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A Piece of Cake

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“Christ Almighty.”

Jack groans into his pillow, producing muffled noises, rambling on about who knows what.

He hated waking up this early.

He’d been woken by the shrill ringing of the phone. Jack wasn’t exactly the morning type of person or did he like mornings. On most occasions, he would wake up at any time he’d like.

“For fuck’s sake. Give it up already.” the Irish wasn’t expecting any calls at the moment. He wasn’t that too happy with the fact that someone’s calling, either.

Pushing himself off the bed, rolling on his belly to stand, he hurries to get on his feet.

He couldn’t understand what they want from him in the morning, or why they’d call him, of all people. What could they possibly need from him?

Waiting a few more seconds for the phone to die, he smiles, assuming that whoever it was calling gave up trying. Or so he thought.

Dragging himself into the kitchen, he grabs a bottle of whiskey, and poured the content into a glass.

Sean eyes the landline for five seconds, relieved that it relented. Unfortunately, the person hasn’t.

“Blasted phone.” he sighed in defeat. Whoever that person was, he’s got to hand it to him, he’s tough. Normally, people would realize it’s a waste of time talking to him. Most of his friends didn’t have the luxury to dial in his number, much less have the patience to wait for him to pick up. No one bothered to check on him, or filling him in on the news. It’s not like he cared.

Shaking the thoughts off, he takes a swig from the mouth of the bottle. He made no hurry to get to the phone to pick it up. Was it that urgent to get him off his bed and ruining the rest of his day?

“Hello?” he speaks groggily into the receiver, a bottle of whiskey in hand. His head was throbbing from the hangover he had. No amount of pills could help clear his head, having drank too many the other night. It was that bad.

“It’s about damn time you picked up.” Sean recognized the voice. What could he possibly tell him now?

“What is it?” he puts the bottle down to scratch his chin with his free hand, standing in anticipation. What made it so important for him to go all the trouble getting him out of his bed, to tell the clearly recovering Irish on such an ungodly hour?

There was a hesitant pause before he said the words.“I have news.”

“What kind?” Sean asked.

“Bad. Technically good and bad.” Rob said in a foreboding tone. “It’s about her.”

Sean’s stomach sank.