I sigh. “I apparently need surgery on my knee. I blew it out. But I don’t want to for a couple of weeks. I don’t want to upset Mila.”
Gabe lifts an eyebrow. “Mila is the most unflappable person I know.”
“She’s pregnant,” I tell them. “I don’t want to stress her out.”
“Dude,” Brand exclaims. “Congratulations!” They both slap me on the back, and I cringe because that pain ricochets down into my hips, straight into my knee. I grit my teeth and hide it though. Damned if I’ll show my pain to these two.
“Thanks,” I say instead.
“Ok. Well, how about this. We made money in the fourth quarter,” Gabe says. “A lot of it. We can send the specifics to Peter, if you want. But tonight, let’s go celebrate. Cancel your afternoon.”
Peter is the business advisor I inherited from my grandfather. I’ll gladly relegate paperwork to him.
I eye my calendar. There’s nothing on it for the rest of the day.
“Fine,” I tell them. “I’ve got til five o’clock.”
“That’s all we need,” Brand tells me.
We walk out of my office, and Sasha scrambles up. “I’ll have your car waiting for you,” she calls after me.
Gabe stops in his tracks. “Your car? As in, a car that you don’t drive yourself?”
“No need,” I tell Sasha. “I’ll ride with these yay-whos.”
They continue to rib me all the way to Brand’s truck.
“Seriously. You’re too important to drive now?” Gabe asks as we climb in. “You’ve gotta be kidding, bro.”
“I love to drive,” I argue, and I wistfully think of my beloved ’69 Charger sitting in my garage at home, covered with a tarp. “My grandfather just liked the idea of being driven. He thought it was a good image for the employees to see.”
“Well, guess what?” Gabe tells me as Brand fires up his truck. “You’re the boss now.”
“That’s very true.” I don’t tell them that at the moment, I don’t think my right knee would be able to take the workings of the pedals.
I start to text Mila, to let her know I’ll be out of the office for a few hours, but my phone is dead.
“Shit. I really have to be home on time.”
Gabe rolls his eyes. “Dude, we’re having a drink. Not kidnapping you to Tijuana.”
I know I should just go home. But the idea of dulling the pain a little is appealing. And seriously… what could happen? I’m with Gabe and Brand. I don’t know why I’m hesitant.
When I climb out of the truck at the pub, my knee almost gives out. Brand grabs my arm, catching me from collapsing onto the pavement.
“Dude, this isn’t good.” He’s concerned. “I don’t think you should be bearing weight on that.”
I shouldn’t be. The doctor told me as much.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him.
After I limp inside and get situated in a booth, I prop my foot on a nearby chair. I don’t intend on leaving this spot.
I signal for the waitress, and order a whiskey. Gabe and Brand get one too, and when the girl is gone, Gabe glances at me.
“You know, I guess I should’ve asked… is this ok? You haven’t been out drinking in a long time. I don’t want it to cause you a problem. You know, after…”
“After what?” I stare him in the eyes and make him say it.