“And you’re telling me it was loaded down with sleeping pills?” I ask, holding the phone to my ear.

“I’m telling you,” Brandi’s dad says from the other line. “And it was a lot. Enough to knock an average sized person out for the night. A middleweight boxer like yourself, well, it would definitely slow you down. You really think Donte is drugging his opponents? That’s a pretty serious accusation.”

“I think so. The sleeping pills were in his locker along with steroids. He’s cheating, and this is going to ruin his career,” I say.

The man laughs. “Damn, Trial, when I told you to take the guy out, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind. Ha! He deserves it, though. I really would have liked to see you lay him out in the ring, though. Too bad.”

I laugh along with the man. Good to know we have found something to bond over –mutual hatred for a jackass who hurt Brandi. “You’re telling me. But exposing this little scandal is going to be just as sweet.”

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

I lean back in my chair. I’m at home in the small office on the second floor; I rarely use it, but I felt the need today. The marathon is just around the corner, so I have a lot of paperwork coming home with me every day. The office is finally getting used because of it. “Well,” I say with a grin, “I’m going to start by calling my manager and letting him know. He’ll submit it to the board –the top dogs in charge of the league, and then there will be an internal investigation. And, thanks to you and me, they will certainly have plenty of evidence to take Donte down.”

“Looking forward to it,” the man said. “I got to run. It’s getting late, and I got jury duty in the morning.”

“Good luck with that,” I say.

“Thanks. I’m going to need it,” he says and hangs up the phone.

I lean back in my chair, and I smile. Donte is going down –and he’s going down big time. I really would have liked to have had a chance to fight the guy, though. Too bad. I go ahead and call my manager, Caleb, and I leave a voice mail. He didn’t answer –probably asleep, I assume. It is getting late. My phone starts going off again, and I look and see that it’s Laurel. It’s nearly midnight –what in the world could she possibly be calling me for? I answer, figuring it’s some sort of emergency for her to be calling so late. “Laurel?” I ask.

“Hey, Johnny-boy!” her voice is loud, obnoxious, and slurred. Oh shit. My fellow former alcoholic just dropped the former.

“Laurel? Where are you?” I ask.

“I’m at a bar,” she sings.

“No shit,” I say. “Did you fall off the wagon?”

“No,” she says and laughs to the point she snorts.

Awe man. “What bar, Laurel?”

“You remember,” she giggles. “The one where we almost did it in the bathroom.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “How drunk are you?”

“Drunk enough to call you,” she says, and she sounds pissed off. Great. Angry drunk Laurel. That should be fun.

“Stay there. I’m coming to get you,” I say and hang up the phone. Brandi is asleep, so I don’t bother waking her and worrying her just yet. I head out, heading straight for the bar while behind the wheel of my trusty Volkswagen. When I arrive at the bar, it doesn’t take me long to find Laurel because she is getting thrown out. Apparently when she parties, she really parties hard. I hurry up to her and bouncer because she’s cussing the guy out, and he’s threatening to call the police.

“Hold up, hold up!” I wave their way as I rush up to the bar’s back exit. “I’m here, I’m here to take her home.”

The bouncer points a finger in my face. “Keep your lady on a tighter leash, man.”

“Fuck you!” Laurel shouts at the guy, and I grab her by the arm.

“Will do,” I say and squeeze her arm tightly. “Come on, we’re going.” I drag her drunk ass through the parking lot towards my car. I’ve only ever seen her this drunk twice –when we had first met and once at Tyler’s apartment, and it’s not my favorite side of her. Laurel is sweet, kind, and very loving –drunk Laurel is a horny bitch.

“Ooh, I like it when you’re rough,” she says when I force her into the passenger’s seat of the car and try to buckle her in. She grabs at me, and I slap her hand away. Fuck –it’s like I’m dealing with Vivian when Laurel is this out of it.

I get into the driver’s side and head towards her apartment, and she is cussing me out the entire time about Brandi. It’s pretty obvious what made her fall off the wagon at this point. “Serves you right if she’s cheating on you,” Laurel says, her voice slurring, “I mean, it would have been one thing if you had just left me for your bitch ex, but the way you just walked out in the middle of the night shows what a damn pussy you are.”

Well, there it is. “Yeah, I’m a pussy, Laurel, what can I say?” I mutter, trying to keep myself from getting pissed. I know she is just acting this way because she’s drunk; this isn’t the Laurel I know.

I drag her drunk ass up to her apartment, and as soon as I close the door behind us she puts her hands on my chest and pulls at my shirt. “Come back to the bedroom with me,” she says.

“Laurel, no,” I snap, and she pouts.

“Come on, I know you miss me,” she says and then grabs me by my hair, pulling my face into hers.

“That’s enough!” I shout and grab her wrists.

“Fuck you,” she says and she starts crying.

I do the gentlemanly thing and help her out of her nasty alcohol covered clothes and into something comfortable to sleep in. I get her to wash her face before eventually putting her to bed. Fifteen minutes later she is up throwing up and I’m shoving a trash bin in front of her. Eventually she is asleep again. I look at my phone. It’s nearly two in the morning now. I got to call Brandi. What am I supposed to tell her? That I’m babysitting my drunk ex? Yeah, I guess so. I call her, and I lay it out –I had only just recently vowed I was going to be completely honest with her, so I’m not breaking that now.

She answers, “Jonathan? Where are you? It’s two in the morning?” she yawns which tells me my phone call had woken her up; I’m assuming she hasn’t been up worrying about where I was yet otherwise she would be really angry.

“Listen, I don’t want you to worry, but I got a drunk call from Laurel, and I was worried she would get herself hurt. I brought her back to her apartment, but she’s sick as hell, so I think I should stay here. I don’t want you thinking-”

“I see,” Brandi says, interrupting me. “You’re worried I’ll think you’re cheating on me?”

“Well, yeah,” I say. “But I can’t just leave her here like this.”

“Jonathan, I trust you,” she says. “And I trust Laurel too. Apart from being a former alcoholic, she seems like a good person. Take care of her. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thanks, baby,” I say.

“I love you,” she says.

“I love you too,” I say, and I think I actually mean it this time. Now to take care of Laurel.