call me,, g. dunne

chapter one,, finally

4...8...2

Graham Dunne pressed the final numbers into the phone booth. The random assortment of numbers written on the back of a receipt by an uninterested waitress.

 Graham had been sat at a booth with the entire band except Billy and Daisy, who had claimed they needed time to curate more songs. The waitress had shown no signs of interest beyond the usual smile and terms of endearment - anything for a good tip. 

Maybe it was the drinks that led him to ask her for her number, maybe it was the reassuring and convincing words from Camila and Warren, or maybe it was to prove to Karen that he wasn't as desperate as he seemed. Any reason, he asked and she looked at him blankly for a moment before subtly looking at the others in the booth; Warren smirking to himself, Camila giving a sad knowing smile and Karen lazily blowing out smoke from her cigarette whilst examining the girl with an unimpressed look.

Then she took a pen out and wrote her number, or rather a number, on their receipt and then retreated to the counter without sparing the table another word or glance. Graham poorly concealed a smile to himself as well as a sigh of relief.

The day progressed to night and then night into day again. It was only when Camila told Billy of his brother's advances at a different diner over breakfast did Graham even remember to call.

 Graham had been obsessing over Karen Sirko, the band's percussionist since before she even was the band's percussionist and his crush was painfully obvious to everyone - as was the fact that she didn't like him back. Graham had been attempting to prove something to himself and his friends when showing interest in another woman.

And so, less than a day after, Graham Dunne was dialling the number provided to him by the average waitress he attempted to woe. 

The phone rung three times before the line answered. And a silence followed by a faint rustling around.

"Uhm, hey," he cleared his throat, "yeah, hey." He asserted only slightly more surely.

"Who is this?" An unfamiliar yet welcoming voice asked.

"It's Graham." Silence. "Graham Dunne, I uh ate at your diner yesterday." 

Warren sniggered slightly and tapped Eddie for reassurance that their bandmate was acting like an idiot. Billy quickly assessed the situation and ushered the group back to their established table to finish their respective meals.

"I don't have a diner." The soft spoken Californian voice depicted a mixture of confusion and amusement. "I think you must have the wrong number."

"Uhm," Graham read out the number from the back of the receipt, a sinking feeling forming in his chest.

"That's me, but I don't think I'm who you're looking for." Graham could hear her let out an awkward breathy laugh.

"Well, thanks anyway. Sorry for bothering you." Graham leaned his head against the phone box, his hand still holding the wired telephone to his ear as he supressed a groan of embarrassment.

"Graham Dunne." The soft spoken girl said after a pressumed end of call from Graham.

"Yeah," Graham straightened his posture as the girl continued.

"Like the Dunne brothers, Graham Dunne?" A smirk formed on Graham's face at the recognition of his band; at least this phone call wasn't a complete humiliation.

"Yeah, you heard of us?" He turned to lean his back against the wall, still smirking and kicking his feet against one another.

"Saw your headline on Casa Vega, never managed to stop by. Are you any good?"