He tapped in an A. Then an L. Looked at the I and the C in surprise, and then remembered he had deleted her from his Contacts last night. Alas, he could still remember the number.
“Stan.”
The voice was deep and calm.
The fact that Stan answered Alice’s phone without saying anything other than his name told Bob at least two things. That Alice trusted Stan with her phone, which was something she’d never done with him. And that Stan knew it was Bob calling and he was ready for a confrontation. Bob could scrape the phone against his thigh and pretend it was a pocket dial. But the rushing in his head had taken over now and it was the rushing that made the decisions.
“Good evening, meathead. Is Alice there?”
“She asked you not to call her, Bob.”
Bob howled into the phone. He didn’t know what had happened, for a moment he was lost, and when he came back his phone was gone. He located it and saw a rose-shaped shatter in a corner of the screen. He typed,“Couldn’t do it, couldn’t be alone now. Had to…”They only had first names, their surnames were the places he had met them for the first time, usually in a bar. For example, it looked like he knew two sisters with the surname “Riverfront.”
“Carol.”
“Hi, Carol. Bob here.”
Silence.
“Bob Oz.”
“I can see that. I’m wondering what to say to you.”
“Oh?”
“I know you screwed my friend the day after me.”
“Really? Is”—Bob looked at the phone—“Tonya Riv—Tonya your friend?”
“Tonya? Have you screwed Tonya as well?”
Bob pressed a hand to his forehead. “Okay, Carol, I’m in the doghouse and I deserve it. But I’m not looking to get laid, I just need someone to talk to. As in, a cup of coffee somewhere.”
Bob heard the rough, bitter laughter. Interrupted by a furious “Are you sick?”
“You mean venereal, or some other way?”
He never found out whether she enjoyed the joke or not, she’d already hung up.
He scrolled down. Spun through the names with his index finger the way you spin a wheel of fortune. The list stopped and his eye fell on a name. Dory Anvil. Anvil was a bar, he remembered it, but not Dory. So it probably hadn’t been that memorable. But that was exactly what he needed tonight, someone he didn’t feel he had to screw. He pressed Call.
“Hi, Bob! At last!”
Bob hesitated. It sounded like it might have been more memorable for her than for him. Could mean she wanted seconds. On the other hand it didn’t sound like she would say no to a meeting.
“Hi, Dory.”
“Have you missed me?” Her voice had a false, trilling quality, like a grown woman pretending to be a child.
“Hugely,” said Bob, noting as he did so the way he had unconsciously imitated Mike Lunde’s cautious irony.
“Then why didn’t you call?”
“Well, let me explain, I lost your number, and—”
“Hilarious, just what I thought!” Her laugh was so high up the register that Bob felt as though his brain was being sliced into by a circular saw. “That’s why I sent you a text with my number, Bob.”
“You did?”
