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The phone rang and broke the silence in the room.
"Aren't you going to pick that up?"
"Shut the fuck up, Jack." Debbie spat at her ex-best friend as he stared at her blankly in return. "You're not authorized to tell me what to do in my house,"
Debbie moved clumsily, knocking over a plastic vase as she reached out for the handset and with her lips trembling slightly apart, "Hello, this is Deborah Ryans speaking,"
"Hey Debbie, is Jack there?" It was Hugh's voice.
"No, he isn't. I haven't spoken to him since the move,"
"He did say that he'd come and visit though,"
"He's not here; I'm telling you. And even if he is, I wouldn't have let him in. Thanks for calling man, bye."
And with that, she hung up.
Jack seemed to be focusing too intently on the fallen flower vase. "I overheard everything, you know,"
"I know," Debbie said in her too good as a matter-of-factly tone. "I wanted you to hear everything,"
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