With shaking hands, he put on his headset, then hit the button to connect the call. “Hello?” he said, wincing when his voice cracked just a bit. “Oh, you sound delicious,” the caller said, letting out a slobbery sounding lick. Well you don’t, Oliver thought with a shudder. He had an image of some guy, hiding out in his parents’ basement, living off them and running up their phone bill. Call him judgmental, maybe it came from hanging out with Becca too much. “What’s your name, pretty thing?” the caller asked. Remembering Lane’s warning not to use his real name, Oliver scrambled to come up with something, “Uh…it’s Bec…Becker” Ha! Served her right for talking him into this gig in the first place. Oliver couldn’t wait to tell her about it. Although, knowing her, she’d probably get a kick out of it. Twisted little thing that she was. “I like that name. I’m going to say it when I come,” the caller said. “Okay,” Oliver replied. After all, it was no skin off his back, since it wasn’t really his name.
