The phone rings, repeating its muted tone like a lover in your ear. There is no answer.

The phone rings, repeating its muted tone like a lover in your ear. There is no answer.

[Hang up.]

The line buzzes in your ear, waiting for input.

"Mm, yeah?" The voice on the other end is muddled and sticky with drowsiness or sloth.

"It's me again, we have to talk about Gonza."

"Oh hey, Emi. What happened, did he wind up at your place again?"

"I'm calling about something else... Gonza's asked me to help him with a business thing..."

"Are you fucking with me?" The dissipated voice suddenly grows sharp.

Ice-water sobering from the inside out.

"The wholesale stuff? With the Azzurris?"

"He said you would know how to place the order." (Lie brazenly.)

"Did he now?"

"Oh, he's dead. He's fucking dead. Not only does he have me dealing with that fucking voice that makes my skin crawl..."

"If I complain about it even once, he passes it on to you and doesn't even tell me?"

She's drifting off into her own rage-sphere.

You might be able to suss out one more detail before this call implodes upon you.

"Look, I just need to know how to place the order."

"Oh, don't you worry, no one is placing any orders."

"You stay put right where you are, Emi baby, I'm going to stab the motherfucker in the stomach."

Sex and murder drives coming through muddled and strong.

The line goes dead before you can say anything back.

Fuck.

There was no chance of getting more than that out of her.

You know that there is a wholesale supplier, that there is a process for placing the order with him, and that Gonza's wife is in charge of making contact. That is as much as you could hope to glean from this call.

Dead end?

"The gall on some of these men."

"No, no. Gall is winding up at his first wife's house every other week, that I can live with. This is a deathwish."

"You're surprised? Didn't you know he was a bastard?"

"No, no. 'Bastard' is him winding up at his first wife's house every other week, that I can live with. This is a deathwish."

"The very same."

"I don't know. I think so."

"Yes."

"Ugh... Want do you want me to do about it?"

"Pick him up."

"Emi, are you crazy? I can hardly pick myself off the bed right now. He's your problem, tonight."

"Good problem to have, sometimes. I'm hanging up now. Goodnight."

The line goes dead before you can protest.

Dead end. Try the next one.

"Nothing, just wanted to chat."

"Emi, what... Are you high too?"

"I'm sorry, baby, I can't deal with this right now. I'm hanging up."

"No."

"Not sure if that's a relief or not... I'm too high for subtext right now, Emi, what are you calling about?"

"Gonza's asking me to help him with a business thing..."

"Sorry. I'm going to hang up now." [Leave.]

"Ugh... Goodnight, Emi." She hangs up, exasperated.

"Would you be mad if I said yes?"

"I'm far too high for that right now..."

Hang up.

"Hello?" Her voice grows infinitely faint as the receiver leaves you ear.

It's Gonza's wife. The one he was speaking to on the long wiretap.

She may know something about the supplier.

Let's see where this goes...

"Hello? You there...?" She repeats lazily.

"I'm calling on behalf of Gonza."

"Emi...? What's with your voice, have you been smoking?"

Instant, though mistaken, recognition. The character is prepared for you.

"What happened, did he wind up at your place again?"

No need to delve too deeply. Just get to talking about the supplier before she senses something amiss.

"Hello, I have a missed number from this call?"

"Ugh, Emi, it's Marcella. Gonza must have called you when he was here... What's with your voice, have you been smoking?"

Don't need to talk to her. [Hang up.]

"Hello? You there...?" She repeats lazily as you put the receiver down.