* * *

I wanted to strangle him first and then myself.

It was my best friend Scott’s thirtieth birthday, and I’d consistently missed the majority of his birthday celebrations leading up to this one.

“But it’s my thirtieth,” he’d whined. “Don’t be such a douchebag, Zander. You’re never up for anything, bro.”

I’d succumbed to the guilt-tripping and hightailed my ass out of my office early that evening. But instead of spending the evening with my daughter, I spent it hunting for a “casual outfit” that would help me blend in with the jobless crowd at the club.

I hated partying, but what I hated even more was wasting my energy on stupid things like deciding on which sports coat to wear for a night out. I held up a plain black one against my bare chest. It was an expensive coat, but not nearly as expensive as the ones I would wear to work. I slid my arms into a grey shirt, then the black sports coat I wouldn’t mind getting ruined during the night.

I was certain that I would have drinks spilled on my clothes all night long, and while I didn’t care much about any of that, there was no harm in wanting to minimize my losses.

After gelling my hair to perfection, like I always did, I went into my living room to say goodbye to my mother and daughter.

Mom had offered to babysit Alyssa at the last minute after I’d decided to go out that evening. I’d already sent the nanny on her way before Scott begged me to attend his party, and she was happy to help. In fact, that would be a massive understatement because Alyssa had always been her topmost priority.

My mother, Evie, had taken offense when I’d hired a “stranger” to look after my daughter in my absence. She’d accused me of not trusting her enough and since then had taken every opportunity she could get to come by the house and fulfil her grandparental duties. My mother was a handful, but she was sure dedicating all of her time to helping me raise Alyssa as best as I could.

Alyssa was asleep in her lap when I whispered to get her attention.

“I’m leaving.”

She scanned me from top to toe and pointed her index finger at me.

“Is that what you’re wearing to Scotty’s birthday?”

I bounced my hand up and down to shush her so Alyssa didn’t awaken. It was almost always impossible to get her back to sleep after she awakened before time.

Mom held her head and placed a pillow under it before spreading a bunch of pillows around her so she didn’t roll off the couch.

“I’m sure we can find you something better to wear, Zan. Something more… snazzy.”

I rolled my eyes, less at the word “snazzy” but more at the fact that she was always on Scott’s team. That wasn’t really surprising because she practically belonged in my age group more than I did.

Watching me leave to have a “good time” was a rare occasion for her, so I imagined that she wanted to butt in and ensure that I was dressed the part perfectly.

“What about this velvety coat?”

She ran her fingers all over the arms of the blue sports coat that my assistant had ordered for me only a week or two ago.

“It’s expensive.”

She burst out laughing, then nodded and held it up against me.

“It’s perfect. See, it goes perfectly with the sheen of your belt too.”

I didn’t bother to argue. It would waste another five minutes that I didn’t have. I was already going to waste a chunk of my time rubbing elbows with jobless losers that night.

She smiled when I removed the one I’d already been wearing.

“And stop being such an asshole,” she continued. “You can afford to wear an expensive coat to Scott’s birthday, even if it gets ruined by the end of the night.”

I suppose she was right.

“And I’m happy that you’re getting out of your dungeon, you know. Get your mind off that whore.”

I suppose she was right again, only this time, I wasn’t quite happy with the way that she’d talked about Terri.

Terri Conroy, my ex-wife and the mother of my daughter, was pretty much the greatest pain in my ass. She was out of control, reckless, and careless.

But she was Alyssa’s mother and deserved way more respect than Mom and I could sometimes muster for her.

“I don’t need to get my mind off her, Mom,” I snapped. “It’s not like I’m in love with her or anything.”

Mom bit her lower lip and her chin doubled when I said the words. She looked as horrified as she would if I’d told her that her hair was out of place.

“Jesus Christ! I know you’re not. But that doesn’t mean that you’re not always worried about the bitch.”

“Can we go easy on the cursing, please?”

“It’s not like Alyssa is here.” She waved an arm. “I can say whatever I want. Honestly, it’s kind of exhausting to watch my tone around her. I have all these pent-up words inside me that sometimes beg to come out.”

“Oh… I’m sorry, Mom, “ I responded sarcastically, “that your granddaughter comes in the way of your cursing to your heart’s desire.”

“Daddy?”

Alyssa walked into the closet with her stuffed turtle clutched to her chest. She had a frown on her face and a look in her eyes that said, you betrayed me.

Like most children her age, she had a habit of demanding as much attention as she could possibly get. She’d want someone to sit by her as she slept at all times because “what if” she needed something in the night, or fell sick, or any of the other possible scenarios that she’d cooked up inside her head. I secretly hoped that she wouldn’t grow up to become a hypochondriac.

I scooped her up in my arms and apologized for leaving her all by herself on the couch.

“Grandma will be right back to put you to bed.”

“No!” she exclaimed as her frown became deeper. “I don’t want her.”

I gave her a look of anger, only to have her burst out crying.

“It’s okay,” Mom said, taking her from me. “She’s tired. She’ll be all right.”

I rubbed Alyssa’s back after she fell into my mother’s arms.

I wanted to call Scott and tell him that I’d changed my mind about attending.

But Mom was right.

Having some time off and away from the annoying realities of life might end up doing me some good.

But I somehow doubted it.

* * *

I got dropped off at the club and instructed my driver to wait for me in the parking lot.

“I won’t be too long,” I told him, since my plan was to quickly wish my friend a happy birthday, have a drink with him, and sneak out the back door. Though the absence of a man such as myself would be felt, I hoped that I could accomplish the sneaking out when most people were drunk off their asses.

I rubbed my right eye, setting my contact lens back into place, then walked in.

I’d been told that his party would have a separate entrance, which I assumed was mainly because of me.

I wasn’t a celebrity by any means, but most people in New York recognized me. I opened my wallet so I could flash my ID at the door, but one of the big bouncers’ hands brushed against my arm as he said, “You’re good to go, Mr. Smallwood.”

I nodded and stepped into the space that was completely out of my comfort zone. Not that I was uncomfortable, but loud music just wasn’t my thing. It was as if my brain had turned into a clock and all I could hear was “tick-tock” because of the number of seconds that I’d already wasted in there.

I didn’t have to cut through the wild crowd since our reserved table was right by the entrance.

I saw Scott’s arm move with beats of the techno music when I approached him. He pushed his long light brown strands away from his forehead when he removed his feet from the seats and jumped down.

Without saying a word, he greeted me with open arms. His cheek rested on my shoulder, and it was almost like hugging Alyssa. There was a kind of warmth in his embrace. Nothing romantic, of course, but it inspired the “Aw” from several people.

The embrace lasted a total of eleven seconds. I knew because my brain was keeping track.

Don’t get me wrong. I loved Scott. He was the brother I’d never had, and I couldn’t have been happier to have joined him on his big day.

I would have preferred that the celebration were over a quiet brunch, during which we would discuss the philosophies of life and talk about effective entrepreneurial strategies. Instead, I found myself feeling stuck around this table covered with bottles of liquor in a room with music so loud that I struggled to hear the person next to me.

Scott patted my back when I sat.

“Loosen up!” he yelled.

“What are you talking about?” I said.

Then he yelled something else in my ear, and it wasn’t long before I gave up trying to understand him.

He had an interesting group of friends, all of whom had the word “loser” engraved on their foreheads. One of them picked up a beer bottle from in front of me and popped it open, then shoved it in my face.

I shook my head.

“I’m good,” I said.

Scott snatched the bottle from the guy’s hand and set it back on the table. Then he filled a glass with whiskey and brought it to my lips.

“Scott, really, I’m fine.”

“The hell, you’re fine!”

This time, I heard him loud and clear, and he didn’t wait for a response before forcing me to have a taste.

“Fine!” I grumbled and chugged the whole thing down. It was easier to just get it over with in one go, or so I thought. Because soon after that, I had another one coming.

Some of his friends cheered for me while pumping their arms when they saw Scott’s exaggerated reaction upon seeing me loosen up.

I wasn’t a lightweight, per se, but I wasn’t much of a drinker either, so I felt a head buzz after chugging my third glass of whiskey. I knew that I’d have to stop if I didn’t want to stumble on my way back to the parking lot.

My eyes landed on a woman standing in front of me just when I rejected the next drink. I didn’t have to work hard at it because Scott set it back down and approached her.

I squinted, trying to get a closer look at her face through my buzzing head and annoying contacts.

It was Danielle Rosenbloom.

Scott’s sister.

My ex-girlfriend.

Well, shit.

I lifted my fourth glass of liquor and shoved the whiskey down my throat. This time, it was voluntarily because I sure as hell needed it.

Danielle’s mouth was open when she saw me. She walked in my direction with a finger pointed firmly at me. “You?” she said. “Zander Smallwood. You’re drinking?”

I rolled my eyes and finished the last drop in there.

“I am. So?”

She smiled. It was a wide one, and it was just like I’d remembered it.

Danielle “Dani” Rosenbloom was my first girlfriend and also my first breakup in high school.

She was the reason I’d become the grumpy motherfucker everyone thought I was.

Well, actually, that wouldn’t be fair.

The reason for my grumpiness was mostly my ex-wife.

Danielle was a mere nuisance in my head, popping up and haunting me every now and then. The last time I saw her was when it was our final day in school. I’d convinced myself that she’d left the planet so I didn’t have to worry about ever having to run into her, even though she was Scott’s younger sister.

But I wasn’t entirely wrong for being hopeful. She’d moved to California shortly after graduating and I didn’t expect to see her that night. Or any night, for that matter.

“What are you doing here?”

She gave me a half-smile and shrugged.

All I heard through the loud music was, “I just moved—”

I didn’t have to ask her to repeat or yell louder.

She’d just moved to New York.

That was a big enough reason for me to pour two tequila shots—one for each of us.

“Cheers,” she said. “This is going to be an amazing night.”