A buzz in his pocket startled Cal awake, and he sat upright quickly, his eyes flying around the room, trying to get their bearings in the darkness. At some point while sitting beside Marcus, he’d fallen asleep, despite in having only been early evening at the time — it was quite a bit later now, and his house was nearly pitch dark. Stella seemed to notice Cal’s alarmed state, and hopped down from her perch on Marcus’s leg to him, placing her nose into his hand. He rubbed her face as she did, using the other hand to wipe sleep from his eyes and yawned, his jaw cracking loudly as he did so. 

He brought his phone up to check the time — 11PM — and only then, remembered what had woken him up in the first place. He squinted, the light of the phone feeling blindingly bright in the darkness of the room. 

[i]I wanted to thank you for lunch. And to apologize for running out on you.[/i]

A slow grin spread across Cal’s face. So, she’d finally seen the napkin. He looked over to Marcus, still snoring on the couch, before typing up his own reply — unsure why he suddenly felt anxious. 

[i]No apologies necessary. You can make it up to me by running[/i] in [i]to me again sometime soon.[/i]

He sent it, and then quickly followed it with one more.

[i]I hope Mishka wasn’t too terribly offended to be my assigned messenger. She carried out her duties well, I see. Smart girl.[/i]

He sent it without another thought, and wrinkled his nose a bit, wishing he’d thought out something better. Mishka? Really? Was the fact that they both had dogs the only thing that they could relate on? 

He decided against sending a third text, locking his phone and putting it down on the armrest of the chair, rubbing his hands over his face. He made his way into the kitchen, turning on only the light above the stove so as not to wake Marcus, and quickly made them up some eggs and toast. His refrigerator at this house was pretty threadbare — he normally ate whatever the hotel was offering, and stayed there more often than not, considering it was only a couple of blocks away from his office. Cooking wasn’t his strong suit, anyway. 

He brought the plates back into the living room, and gently coaxed Marcus out of his slumber. “Come on man, you gotta eat something. You can go right back to sleep after.”

Marcus grumbled in protest, but sat up, stretching and popping joints. “Shit. How long was I out?” 

Cal considered. “A few hours at least. I racked out too. Let’s get some food in us and then rest up properly. Big day tomorrow.”

Marcus took a bite of his toast, and then pulled it away, looking at it as if someone had spit on it. “Dude. How do you fuck up toast? And tomorrow’s Sunday, why would it be a big day? We going to church or something?” 

Cal rolled his eyes at the comment on his food preparation skills. “No — church? Are you kidding? — Tomorrow we need to figure out what the hell we’re going to do about this Danny guy.” 

Marcus shook his head, blowing air out through his teeth and sitting up further to scarf down his eggs. “What do you mean what we’re going to do about him? I figured you’d take his ass out. You’re the Big Dog and he’s trying to make demands of you and shit, that don’t fly with you.”

“No,” Cal said, contemplating. “No it doesn’t. And I won’t let it fly. But I can’t just knock him off.” He sighed, shaking his own head and closing his eyes in exasperation. “We don’t need to do this tonight. We’ll figure it out later. Fresh sheets are in the bedroom, you know where you’re going.” 

With that, Cal departed the living room, Stella trotting happily beside him. He made his way to his own room; it was just as bare and sterile as the rest of the house, with few decorations and nearly untouched furniture. There was little point in adding personal touches when he was only here one or two days out of every month.

He checked his phone one last time before falling asleep, wishing he’d had the forethought to sneak a quick picture of Ana while he had her in front of him. He cast out the stress of Danny, though it was quickly replaced by the stress of seeing Ana with that red-haired guy, whoever he was. He slept fitfully, dreams and nightmares intermingling in his mind, circling his consciousness like vultures awaiting the untimely death of their prey.