“Joey,” he had said, “I don’t think it’s the best idea for you to be alone right now. Not after Mel. I think structure will keep you… sane. Besides, you can use our resources to start looking into different leads regarding Hecate’s location.”
I adamantly refused his advances. Spending the day with him during my time of mourning would do everything but keep me sane. Besides, I had more pressing matters to attend to… like finishing my fourth beer before ten in the morning.
Hey! No judgement from you. I’m grieving the death of my daughter. What would you do in my place? Go to work with Xander and listen to him hum Amazing Grace all day while finger-banging his hemorrhoids and insisting on praying over your agonized soul? Or would you wander aimlessly down the streets of Sacramento in the sunny, brisk temperatures of late November, in the blind hope of finding a lead pointing you to Hecate? Or would you sit on the couch and watch your favorite rom-com while drinking a six-pack of cheap lager and eating movie theatre popcorn?
That’s what I thought.
My back ached from Medea’s attack, and my recent lack of movement had done nothing to help stretch the tight muscles. And let me clear any confusion from the air—not tight from being in shape and fit, just tight from injury and lack of movement. I adjusted my position on the couch, forgetting about the popcorn bowl resting on my chest. The buttered kernels toppled, spilling onto Xander’s pristine hardwood floor.
“Shit,” I muttered.
There went my breakfast. I would have to make more, but that meant getting off my life raft. Was food worth it? I leaned over the couch and reached for the ice chest right below me. Opening it, I counted two more beers. Liquid calories. I didn’t need any more popcorn. It wasn’t worth the effort.
And before you put your judgment goggles back on, Xander only had scotch in his cupboard. Should I have made a cocktail for breakfast? Psh. I’m not an alcoholic. Despite Xander forbidding me from leaving his condo until he returned home, I’d crossed the street to buy beer this morning, risking law enforcement or a Nephil or their Acolytes or a Cursed noticing me. So, not quite an alcoholic, but also not the sober person at a party for one.
I lifted the half-empty can to my lips, finishing it in two gulps. I crushed it and tossed it across the room. It landed near the three other dead soldiers—all who had sacrificed their life’s blood to help me forget for a few hours.
Reaching into the cooler, I cracked my fifth feel-good juice. “Thank you for your service,” I said to it. “Your work is appreciated by many, and your name will live on forever.”
At the mention of the word work, I dropped my feet to the floor and sat upright, sending a jolt of pain through my lower back. I grimaced, scouring the couch for the remote control, finding it wedged between two cushions. I rewound the film about thirty seconds before pausing it and making sure Kate Beckinsale’s beautiful face remained frozen on the screen.
Since my personal cell phone was stowed away in an evidence locker at the Sacramento County Sheriff’s Department, I had to use Xander’s tablet. I fished around the floor for a minute, trying to find where the device had fallen. Once I found it, I video-called my employer—the owner of a demolition company in Lodi. He was expecting me back at work this morning.
His face showed on the screen—a giant red balloon of a head with a swollen nose and tight lips. After a second, he answered, “Hello?”
“Perkins,” I said, “can you see me?”
“Hunter,” he answered. He had one of those voices that made you wonder if he gargled with whiskey morning and night. “Where the fuck are you, and why is your face on my screen?”
“Well, good morning to you, too. And happy Friday. I’m currently in Sacramento, watching Serendipity, and thinking about you.” I leaned over and picked up a few kernels of popcorn from the floor, tossing them into my mouth.
“Hunter,” he said, sighing, “I hope to God you’re joking.”
The ironic part about that statement was that I usually was joking. I shook my head, though I didn’t vocalize the fact that I was as serious as a librarian in a middle school.
Perkins sighed again. “You’re putting me in bad spot. You helped me out in a big way a few years back, and I haven’t forgotten that. But I have a business to run and a reputation to uphold. I can’t create a culture where absence is accepted.”
Despite Perkins sounding like he swallowed shattered glass for the hell of it, he could have been Santa Claus’s twin brother. No, not for his girth—though, that wasn’t out of the question. Perkins had to be the nicest human to ever live. So nice in fact, it would probably break his heart to fire me.
“Let me interrupt you, boss man. I quit. Listen, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the opportunity. You know me, I love breaking shit, and you allowed me to live that dream for five years. But I think it’s time for both of us to move on, to try something new, to grow as individuals. And Tony, please, don’t blame yourself. This is about me and my shit. It has nothing to do with you. It’s never been about you.” Serendipity had really struck a romantic chord with me that morning. “Can we still be friends? Maybe… on those nights when we drink way too much and want to try something stupid… maybe we can be, I don’t know, special friends.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he asked.
I
