Enid had gotten used to picking up her cell phone and seeing some strange random number, or “restricted call” flash across the display screen. Sam couldn’t keep a cell phone in his pocket to save his life, and after they’d paid for something like three replacement phones in the span of six months, she gave up on being able to reach him, and just kept her cell handy. Sam was old-fashioned anyway. Liked something about the old payphones that used to be on every street corner, and were now going the way of the Automat, a relic of a bygone era.

So when the local call came in as she was straightening up the apartment for the dinner party she was planning the next night, for her best friend Char and Char's new flame, she answered mindlessly, not thinking, not worried, and certainly not forseeing this would be her last phone call.

“Hello!”

“Enid, babe. You’re there.”

“Of course I am. I’m just cleaning up for tomorrow. Oh! That reminds me. Can you pick up a couple of bottles of wine? What was the one we had at Sarah's the other night? Dead Man something-or-another??”

“Sure, sure, no problem. Listen, baby…”

His voice broke, or maybe the connection cut out for a second.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, sorry. Listen, Enid… there’s someone coming over.”

“I know, tomorrow, for the party. I swear, Sam, I told you a dozen times…”

“No, Enid. Today. Now, probably. There’s this guy…” he coughed. “I owe him, and he’s going to wait at the apartment with you until I can get him what he needs.”

“Sam! I’m not ready for guests! Can’t he come by tomorrow? The place is a mess!”

“No, he… he needs to come by today. He’ll just wait with you, ok? And I’ll call back in an hour or so, to talk to him.”

Enid laughed. “What, he’s another one like you, doesn’t know everyone else in the world uses cell phones?”

“He’s not like me, Enid. At least, I hope I’m not like him… Look, it doesn’t matter. He…”

“Hold on a second, Sam, that’s the door downstairs.” Enid held the phone to her chest and pressed “talk” on the intercom system. “Hello?”

The voice was muffled. “I’m an associate of your husband’s.”

“Come on up!”

She lifted the cell to her ear again. “He’s on his way up, Sam. Do you want to talk to him now?”

“Nuh-un. Nope. I’ll talk to him after. Later, I mean. Enid, baby…”

Enid opened the door and waved to the trenchcoated man getting off the elevator. “Yeah, Sam?”

“I love you. I’ll call in an hour, tops. I promise.”

“Ok, Sam. Talk to you later.”

Before she ended the call, Sam heard her greet his associate with her usual cheer. He didn’t deserve her. She didn’t deserve this, but he had a debt to pay, and an hour to do it in. And then, he’d call back. And everything would be fine.

He smoothed back his hair then jingled the change in his pocket. After a short walk, he pushed open the door to a curio shop and nodded to the old woman behind the counter. “I’m here to pick up a package for Davis.”

A dreamcatcher hung on the wall above an old-1930s style rotary phone, and the old woman saw him look at it. “That’s not for you, sonny. I have what you need.”

She handed over a package, heavy for its size, and uncomfortably soft in a dense wrapping of butcher paper. The phone rang, and she turned away to answer it.

His task was half done, and the phone only reminded him. Gulping back a wave of nausea, he exited the shop to a tinkling of chimes, the breeze from the door blowing out a candle on the counter. The old woman didn’t notice.

Sam checked his watch. Plenty of time. Time to kill.

By ktbuffy

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