There are times when a phone call is more than a phone call. When it needs to be picked up. When it’s like a life preserver thrown into the water and demands a response. Now was one of those times. 9 P.M. was what Columbus time? Midnight? That’s not too late!
“Hi. You’ve reached Lisa. If you leave your name—” Click. Lying on the bed in his room, Owen had stripped down to his boxers and an undershirt. He laid the phone on his chest and stared at the ceiling.
So Lisa didn’t pick up. No big deal. She’d call back. Tonight or very first thing tomorrow. He just needed to talk to her after the day he had. His phone rang, and he held it up in the air between his eyes and his view of the ceiling. It showed an unknown number. Must be Lisa calling from the fax line or something. He answered it while sitting up.
“Well hello to you, too, sweet cheeks.”
“Oh, hey, Sam.”
“You’ve still got my car keys.”
“Shit. Yeah. They’re in my pants. Do you need them right now?”
“No, but I’ll need them soon. Did you return your bike?”
“Yeah. After I found the place.”
“You do anything else today?”
“Ten hours of interviews.”
“Yeah? What did you learn?”
A buzz. Lisa was on the other line.
“Sam. I got the missus calling.”
“Got it. My keys.”
“Okay. Hey—real quick, you made it through today, right?”
“Is Paris the capital of France?”
“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, then, before the third round begins.”
Owen pressed over. He changed ...