Chapter Text
Chapter One
This was perhaps not the absolute worst day of Alex Hill’s life, but it was a close second. He’d been sitting alone at the bar for at least two hours now, and had made his way through exactly four astronomically expensive cocktails with stupid names, but the seat next to him remained stubbornly empty.
Maybe she was late? Alex unlocked his phone with a wet finger, leaving new smudges on his too-bright screen. He turned the brightness down with a groan, wondering if it was actually as bright as it seemed, or if he was just more drunk than he’d previously thought. He navigated first to the dating app where he’d connected with this beautiful, invisible girl, and re-read her last message to him for the 100th time. See you at 8!
It was 10:23pm, and Michelle (22, loves telling dad jokes and drinking IPAs) was nowhere to be seen. He read the message one more time, wondering if he’d missed some tiny, cryptic detail, but nothing presented itself. He’d probably been stood up. This was especially embarrassing because he’d trekked all the way from his dad’s apartment in Queens to this fancy bar in Chelsea, and he’d even worn his last clean shirt. He faced an hour-long commute home, if the trains were running right, a trip to the laundromat in his near future, and a painful bill for his drinks, all for nothing.
“Excuse me,” a voice said, and Alex raised his head to about half mast. His eyes followed the trajectory of his head, though they lagged by a few seconds. He was definitely drunker than he’d realized.
“What?” he asked, raising his head a bit more, just as he caught the smell of warm cologne. Vanilla, maybe, something expensive. Which made sense, because this man speaking to Alex looked like a Burberry model, impossibly cool in his black trench coat with the collar popped, and his black hair hanging just past his shoulders. A beautiful woman stood behind him, made up almost entirely of legs. Alex felt deeply annoyed that people were allowed to be this beautiful when he was having such a bad day.
“Is this seat taken?” the Burberry model guy asked, daring to have an English accent on top of everything else, and he motioned to the empty barstool beside Alex.
Now, that was a tricky question. Technically, Alex was holding that seat for a girl who was destined to be the love of his life. He and Michelle had connected on just about every level, you see, including agreeing that pitbulls were perfect, and that tomato soup should only be eaten with half a package of Saltine crackers drowning in it. But Michelle wasn’t there, and Alex was beginning to despair for his future with her.
“Yeah, it’s taken,” he mumbled finally. Maybe it was petty, but he really didn’t want some hot British model to sit next to him and start macking on his perfect girlfriend. It would just be disrespectful to the alternate timeline Alex and Michelle, who were currently three drinks in with each other, and probably about to mutually propose marriage.
The annoyingly hot model and his annoyingly hot girlfriend brushed by Alex and disappeared to the other side of the bar, looking for seats. Alex dropped his head back to his phone, staring at a push notification from a news agency he had absolutely not subscribed to. Chocolate Fortune Heir Edmund Bancroft Swings Family Sword at his Yacht Party: See the Hilarious Photos!
“No, I don’t think I will see the hilarious pictures,” Alex grumbled, swiping it away and checking the dating app just one more time. Nothing from Michelle.
Would it be too desperate to ask if she was still coming? To admit he’d been sitting here this whole time? To admit that other than this date, he’d had no plans for this week at all? That he was 22 years old and even after living in New York City for five years, he still felt like a teenager living in Ohio and waiting for his mom to stop traveling the world and actually come home and fix what she’d broken? That he had absolutely no idea who he was, or what he was doing, or where he was going, or even who he wanted to be when he ‘grew up’?
“Alright, buddy, can I get you anything else?” a voice asked from behind the bar, some indeterminate amount of time later. The music pumping through the speakers overhead and the general chatter of human voices had lulled Alex into a cocoon where time was elastic and now he was being dragged back into the present.
Alex sighed, raising his eyes enough to take in the crisp black waist apron of the bartender. This guy smelled like fancy cologne too; in fact, he smelled almost exactly like British Model Guy. He probably made six digits working in a place like this, and never got stood up for dates. Lucky jerk.
Alex’s last job had been months ago, working as a dishwasher at a restaurant in Queens, and he had just enough in his checking account to splurge on off-brand cans of soup at CVS.
“You look like you could use some water.” A glass of water magically appeared in front of Alex, and he accepted it with a begrudging nod. He did need water, actually, especially the water here, which came in a tall glass with tiny ice cubes, and didn’t stink like city water. “Can I get you your check?”
“Yeah, I’ll take the check,” Alex said, trying to sound like a sophisticated adult who drank in bars like this on a regular basis. When the bill arrived, tucked inside a sleek black card holder, he opened it as casually as he could manage.
One glance at the bill and Alex decided he was not only not a sophisticated adult, but also might need to pull a runner.
“Sure, okay, cool, yeah, cool.” Alex reached for his wallet but found the back pocket of his best pair of blue jeans to be flat and wallet-less. He frowned, patting again, and then patting his other pocket. He stood up from his chair a bit too fast, making himself dizzy and almost knocking his chair into someone walking by. He patted himself thoroughly, and a sinking feeling dribbled down his spine. “Oh no. Oh no, oh no. Oh no.”
Alex couldn’t meet the bartender’s eyes, knowing exactly how pathetic this was going to sound.
“I had my wallet, I swear I did. I really did. I just can’t find it. I dunno… I dunno what happened to it but I definitely had my wallet. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, oh my God…” He patted himself again, and this time realized that one of his pockets did have something in it, but it was decidedly not wallet-sized. Instead, it was a piece of paper, the size of a business card, that said “WE NEED TO TALK.”
In horror, Alex realized he was very close to throwing up.
His dad was going to kill him. No, he would try to make it all okay, and that would be so so so much worse. Alex knew he couldn’t handle seeing his sick, frail father try to hide his disappointment yet again, or offer to pay for something Alex couldn’t cover for himself.
And what was that card in his pocket? Where had that come from?
“How are you gonna get home?” the bartender asked, and Alex shook his head, closing his eyes.
“I don’t know. I don’t have my Metro card, I don’t have any money. Oh my God. I think someone stole my wallet…”
“Hey.” The bartender’s voice cut through Alex’s racing thoughts, and all the noise in the bar. “Don’t worry about it, okay? Drinks are on me this time. Just get home safe, okay?”
Alex was so grateful to hear that he didn’t have to pay for his overpriced fruity drinks that he just nodded and headed for the door immediately, forgetting to even thank the bartender.
Outside, crisp autumn air collided with Alex’s still inside-warm body, and he lurched away from the doors of the bar, disoriented. The street smelled like burning hot dogs and mountains of trash. He didn’t choose to purposely throw up directly into a fancy floral arrangement of cutesy pumpkins and fake flowers, but neither did he do anything to stop himself.
Whatever, a bar that served drinks that expensive could handle a little puke in one of their carefully curated floral boxes.
Now. How was he going to get home without a wallet?
For a few seconds, Alex considered calling his father. Dad would be asleep already by now, but he’d do whatever he needed to, to make sure Alex got home safely. He would send him money for Google Pay, or order him an Uber. If Dad was great at doing anything, it was bailing Alex out of bad situations.
But no. He couldn’t do that, not this time. Dad had been sicker lately, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Alex knew they were both dancing around the truth, pretending everything was fine, but even he couldn’t pretend hard enough to bother him tonight.
Instead, he paced. He paced and scrolled through his phone, looking at messages from friends he hadn’t spoken to in months, old coworkers he barely knew, and the last known phone number he had for his mother. He started to text a few different people, but ultimately chickened out. He couldn’t just ask them for money, or a ride.
“Hey!” someone yelled from a nondescript black car at the curb, and Alex looked up on instinct. “Alex Hill? I’m your Uber.”
Alex stared at the car for a long time, wondering if he’d heard wrong. “My… Uber?” he repeated, wondering if he was hallucinating now.
“Yeah. You’re headed to Ridgewood, Queens.”
Now, technically that was correct. Alex did indeed live in Ridgewood,Queens, and that’s exactly where he would take an Uber right now, if he had his wallet. But he hadn’t called an Uber. “How did you…?”
“Look, are we going to Ridgewood or not?” the driver demanded. Alex couldn’t see his face very well, but something about him felt strangely familiar. Maybe he was a guardian angel, like Alex’s mom used to love to talk about.
Finally, after debating with himself for a few seconds longer, Alex just shrugged and got into the backseat of the car. Better not to question a miracle.
Alex put his seatbelt on and leaned his head back as the car pulled away from the curb. “Thanks for the ride,” he said, turning his head to look out the window as they inched onto 6th Avenue.
“Yeah, your bartender took care of it for you,” the driver said.
Weird. That bartender had really looked out for Alex, hadn’t he?
Thinking about the bartender made Alex realize he could still smell that warm, expensive cologne, almost like it was here in the car too.
Wait. It was here in the car too.
Alex raised his eyes to the rearview mirror, taking a closer look at the man driving the car, and felt like his brain short circuited.
“Wait, you’re– you’re the bartender!” he said.
“That’s a bit of an accusatory tone, Alex. And I’m much more than just a bartender,” the driver replied, flashing a smirk back at him.
Oh my God. Oh my God. Wait. Oh my God…. he was also the model with the hot girlfriend. “You’re British Burberry model guy too,” Alex whispered, his tone switching from accusatory to something like awe.
“‘Burberry model guy’?” The driver raised an eyebrow, seeming amused by this. “Thank you, Alex. But it’s a bit concerning how long it took you to put that together.”
Alex shook his head, wondering if he was dreaming. He must be dreaming, that was the only explanation. And all of this made for the weirdest dream he’d ever had. He would wake up at his desk in his room, his RPG game still running, a takeout container congealing beside him.
“Actually, you’ve done a lot of very concerning things tonight, Alex. You drank more than you should have, you didn’t pay close attention to your surroundings, you let someone pick your pocket, and you got into a car with a complete stranger,” the driver said. He didn’t sound British, and his hair was short, but he was undoubtedly the hot model guy, Alex was sure of it.
“It was your cologne.” Alex closed his eyes. “You were wearing the same cologne.”
“I was. It’s good to hear that you clocked that, at least. It means smell is an important sense for you to cultivate, and pay attention to.”
“Are you gonna murder me? Is this a kidnapping situation?”
The driver/bartender/hot model guy just laughed. “No, no murder. A friend of mine wants to offer you a job. And judging by your complete lack of wits tonight, you could really use this opportunity.”
“What kind of opportunity?” Alex asked, opening his eyes again.
The driver was silent for a few seconds, his face turning serious as he mulled over his answer. “A chance to do something with your life, Alex. A chance to do something meaningful, become the person you want to be.”
Alex shook his head. “The person I want to be? Who do you suppose that is?”
“Someone with purpose. And someone cool.”
“I am… very cool,” Alex declared, just before realizing he was going to throw up again. He managed to roll his window down in time and lean out of the car, but it wasn’t pretty. By the time he sat down again, wiping his face, Alex wasn’t so confident about his previous statement.
“Just listen to our proposal, and see what you think, okay?” the driver asked, glancing at Alex again in the rearview mirror. “This will change your life, I can promise you that. And if you decide you don’t want to do it, I’ll take you back to Ridgewood myself. Or I’ll order you a real Uber to take you home, whatever. You’ll never hear from us again.”
Alex thought about his dad, struggling through his illness to pay for their apartment and their food. “Does this proposal include money?”
The driver nodded. “A lot of money, yeah.”
With a great sigh, and the beginnings of a headache coming on, Alex laid his head back and waved one hand in the air. “Fine. I’ll listen to your proposal.”
He had no idea what he was getting himself into, but some voice in the back of his head whispered that Alex’s life really was about to change. Whether for the better or not, though, was undetermined.