This is a reprint of my story previously published in Saturday Night Reader. Unfortunately, like so many quality literary journals, SNR has ceased publication.

—

(111) 267-2274 (FRT-DESK)

I called the front desk. They said they’d send someone up.

The TV in my suite wasn’t working. There’s no way I could get to la-la land without a television in the background. Especially in a hotel, no matter how posh it was.

An hour later, a maintenance guy arrived. He tinkered until he got everything working.

I changed into my pajamas and pulled out my cell phone to call my boyfriend, Kyle.

~

(111) 132-1726 (CHE-ATER)

Kyle answered with that sleepy, smoky voice I liked so much. He sounded like he’d been drinking. “Latoya?”

I heard a female voice in the background. “Who is it?”

The heat of intense anger burned my ears and shot into the roots of my hair. “Who is that?”

“Uh … My sister.”

I disconnected.

~

(111) 731-4353 (SIB-LING)

Kyle’s sister answered. “Hello?”

“It’s me. Latoya. Are you at home?”

“Yes, and —”

I hung up. And didn’t respond to Kyle’s multiple return calls or texts.

~

(111) 355-2475 (HOO-DLUM)

I called a guy who knew a guy who could get me an untraceable gun. He protested being disturbed in the wee hours of the morning, but I offered him enough money to change his mind. We set up a meeting for 7 p.m.

~

(111) 976-2212 (YUR-DEAD)

When I returned from my business conference, I dialed Kyle’s office. Pauline, his personal assistant, put me through. I was sure it was her voice I’d heard in the background when I called from the hotel. No problem. I had a bullet with Pauline’s name on it.

Kyle picked up. “Hey. I was worried about you.”

I stared at the gun in my hand. “I’m home. Can we get together for supper?”

“Sure, honey. I tried calling and texting. Several times. Why didn’t you get back to me?”

“I was in the shower. Then I didn’t call because I didn’t want to wake you. I had early morning sessions, and then … it sort of slipped my mind. Sorry.”

“How about Philipe’s? Can you make the reservation? I’m snowed under with paperwork here.”

“Fine. Is 6 p.m. too early?”

“Better make it 7.” He blew me a noisy kiss and hung up without waiting for my reply.

~

(111) 633-4362 (PHI-LIPE)

“Bonjour, madam. How can I help you this afternoon?”

“Can I make a reservation for 7 p.m.? A table for two, preferably in that private nook at the back … out of view. I’ve been away from town, and my boyfriend and I … you know.”

“Magnifique. We’ll expect you at 7.”

~

(111) 158-2676 (COV-ERUP)

I called a guy who could get me a wig, sunglasses, and an outfit like one of Pauline’s favorites. I changed. I checked myself in the full-length mirror. Perfect.

~

(111) 718-3111 (TAX-ICAB)

Ten blocks weaving in and out of traffic. I made sure the driver got a good look at me. He accepted my overly large tip with an overly large smile. Then he turned off his meter and sped away.

I felt for the cold metal in my purse.

~

(111) 739-7726 (SHY-STER)

One phone call. That’s all I was allowed.

I hired the services of the best lawyer I could find. I’d need a miracle to get out of this. Everyone in the restaurant had heard the shot. When I marched away from Kyle in my designer shoes covered in blood spatter, people fled from their tables and dropped to the floor.

The smug smile on my face disappeared a couple of minutes later when the cops pulled off my wig and arrested me on the street.

~

(111) 731-4353 (SIB-LING)

Kyle’s sister screamed at me when I called. I’ve never heard anyone yell so loud in my entire life. Turns out the voice in the background that night was hers. Kyle had tied one on at the bar because he missed me and couldn’t sleep. He stayed at her house, too drunk to drive home afterward.

~

(111) 739-7726 (SHY-STER)

Paper trail. Snitches. DNA evidence.

The lawyer cleaned out most of my bank accounts. His fancy footwork and highfaluting defense strategies proved useless. The court declared me mentally fit. I got a life sentence.

~

(111) 355-2475 (HOO-DLUM)

I transferred money from my secret overseas accounts and called a guy who knows a guy who might be able to break me out of here.

There’s no way I can spend the rest of my life in a cell without a television in the background to fall asleep with every night.

---