Page 80 of Dark Room Junkie

“Hey!” Chris called, laughing, and slapped me on the shoulder. “What was up with you? We finally make it to one of your gigs, and you mess up.”

“But I ironed everything out super elegantly.”

“Oh yes,” Marco said, chuckling. “We have to give you that! Probably nobody else noticed.”

I waved to Claude, who promptly put a glass of soda in front of me and sunk a lime in it. “Thanks, Claude.”

“What was going on?” Tom asked in confidence while the others discussed a few songs.

“I don’t know. I was just ... distracted.”

“I told you, you didn’t need to go home. You could wash your stuff at our place.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Where’s the photographer anyway?” Patrick asked out of the blue, catching my attention.

“Why do you ask?” Marco wanted to know.

“Well, I got an email two weeks ago that all assignments were canceled until further notice. And the guys back there”—he gestured to the lounge where the architects were—“two of them also got cancellations. Where is he?”

Marco shrugged and peered at Chris. “You know him for a long time.”

“I have no idea,” Chris said nonchalantly, taking a sip of his beer.

Patrick frowned. “Oh, come on. Something’s up.”

“I just heard he was in the hospital two weeks ago. That’s all I know.”

His words sent a cold shiver down my spine.

Alex? In the hospital? What happened?

“He was in the hospital? Why?” Patrick inquired.

Chris turned his head and glanced into the lounge at the architects, then looked back at Patrick. “I can’t say more about it. It’s a private matter.”

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?” Patrick seemed to take this rejection personally.

“You would just run over there and tell them everything,” Chris explained dryly. “If I understood correctly, those are Alex’s clients.”

“So am I!” Patrick exclaimed indignantly.

“And wouldn’t you want business and personal matters to remain separate?”

Patrick thoughtfully chewed his jaw. “You’re probably right.”

I stood there paralyzed, staring at Chris. A torrent of questions was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t get a word out. Chris wouldn’t say anything as long as Patrick was nearby. But now that Patrick accepted his beer, said goodbye, and went to his colleagues in the lounge, I hoped Chris would tell me.

“Spit it out already,” Marco said, nudging Chris from the side. “Noé’s about to lose it here.”

I was about to fall apart. My heart was racing, and a storm was raging in my head. What a jerk I was. I had spent the last two weeks trying to forget about Alex. And if something hadn’t gone as planned, I blamed him for it. Alex.Damn!

“For two weeks?” I choked out, my voice strained.

“Yeah,” Chris replied, making sure Patrick was gone. “I only know he was admitted with respiratory depression early in the evening. Like I said, two weeks ago. Since then, he’s been in outpatient treatment at a day clinic.”

I didn’t know what a day clinic was, but at the mention of respiratory depression, my heart skipped a beat, and I leaned on the counter.

---