His shift had just ended, and he was in the lounge, getting his stuff from his locker, when his cell phone rang. He didn't recognize the number, but he answered it anyway.
As soon as he heard the voice on the other line, a look of contempt crossed his face.
"What do you want?" he asked, his voice full of spite.
As the person on the other line answered, all color drained from his face, and he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.
I walked in just then, and saw the distressed look on his pale face, and immediately asked,
"Ray, what's wrong?"
He just shook his head, than started to speak again.
"You were supposed to take care of her!" He burst, "You promised." He practically hissed, andI couldn't believe the hate in his voice.
""I cannot fucking believe you! I knew it was a bad idea, leaving her with you! I'm coming and getting her and there's nothing you can do about it. Oh, and a word of advice, watch your back."
He hung up, dropped his head into his hands,and tooka deep, shuddering breath as he tried to regain his composure.I was shocked to see this side of him,I hadalways assumed he cared only about himself and his music.I didn't know how to deal with this discovery.
Itentatively his arm, and he slowly raised his head, then blinked as if realizing for the first time thatIwas in the room.
"What's wrong?" I asked him again.
"Nothing." He replied, trying to brush past me, but I blocked his path. He was lying and he knew that I knew he was lying.
"Something's wrong, I can tell. Don't try and act like everything is all right, because I can see right past it. It shows in your eyes Ray, I can tell whatever it is hurts. It doesn't help to keep it bottled up either. Please talk to me."
He walked over and sat down on the couch, then motioned for me to come sit next to him. I sat down, and he began to talk.