Wrong Number (Josef)

[Rhea Hartman]

“Hi John. I just wanted t' let you know that I won't be coming in f'work tomorrow. I am totally wasted. Like totally. Totally totally. Totally wasted.” There was a crackly sigh and clink of glass. “But you know, that's okay, because you're just such a great boss. I love ya man. You're go sorgeous. I mean gorgeous. Never doubt who you are, John. Because you're great.”

[Josef Muller]

Josef groaned as he heard his phone ringing, and rolled over to pick it up. The voice on the other end of the phone wasn't particularly reassuring. Rhea, sounding extremely drunk. He pinched his nose. "Rhea? Is that you? Look, it's two in the morning--on a work day." He yawned, then paused. "Rhea, this is Josef, not John." His nanny instincts were kicking in. "Where are you?"

[Rhea Hartman]

"What?" Rhea's tone changed to soggy confusion. Josef had never heard her like this, or even seen her have more than one fruity cocktail in an evening. She always said that alcohol didn't agree with her. "Josef? You're not John. But I called John. He's m'boss." There was a long pause. "M'at...hang on, I'll call you right back. Gotta call my boss."

[Josef Muller]

“Mm.” Josef’s eyes flickered to Damien, and then he climbed to his feet and quickly went out of the room, grabbing a shirt from the laundry as he did before shutting the door behind him. “No, not John. Don’t hang up!” His voice was louder than he’d intended, and he winced, rubbing at his eyes again. God he was tired. “Tell you what. I’ll call John. You just stay there and I’ll come and pick you up.” Usually honest, but very rarely to a drunk. They were too easy to fool.

[Rhea Hartman]

"You'll call John?" Rhea repeated. The idea that Josef and John were actually the same person still hadn't trickled all the way out of her alcohol-sodden brain, and it seemed natural that Josef would have a way to contact him. "So if you call him...I don't have to." There was another pause as she absorbed this fact. "He needs t'know I can't go in t'work," she said abruptly. "I'm drunk," she added in a conspiratorial whisper.

[Josef Muller]

Josef made a muffled groaning noise off to the side once he was safely out of their bedroom. She was probably too drunk to hear it anyways but it was the only way for him to satisfactorily express his frustration. He ran a hand over his face. “Yes. If I call him, you don’t have to,” he said. Then he sighed. “I noticed. I’ll tell him. I’m calling you right now. Where are you? I need to know so I can, uh, figure out how to tell John where you are?”

[Rhea Hartman]

"Yeah. Okay. That's real nice a'ya Joe. Real...real upstandin.' You're great. Just so, so great." But Josef's question broke the momentum of her repetitive compliments. She gave a manic giggle that would have come with a shove if they'd been having this conversation in person. "You know where I am, Joe. M'at that place with the bartender with all the tattoos. Pigeon, r'somthin.' Gonna get a reeeeal close look at 'em tonight." There was no bar in Pilot Ridge called the Pigeon, but there was one called the Dunking Duck, and it did have a rather attractive, though heavily pierced and tattooed, bartender.

[Josef Muller]

While Josef—a sound sleeper to begin with and never particularly thrilled to be woken up—was generally inclined to be grumpy due to the start of the conversation, now he was beginning to get worried. He didn’t know Adrea to drink that much. Plus, that much alcohol never resulted in good things. “Pigeons,” he repeated and tried to get his sluggish mind to move. There was a Duck bar with a tattooed bartender they’d both remarked on (albeit Josef a bit guiltily as he was quite happily settled). Maybe that was it. “Right right,” he said, trying to shrug on his coat with one hand and then nearly falling over as he tried to do the same with his shoes. He practiced his breathing techniques to successfully balance on one foot so he could get each shoe on, then grabbed the keys and headed to the door. ‘How about you just keep him company and I’ll come meet you?”

[Rhea Hartman]

The sound of his wardrobe calisthenics amused her, and Josef heard bubbly, hissing laughter from the phone. "Y'sound a little tipsy there," she slurred, clearly pleased with her cutting irony. His question changed her tone to discomfort. "No! Don't want you t'be a wheel. I'm gonna keep him company jus' fine. Fine. Gonna take...gonna take his...him..."

Her voice cracked. "...take 'im back..." Josef heard a rattling breath, and her next words were a scratchy whisper. "Home."

[Josef Muller]

Josef rested his head against the wall and made a well-muffled groan. It wasn’t that he wasn’t worried, because he was. It was Josef. To NOT be worried in this circumstance was to go against everything he stood for. It was just that…well…it was early and he was tired and this was going to be a very long night.

But Rhea needed him. And Josef was never one to turn that kind of thing down.

“I’ll be right there,” he said instead, in his calmest, most soothing voice. “Okay? Just…sit down. I’ll stay on the phone with you.” And he shrugged on his jacket and headed directly to the car.

[Rhea Hartman]

"No! No, m'fine," Rhea coughed. She was still crying, but seemed to have forgotten about it. "Sorry, s'just need to get laid. And 'nother drink. Then ll'be fine." She hiccuped. "Talk to you later, Joe." And with that she hung up.

[follow up in this thread]