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He shoved his fingers through his hair, gripping and tugging until bright sparks of pain helped center him. Bile crawled up his throat at the thought of driving home on autopilot, even sober. I was more tired than I knew. Damn. Adjusting the seat forwards, his arm bumped the steering wheel, and he winced at a sudden stab of pain. Unfolding out of the car, Carson straightened and pulled up the cuff of his shirt to see a pair of reddened marks on the inside of his elbow. Damn bugs.

Once inside, he fell backwards onto the couch cushions and stared at the ceiling for only a moment before his eyelids dropped shut for the first time. He blinked slowly once, twice, and then fell asleep.

The next morning, he woke fighting the covers twisted around him in bed. Fists clutching at the edges of the blanket, trying to escape something in his dreams.

Lying on his back, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, scrubbing fiercely. Holy crap, what a night.

“Jesus, I need a gallon of coffee.”

***

“Seriously, Carson.” Joe shoved his basket of fries to the middle of the table. “Eat some of this. No way I should eat it all. I mean, could I? Sure, but should I? Nope.” He chewed and swallowed, holding up his burger for another bite as he shook his head. “I gotta say, that’s a wicked imagination you got, man.” He laughed, and Carson jumped at the jagged sound. “Wicked as shit.”

“You don’t remember any of it?” Joe rolled his eyes at Carson’s question, shaking his head. “Really?”

“Man, there’s nothing to remember. I went home Friday night and watched a movie or two, I think. I know I crashed, hard.” He shoved another few fries into his mouth. “I sure as shit didn’t hit no club and dance with beautiful women. I would for sure remember that.” Joe picked up his drink and slurped the last few inches of his pop up through his straw. “So whatever it was you were smokin’ that night? You be sure and save me some for when we really hit the town. Sounds like good shit.” Carson stared as Joe stood, leaned down, and scooped up a couple more fries. “God, I’m so hungry.”

Carson lifted his hand in a half wave goodbye and watched Joe walk out of the diner.

Nothing made sense.

He sat back in his chair and poked at the bun on his burger. His stomach soured, and he shoved the baskets of food farther away.

There’d been a club. Five days ago, he’d been inside a busy, packed-to-the-rafters club full of people dancing and drinking.

He hadn’t imagined it. Hadn’t imagined being pulled out of line, something he’d never considered happening to him. Even if the idea that there’d be a club in town with a line was insane, that kind of preferential treatment was reserved for celebrities.

Joe didn’t remember anything. Neither did Tim. He’d laughed harder than Joe, but something in his expression had made Carson uneasy.

Nothing made sense.

“Carson.” The hand coming down on his shoulder in time with the echoing bark of his name had him jerking forwards in his seat, trying to escape...something. “Jesus, kid. Chill.”

Teeth clenched, Carson angled his head to look up into Drew’s face. “Hey.” Sudden sweat bloomed across the back of his neck, and he swiped at his face with a shaking hand. “What are you—”

“Lunch.” Drew seated himself across the table from Carson and settled in, studying him closely. “Hey. Are you okay? You look like shit again, man.”

Carson made a face, dismissing the question. “Nah, I’m fine. Just...you just startled me, is all.”

“Did you hear?” Drew spun his plate in a half circle, putting the fruit salad directly in front of Carson. “Take that.” He shoved the saucer for his coffee across the table. “You like that healthy shit.” When Carson didn’t move, Drew scraped the fruit onto the saucer and set it directly in front of Carson. “So, our dog pen client was in this morning.”

Carson blinked. “Yeah?” He picked up a fork and used the tines to separate the pieces of fruit before spearing half of a maraschino cherry. As he crunched it between his teeth, the taste burst bright and crisp on his tongue, and he hunched over the saucer, stabbing at a reddened piece of pineapple. He lifted it to his mouth and asked, “What’d they think?” before shoving it into his mouth.

“Loved it. They loved every bit of it. They’re talking video now, which means a new contract with a much bigger budget.” Drew lifted the coffee cup to his mouth and sipped noisily. “And you, being the genius you are, already have a line on the perfect dogs. That kennel, man. You’re a freakin’ genius.”

Carson scooped another piece of fruit into his mouth, juices bursting across his tongue as he nodded.

“When you get back to the office, I need you to get on the horn with them and line it all up.”

“I can do that.” Carson nodded and rested his arms against the edge of the table, pressing hard until he felt the sting of pain from that damned insect bite. “For a video? I can do that.” He went for the last piece of fruit, the tines of the fork screeching across the porcelain. Carson shoved all thoughts of the nonexistent club to the back of his mind, happy to focus on a real problem for a change. “Hell yeah.”

***

Mathias

“Thank you.” The response wasn’t strictly necessary, because the man wouldn’t remember this conversation a minute from now, but courtesy was a habit easily reinforced through example. “Nothing else? Who did you say was sitting with him now?”

Joe twisted to angle his head around the corner of the building so he could look back into the lunchroom, something Mathias accomplished much more easily by using the reflective surfaces of the building across the street. They were in deep shadow, made more so by Mathias’ gathering of darkness, but even with that and the overcast day, the sun still broke through to burn along the small areas of his exposed skin. He needed this encounter to be over with, needed to be back in spaces where the sun never shone.