When he woke in the morning, the first thing he reached for were the pain pills, swallowing two with a mouthful of tepid water. Then, still in bed, he called Jenn.

“Hello?” She sounded drowsy, half aware.

“It’s me.”

“Alex? Are you OK?”

“I had to go to the hospital, but I’m fine. A couple of stitches and a headache. How are you?”

“I’m-we’re-good. Things went… can you come over?”

“When?”

“An hour? I’ll call Ian.”

“Should I call Mitch?”

She hesitated. “No, I can.”

“All right. See you soon.” He closed the phone, then sat up slowly, the world wobbling as the blood drained from his head.

While the water warmed up, he peeled off the bandage, wincing as the tape tugged the torn skin. He squinted into the mirror. The cut was an inch long, ragged and swollen purple. Black surgical stitches gave it that Frankenstein look. Still, it didn’t seem too bad, considering how it had scared him last night.

He washed his hands, then, very gently, his face. Dried himself, then put on more gauze and taped it in place.

“God, you’re handsome,” he said and laughed. It felt a little manic. He pulled on jeans and a black T-shirt, his boots, and went into the shocking light of day.

By the time he’d made it to her floor, the door was open, Jenn standing in it. Her hair was brushed but not done up, and she wore shorts and a thin tank top. There were dark circles under her eyes, but her cheeks glowed as she stepped forward to hug him. He wrapped his arms around her hard, tugging her to him, inhaling deep.

She hugged back warmly enough, though her body seemed a little stiff, the way she was when others were watching. Over her shoulder, he saw Mitch, wearing the same outfit he had yesterday afternoon.

“Jesus, am I glad to see you.” Mitch held out a hand.

Alex let Jenn go, stepped past her, grabbed Mitch’s hand and pulled him into a hug. “You too, buddy. You too.”

Mitch clapped him on the back, and they both laughed, all of the worry and fear dropping away.

“Oh my God, your face.” Jenn reached for his cheek, stopped short of touching it. “Are you-”

“I’m fine. Just a couple of stitches. Speaking of, where is the scrawny bastard?”

“Right here.”

The voice came from behind. Alex turned, saw Ian climbing the stairs, impeccable in suit pants and a jacket, no tie. The man looked wary, like he might dart away if the floor creaked. “I…” He ran a hand through his hair, dropped it to hang at his side. “Fuck, man, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Alex narrowed his eyes. He curled one hand into a fist, took three fast steps forward-

“Alex, no!”

And threw his arm around his friend’s neck, yanked him into a hug. The guy weighed nothing, felt impossibly thin through his clothing. For a moment he seemed confused, reluctant, but then he wrapped his arms around Alex. “Shit, you scared me there.”

“You think I’m going to hit you?” He shook his head. “I’m too glad you’re OK.” He stepped back, looked at the others. “All of you.”

“We’re more than OK,” Mitch said with a crooked smile. He glanced around, then reached inside the door of Jenn’s apartment and came out with a big freezer bag, the kind that could hold half a chicken. Inside was a thick stack of green bundles.

“Ho-ly shit.”

“There’s three more that size.”

“My God.” Alex stared at it, just stared. There it was, all he needed. His whole life, his daughter, a new job, a new start, all packed into a Ziploc bag. Something pounded through him, hot and happy, exploding in a grin. “We did it. We fucking did it!” He started laughing, and the others joined, the four of them hooting and back-slapping like they’d won the Olympics.

After a few minutes, Jenn said, “We should go inside. We have a lot to talk about.”

At her words, the smiles fell away. The two gun blasts seemed to echo off the bare white drywall. He straightened. Took a deep breath. “Right,” he said. “Tell me everything.”

SHE COULD SEE THE GOOD HUMOR draining from Alex. Everything was shifting, and Jenn found that she didn’t know what to do with her hands, how to cross her legs.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

The hallway reunion had been great, a moment outside of time, but things had started to go south already. Strange enough to have them all in her living room. But then add to that the thing with Mitch last night. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. It hadn’t been a planned decision, but it wasn’t nothing, either. Sure, adrenaline had played a part, and the memory of what he had done for her, how far he’d been willing to go. But there had been a connection, too. It wasn’t like the sex she and Alex had shared, a friendly, lusty sort of thing predicated on an understanding of boundaries. Last night felt like maybe the start of something.

In a normal relationship, they would have slept late, made love again, sipped coffee in bed and giggled. Whereas this morning, she had awakened, stretched, and enjoyed five peaceful seconds as her consciousness booted up-then been slapped by the memory of the alley. Her throat had tightened and her belly had gone acid. She’d put a hand over her mouth to catch a whimper. Slipped out of bed and into the bathroom to look at herself in the mirror.

You wanted life to have meaning, to feel real?

Here you go.

She had a desperate urge to cry, to hug her knees in the corner, at the same time she wanted to collapse in front of the toilet and retch. Her body was flame and ice and needles. Jenn had spun the cold water tap on, held her wrists underneath, forced herself to take deep breaths.

What did we do?

Jesus Christ.

What did we do?

Had she really thought that sleeping with Mitch would somehow erase what had happened? It had provided distraction and comfort, and she appreciated both. But the horror was still waiting for her on the other side.

Then the phone had rung, and it was game-on from that point. She forced herself out of the bathroom to talk to Alex in code. After hanging up, she’d found Mitch staring at her, his expression filled with emotions too varied and conflicting to bear a single name.

“Is Alex OK?” he’d asked.

“I think so. He’s coming over.”

He’d been silent for a long moment. “Guess I better get up.”

“Yeah.” She opened her lingerie drawer, saw she needed to do laundry. The absurdity of it almost set her to laughing. She picked up the panties she’d discarded yesterday and stepped into them. “Listen…”

“Please don’t say ‘about last night,’ OK? Please?”

“I wasn’t going to.” She found a bra that was a close-enough match and slid the straps over her shoulders. His eyes traced her breasts as she hid them. “But I think we should be quiet about this. Not tell the others.”

“Not tell them what, exactly?”

She gestured to the bed.

“This wasn’t just sex for me.”

“For me either. It’s just, right now, it will make things more complicated.” Especially between you and Alex. Way to go, Jenn. Nice timing.

“All right,” he’d said. “I understand.” Then he’d pulled on his pants and, threading his belt, said, “Coffee?” with forced cheer.

And now, an hour later, she sat on the comfortable couch that was supposed to be her refuge, a knit blanket over her knees, and watched the boys square off. Sometimes it sucked to be right.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Alex repeated. “You shot him on purpose?”

“You weren’t there,” Ian said. “Mitch did what he had to.”

“You’re right, I wasn’t there. I was on the floor, bleeding from the head. Wonder how that happened, genius? If I had been there-”

“What?” Mitch leaned back. His voice was calm, his manner easy. “What would you have done, Alex? There’s a drug dealer on the ground, shot once, and he can identify your best friend. So what would you have done? Asked him nicely not to hunt her down and murder her?”