Flash Fiction Friday, Vol. 5
Current Facebook Status: wonders when they’ll come up with self-cleaning, self-pressing and self-folding clothes. Or when the Mary Poppins snappy thing will start working for her. Either one.
Currently Playing in the Background: Big Bang Theory, Season 2, Disk 4
Yay! Flash Fiction Friday! Love it!
Today’s prompt was the first two sentences. 🙂 Of course, now I have more ideas flying through my head… Here’s Jan’s.
I reached blindly for the phone. “At 3 am, either someone better be dead or this better be Lisa.”
“No,” the voice on the other end of the line whispered. “It’s Debbie.”
Debbie? The only Debbie I knew was my ex-girlfriend. My very ex-girlfriend.
I sat up and ran a hand through my hair. “What do you want?”
“I’m in trouble, Nick. I need your help.”
I wasn’t going to turn her down. She knew it and I knew it. I sighed and looked at the decidedly unrumpled other side of the bed. Even if Lisa did make it home before dawn, I wouldn’t be there.
“What happened?”
“Some guys kidnapped me. They wanted me to, um…” She hesitated. “Sleep with some guy to keep him busy while they stole something from him.”
I already had my jeans back on. “And they’re letting you call me?”
“No. They don’t know I had my phone. They didn’t search me very well.”
“Well, that’s one point in your favor. Where are you?” I pulled my shirt over my head and hoped I didn’t miss anything.
“I think I’m down near the docks in that empty warehouse near Bleacher Street.”
“I know the place. Can you get away?” I tied my shoes as fast as I could.
“I think I could,” she whispered. “But I can’t. If you can’t help me, then I don’t have a choice. I’ll have to sleep with this guy and I don’t want to do that. I haven’t slept with anyone since…”
She stopped.
Since me.
That’s what she meant. She hadn’t slept with anyone since me.
“Just get away and don’t worry about it.” I pushed the button for the garage door, my cell phone tucked beneath my ear.
“I can’t. They have him.”
“Who?”
I could almost see her close her eyes and pray for strength, just as she had so many times when we were together – when she had something important to say. “Nicolo.”
“Who?” I started the car.
“Nicolo Masters DiMarco. Your son.”