Numbers You Should Never Call Novels & Stories

Of course, I should be beautiful, after all, I spent lots of money to look this beautiful. “Thank you. Could you please wrap it up?” I said, impatiently. I was already in my car, ready to start the engine, when I got a call from one of my so-called friends. “I would rather not bear these people babbling today.” I sighed, rejecting the call with no hesitation. The person called back and I ignored it. On the fifth call, I picked it up with an angry sigh. Was this girl dumb enough not to know that if you call a person twice, and they don't pick up, they probably don't want to talk to you at that exact moment?

The number wasn’t one I recognized, and I sighed, hoping I wasn’t about to interrupt a fairly necessary conversation I had to have with my best friend for a spam call. Some people I knew allowed numbers they didn’t know to ring until the call ended, or they simply denied the call. I couldn’t do either of those things. Curiosity or stupidity, I wasn’t sure which, was responsible for driving me to answer every call I got, but I preferred the third option.

“You know I love a London boy. I enjoy nights in Brixton, Shoreditch, in the afternoon. He likes my American smile like a child when our eyes meet, darling, I fancy you–” My phone beams from an incoming call. It’s an unknown number. The memories of snakes on my floor and threatening emails on my computer come crashing down on me. I pull over. I’m staring at the screen long and hard and just when I’m going to receive it, the call ends. I end up blankly staring at the lightened screen. Calm down, Naomi. It’s just a number. It can be spam, or loan givers. For all I know, it can be a prank call.

“Healthy.” I flipped him off without looking up. He laughed so hard he nearly dropped the drill. My phone rang in my coat pocket. City area code. Number I didn’t have saved. I almost let it go. Almost. But years in event management had trained me like a war veteran. Unknown numbers usually meant disaster. Missing deposits. Vendors cancelling. Rich brides crying because peonies were “emotionally different” from garden roses. “Dahlia speaking.” “Dahlia.” My spine straightened automatically.

"Shut up, Avira!" Why did he end the call the first time and now lie? Maybe I made a mistake with the first number. I checked the number I called, and I didn’t make a mistake. Who could have picked up the call if it wasn’t Avalor?

If I wanted to win back my love, I would have to play this game safely. Brzzzz! I heard my phone buzz again. Why was dad calling again? I picked up my phone and looked at the number on the screen... It was an unknown number. Who could be calling now? It wasn't dad. Could it be the same Ciara? Oh never! I shouldn't fall into her trap, not me. After the buzz stopped it started again and again making me reconsider. I trusted my instincts more than anything and I felt I needed to answer the call which I did.

Hayden advised. “He is lucky I didn’t block him because now that I think of it I should have just blocked him from calling me before deleting his number on my phone” “That’s true Kaylee but it’s fine since you know his number you can just ignore his call” Hayden suggested. “I think I should just get a new number because I don’t want to hear that bastard voice, not even by mistake,” I said. “I’ve told you this before get a nice number because Daniel and his stupid mother have that number and they can decide to call you anytime they like and you know that”

4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";} I hung up and tried calling the person who had called me back. I frowned the moment I heard, "The number you dialed does not exist. Please check the number and dial again". A number that called me a few minutes ago, suddenly doesn’t exist? Does not exist.

There are tons of messages in our group, probably Taylor and Rose hyperventilating at Mace’s new skill. What if I call Mr Dissick? No, I want him to see the pictures first. I tap on my contact list and scroll to the number saved as: Do Not Call. A small laugh sputters out of my lips. I’m about to call him. I don’t know what I’ll say if he picks, but I dial him. We can worry about small talk after I tell him about Mace. It doesn’t connect. I close a hand over my mouth, refusing to give that tiny voice in my head another moment of thought. My frustration bubbles and seeps into my veins. The second and third time, I get the same response. The number is unreachable.