When can we get together again?
Nevermind, I've lost you
He stared at the contact list on his phone. There was a space in the V section, a void that shouldn't have been there. He scrolled up, wondering if he'd allowed himself some brief flicker of familiarity, if a nickname had been inserted instead of a full name. There was nothing in the T's either.
It had been almost 20 years since his last drunk dial. That time he'd called a girl he'd really wanted to sleep with, hoping she'd at least answer so he could talk to her and figure out if she wanted to sleep with him too. She'd ended up having a boyfriend. Or maybe it had been a roommate that she'd said was her boyfriend, but whatever the situation actually was, he'd gone to bed alone that night, drunk and frustrated.
But now he was drunk and angry that he'd somehow deleted his ex-wife from his phone. They hadn't spoken since he'd signed the divorce papers. He thought deleting her would lift some sort of burden from his shoulders or put him at ease or some sort of bullshit that he thought would help but didn't actually mean a damn thing.
As he scrolled down further, he came upon the S section. Of his entire contact list, he could only think of one person that would be up right now and would answer his call. Barely thinking twice, he pushed the call button.
There was a crackle of static as the dial rang, a shuffle and a weary but surprised voice on the other end. "Lassie?" came the tired voice through a fierce yawn.
"Can I see you?" Lassiter asked, closing his eyes and undoing the top few buttons of his shirt.
Some nights it didn't matter who you ended up in bed with, as long as you didn't end up there alone.