Page 21 of Knot So Social

Because if I don’t, there will be hell to pay.

Chapter seven

Jeremy

The hospital room blurs and then refocuses.

A doctor appears as if by warp power. “You’ve got a concussion, Mr Williams.”

“Can I go home?” I blink up at him, his fraying edges merging with the walls.

“Do you have someone who can come pick you up and stay with you?”

I shake my head, creating a fresh set of swirls in the pale mint walls.

“Then, no. You can’t be unaccompanied in the next twenty-four hours.”

“Right.”

He smiles thinly, his face wrinkled with the cares of a thousand patients. “Stay in overnight, and I’ll come assess you in the morning.”

He jots some notes in my chart and strolls away.

Someone at home? That’s a big fat nope, and apparently Joel will be in the doghouse if he even talks to his loser brother. I sigh and lean back against the pillows.

Once the adrenaline wore off, the bruising kicked in, but I’m lucky to have escaped any serious injuries. Concussion aside, of course. No broken bones means I can start looking for another job right away.

Tracey’s words cycle through my mind like a revolving caption. She’s never been fond of me. At the time Joel met her, I was working in construction, mixing mortar for brick layers. She took one look at me down her long nose, covered as I was in drying concrete powder, and decided I was a bad influence on her new boyfriend. Which isn’t right, because Joel’s successful.

Elegant as she is, I didn’t like the way the woman tried to control everything he did.

And the comment she just made about my dick? Gives me icky chills right now, although that could also be nausea from the concussion. She accidentally walked in on me pissing in the bathroom one day when I visited their new house. I’ll never forget how she lingered, her gaze fixed on the cock in my hand, instead of scuttling from the room with an immediate apology.

My thoughts prickle with unease. Maybe I should’ve told Joel the truth just now on the phone, but his tone conveyed how stressed he was. Clearly, he’s not having a good night.

The same stress bunches in my stomach. My hat’s ruined and my truck’s gone. I’ve worked enough on the fringes of the auto industry to know she’s not repairable. Plus, she was a half-done custom build I scored from a seller online, putting hours of my own time into sanding out rust and painting. Even with whatever the insurance company pays out, I won’t be able to replace her.

“Guess I better start job hunting,” I murmur, suppressing a sigh.

I log onto the Apply.com app and check my profile’s up to date, which of course it is because it’s only been four months since I last applied for something. I think it’s better to pretend that the Kalone Tire Center position never happened, because if they ring that boss up for a reference, they’ll get an earful about how late I always was.

The usual array of jobs overwhelms me as I scroll. Most of them require specialist qualifications or ask for junior staff. I’m neither. Part time won’t suit my situation, given how expensive rent is in this economy. I kinda miss the days of rooming with Joel in run down share houses. We were a lot more carefree ten years ago.

My notifications show a ton of new emails, so I scroll through to that app. It's mostly the usual spam along with reward cards citing my measly point tallies and former shopping sites trying to entice me back. I unsubscribe to a bunch of stuff, trying to control the chaos.

A headline from an unknown company catches my eye: Overdue.

“What?” I mutter, clicking on the bar.

Your motor vehicle insurance is now overdue.

My blood freezes while my pulse speeds up, creating a painful pressure all through my body. Surely not. “Please be today, please be today,” I chant as I scroll for the specifics.

One week ago.

“Fuck me!” I cry, making the patient in the next bed jump. “Sorry.”

I put one hand up with my apology. Best to suffer in silence right now.