Chapter Text
1:03 am
The polished marble gleamed with swirling shades of blue. Thin white lines crisscrossed the center of the table, each spaced 1-2 inches apart, ensuring that everyone could take a clean hit without disturbing the next person. An AMAX Platinum card lay discarded on the right-hand side of the table. He hoped it wasn’t his.
The music was a blur of electronic beats and synth rhythms, punctuated by occasional distortions and bass drops. The crowd's cheers and yells blended with the swirling club lights, casting patterns over the marble surface.
“Reeves!”
The pounding bass nearly drowned out his name. He glanced to his right as Anderson handed him a rolled-up $100 bill with a grin. Carefully, he took it and leaned closer to the table. As he snorted the line of cocaine, a sharp, icy sting shot through his nostril, like a blast of cold sandpaper scraping down his throat.
“...won the Denver case! That bastard is going to prison for ten years with no chance of parole.”
He shook his head, trying to shake off the lingering burn. The initial pain was sharp and abrasive, a stark reminder of the drug’s potency, but the eventual numbing sensation quickly took over.
“Are you going to be taking the Fisher files?” Jackson’s voice cut through the haze.
The effect was almost immediate. A surge of euphoria flooded his senses, bringing an exhilarating high. The world seemed to snap into focus, with every sound and colour more vivid and every thought clearer.
He lifted his head, glancing at the bill—its green colour now dusted with white. Alwyn unrolled it slowly, took a sharp breath, and handed it over to Jackson.
“I have court tomorrow. I need to get home.” Alwyn yelled at him over the music. His announcement cut through the buzz of the victory party, silencing the group.
“Already!? It’s not even that late!” Glassman’s voice rose as he snatched the unrolled bill from Alwyn's hand and frantically tried to roll it back up.
“I’m up against Moretti tomorrow! I don’t want to hear it!” he shot back, already standing and grabbing his Fjällräven Vidda jacket. His friends erupted in protest, but he wasn’t listening; his feet were already moving.
He pushed through the crowd, the pounding music fading as he stepped into the cooler, dimly lit street. The euphoria from the cocaine still pulsed through him, making the city lights seem brighter and more vibrant. He felt a rush of clarity, every detail of his surroundings sharp and vivid.
He darted between people on the sidewalk, his movements quick and fluid, energized by the high. The cool night air felt refreshing against his heated skin. He scanned the street for a cab, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts but feeling oddly focused.
The city buzz seemed amplified, with honking horns and distant sirens blending into a chaotic symphony. He spotted a yellow cab inching its way towards him and raised his hand, the motion feeling almost exaggerated in its precision. The cab slowed to a stop in front of him.
The driver, a grizzled man with a tired expression, rolled down the window. “Where to?”
“Just—” Alwyn hesitated momentarily, trying to anchor himself to his needed address. “Fifteenth and Main.”
As he slid into the backseat, he could barely sit still. His heart was still racing, and his mind buzzed with heightened energy. He leaned forward, feeling the need to be closer to the driver as if the closeness might help him focus. “Fifteenth and Main, got it?”
The driver nodded, pulling away from the curb. Alwyn gazed out the window, the cityscape blurring past in a mesmerizing dance of lights and shadows. He took a deep breath, feeling the icy sting in his throat slowly receding, replaced by a steady stream of adrenaline and numbness.
The euphoria was starting to mix with a faint undercurrent of unease. He could feel the sharp edges of the high beginning to soften, even as the clarity and energy persisted. He fidgeted with his jacket, his mind flickering between the court case ahead and the night’s celebration.
He replayed his opening statement for the court tomorrow in his head. The cocaine's effects had him feeling unstoppable, but a part of him knew that this energy wouldn’t last forever.
The cab slowed at his destination, the driver’s voice cutting through his thoughts. “Fifteenth and Main.”
Alwyn fumbled with his wallet, pulling out cash with a sudden, unsteady movement. He handed it to the driver, barely noticing the change. “Keep the rest.”
He stepped out of the cab and watched as it pulled away.
The warmth of his apartment building was a welcome change from the October streets' bitter cold. Reaching for the elevator button to go up, he faltered, his phone going off loudly in his pocket. God, fuck, was that his AMAX card after all?
“Hello?” He answered, holding the phone close against his head as he pressed the elevator button.
“Hi, I’m looking for… uh…” Papers shuffled in the background of the call. He waited.
“Alwyn… Reeves?”
“You have him. My office hours are from Monday through Friday 8 am to 9-”
“I don’t need a lawyer!” the voice cut in.
He paused, she paused, and the elevator dinged open.
“Listen, Ma’am. If you don’t need a lawyer, I’m afraid I can’t stay on the line.”
“You’re father passed.”
He paused, she paused, and the elevator dinged closed.
“My stepfather,” he corrected, pressing the elevator button again, the doors sliding back open as he entered, pressing the button for the 5th floor, “And I haven’t spoken to him in years. Why are you calling me?”
“Well, I’m from the estate’s executor’s office. We need to discuss arrangements. I understand this might be sudden, but we have some important details to go over. I'm afraid your father—stepfather didn’t leave a will.”
Alwyn took a deep breath. “Alright, I’m listening. Where do we need to meet?”
“Can you come to our office? We’re at 1125 Maple Street. We need to sort out some paperwork and discuss the next steps.”
He stepped out of the elevator, looming through the halls. His unsteady feet eventually found their way to his apartment door. The dreaded question was hanging heavy over him now.
He braced himself against his apartment door, free hand feeling himself up for his keys.
“Which state is your office located in?”
“Vexis, Iowa.”
The name “Vexis” sounded almost comical, an odd contrast to the sad news he was receiving.
“I’ll need to arrange travel plans for the day after tomorrow,” he said, his voice strained but controlled. “I hope the delay is understandable, given the... sudden nature of this situation.” He struggled to keep his tone neutral, as if discussing his stepfather’s passing was merely a scheduling conflict.
“Of course, we understand,” the voice on the other end said, tinged with a hint of sympathy. “We’ll make sure everything is for your arrival. If you provide me with your email information, I can send some preliminary documents for you to review.”
Alwyn rubbed his temples, trying to manage his irritation and resignation. “I’ll give you my email. It’s (HAHA LOSER).”
“Thank you, Mr. Reeves. I’ll send those documents right away. Please call us when you're back in town.”
He cringed, the phrase ‘back in town’ opening a pit in his stomach as he finally unlocked his apartment door.
“Alright. I’ll see you in a few days.”