The phone rang for a few moments. I was about to leave a message when an exhausted voice came over the speakers.
I tried not to be put off by this rude response. Also See: For one week, I decided to SLEEP with my boyfriend whenever he wanted (Here’s what happened)
“Hi, um, my name is Amanda and I found this phone outside my apartment… I think it belongs to your daughter. Is there any way I could get it to her?”
The line was quiet for a moment, aside from some labored breathing. Then: “Do you think this shit is funny? Quit it with these stupid fucking pranks.”
I remained speechless for a few moments after she’d hung up on me. What the hell was her problem? Thoroughly confused, I rechecked the number. No, I had dialed the right number… well, whatever, I shrugged. I couldn’t make sense of it, but it wasn’t really my problem, either. Sooner or later someone was bound to call her and then I’d pick up and explain the situation to them. It would get resolved somehow.
I still had a few hours until I had to be at the club to meet Anna, so I settled down with The Good Earth and a bag of chips.
Just as I was getting deeply embedded into the story, a loud beeping startled me…..
BEEP BEEP BEEP.
I looked around wildly, my eyes colliding with the lit screen of the white iPhone. Oh, that must be her ringtone. I looked at the Caller ID. “Restricted.”
I picked it up.
The static was intense and only getting louder. I tried calling out a few more times, but no response. I was just starting to move the phone away from my ears due to the loudness of the static when –click.
Huh. Must have been a mistake. Stupid phone, I was getting nowhere with this.
I went back to my book and spent a few peaceful hours reading. An hour before our meeting time, I grudgingly pulled a glitzy shirt on over my head – one that I had borrowed from Anna, of course – and paired it with some black booty shorts. I put on flats (no way was I wasting a night in high heels) and applied cherry red lipstick. I figured I had prepared as much as I wanted and was just about to head out the door when the phone rang again. Also See: I inherited my brother’s laptop after his suicide, what I found on it made me glad he did it
BEEP BEEP BEEP.
I grabbed the phone off the couch and stared at it. Restricted. What the fuck? I rolled my eyes and answered it one more time, just on the off-chance that someone was there.
Nothing this time, absolutely no sound. It sounded like the line was dead. Seriously, what was the problem with this damn thing? Maybe I should just take it to the police station in the morning, let the cops deal with it…