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35
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Mort lay in his bed in the dark room, staring out. He turned on his side thought for some moments. Then he grabbed his glasses from off the nightstand, the bed's blankets and headed into the other room.
He unplugged the phone line. No late night calls from Balkan tonight, he thought.
Mort had fallen asleep on the couch after many hours of staring at the ceiling and thinking about all the recent unpleasant events in his life. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. He grunted and propped himself on one elbow.
"Just a minute," Mort called, sleepily.
He rolled off the couch and wrapped the blankets around his bare waist. Then he made his way to the door, opened it. He stood there, a disheveled figure with Liana's teeth marks clearly visible on his chest.
The girl who had been popping into his life lately stood on the other side of the doorway. What a surprise.
"You unplugged your phone line," The girl said.
"Jesus...," Mort muttered, peering wearily at his watch which he had not taken off before going to sleep either.
"What time is it?" He asked, exhaustedly.
"Early, but you have to go," The girl said.
Mort was bewildered. "Go where?" He asked, confusedly.
"The Fargas place," The girl said.
Mort was in so many ways confused at what she had just said, but let it slip.
"Fargas? I already saw Fargas," Mort explained.
"I think you should see him again," The girl said.
"What is this, some kind of a practical joke? Who the hell are you?" Mort demanded.
She eyed his current state. "Better get dressed. I'll wait for you outside."