Unknown Number:You’re at Club 88? I have a membership there. They’re better than any club in the city.
Unknown Number:Is that you? With the red hair? I can’t tell.
Me:Yes, that’s me.
Unknown Number:I’ve always loved redheads.
My cheeks heat, knowing that he’s flirting, testing the waters. I stare at the screen, not knowing what to say when my phone vibrates again.
Unknown Number:What’s your friend doing?
Me:She’s asking people to send me money for my birthday. She’s a great saleswoman. We already have over 1000 bucks!
Unknown Number:Of course you do. You’re beautiful and it’s your birthday. You’re going to bring in a ton of money. What’s the QR code? I’ll send some too.
Me:You don’t have to do that.
Unknown Number:I want to. My Miss Wrong Number should have the greatest night of her life tonight.
Me:And thank you for calling me beautiful. Even though you can’t see my face.
Unknown Number:I don’t have to see your face to know you’re beautiful.
My mouth opens in shock. He doesn’t know anything about me. He doesn’t know…me.I could be talking to a guy who’s seventy years old or a guy who wants to murder me.
I probably should have asked him that first. On the other hand, a guy planning to kill me wouldn’t tell me he was going to kill me.
Fuck it.
Me:Here’s the QR code! But you don’t have to send anything. No pressure.
I tuck my phone away and get lost in the music. The conversation with Mr. Wrong Number is probably over.
“We made it to three thousand dollars! Oh my god!” Vic shouts into my ear, showing me the total on her phone. “And another hundred just came through. He left a note that says, ‘Have fun tonight. Be safe. Drinks on me. —Mr. Wrong Number.’”
I’m shocked. He actually did it. I thought maybe a few bucks, but one hundred dollars? For someone he doesn’t know. That’s crazy.
“Who is Mr. Wrong Number?” Vic asks.
I look around for Amber, wanting to be saved from admitting the truth, when I see her making out with a guy on the dance floorwhile another guy is dancing behind her, arms wrapped around her waist.
Good for her.
“Uh—well—I?—”
Victoria guesses, “You tried to message your ex.”
I sigh, finishing off my champagne without saying a word to her.
She rolls her eyes. “At least the universe was on our side. We appreciate Mr. Wrong Number. Tell him thank you. Next birthday, I’m taking your damn phone!”
“Fine!” I shout over the loud change in music. “Now, stop hustling people for money and have a good time.”
“Deal.” She tucks her phone away and snags the nearest guy to dance with.
I wish I were that confident.
Instead, in the middle of the dance floor, I reach for my phone, because I’m more interested in Mr. Wrong Number than anyone here.
