Page 55 of Brooklynaire
“Yeah?” Missy crowds me to look. “No increase? In NewYork?”
“I know. Maybe it’s a clericalerror.”
“It doesn’t matter,” my sister says quickly. “Sign it. Send it back. They’ll have to honorit.”
That’s not true, since it isn’t countersigned yet. But I take a pen from the jar where I’ve stashed them (neatly!) and sign itanyway.
“I’ll get a stamp,” Missyoffers.
The thinner envelope is from my health plan. I’m also dreading this. In the past month I’ve racked up an ER visit, a neurologist, and then a Sunday visit to Dr. Armitage. There’s no way that’scovered.
Sure enough, I find one of those bogglingExplanation of Benefitsforms inside—the kind that are written in code. “This is not a bill,” it reads at the top. But I know better than to assume it’s good news. And it isn’t. Dr. Armitage is listed as an Out of Network Provider, which doesn’t surprise me at all. But my first session in his training clinic is also listed as Not Approved forCoverage.
When I see the prices, I inhale sharply. Four hundred bucks for the consultation and $275 for my first therapy session. And I’m supposed to go three times aweek.
“Is it bad?” Missy is back, holding a stamp on the tip of onefinger.
“No,” I lie. “Just a bureaucratic snafu. Talking to the insurance company will probably eat half a day.”If only. I’ll try to get them to approve the therapy, but I know my chances are probablyterrible.
Goddamnit.
“Mail the lease!” Missy says, pasting the stamp on the return envelope. “That’s one less thing to worryabout.”
I hope she’sright.
Five minutes later I drop it into a mailbox on Water Street. Two more years at the same rate in an apartment that’s two blocks away from a job I love. It should feel like acoup.
But I’m so very confused about what happensnow.
14
Nate
May 1, Tampa
Afew timesa year there are articles published about my success.How High Is Nate Kattenberger’s IQ?Or,The Man Who Sees the Future ofTech.
The people who write these things are obviously off-base. Because I’m the stupidest man alive. I’m sitting in a crowded hockey stadium with twenty-thousand people. Millions of dollars of my investment money is fighting for their lives on the ice below me. And what am I thinkingabout?
Rebecca.
That’s right. Five days later and I’m sitting here kicking myself for my lack of self-control. One heated conversation with Rebecca in the dark, and I totally lost my mind. She’s avoiding me now, which means it may have cost me a good friend. And if I’m really unlucky it will cost my organization a greatemployee.
Until now I never understood what people meant when they said,thinking with your dick. But now I do. Mine got some big ideas and instead of tamping it down I said,dude, let’sgo.
What a fucking nightmare I’ve causedmyself.
Lauren stands up and claps, reminding me to watch the fucking game. Beacon has just made a terrificsave.
At least someone isfocused.
“Nice!” Stew says, punctuating the compliment by poking me in the arm. “That’s how it’s done! I think your boys can make thishappen.”
I think so too, although it’s been a challenging week. The team lost the first game to Tampa. Tonight they look strong, though. I know it’s not over for us. They spent the last forty-eight hours watching tape while Lauren and I hunkered down with our laptops and tried to stay on top of everything that’s happening in NewYork.
Mostly I thought aboutRebecca.
The morning she left Bal Harbour I caught her limo before it left for the airport. I leaned inside to give her a kiss on the cheekbone, and she looked back at me with wide, shakeneyes.
