11. DANNY

Iwoke up to soft light filtering through the curtains, its gentle glow in sharp contrast with the pounding of my head. For a moment, I lay there, disoriented, not even sure where I was. I had forgotten what had happened the night before. Turning, I looked around the tiny bedroom, barely big enough for a wardrobe and the single bed I was lying in. Only when I saw the slumped figures of some stuffed toys did I realize. I was at Bruno's, in the spare room, the room Evan usually slept in. Then I fell back on the bed and groaned. How much had we drunk?

As I shifted in the narrow mattress, the realization dawned on me– I was naked. I must have undressed, but I hardly remembered even getting in. I licked my lips, completely dry. I wanted water. Then, a second horrible thought hit me: I have to go to work today!

With a groan, I stretched, the faint ache of muscles reminding me of the night before, of dancing in a gay bar, drunk, with my old friend who, in fact, I hardly knew at all. Had he been grinding back against me as we'd leaped around to Beyoncé? Had he been twerking against my crotch? Or had I been pressing myself up against him? I was sure it must have been a joke. I was sure we must have been laughing.

And then there was the dance – how our bodies moved together, the beat of the music echoing the beat of our bodies. I remembered the heat of his touch, the brush of his skin against mine. Of what had I been even thinking?

I turned onto my back and then saw it through the thin cotton sheet: I was hard. Was there anything worse than a hangover and an erection?

With a soft exhale, I allowed myself to linger in the space between sleep and wakefulness. For in that fleeting moment, I was content to remain, too, in the memory of Bruno's personality and presence. I had enjoyed both very much. I looked down at my body under the sheet, with my boner still poking up.

I needed to get up and go to work and remember why I was in New York in the first place.

Bruno was sleeping when I got up. I ran into the shower and made myself look presentable. I put on my suit and the pressed shirt I had brought with me. Shaving, brushing my teeth, I looked through his bathroom cabinet and found both Tylenol and vitamin C tablets. I took both, drank some coffee, and headed out. I didn't wake Bruno up. I just texted him to say I had had a great night and would see him later. I almost typed, "I hope you had a great time too," but thought better of it.

Shutting the apartment door behind me softly at 7:45 a.m., I slipped down the stairs of his building. The city waited outside, ready to welcome me into its bustling rhythm. As I opened the front door, its fresh air – only just run through with a haze of pollution – was welcome. I gulped it down.

I decided to hail a cab from the curb of Avenue C to cut my commute shorter. I stood on the curb, running a hand through my hair, looking for a free taxi that would pull over. Eventually, one hurtled toward me, and I got inside.

As it pulled away, I settled into the backseat, my gaze drifting out of the window to the awakening streets of the Lower East Side. The city stirred with a quiet energy just before the chaos of rush hour.

As we drove, Manhattan unfolded before me like a grand tapestry. Towering skyscrapers stretched to the sky, their glass shapes glittering in the bright yellow light of day. The streets hummed with traffic, a pattern of car horns.

As the cab navigated through the streets, first cross and then uptown, I found myself drawn to its heartbeat, the vibrant storefronts of Chinatown, the eclectic art galleries and fancy fashion stores of SoHo, the towering spires of Midtown looming toward me in the distance along Broadway. With each passing block, the scene kept changing, evolving from the gritty charm of downtown to the polished sophistication of Midtown.

The prospect of my first day at the new office filled me with a buoyant optimism. I hadn't expected to be feeling so good still, but again, I was. As the cab inched closer to my office's address on West Forty-Sixth Street just off Broadway, the classic New York scenes came into view. Wow, I thought, I live here now. Well, part of the time.

As I stepped into the sleek lobby of my architecture firm, a surge of anticipation coursed through me. I had been here before, but now I worked here. The receptionist's warm smile welcomed me, and moments later, Andy, my New York colleague I had met several times here and elsewhere, bounded down the stairs to greet me.

"Danny, my man! Welcome to the New York office!"

Andy enveloped me in a bear hug. I returned the embrace, feeling Andy's genuine pleasure to have me there. He launched into a spirited monologue about how great it was going to be, me working there, how I was going to love it, how everyone was going to love me. I listened with a good heart, buoyed by Andy's infectious energy but also taking it all with a pinch of salt. Everyone knew that the New York office was the most hard-ass of all in the firm.

As we headed to the elevator, Andy inquired about my accommodation arrangements.

"So, where are you staying, dude?"

I hesitated for a moment.

"Oh, just rented a room in the Lower East Side," I replied casually. It wasn't a lie, but it certainly wasn't the whole truth, either.

"Like, in a hotel down there?" he asked, confused. "Why not stay closer to the office? It's a bit grim round there, in parts."

I shrugged to keep it light.

"I have some friends that way." He still seemed unconvinced. Why didn't I just tell him the truth? Oh, yeah, because I didn't want them to know I was splitting the thousand dollars with a buddy. "It's more of an apartment. That way, I can keep my stuff there when I go back and forth."

Andy tapped his temple with his finger.

"Smart. You would have had to schlep it all back and forth from some Midtown business hotel."

I nodded as we entered the elevator.

"Right?"

We rode the elevator in silence, sharing it with strangers. Getting to the floor my firm was on, Andy walked past various people, calling to them, "This is Danny, guys! Danny West! The legend!"

People waved and grinned and said, "Hey, Danny!" I knew a few people from other projects, but mostly, they were all new faces, and I hardly caught anyone's name.

As Andy guided me around the office, we popped into various offices, probably all fully staffed by 8:00 a.m. Like I said, they worked hard in New York. But I worked hard, too –usually.

First, we met with the head of the office, Mr. Johnson, a distinguished architect and middle-aged gentleman with a firm handshake and a warm smile.

"Welcome to our team, Danny! We're thrilled to have you on board," he said to me. We discussed the projects I was working on briefly, and he told me if I needed anything, I only had to ask.

Next, we encountered the chief architect, Johnny Ramirez, a brilliant talent with a visionary eye. We knew each other a little from a project we had worked on in Toronto, freezing our asses off all winter up there.

"Ah, Danny boy!" he cried like an old friend, but quickly, we were talking business. He spoke about the design principles and project timelines of the project and told me he was going to keep a close eye on both.

Our meeting with the head of design, Shana Thompson, was a refreshing change of pace. She exuded creativity and flair, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as she welcomed me. We had never met before.

"Danny, I've heard great things about your work. I can't wait to collaborate and create something great with you," she said.

My morning was eaten up with meetings. The day kicked off at 9:00 with a client presentation meeting for a prestigious high-rise residential tower project in downtown Manhattan. After that was a design review meeting for a mixed-use development project in Queens. Last of all was a project coordination meeting for an urban revitalization initiative that the New York City government was asking companies to pitch for.

I sat in on all of them, not saying too much because it wasn't really my place yet, and I wasn't one of those corporate guys who blabbed in meetings just for the sake of it. Plus, now and then, my hangover washed in like a wave, receding, returning, receding, returning – nauseous. I drank as much coffee as I could cope with!

The first morning over, Andy suggested grabbing a late lunch with a few others at an upscale Mexican restaurant near the office. Hungry and eager for a break, I readily agreed, relishing the chance to connect with my new colleagues.

The restaurant's vibrant atmosphere immediately lifted my spirits. Andy led the way to our table, and we settled in. He started to talk about margaritas and tacos, and I looked around the table, hoping someone might say no to the former, but everyone seemed really excited. I asked the waiter if he could keep my water topped up and wondered if I could get away with drinking only half of my cocktail.

Excusing myself to freshen up before the meal, as I walked into the restroom, I took a moment to check my phone. Among the notifications, I found a text from Bruno:

SORRY I MISSED YOU

HOPE YOUR FIRST DAY GOES WELL

I was standing in front of the sinks and looked up into the room-length mirror. I realized I was smiling.

I looked back at my phone and tapped out a quick reply:

ALL GOOD, BUDDY

SEE U AT HOME

Returning to the table, I joined in the lively chatter of my colleagues as they traded jokes, laughter, and a bit of gossip. The food arrived, and man, I was ready to eat. I scarfed down two tacos as someone told me some fairly fruity stories about what Mr. Johnston got up to at the office Christmas party.

The workday came to an end relatively early. I was getting out of the office by 5:00. I navigated the bustling crowds along Broadway, walking to catch a downtown subway. I descended into the underground labyrinth of the station, where the scent of metal and echoes of footsteps filled the air.

On the platform, I waited with all the other business drones, all of us with our suits, our briefcases, our busy, stressed faces. Boarding the crowded train, I found myself sandwiched between tired bodies, faces buried in newspapers or illuminated by screens. But I just stared into space, thinking of my evening at home with Bruno.

The train rumbled and screeched along tunnels, making its way downtown. I switched lines at Union Square, the sea of humanity transferring from one train to another in shuffling footsteps.

Finally, I got out of the station by Avenue C, nearest to Bruno's place. As I emerged from the depths of the subway into the chaotic streets above, the air was still warm, and going from the heat of the subway to that of the early summer evening felt disorienting.

Upon reaching his building, I pressed the buzzer for Bruno's apartment. I waited until I heard Bruno's voice crackling through the intercom.

"Hello?"

I went right up to the speaker.

"Hey, it's me." I paused. "Danny."

"Sorry, I forgot to give you the code."

I laughed.

"It's cool. Can you buzz me up?"

I almost ran up the three flights of stairs. Bruno was at the apartment door, holding out a set of keys. His grin was infectious as he handed them to me, and I accepted them with a wink.

"We're really roomies now, then," I said casually. "I have the keys to the door now."

He shrugged.

"Five hundred dollars will get you a lot more than that."

My eyes widened, and so did his. There was a brief pause, an awkward moment, but then we both started to laugh. "You better come in," he said.

Bruno stepped aside, allowing me to enter the apartment. As I crossed the threshold, I couldn't help but feel good to be there.

Entering the apartment, I was greeted by the sound of a kids' cartoon blaring from the TV. Bruno's voice was behind me.

"Did you remember Evan is here tonight?"

I turned around to reply.

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to meeting him."

Stepping into the living room, I spotted a young boy – surely Evan – sitting in front of the TV, his eyes wide with a light suspicion as he turned to face me. He looked just like Bruno, very blond, very slim, with big blue eyes.

With a warm smile, I approached him, bending down to his level as I extended my hand in greeting.

"Hey there, Evan. I'm Danny," I introduced myself, hoping to put the young kid at ease.

"I told him all about you being here," Bruno said.

As Evan's gaze met mine, I could sense his shyness, a five-year-old meeting a new grown-up.

"Yeah, I'm staying here a little bit," I said.

Evan remained silent, and Bruno gently encouraged him to greet me.

"Say hi, buddy."

Evan remained silent, his gaze shifting between Bruno and me, clearly unsure of how to respond. Sensing his discomfort, I decided to take a softer approach, hoping to put him at ease in our presence.

"Hey, Evan, nice to meet you," I said warmly, offering a friendly smile as I crouched down even further until I was pretty much on the floor, too. Still, he said nothing but focused on me with his those great, round eyes. "What's this cartoon you're watching? Looks pretty cool."

Evan's response came slowly.

"It's called Ninja Turtles," he replied.

"Ninja Turtles, huh? That's awesome!" I exclaimed.

He was watching me very intently.

"Do you like it, too?"

"Oh, wow! I used to watch that when I was around your age. My favorite was Leonardo, the leader of the group. Who's your favorite turtle?"

Evan's eyes suddenly filled with light.

"I like Leonardo, too!"

And then suddenly, he started to chatter, telling me what was happening in the episode. I hardly followed it but just smiled and went, "Wow," "Cool," as I looked around at the boy's dad, who had his arms folded and was nodding his head as if to say, "You got this."