friends,” I admitted.
“So…you said you got out of a bad relationship?” he asked. “What was bad about it?”
How do I even begin to answer that?
“The lack of sexual chemistry, the lack of respect for me…too many things to name, and I regret wasting my time. The only good thing about being in a relationship, even a bad one, is not being alone. That was probably why it took me so long to end it. I was afraid of being alone.”
“You feel lonely? Is that why you called my number?”
My voice was shaky as I answered with brutal honesty, “Yeah. Maybe a little.”
His raspy voice lowered, “Are you alone in the bathroom right now, Lola?”
I nodded. “Mmm-hmm.”
Something in his voice changed. “You want a good time, huh?”
Where is this going?
My voice turned breathy. “Yes.”
“What are you wearing?” he asked, his tone suddenly needy.
My heart raced as I leaned against the stall, needing to look down at myself to even remember. “A short, white dress.”
“Underwear?”
I snapped out of my haze for a moment. “Are you seriously trying to have phone sex with me right now?”
He cackled. “How have you not hung up on me yet? I was actually just seeing what I could get away with. Wasn’t expecting you to practically come when I asked you if you were alone.”
Oh my God. What a jackass.
“I didn’t…practically come. I was just…never mind. ”
There was a long moment of silence, whereby all I could hear was my own heavy breathing.