I sat across from my manager, Bill Brighton, in the small meeting room on the north side of the office. I took a sip from my mug, waiting for him to finish telling me that I had finally been promoted.

"Congratulations," he said flatly.

Hearing that word come out of his mouth made my black coffee taste sweet. I waited five years for this day. It should have been three, given the hours I put in. But my name isn't Joel, so Bill made me wait as long as he possibly could, probably hoping that I'd leave.

I would never give him the satisfaction.

Bill's handshake was frigid, and he left the meeting room like he had a plane to catch. I exhaled. It felt good to finally be getting where I wanted to be.

Laura's going to be happy to hear about this. It's nice to have some good news for a change. But I think I'll hold off on the moving out of the penthouse conversation until we can talk face to face. Maybe throwing in Oxford might help convince her that it's time to move out.

When I got back to my cubicle, I unlocked my computer and found an instant message from Miguel.

"Did you get it?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Right on. Lunch is on me. Think of something fancy and meet me in the lobby at 11:30."

I smiled. "Will do."

I picked Twin Horns, which was also a favourite of Miguel's. I knew that would fit the bill for a proper celebratory lunch.

***

The waitress brought our menus and told us about the drink specials before walking away.

"You're having a beer," Miguel said.

"You know Bill doesn't like me having drinks over lunch," I replied.

"Fuck Bill."

I chuckled.

"I'm serious," he shook his head, "Joel drinks all the fucking time when he goes out to eat. And don't look at me like that, Dom. My sources are solid; I have pictures to prove it."

"Thanks," I smiled, "but I'll pass for now. How does Phil feel about you having drinks over lunch?"

"Phil doesn't give a shit as long as the work gets done—that's my kinda manager. You tell Laura yet?"

"No, I'll call her when I get home."

"Is everything okay with you two?"

She doesn't know anything, so yeah, everything's great.

"Yeah, we're good," I replied.

Over steaks and beer, I mentioned that Laura's sister recently got engaged, but left out the part about Spencer. Then Miguel asked if there had been any other Nathan sightings.

"No," I replied.

But I don't think that means much. He could still be watching.

"You'd tell me if anything weird went down though, right?"

I nodded.

Miguel then circled back to talking about my promotion.

"I like how nobody brings up the fact that Joel is Bill's nephew," he said.

"In law," I replied.

"Same shit," he shrugged, "it's still nepotism. You came up with way more ideas than Joel, and some of them were even good."

I chuckled. "Thanks."

"I'm really happy for you, bro. I mean that. And if you didn't get promoted, I would've told you to fuck Sales and come join us down in IT."

"And do what?" I grinned.

"I'd teach you to code, well reteach, but you know..."

I thought we were done after the steaks, but Miguel insisted on getting dessert, despite me telling him it would take too much time.

"You know what I'm gonna say, right?" Miguel raised his eyebrow.

I smirked. "Fuck Bill."

"Thank you," Miguel replied. Then turning to the waitress, he said, "Yes, we'd love to see the dessert menu, please and thank you."

***

On our way back to the office, Miguel asked how Confessions of a Serial Killer was coming along.

"It's not bad actually," I replied, as he stopped at a red light. "I'm at the halfway point now."

"So I can expect it by Friday when you come to my game?"

I wrinkled my brow. "Ruby's this Friday?"

"Yup, it's tournament weekend. So I need to hit the gym hard this week."

I nodded. "I'll see if I can finish it by then."

The rest of the day seemed to fly by, especially since Bill was actively avoiding me, making it one of the best days on record. After I got home, I spent almost half an hour trying to find my jacket, but to no avail; the jacket was nowhere to be found.

I decided to take a break from the jacket hunt and called Laura. As expected, she was happy to hear about the promotion.

"We'll have to celebrate when I get back," she said.

I smirked. "I have a few ideas about that."

"I'm sure you do," she giggled, "try not to forget any of them, alright?"

"I won't—also," I cleared my throat, "I have a bit of a random question for you."

"What?"

"Have you seen my black leather jacket?"

"The one with the hood?"

"Yeah, I couldn't find it this morning."

"And you checked the front closet?"

"I did."

She sighed. "That's the last place I saw it."

"Okay, I'll try looking for it again later..."

Laura and I talked for over an hour. Well, she did most of the talking. It seemed like she was venting, so I just listened. I wanted to tell her to come home, but I resisted the urge, knowing it wouldn't help the situation. And by the end of our conversation, Laura sounded like she felt better.

She told me to order something good for supper. So I ordered a burger from my favourite pub down the street. After eating, I got comfortable on the couch, reached for Confessions of a Serial Killer and started reading act three: Third Kill.

"Dream on, dream on of bloody deeds and death." — (King Richard III)

The voice is fainter now. I can barely hear it when I close my eyes, but she's still here. She will never leave me; I know that. But she grows more silent each time I relieve a pig of his head.

I rotate the blade in my hand and grin before putting it in my backpack.