Laura Hollis stares intently at the shattered remnants of her cell phone, as though confused by how it has ended up in pieces on her kitchen floor – like it hadn't just been Laura herself who had thrown it across the room, smashing it off the refrigerator. Frowning, Laura reaches for the wine bottle that sits on the kitchen counter. It's half empty. That's a pretty pessimistic view, but Laura's proverbial glass is actually completely empty right now. The twenty-four year old doesn't drink that often, but like every other part of her life, she commits herself full heartedly to it when she does.

She knows she's going to have a lot of regrets in the morning. Regrets about polishing off most of a bottle of wine to herself over dinner with LaFontaine, and even more regrets about opening the bottle in her fridge when she got home. She'll probably feel bad about breaking her phone too, but she'd had good reason to throw it. She closes her eyes over as she sips at her topped up glass of wine, but the innocuous text from Danny seems to be burned across her eyelids.

'Hey... How r u? xx'

One month.

Thirty days.

That's how long it's been since Laura has spoken to her ex. It's seems like a lifetime, even in comparison to the four years they spent together; years that in the end, had obviously meant very little to Danny Lawrence. Red hot tears sting at her eyes, but Laura isn't about to let herself cry over the other girl again. She isn't sad anymore – She's pissed off.

Picking up her wine glass, she marches over to her couch, almost falling face first in to it as she reaches for her land line. Through a drunken haze, she manages to recall Danny's number; though she might have guessed at the last couple of numbers. It's late, but she knows Danny is awake, seeing as she's only just text her.

Laura's wine glass slips from her fingers as the call goes through. She grumbles to herself as she picks it up, knowing the red wine will stain the carpet. That's one more regret to add to the list in the morning. By the time she picks the cordless phone back up she hears the tone of an answering machine. "Seriously? Your machine? You text me at stupid o'clock in the morning, out of nowhere, and you don't even bother to answer? Clearly, you're not at home. Nice, Danny, real nice!" Laura lets out a heavy sigh, wishing she hadn't spilt all of her wine. "You're...you're an ass-hat! You can't just text me like that...like, how am I? You fucking cheated on me, with your best friend's wife! How do you think I'm feeling, Danny? Did you honestly think a four word text was going to fix everything? I guess it got me to call you... so, it looks like you win. Again; like always." She lets out a bitter laugh as she realises she's played right in to Danny's hands. "Just so you know, I broke my cell, and I'm changing my number. Don't try to contact me... It's over."

Hours later, almost at the crack of dawn, Carmilla Karnstein stumbles in to her apartment. She's exhausted from a long night at work, and kicks off her boots before heading straight for the refrigerator. She pops the cap off a beer and takes a long sip, almost finishing it by the time she reaches her couch. She drops down, ready to fall asleep right there and then. The blinking green light on her answering machine flashes monotonously in the dark, catching her attention. With a stretch, and some degree of flexibility, she manages to use her foot to play the waiting message.

Expecting it to be a call from her brother, she closes her eyes over, getting ready to fall in to a peaceful slumber. Then an unfamiliar voice fills the room, and Carmilla's ears perk up. "Seriously? Your machine..." Carmilla plays the message twice, amused by the stranger's angry, slurred voice. She can only imagine what this 'Danny' guy had done to deserve the drunken phone call. It sounded like he'd cheated, which was so typically male. Not for the first time in her life, Carmilla is grateful she doesn't do relationships.

"...It's over." The girl's voice cracks on those last two words. The anger and the bitterness subsides in to something that sounds a lot like grief. Before Carmilla can put too much thought in to it, she picks up her phone and dials *69 to retrieve the girl's number. It rings on the other end for a handful of times, before inevitably going to voicemail.

"Hey...I just got your message on my machine. I'm guessing it wasn't intended for me, unless I've suddenly turned in to an ass-hat." A wry smile graces Carmilla's lips. She has no idea why she's leaving a message, or why she even called back in the first place. "That Danny guy sounds like a grade A asshole. Do yourself a favour, Cupcake...don't call him when you're drunk."

"Oh my god, I'm such an idiot!" Laura groans in to her hands as the message on her machine finishes playing. It's the third time she's listened to it today. This last time was for LaFontaine's benefit though. They try their best to keep a straight face, but a snicker still gets out.
"It's not that bad. Look on the bright side, at least this girl is a complete stranger."
"Gee, thanks, LaF." Laura rolls her eyes at her old college room mate. "Do you think I should call back and apologise?"

"No, Laura, I think one crazy phone call a week is sufficient."
"I think Laura should call back." Lola Perry pipes up as she walks in to the living room, carrying a tray with three mugs of coffee on it. Despite being a guest, Perry always insists on fixing drinks and making dinner whenever Laura invites her and LaFontaine over to her apartment; the floor don has never quite shaken off her previous role. "Explain the misunderstanding."
"Why? It's not like this girl has any clue who Laura is. She should just forget about the whole thing and stew in her own private embarrassment."

"Again, thanks." Laura huffs. "I think Perry's right. I should call back and explain. I called that poor girl an ass-hat..."
"She didn't exactly sound like she was crying about it." LaF points out, swiping a cookie from the tray that Perry brought in. "Seriously, Laur, just forget about it. Forget about Danny, too. Tonight is about good food, good wine, and great friends." They hold up their coffee mug for a toast, and refuse to lower it until Laura and Perry both join in.
"Okay, but I'm not drinking that much. I still have a major hangover from last night!"

Somehow, whenever Laura says she isn't going to drink much, LaF always seems to talk her in to shots. Laura's pretty sure they bring them with them, because she doesn't remember buying tequila. By midnight, Perry has called it a night and crashed out in the guest room. "How are you holding up?" LaFontaine knows Laura doesn't like talking about what happened with her and Danny, but when it's just the two of them, and her best friend is drunk, she can usually get Laura to open up.

"I threw my cell phone against a wall and drunk dialed a random stranger last night after Danny tried to casually text me – I think that all speaks for itself." Laura mopes as she tops up her glass. "I still can't believe I forgot Danny's number, I mean, I know I was a little drunk and-"
"Laur, it's been a month, you're allowed to forget your ex's number." LaFontaine tries to tell Laura what they think she wants to hear, but misses the mark by a mile.

The word 'ex' is hard to swallow, especially when it's applied to Danny Lawrence. The last time Laura had an ex-anything she was in high school. Danny's been her whole world for the last four years; six, if you count the two years it took the two of them to get their act together. At twenty-five, Laura Hollis had been expecting her long-term relationship to turn in to marriage – not for it to fall apart completely.

Danny's betrayal has left the younger woman feeling completely uprooted. Despite a successful career, and an apartment in the nicer part of town, Laura feels like her life has lost it's direction. It's not something she can really talk to LaF about; they and Perry have been together forever, so it's not like they'd understand what Laura is going through. "She really does want the two of you to start talking again, Laura." That's the other reason she can't talk about all of this with her best friend, because LaFontaine is Danny's friend too.

"I think I'm going to call it a night." Laura doesn't bother to acknowledge what they've just said about Danny. Getting to her feet, she leans back down and wraps her arms around LaF, wishing them a good night – along with a warning not to puke up on her kitchen floor; again.
"'Night." LaFontaine sighs, knowing not to push her. Laura might be all small and cute, but the girl can be a real firecracker at times.

Laura closes her bedroom door behind her. She doesn't bother with the lock, she roomed with LaF for two years in college, with Perry spending almost every night with them, so she's used to her two friends walking in and out of her personal space as they please. Her eyes catch sight of the land-line phone that sits on her bedside table, right beside her retainer and a novel she's halfway through.

She picks the phone up and starts dialing as she climbs in to bed. It's almost two in the morning, so she expects to get through to an answering machine. "Uh, hi. This is Laura Hollis. I'm the crazy lady who left you a voicemail last night...and again tonight." Laura winces, wishing she didn't sound like such a huge dork. "I just wanted to call to apologise. I broke my cell phone when I threw it, and I tried to remember my ex's number, but I guess I dialled yours instead. I checked and there's, like, only one digit different, that's funny huh? Well, yeah... I'm sorry again for calling-"

"How did you break your phone?" Laura jumps when the silence on the other end of the phone is broken as the woman picks up on her end. Laura realises she must have been standing by her machine, listening as she left her apology. Her cheeks instantly go a deep shade of red as she blushes; she'd been hoping to get away with just leaving a message.

The voice on the other end of the phone is appealing, in that gruff, smokey kind of way. For all this woman has just picked up her phone to ask the question, she somehow comes off sounding bored, like she has no interest in whether Laura answers or not. It throws her for a second. "Uh, hi. I, um...I threw it against the wall." Laura is all too aware that this makes her sound like a toddler having a temper tantrum. She's not sure why it bothers her that she might be coming across as infantile to some stranger on the phone. Maybe it has something to do with the other woman's voice; she sounds so cool and aloof. "My ex, Danny, she...she, uh-"
"Cheated on you with her best friend's wife?" The voice on the phone answers for her when Laura starts to stumble.

"Yeah..." She answers in a quiet voice. She's had just enough alcohol to loosen her tongue, but not enough to turn her in to a crying mess – that was last night.
"Well that sucks." There's a haughty sigh from the other end of the line. There's a pause as Laura hears the click of a lighter being flicked open, then, "So Danny isn't a guy, but she is an asshole."
"It's not like I was the perfect girlfriend either." Laura scoffs. Again, she has no idea why she's having this conversation with a stranger; she guesses she just needs to say all of this stuff out loud.

"Did you fuck your best friend's wife?" The woman's voice drips with sarcasm. Laura scrunches her face up, thinking of Perry, who – despite only being a couple of years older – is like a mother to her.
"No. I didn't."
"Well, there you go Cupcake. Danny is an ass, and you're not."
"I guess you're right." Despite feeling like she has to defend her ex, Laura smiles at the stranger's comments. With LaFontaine and Perry trying to talk her in to extending the proverbial olive branch towards Danny, it's nice to be reminded that she isn't the one who has anything to apologise for. "My name is Laura, by the way... and sorry again for calling so late."

"No problem, Creampuff. I'm a night owl, this is practically lunch time for me anyway." For a moment Laura wonders whether she's ever going to find out the other girl's name. After a brief pause, she finally gets it. "Mine's Carmilla. So what it is it you do? Other than drunk calling your ex?" Her voice sounds a little less gruff as it takes on a teasing lilt.
"I'm a journalist." Laura answers honestly. At one time, it had filled her with pride to be able to tell people she worked for a national newspaper, but ever since she found out Danny cheated, she's struggled to take any interest in her work; or anything, really.
"Journalist, huh?" Carmilla sounds impressed. "So is it true that journalists are just failed authors?"

"Actually, I'm an author too – a successful one. My debut novel was on the New York Times best seller list." Laura bites back straight away, showing some backbone. Carmilla's smirk widens as she kicks her boots off and puts her feet up on her coffee table. She'd barely walked through her front door when her phone had started ringing. Letting the machine answer it, she'd been intrigued when she'd heard Laura's voice again, apologising for doing the very same thing she'd done the night before.

"Really? Anything I might know?" Having taken Philosophy as a major in college, while minoring in Literature, and running her own nightclub since graduating, Carmilla prides herself in being an eclectic reader.
"That depends, have you heard of the Detective D'Eathe novels?" Laura doesn't like to toot her own horn, but she is particularly proud of her literary achievements. Having been first published at the tender age of twenty-two, she's now on to writing her fourth book in a series – about a disgraced former cop, who turns private detective and finds herself thrown in to the murky world of the supernatural creatures that lurk in New York City.

"Novels? Hmm, I take back that failing author comment. I might have to give them a read." Carmilla glances over at the stack of books that she has sitting on her coffee table, all waiting for her to pick them up and crack them open. She makes an executive decision to go out and buy Laura's first book, and move it to the top of the pile. "You know, this is an ingenious marketing strategy; call strangers up in the middle of the night and tell them you're a writer. You must have sold a lot of books this way?" She teases the other girl, enjoying the way her voice goes up a notch as she protests.

"And what do you do, Carmilla?" Laura turns the tables on her and starts asking the questions. It's late, and she's had far too much tequila, but she feels like she's sobering up by the minute.
"I work at bar." Carmilla shrugs, mostly out of habit – it's not like the other girl can see her. She actually owns and runs her own nightclub, in one of the up and coming areas downtown, but she plays it down.
"Hence why you're awake at such an ungodly hour?" Laura laughs softly. The sound is intoxicating and Carmilla finds herself wanting to hear it again.

They carry on talking for a while, each getting to know a little more about the other; though Laura seems to be answering more questions than she is asking. Carmilla is a very private person, but she's curious about the other woman, so she answers a few of her questions, keeping her replies short and vague. Before either of them know it, it's four am. Carmilla is exhausted from being up all day and night, but she doesn't want to hang up just yet.

They've moved on to benign questions, like 'where are you from', and Laura's answer surprises her when it turns out to be London, England. "Seriously, Cupcake? You must have been right at the end of the line when they were handing out accents, huh?" Her sarcasm earns her another laugh from down the other end of the phone.
"I was born there, and so was my Mom; but my Dad's from Ontario. We moved back there when I was six."
"How come? Didn't your Mom want to stay over there?"

"...She died." Laura is aware she's practically telling her whole life story to a virtual stranger, but it's just so easy to talk to Carmilla. There's an awkward pause. Laura expects to hear the words she's heard a million times before, some kind of variation of the words 'I'm sorry.' Carmilla surprises her with, "Wow, that sucks. I suppose your dad did a decent job, seeing as your a journalist and a New York Times best-selling author." It's different, and if Laura's being honest, it's quite refreshing not to have someone pitying her for once.

"I guess he did an okay job." Laura's smile is interrupted by a yawn. A glance at the clock by her bedside tells her just how late it is; or early, depending on how you look at it."Wow, I didn't realise the time. I should probably let you get to bed, you must be exhausted." Carmilla is actually wired, but she can hear Laura yawning on the other end. "It was nice talking with you, Carmilla."

"You too, Cupcake. I'll let you know what I think of your book when I get around to reading it. Would you prefer my review through Amazon, or your answering machine?" She jokes, teasing another giggle out of her.
"I'll leave that up to you to decide. Goodnight." Laura hangs up, finally putting her phone back down in the cradle. She rolls on to her side, pulling the blankets up to her chin, and tries to picture a face to go with the smokey voice she has just spent two hours listening to.