touching base
He calls Orlando from the car, sitting at a red light on Hollywood Boulevard. He is pondering stopping somewhere to grab a pack of fags, since he'd dug out his pack and found only one left, which had been bent at a slightly odd angle and had been slightly stale. Which hadn't stopped him from smoking it, of course.
He tries the guest house first, because even though he'd told Orlando to stay with Johnny last night, it's the number he remembers most readily, though he hasn't actually programmed it into his phone. It rings eight or ten times, and Bill hangs up. He scrolls through his stored numbers at the next red light, and finally finds Johnny's just as the light turns green. He steps on the gas and shoots out ahead of the car in the right lane, sliding the 'stang over in front of it. The driver honks angrily, and Bill can hear her cursing at him from her open window. He ignores it as he pulls into a 7-11 for smokes.
He punches the send button to dial Johnny's number as he gets out of the car, automatically patting himself down for his wallet as he locks the car.
It rings five times, and Bill is just beginning to feel a little tickle of irritation at Orlando for never being where Bill wants him when someone answers with an "Mmm?" sound that he supposes is vaguely questioning.
"Orlando?"
He tries the guest house first, because even though he'd told Orlando to stay with Johnny last night, it's the number he remembers most readily, though he hasn't actually programmed it into his phone. It rings eight or ten times, and Bill hangs up. He scrolls through his stored numbers at the next red light, and finally finds Johnny's just as the light turns green. He steps on the gas and shoots out ahead of the car in the right lane, sliding the 'stang over in front of it. The driver honks angrily, and Bill can hear her cursing at him from her open window. He ignores it as he pulls into a 7-11 for smokes.
He punches the send button to dial Johnny's number as he gets out of the car, automatically patting himself down for his wallet as he locks the car.
It rings five times, and Bill is just beginning to feel a little tickle of irritation at Orlando for never being where Bill wants him when someone answers with an "Mmm?" sound that he supposes is vaguely questioning.
"Orlando?"