PROLOGUE
The leaves were turning over three-fold, maybe four-fold, but it didn't really matter in this fucked up situation. For Phil, he couldn't stand one last bit of it especially out in this cold weather. The only thing he had left this blustery morning was his phone. Nothing else he could rely on. And it was beginning to nerve on him that his life was just a living hell; a constant episode of misfortunes meant as a curse from some god up in the sky laughing at him. And hell, it was cold, snowing in fact in crazy sleepless New York City. And he had no idea how he managed to end here with his entire wolfpack: Stu, Alan and Doug. And they were shivering, sharing a large quilt to help them beat the cold. But it was still impossible of course. And Christmas was today. The party. His wife. Shit. His wife. He had to call her. He looked at his phone and saw that she already called him like a billion times. Shit. He was in trouble now. He called her. The phone rang only once before Tracy picked up. She didn't wait to answer, "Where the hell are you?"
Phil managed to breathe in and make a fake chuckle, "It's happened again."
There was silence but anger was fueled in it, "What?"
"Yeah. This time we are REALLY fucked up."
"Where are you, Phil? Is Caleb okay?"
Phil blinked once then twice. 'Who the hell is Caleb?' He tried to answer as if he knew, "Um—he's right here safe and—"
"You have no idea who Caleb is. You're hungover again."
He chuckled, "Don't be crazy—"
"How bad is all this?"
"Well, we might have to cancel the Christmas party."
"No, Phil! You get your ass here as soon as you can! And find Caleb!" She hung up in a fury. And Phil didn't know what to do. Or how to even find Caleb. Anyway—who was Caleb?