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“You’re not sick. You need to do it,” Edwardo said with a finality that flamed the frustrated fire inside of me.
“Or what?”
A tiny spark of delight formed in my chest. This was exactly what I needed. Let him make his threats, let him see what happens.
Morgan started shaking her head and widened her eyes at me. She mouthednoover and over again.
“Or I hire someone else who will appreciate the opportunity,” Edwardo said. “Someone who will be grateful for?—”
“Here’s what you do….” I started. The best feeling in the world was doing exactly what I wanted, exactly when I wanted to do it. It was a total thrill. This was the feeling I got when I was around Running Man, and I could replicate it right now without being anywhere near him. This was how I’d get my writing mojo back.
“Hang up,” Morgan said through gritted teeth. “Don’t do it.Layana, do not quit your job.”
I calmly told Edwardo, “Take your threats, write them down on a napkin, crumple them up and shove them up your nose,” I said. And it felt amazing. “I qu?—.”
Morgan snatched the phone right out of my hands and hung up.
My words hung in the air, unfinished. The moment was lost.
My jaw dropped. “Hey.”
“You almost quit your job.” Morgan shook my shoulders. “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that I’d get another drink and bask in the glow of freedom. Butyoustole my phone and ruined my plan.”
She kept holding onto me, her expression morphing from concern to a full-out grimace. “You said you’re having a crisis.”
Right, that. I’d hoped she’d missed that bit.
If there was one person in the whole world I could share my damage with, it was Morgan. I needed to suck it up and spill.
I said, “I’m afraid I won’t be able to write anymore. And I don’t want to be a reality TV person. And I’ve…I’ve lost my way.”
The concern on her face transformed to something akin to pity. I realized then that this, right here, was why I’d held back.
“You’ll be able to write.” She pulled me into a hug. “You are the most amazing person, Lay. You’re going to figure it out. And you just tell me what you need from me and I’m here.”
I liked the hug. I liked when we were celebrating better though. I didn’t want to wallow.
“This is nice,” I told her. “I need another drink.”
Morgan gave me one last squeeze, then abandoned her beer and took a shot. After another drink and a lap around the dance floor, I felt a little better.
Many drinks and a few hours later, I’d forgotten what worries were. When it was time to go, I didn’t want the night to end.
I took a rideshare home.
Climbing a rope ladder under the influence of too much alcohol was maybe not my smartest move ever, but I made it up and into my apartment without falling, so I called that a win.
In the dark, I crossed toward the door to flip on the lights when I heard a noise—a crinkle.
Was it my drunken imagination?
Another crinkle.
It was real.
Panic sucked the air from my lungs like a vacuum cleaner.
