Your character gets a call from someone asking to talk to “David.” “You have
the wrong number,” your character says. But instead of hanging up, the caller
and your character get to chatting, and they decide to meet later that night…
Well, this isn’t where I thought it would go when I read the prompt…..
The Ride of the Valkyries comes out of the tiny speaker on his phone, startling him. Gerald as not expecting any calls tonight.
“Yeah,” he growled into the phone. The smoke from his last cigarette still swirled in the air under the green banker’s lamp he kept on his desk at the club.
“D-David?” An uncertain sounding voice came from the other end of the line.
“Ya’ got the wrong number, kid,” Gerald moved to hit the button to hang up the phone, but couldn’t find it right away. He hated this new phone. Hated it with a passion but he son had insisted it was the only way to go. It was while he was fiddling with the device that he heard the man on the other end keep speaking.
“Oh man,” he said sadly. “When did David change his number? I am certain this is it.”
“There ain’t no David here,” Gerald insisted, angry at himself for not just hanging up. Music from the front of house was filtering back to his office, muffled and indistinct, but the driving beat was giving him a headache. “And he ain’t had this number for at least 6 years.”
“Six years!” The voice on the other end sounded genuinely shocked. “I know I was away for a while, but he changed his number six years ago? Why would he do that?”
“Beats the hell outta me, kid, this has been my phone at least that long, it ain’t like I go askin’ about who had it before me.”
“No, of course not,” the voice said forlornly. “I’m sorry I bothered you, I just really needed to talk to my brother. I just got out of prison and I really hoped he would hook me up with a job.”
“Prison, eh?” Gerald was shocked. Why had he not hung up yet? “That’s a hard time, getting’ out. What was ya in for?”
“They caught me with the money from a deal with the mafia. I thought that since I went in for them and kept my mouth shut they would help me when I got out, but no one will talk to me now.”
“Your brother, David, he with the mafia?”
“Good Lord, no,” the voice said. “He was the one who told me that it was going to turn out like this. Said they would turn their backs on me. Said they would think I had Woodstock syndrome or some shit.”
“You mean Stockholm Syndrome.” Gerald felt himself warming up to the man even though there was no reason why he should. “What’s yer name, kid?”
“James.” There as a hint of reservation now.
“I’ll tell you what, James.” Gerald leaned back in his chair and swallowed the last bit of whiskey in his glass. “You meet me at the Obsidian at midnight; I think I might be able ta work something out for ya.”
“Really?” James sounded hopeful. “You would do that for a stranger? How will I find you? I don’t even know your name.”
“Let’s just say the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Gerald did hang up the phone now. He didn’t believe in fate, but he did feel like something good was coming his way.