Page 84 of The Fix

Anna

The problem with experiencing the highs of life while under the influence is that there’s always a dangerous low.

Even without having to imbibe to get through the day, life has its way of throwing you to the wolves, only to bring you back again.

Except, you never know how far, until it’s so bad that you find yourself trapped in a room full of people that helped you get there … only for them to say you’ve gone too far.

That they want a backup for your position.

Looking around the room now, at all the downturned faces and solemn glances while we wait for the man of the hour to finally wake up from his bender, I gnaw at my bottom lip and send a prayer out to the universe that an intervention is the right answer for Toby.

It’ll be better for him in the long run, I know this.

But will he hate me for it?

Part II

"The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step."

—Lao Tzu

Seven weeks later

Chapter Forty-Four

Leo

“Anna,” I drawl into the phone that has become even more of a permanent fixture to the side of my head than my five-o’clock shadow and grin. “This working remote shit has gotta stop. You’re killing me.”

Her scoff echoes over the speaker, and I snicker.

“If you hadn’t sent me up here to get you more crap for your label, we wouldn’t have to deal with this now, would we?”

Shaking my head, I bite back the snort from her snark and sigh. “No, I suppose not.”

I wait a beat, the levity a nice break from the seemingly constant turn of negativity that’s been dumped on us, and then ask her the question I already know the answer to. The reason I called her to begin with.

Good news first.

“So didja get ’em?”

“You know I did.”

“Hot dayum,” I call out and throw a fist into the air. “Communications Officer and Signing Agent. I fucking knew they wouldn’t say no to you, ma’am.”

“I am not old enough to be a ma’am. Can you not?”

I snort and relax back into the couch cushion, my feet kicking up onto the coffee table next to my to-go cup. “I’m telling you. Age gap is all the rage now.”

Anna mutters something unintelligible into the phone, but I can’t even begin to make it out over the laugh I’m desperately holding in.

“Some of us are considered seasoned.”

“Wow,” she deadpans, unimpressed. “Did you need those readers perched on your nose to tell you that one?”

I don’t bother holding back the laugh on that one. “How’d you know?”

“Because you are old, Leo.”

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