All Strung Out (8 page)

It takes me four times as long as it should to climb the stairs, but I do it without leaning on Nicole. She looks relieved when I reach the top step. At the door, I realize I don't have my keys. I pinch the bridge of my nose between my finger and thumb. I'm so tired. I need to lie down. I look at Nicole.

"Oh, here," she says. "Sophie gave me her key."

She unlocks the door and opens it wide for me. I trudge into the house, wondering how long I'll have to depend on people for the most basic things in my life—when I should own the fucking world.

Scene 24 ~ Hondo

When I wake up, it takes me a minute to remember where I am. I was dreaming about Sophie's dark green pool. I sit up on the air mattress and shake off the nightmare. I look at my phone: five-thirty in the morning. Way too early to go to my friend's apartment for a shower. And there's no way I'm going back to sleep now, not with that nightmare waiting on the other side of my brain.

I clean up a little in the sink, and then do some work at my desk. I have more applicants to screen. I have to schedule the server closet construction before the servers arrive. And I have to schedule the shower and break room construction. When will I have time for my design work again? If I don't hire some employees soon, we're not going to hit our implementation date. For the first time, doubt wedges itself in my mind. What if we can't do this?

I decide to throw on some workout clothes and take a run to clear my head. I used to run every day, but I've slacked off since I graduated from college. It's time to get back into it. New business, new routine. New life. The future's so bright, I gotta wear shades.

I decide to run the three and a half miles to my friend's apartment. I can grab a shower, and he'll give me a ride back to the office. I pick up my phone and keys, lock the door, and take off.

My lack of conditioning shows right away. I thought it would be nothing to pick up where I left off, but after the first mile, I have to slow to a jog for a while. How'd I let things slide so much? A nagging voice in the back of my mind whispers, "Sophie." From the time I moved into the Winter mansion, I drank too much. I'm damn fortunate I didn't waste all my time along with my brain cells. If I had, Jen and I wouldn't have a company right now. I would still be a graphic designer working for someone else instead of co-owner of an up-and-coming tech company.

Stubbornly, I manage to finish the run and get my shower and my ride back to work. I jog up the stairs and go into the office. Jen is already there, headphones on, fingers flying on the keyboard. The girl is a freakin' machine. She's amazing.

But she doesn't look like she feels amazing. The circles under her eyes are darker. She stops typing every few minutes to suck down more water. And she goes to the bathroom three times in the next half-hour.

When she comes out the third time, I say, "If you're sick you need to go home and rest."

She sinks into her chair and looks up at me. She is thinner. I'm sure of it. My first thought is an eating disorder, but that doesn't add up. What if it's cancer? What if she has cancer, and she's keeping it a secret? My brain runs with these questions, coming up with dire reasons for Jen's symptoms.

"Not to be rude, but you look like hell," I say. "I really think you need a break. Take the day off. Please."

She holds up a finger to tell me to wait, and then she slaps her hand over her mouth and runs for the bathroom. Sick. That's what I thought. I hear her retch a few times, flush the toilet, and then, nothing. I knock on the bathroom door.

"Jen, are you OK?" I say through the door.

No response.

"You're scaring me." I say. "I'm coming in."

I'm relieved that she didn't lock the door, but that relief lasts only seconds. Jen has collapsed on the floor in front of the toilet. She's still conscious, but she can't seem to keep her eyes open. And why does it smell like someone has been painting fingernails in here? Weird. I've never seen Jen with nail polish.

"Did you fall?" I kneel down next to her. She's breathing so hard she can't speak. She looks at me, and all I can read on her face is fear. Adrenaline floods my body. "I'm going to get my phone. Don't try to get up."

I run to my desk. As I fumble for the phone, I glance at Jen's empty chair and hope like hell it doesn't remain empty.

###

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Copyright 2014 by Josey Alden. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or have been used fictitiously.