Assault rifles sounded and a trumpet blared, all within an inch of my head—a head, incidentally, that had just hit my pillow.
At least, that was what it felt like.
In actuality, the guns and music were just the harmoniously mixed trill of my alarm clock, and my head had really first made contact with my pillow three hours ago.
Back in my college days, three hours of sleep would have been more than sufficient. I’d have thrown a Hot Pocket in the microwave, scarfed it down, and hoofed it to my final with nothing more than a pencil and my calculator in hand.
But now—now that I was fucking old—three hours just didn’t cut it anymore. I hadn’t even had all that much to drink—though I was considerably out of practice—and my head still throbbed.
With a quick smack and a groan, I silenced the alarm and rolled over to my stomach to shove my head into the fluff of my pillow.
“Oh my God,” I grumbled.
Even the sound of my own voice was grating.
Great, I thought. This should make work interesting.
I grabbed my phone off of my nightstand, rolled back onto my back, and typed out a quick message.
Me: So, apparently, you’re a sadist.
A reply popped up nearly immediately.
Charlotte: Wimp.
Me: I’m actually sore.
Charlotte: It takes time to acclimate to the dance life. You’ve got good moves, though. Be proud, soldier, be proud.
Me: Oh, so I suppose you’re completely fine?
Charlotte: Yep. ;)
Me: I kind of hate you.
Charlotte: That wears off. Trust me. Pretty soon you won’t be able to live without me.
My heart jumped in my chest despite knowing full well she was teasing. But those words, written there together, taunted me and dared me to challenge them. They were cocky, almost as if I had no chance of choosing another fate.
But I was a man of science, and I knew better.
Right?
Me: I could live without the hangover for now. I have to be at work in thirty minutes.
Charlotte: You know, you wouldn’t have to be up for the job in California for another three hours.
Me: Funny.
Charlotte: ;) Get some coffee and some Advil. Take a shower. You’ll feel better in no time.
My phone beeped with a calendar alert, telling me I now had literally thirty minutes to walk through the doors of St. Luke’s. As much as I’d like to stay in bed for eternity, swapping playful barbs with Charlotte, I had to get up and follow her advice, pronto.
Slowly, and quite painfully, I climbed from my bed and to my feet, wiggling my toes in the carpet to force some kind of sensation. I felt slightly numb to the morning, like it wasn’t really happening—like I was Bill fucking Murray and this was Groundhog Day and I was living Thursday all over again.
Obviously, thanks to my busy schedule, my movie references dated back quite some time.
“Christ, Nick,” I mumbled. “You’re pathetic.”
I tossed my phone, ensconced in its usual all-black phone case, to the bed, and it made a soft thud before disappearing into the camouflage of black sheets.
Of course, then it started to ring.
“Fuck,” I muttered, frantically combing through the sheets with my hands, trying to hit the solid surface of my facedown case.
It was on the fourth and final ring when I finally felt my hand graze it, rescued it from drowning by sheet, swiped my finger across the screen, and lifted it to my ear.
“Hello?”
“You sound lethargic,” my daughter said by way of greeting on the other end of the line.
“I’m fine, Lex,” I grumbled, rubbing at my temples to temper the pounding, as I stepped away from my bed and headed for the bathroom. I’d have to multitask this morning if I had any hope of making it to work on time.
“Wow. And irritable. How much did you have to drink last night?”
Fucking hell, why is my daughter so observant?
“Lex—”
“Is your urine yellow?” she cut me off to ask, her voice clinical. I shook my head and looked to the ceiling as she went on. “You might be dehydrated if you haven’t—”
“Lexi, I’m fine. What’s up? Why are you calling this early?”
“I need a ride to school. Mom and Wes have a meeting in New Jersey, and she told me to call you to see if you could take me because murderers ride the subway.”
“What?”
“Those are her extremely hyperbolic and generalized words. Not mine.”
I looked to the clock on the gray and white marble vanity counter of my bathroom and considered carefully. If I took Lexi to school, I’d never make it to work on time. I didn’t think I’d been late to work a day in my life, and people in the hospital were always counting on me. My job was important.
“Okay. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Winnie and Wes’s street was quiet—for Manhattan anyway. Tree-lined stone sidewalks and elegant townhouses, it was a family neighborhood if ever I’d seen one. Of course, it was a family neighborhood for the wealthy, boxing out people without a flexible income in just property taxes alone. For most people, if they were lucky, $70,000 was a salary. Not the governmental cost of living.
I loved that they lived in something so nice, but I also feared the day they would move out of the city. I knew it was coming at some point, more and more of their work happening at the stadium in New Jersey and a chance for even more value for their money, and I knew I had no say in it. I also knew I didn’t deserve a say, but that didn’t make the reality any easier.
Three sharp knocks to the solid chestnut-colored wood of the door complete, I stepped back and waited for Lexi to answer.
What I wasn’t expecting was someone who would never, could never, be my number one fan.
“Nick?”
“Remy?”
Winnie’s oldest and most protective brother, Remy had a special vat of hate stored deep inside all for me. I didn’t blame him. I’d been a jackass to his little sister, and he’d picked up the slack as a consequence.
But he was one of the most prominent people in Lexi’s life. He loved her with a ferocity that made it impossible to even fake dislike him.
Still, all of that didn’t make our interactions any less uncomfortable.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he demanded as though I were the enemy there to attack.
“Lexi called me to take her to school.”
“Did she now?” he asked, looking over his shoulder and back into the house to yell for her. “Lex!” he shouted. “Come to the door!”
He turned back to me and sneered. “You look like absolute shit, asshole. What’d you sleep in a fucking pothole last night?”
Lexi came fairly quickly, thankfully fast enough that I didn’t have to answer Remy but slow enough that she hadn’t heard his words, her backpack already in place and her sweet blond hair swept off her face in a half ponytail.
“Hey, Lex,” I greeted softly, even if through some confusion. “What’s going on?”
She shrugged, her cheeks warming sheepishly. “I know you said you were coming. And I believed you. But Mom said I should have a backup plan.”
Christ almighty, the lash of that whip was painful. I deserve it, though. Memories of opportunities past flashed in my mind like a firefight, and I struggled to find cover. When I finally came up for air, Remy’s smug smile hit me again.
I swallowed thickly before nodding. None of this was her fault. Not the strife between her uncle and me and not the reality of the mistakes I’d made in the past.
“So do you want me to take you?” I asked. “Or are you going with your uncle?”
Lexi looked between Remy and me and then pointed to him. “We’re going to run by the dance studio and pick up our costumes on the way. Is that okay?”
I swallowed my disappointment and pulled her in for a hug. “Of course, honey. I have to get to the hospital anyway.”
With a quick kiss to my cheek, Lexi’s sweet smile returned full force. “Okay! Let me know if you do any craniotomies.”
I forced myself to smile back and nodded before turning to jog down the front steps of their brownstone to head to work. I didn’t look back to see Remy’s face.
I didn’t need to.
I could feel karma as she curled around my guts and squeezed quite well enough on my own.