Thursday found Zoey back at Sam's.

"How was your week?" he asked her.

Instead of answering directly, she said, "I brought my journal in."

He smiled when he heard her speak so easily. "You want me to read it?" he asked.

"Just the last two," she said, flipping through and opening to the page she wanted him to begin with.

"Alright, let's see."

"It's pretty fucking messy," she warned. "I kind of only write when I get angry."

He glanced at her. "Have you been cutting yourself?"

"Uh, a little. But not nearly as much as before."

"Good." He nodded and started reading.

The first entry was about the panic at the gym. The second filled in her thoughts about the session with Alvey.

"Wow," Sam said, and he sounded truly sad. "So you've had a tough time lately, huh?"

She shrugged, but then she nodded. She didn't have to lie to Sam. She was starting to figure that out.

"Talk to me about seeing Clint again."

"I was scared," she confessed. "Like, really scared. I should have known that he couldn't do anything to me with my brothers there, but it didn't feel like that. I couldn't think straight, and once I started crying, I really couldn't stop. I was trying to, but it just kept coming and coming. I freaked both of my brothers out."

"And the nurse that came, Mac. What happened with him?"

"I was – this is gonna sound so dumb, but I locked myself in Lisa's office, and I was hiding under her desk." She chuckled a little at herself. "It seemed safe at the time. But Jay got a key from my dad, so he – Jay, I mean – and Nate came in and talked to me, but Jay went and got Mac after a couple minutes. Mac and Nate got me to come out from under the desk, and Mac just got me to calm down. I've known him forever, so I wasn't scared of him or anything."

"So other men aren't a problem," Sam confirmed.

Zoey shook her head. "Not really. I've been around them forever. The only girl who was ever in my life was Lisa. And Jay's girlfriends, but none of them lasted more than a week or so, so I just tried to stay away from them. No, Lisa was the only one."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "How are you adjusting to her being gone?"

Zoey sighed to herself. "Um, it's not actually as bad as I was expecting. It's been weird seeing my dad without her, and Nate's been hit really hard with the work she used to do at the gym. That was her job, you know, managing all the contracts and the maintenance and the money, but he's just filling in until my dad can hire somebody else. I try to help him out when I can. But yeah, it's pretty sad cause I just got home, and then she left. It's better for her this way; I try to remember that. Nate has been keeping me busy, though." She rubbed at her nose. "He just yelled at me the other day."

"Why?"

"Cause I was running away from the house after…" She cut herself off. "So after I freaked out at the gym, Nate and Jay made a list of who I could have seen. They still don't know it was Clint Walker. "

"Right," Sam noted. He scratched something down on his clipboard.

"I found the list even though they tried to hide it from me, and I tore it up cause I was mad, and then I left the house. Nate came after me and yelled at me – which he never does, he never yells at anybody. He was mad because I always run away from my problems. Physically. Like, I leave situations when they get bad. I leave Dad's house when he gets mad at me. I used to cut class sometimes if I got a bad grade or a kid was mean or I wanted to avoid the teacher. I leave when my mom is annoying. I fucking left California because I couldn't stand being here."

"Why do you think that is?"

"Why I didn't want to stay in LA?"

"No, why you leave instead of dealing with things."

Zoey was hit hard with the realization that what she did was exactly the same thing her mother had done. She buried her face in her hands. This was bad, this was so bad. She couldn't turn out like Christina. But here she was, prostituting and running away from her family.

"I want to stop," she said. "I want to leave."

"Why?"

"I don't want to talk about this."

Sam smiled at her sadly. "Zoey. You realize you're doing it right now, right? We still have forty minutes. We're going to stay here."

"You said I could leave if I wanted," she snapped.

"Yeah, on your first day. If you leave now, you're going to lose ground. You're doing so well – I want you to hang in there and talk to me. It might be uncomfortable, and it might suck, but I want you to try to push yourself. Therapy isn't always easy." He looked at her for a moment, trying to read her face. "Zee, what were you thinking about before you said you wanted to leave?"

She swallowed nervously. "That's what my mom did."

"What is?"

Zoey curled her dark hair behind her ear. "She left us instead of trying to fix things with my dad. She left the whole family. I left my whole family, too." She looked up at Sam. "I don't want to turn out like her, but I'm scared we're the same."

He thought for a moment. "How are you different from her?"

"I don't know," she admitted softly, her gaze falling to the carpet. "I try not to spend a lot of time with her."

"Your brother Jay does, right?"

"Yeah."

"Can you ask him when you see him?"

She nodded slowly.

"A lot of us are very similar and very different from our family members at the same time. What about Nate? How are you like Nate?"

"We like a lot of the same stuff. Crime shows on TV, breakfast food… we like MMA and we always hang out. We have too many shoes. We both keep our rooms pretty clean, and we both like to be outside on the beach."

"And what are some ways that you're different?"

"He's really quiet. I like to talk things out, but he doesn't. He's really good at working out and eating healthy, and I hate both of those things. He's afraid of storms, but I like them."

"See?" Sam said. "I bet it's the same with your mom. Some things you have in common, and some things you don't."

"But what if I have her bad stuff?" Zoey asked softly.

"Sometimes that's the case," Sam told her. "We just have to do our best to keep ourselves in check, because even though we may have some of their genes, we're in control of our own actions. For example, my dad was an alcoholic."

Zoey looked up at him, curious.

"I was always worried I'd get addicted to something too – I'm sure you've heard that addiction can be hereditary."

Zoey nodded.

"And I did. I was irresponsible, and in my early twenties, I was addicted to cocaine for about a year. But I got clean and I went back to school, and now I have a job I love and beautiful wife. For a long time, I blamed my dad, but then I realized that I was the one who made the choices that got me there. My dad's addiction had nothing to do with mine."

"I want to stop," she repeated. She could hardly stay still.

Sam let her sit with the emotions she was feeling and watched as she dug her nails into her knees. "I know it's uncomfortable," he acknowledged. "Sometimes, one of the best things you can do is try to understand the way you're feeling. You don't have to do anything – just feel it and try to label it. Wait it out."

"That's what Nate does," she said. "I don't know how the hell he does it."

"It takes practice," Sam nodded. "But it can be very helpful. Sometimes you get stuck somewhere you don't want to be, and it can help to have a little experience being uncomfortable with yourself."

"I hate it," Zoey hissed. "I fucking hate it."

"I know," Sam replied gently.

She closed her eyes and bent forward.

"What are you feeling now?" Sam asked.

She swallowed. "I'm gonna crawl out of my skin," she muttered.

"No, that's a reaction to what you're feeling. What's the name of the emotion? One word."

Zoey thought, letting herself get a sense of what was going on in her mind. "Scared. Hurt."

Sam nodded. "Alright. I'm going to keep going, okay?"

She didn't look up, but she nodded.

"Can you tell me about what your dad's therapy session was like?"

"Different from ours," she replied, her voice muffled.

"Yeah? How so?"

"More grownups. Lots more people. I think they have like four doctors there, so there were a ton of people waiting. And we went in and the therapist said he was going to, like, facilitate the discussion. He didn't really say anything; it was mostly my dad talking."

"What did he say?" Sam asked curiously. "I read a little in your journal, but it wasn't clear."

Her shoulders relaxed, and she sat up a little. "Oh, sorry. Um. He said he wanted to apologize for not being a good dad. He talked a little in general and then he talked to each of us one at a time. Jay was crying a lot – that was the worst part."

"What did your dad say to you?"

"That he was sorry he'd passed me off to Jay when I was a new baby but that it was 'for the best' cause Jay did such a good job with me and Nate." Zoey wasn't expecting it, but her anger flared up. "It wasn't good enough," she decided. She looked up at Sam. "We didn't forgive him. None of us."

"That's perfectly valid," Sam assured her.

"I know. I just feel like he meant what he said, which made it suck more. For all four of us. He talked about all this stuff I never even knew about, and it was really sad, because it never occurred to me that there was bad stuff going on with him before I was even born. I mean, I guess I always kind of knew it, but I never really thought about it." She took a shaky breath. "Jay said that he threw a knife at me when I was two."

Sam's eyebrows shot up.

"Yeah. Dad was telling Jay he was sorry for when he didn't show up to this performance Jay worked really hard to be in, and then he said if he could change one thing about his life, it would be that he would go to Jay's performance. And Jay got really fucking mad and was yelling at him, and all this stuff came out that I didn't know about, like that Dad threw a knife at me. I don't remember it, but I could feel that Nate did." She stumbled a little and then clarified, "Remember I told you we have that weird connection that Jay calls 'the twin thing?'"

"I remember."

"But anyway, Jay said he had to take me the emergency room cause I needed stitches in my face. He would have only been thirteen if I was two, which means Nate was six." She took a deep breath. "Fuck," she whispered. "Everything was so fucked up. But Jay said first that he didn't forgive him, and then I said I didn't. And then when Nate didn't forgive him either, I was really surprised. My dad was, too, but I don't think Jay really was. I think Jay knew Nate was still pissed about everything. It was really sad hearing that from Nate, though, cause I know he spends a lot of time with my dad, and I thought they were doing okay. But he said he doesn't think of my dad as a dad, but that he thinks of him more like a coach."

"That must have been hard for everyone to hear."

Zoey nodded. "It was pretty awful. But it wasn't Nate's fault."

"No, not at all," Sam agreed.

"I felt really bad for my dad, but at the same time, I didn't feel bad at all," she admitted. "He did this to himself."

At the end of the session, Sam said, "I'm really proud of you, Zee."

She gave him a little smile.

"I hope you're proud of yourself, too. You did a really great job today. And I hope you noticed that your voice stayed intact that entire time."

Jay grinned at her as he heard Sam's report. "That's my girl," he praised, squeezing her in a hug and kissing the top of her head. "Come on. Cheeseburgers on me."

A few hours later, Zoey showed up at Navy Street with a big box marked "DONATIONS" in messy sharpie. Jay and Nate trailed behind her with smaller boxes stuffed with clothes, books, and shoes. The brothers dumped the boxes upside-down into the big box.

"What's all this?" Mac asked, coming over.

"We're gonna have a clothing drive!" Zoey smiled. "It's for a runaway shelter in Arizona."

"Oh, cool," Mac said.

"Books and shoes, too. And coats!"

"Hey," Alvey said, walking up to his kids. "You found the box?"

"Uh, yeah," Zoey said awkwardly, her eyes on her feet. "Thank you."

"No problem. Nate, did you fix the-"

"Yep," Nate interrupted dully. "Like half an hour ago. And I scanned all the contracts into the computer and forwarded the files to Lisa."

"Great," Alvey said, clapping his hands together. "That's a huge help, Nate."

"Well, are you gonna pay me soon?" he asked.

Alvey faltered. "When I have the money, son."

Nate covertly made a face at Zoey.

"Well, when did Lisa get paid?" Jay asked, standing up for Nate.

"We made it work," Alvey replied defensively.

"So fucking make it work for Nate, too."

Alvey crossed his arms over his chest. "I just said I'd fucking pay him when I have the money."

"Well, he's working for you now, so I suggest you figure it out soon."

"Or what?" Alvey challenged.

Jay stepped forward with wild eyes, but Nate quickly inserted himself between them and put a hand on each of their chests. "It's fine," he lied.

"I have some money saved," Zoey offered nonchalantly. "I can help with bills."

Jay glanced at her. "Yeah, we still need to talk about that."

"Jay, Zebra, come on," Nate said, motioning them back toward Lisa's office. "Can you guys help me with this shit? I could really use it."

"Sure," Zoey said, trailing after her brother. She looked behind her, and when she noticed Jay wasn't following, she grabbed his hand and tugged him after her. "Come on," she said, sure to keep her voice a little loud. "You can beat him up later."

Things got a little better in Venice. Jay got his fight with Ryan scheduled, and he started training harder than Zoey had seen him train in years. She genuinely enjoyed watching him work. He split his time between sparring with Alvey and wrestling with Nate, and Zoey got to run the timer and pick the music. It felt like a family again.

She wasn't expecting them all to get back together and have things run so smoothly, and if she was being honest, they didn't always; Jay and Alvey got into two yelling matches in the first week alone. But for the most part, getting all their feelings out in the open had been really good. Things weren't nearly as awkward. In some ways, they were even less awkward than before now that no one had to pretend anymore. And Alvey seemed to be coping well, which helped.

The clothing drive went well overall, certainly better than Alvey had expected. If they'd tried to do this before Zoey had run away, he was sure it wouldn't have been nearly as successful, but it seemed that everyone had a soft spot for his daughter, so the donations poured in. Every time Zoey peeked in the box, her smile grew. "They're going to love this," she said. "They're going to be so happy."

Nate was looking up the shelter's address to get an estimate of how much shipping was going to cost when he found a picture on the website of Zoey sandwiched between two little girls. He printed it on a piece of computer paper and taped it onto the pole the cardboard box was resting against.

"That's Julia and Kennedy," Zoey murmured from behind him, making him jump a little. He turned and noticed that her face was the definition of melancholy. She continued, "They met at the shelter, and now they're best friends. They do everything together. God, Ken never stops talking," she chuckled. She cast her eyes away from the photo. "I hope they're alright."

Nate gave her a reassuring smile and walked over to her for a comforting hug. "I'm sure they're fine."

She nodded into his shoulder.

"I gotta go make two thousand phone calls," he said regretfully, pulling away.

"Can I help?" she asked.

She looked so hopeful that he couldn't say no. "Yeah, that would be great. Thanks, Zebra." He nudged her cheek with his knuckles and followed her into Lisa's old office.

Her hair had grown so long.

Alvey's phone rang. He was already running late for the press conference, but the second he saw the name on the screen, he faltered. He slid his pointer finger across the screen to pick up the call.

"Hey, Ron. How's it going?" he asked.

A few moments passed. "When?" he demanded. "How? What the fuck happened?"

Another pause. Alvey ran a hand over his face. "Is she okay?" He sighed nervously. "Put her on the phone."

Silence.

"Ron. Is she okay? Let me talk to her, Ron. Let me talk to her. No, let me – just let me fucking talk to her! Let me talk to her! Ron!"

Realizing his defeat, he switched gears. "All right, listen, listen - Ron, Ron, Ron. Tell her I love her. Please. All right. Yeah."

He hung up the phone, and a scream tore out of his chest. He smashed the trophy case in one bloody punch and knocked everything from his desk onto the floor.

"Fuck!" he cried. "Fuck!"

"Alvey?" Garo asked. "Alvey. You have a question."

"Oh, I missed the question," Alvey admitted tiredly. He'd bandanged his fucked up hand and driven through hellish traffic, but it still hadn't been enough time for him to pull himself together. "What was it?"

A guy in the crowd spoke up. "I was saying your two top fighters, one of whom is your son, are squaring off against each other. How do you manage a situation like that?"

"We try to keep it as routine as possible," Alvey answered, trying to pull himself out of autopilot. "I work with both fighters individually, like I would any other fight. My son Nate will be in Jay's corner, and Joe Daddy Stevenson will be cornering Ryan."

"Someone's got to lose this fight," the guy pressed. "What do you say to the guy who doesn't get his hand raised?"

"I tell him what the Greeks say: the strong do what they can, and the weak suffer what they must."

Several hands went up, and Garo picked another guy.

"This question is for Ryan and Jay. Ryan, you first. What weaknesses do you see in Jay, and how do you plan on exploiting them?"

"Um..." Ryan cleared his throat awkwardly and leaned closer to the mic. "Jay does some things really, really well. He's… he's awesome in the scramble. He's a really great striker. Um… But as far as – as far as weaknesses, I mean, he's, um… I mean, he's decent on the ground, so I'll have to look out for some submissions, but…" He cracked a smile. "You know, he's nothing special, and, uh, I'm just gonna treat him like anyone else. I'm gonna… I'm gonna hold him down, I'm gonna smother him, then I'm gonna beat him up until he… he asks me to stop. Right, Jay?" Ryan chuckled, but Jay didn't return the smile.

"Jay, same question," the guy in the crowd prompted.

Jay sat up and adjusted his shoulders. "That's a hard question for me to answer, because Ryan Wheeler has no weakness. Look at him." Jay paused dramatically and took a deep breath. "That's god's work. That's 155 pounds of get-down with a smile to take your breath away, ladies." When there was a chuckle from the audience, Jay said, "I'm serious. This man is put together beautifully. Stronger, faster, more elegant than any man has a right to be. So, my humble goal, sir, my humble goal-!"

(In the crowd, Zoey was shaking her head, smiling affectionately at the show her big brother was putting on.)

"-is simply to stay in that cage with this angel of god and to bask in his splendor. Yes, sir. Now, as for a game plan, lord if I know. I probably am just gonna lay and pray till he's tired of whipping my ass. And when this thing is done and over, and my hide is properly tanned, I hope to have a picture with this champion and then to return to the simple life to which I have become accustomed, because that, ladies and gentlemen? That would be the very best result that I could hope for. Holy lord!"

"Jay Kulina, ladies and gentlemen," Garo said, smiling proudly. "It's gonna be the most exciting fight in MMA history. Look at this."

Ryan and Jay stood up and pressed their foreheads together. Ryan grinned, but Jay's affect was flat. He was completely serious. Zoey shifted nervously as she watched, trying to get a better read on Jay's expression. This fight was seriously taking an emotional toll on her brother. The two men embraced, and then they broke apart to do pictures.

Zoey drifted towards Jay, who gave her a wave. She drew an X over her heart, and he smiled.

"Alvey," Garo called, stopping the coach in his tracks.

Fuck. He turned.

"You okay?" Garo pressed.

"I'm fine," Alvey returned shortly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"May I ask why you were late?"

"No."

"What happened to your hand? You beat someone to death?"

Alvey cracked a tense smile. "Not yet, Garo, but keep asking me fucking questions…"

Garo chuckled. "So handsome, but always so angry. Smile!"

Alvey grunted.

"All the time," Garo said. "It's exhausting."

An hour later, Nate was teaching a class while Zoey sat off to the side, writing and doodling in her journal.

"All right, all right, take your hand off the mat. There you go. Nice. Nice. Now, listen... It's not enough to just learn these techniques, okay? You have to obsess over them to be effective. Make it a part of who we are, feel it in our bones. That way, when we're caught in a situation, we're under pressure, that move comes to us without us even thinking about it."

Zoey smiled at him, but he wasn't looking.

"Fluid motion, fluid motion. Like water. Come on. It saves us. It helps us win. And we like to win. Am I right?" he asked, eyebrows rasied.

"Yes, coach!" his class agreed. They sounded like soldiers.

Nate smacked his gloves together and tried not to grin. "Let's go!"

There was a thump, which distracted both Kulina kids, and they looked toward the source of the sound. Zoey beamed; someone was dropping off more donations.

"Thank you!" Zoey called.

The man waved in response.

Nate smiled at his sister and then turned back around.

"All right, hold up. Everybody watch this," Nate said, drawing the attention of his class to two of the guys that were wrestling on the mat. "Gives up no control, beautiful positioning. Very good. Very good."

Several minutes later, long after Zoey had finished her journal entry, Nate wrapped his class up. It looked like it had gone really well. She was glad Nate was teaching; he really did have some good pointers to share. And it's not like he wasn't completely overqualified. It was about time Alvey started putting him to work.

"It's okay to love what you do," Nate said, finally giving his class a hint of a smile. "All right, everybody, bring it in. Bring it in. Good work. Hands in. Let's go. One, two, three," he counted, and everyone yelled, "Navy Street!"

"Same time tomorrow," he reminded. "Good work today." When all of his students (which was so weird - half of them were older than him) were gone, he wandered over to Zoey, still breathing a little heavily. "Hey," he said. "You good?"

"Yeah," she responded truthfully. "You?"

"Fucking tired," he answered, laughing a little. He motioned back to the mat. "It's harder than it looks."

"I believe it. They like you a lot, though. You're really good."

"Thanks, Zebra."

"I'm serious. They really respect you. That one guy, the youngest one?"

"Josh?"

"Yeah. He like, hangs off fucking every word you say."

Nate smiled a little, proud of himself. It felt good to finally be doing something right.

"Ay, Nate!" Alvey called from his office doorway.

"Gotta go," Nate said to Zoey. "You good here?"

"Actually, I think I'm gonna head home."

"Okay. Dad's or Jay's?"

Zoey shook her head. "I'll let you know when I decide," she answered.

"Okay." He went in for a hug, but she dodged him. "No, you're all sweaty!"

"Noooope, come here." He pressed his wet t-shirt against her, and she shrieked.

"I hate you so much!" she said, poking hard at his belly button to get him to jump back.

"You love me," Nate taunted, his hand protectively over his stomach.

"Not right now I don't! You're being like Jay!"

"I'm in a good mood," he said defensively, shadow-boxing at her.

"Nate, come on. Now," Alvey said impatiently.

"Bye," Zoey called after him as he jogged into the office.

Nate shut the door behind him and turned to his father, but stopped short. The office was in disarray. Complete chaos. There was broken glass all over the floor, torn paper, smashed metal.

"How's Alicia?" Alvey inquired, acting as though nothing was wrong.

"She's… fine," Nate answered hesitantly. What the fuck had happened?

"How's her weight?"

"She's about five pounds over. She's with Ryan."

"All right, stay on her," Alvey sighed. "I'm not gonna make the weigh-in tonight. Can you handle it?"

"Uh, yeah," Nate said. "But… what the fuck happened in here? And what happened to your hand, Dad?"

"I got some bad news," Alvey explained dismissively. "Lost my temper. Just focus on Alicia, okay? You call me if there are any problems."

But Nate was still stuck on the mess in the office. His mind jumped worriedly to Zoey. "What kind of bad news?" he pressed.

"Can you handle it or not?" Alvey asked. At Nate's expression, the older man shook his head. "Just go – go do something."

"Yo. Ryan," Jay greeted.

"Yo."

"You know Mario Goldsmith from Split Lip, huh?" he said.

The two men shook hands.

"Mario's embedding himself with me today," Jay explained. "We are peeling back some of my layers."

Ryan wasn't taking any of Jay's bullshit, though. "We have a fighter cutting weight, so..." he said shortly.

"Oh," Mario responded.

"…if you could stay out of the way, I'd really appreciate it."

"Not a problem. I hear ya."

Jay dropped his voice to a whisper. "Don't worry about him. He gets a little cranky. Come on."

He led Mario and the camera crew out of the locker room and into the main part of the gym. "Mario, let me introduce you to Jacob," he said, stopping next to the Jacob's Ladder. "Now Jacob is a truly evil machine, but for my money, it's the best way to simulate a hard fight. I do sets of seven. 30 seconds, all-out. Sprint, rest, sprint. Lactic acid builds up to the point where your legs won't do what you want them to do. Now, at that point, two things are happening. The machine is trying to break me. But he's also training my mind and my body not to be broken. Of course, that's what a fight is all about, right?"

"Can we get a demonstration?" Mario asked.

"Of course," Jay grinned. But after two tries, the machine wouldn't budge.

"Good?" Mario asked.

"Yep," Jay responded. But even with another attempt at starting the machine, it still wouldn't turn on. "My apologies, Mario," Jay said grandly. "This is the real behind-the-scenes sort of footage. It looks like the machine is not working right now." He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "I'll be back. We'll do a reshoot?"

"Yeah."

"Great. Sorry."

"All right, cut right there," Mario said to his camera guy.

Jay disappeared into Nate's office. "Hey," he greeted.

Nate barely looked up from the laptop. "Hey."

"Jacob's Ladder is broken," Jay said.

"I know."

Jay put on a Russian accent. "What are we going to do about it?"

"I'm gonna call somebody."

"Well, come on, man. I got the fucking press here. This is more than embarrassing."

At that, Nate did look up. "I promise, there are more embarrassing things about you than the Jacob's Ladder not working," he deadpanned.

"Ha," Jay replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He headed for the door and then paused. "You know, I got to be honest, Nathaniel - I didn't want to say anything, but I just have to let you know. I've noticed some slippage in the gym as of late."

Nate clenched his jaw.

"Filthy mats, people not racking their weights…"

"Don't bitch at me, Jay," he snapped. "I don't want to fucking hear it, okay?"

"Oh. Well, welcome to upper management, young man," Jay said, waving his arms. "It's your job at some points to be fielding complaints from paying custom-"

"It's been three months! Okay? Three months! Why doesn't he hire somebody?! I'm fucking drowning here. I'm drowning in bills and fucking vendors, and nobody ever pays on time. Not one person pays on time! When I try to call them, they don't fucking pick up the phone, so..." He shrugged exasperatedly.

"That is a terrible job," Jay agreed, popping a mint into his mouth.

"It's a terrible job," Nate echoed. "Here," he said, shoving the laptop toward his big brother.

"Mnh-mnh, no way. I am not cut out for white-collar work. I have neither the intellect nor the understanding of basic mathematics and bookkeeping. You..." Jay pointed at Nate and nodded. "Yep, you are the best bad choice that we have. But I'll tell you what. I will call the repairman for Jacob's Ladder, so why don't you write down the phone number for me?"

"Thank you," Nate sighed.

"Your faithful older brother coming to the rescue yet again!"

As Nate was scrawling the number down in his narrow handwriting, he dropped his voice. "Have you seen Dad's office?"

Jay smacked his gum. "No."

Nate pushed him out of the door and led him to the other office, which had a hastily written DO NOT ENTER sign taped lopsidedly to the glass.

"Jay!" a guy called, but Nate shook his head. "Shut the door. I don't want the camera crew to see this."

Jay walked in and quickly shut the door, toeing at the fragments of glass on the ground. "Fuck."

"How was he at the press conference?" Nate inquired.

"His hand was fucked up. I think he was hungover." Jay drifted over to the trophy case and straightened what he could without getting his skin sliced.

"Yeah, he said he got some news."

"About what?" Jay asked.

"He didn't tell me. He seemed… depressed. Like, fucking low."

"You think it's about Zee?" Jay asked.

Nate grimaced. "I wondered that, but… I don't think he'd get that mad. And she seemed fine. It's got to be something else."

"I don't know, man."

"Well, tell me if you hear anything, alright?" Nate asked.

"You, too. Hey, where is that kid anyway?"

"She said she was going home, but she didn't know which one she was going to. She said she'd text me later."

"Okay. Well, it's her night to make dinner, so she'd better be home at some point or else we're gonna fucking starve."

"Ryan, you got a sec?" Mario asked, jogging up to him. "I'd love to ask you a couple questions."

Ryan was headed out with Alicia to go train, but he figured he could fuck with the guy for a second. "Sure, man," he replied amiably. "Yeah, yeah, anything you want. No camera, though."

"Really? Okay. You sure?"

"What's your question?" Ryan asked, a little impatient.

"Uh, you're a couple weeks out. How you feeling?"

Ignoring the inquiry, Ryan said, "Hey, did you know that Jay can ride a unicycle? Ask him. He'll show you. And, uh, and also he's done some modeling, so... that's interesting." At Mario's blank expression, Ryan asked, "Anything else?"

"Uh, no. Thanks, man," Mario stuttered. "We're all good."

Ryan gave him a fake smile. "Good to see you."

He turned back to Alicia and pulled a silly face. She laughed and shook her head, and then they were gone.