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Present: 1

It's 9 p.m. Boxes of Chinese takeout are scattered on my desk. I may have hoisin sauce on my shirt. A yawn escapes through my mouth. I quickly shut it. But I think it's too loud as my boss, Shane, passes my cubicle saying "tired, Franta?"

"Oh, um, no, sir. That was, um..."

"Look. You've been working late for the past two weeks. You even came in last weekend! I love hard workers but if you work hard, you have to play hard too." Shane shrugs.

My eyes bulge a little. Is this happening? Have I fallen asleep on my desk?

"Franta, you're young. Go have fun. I can't have another employee dying of a heart attack at work again."

"S-seriously, sir?" I stammer. My boss isn't usually this nice. I just saw him yelling at Anthony, the poor intern who accidently forgot to order extra java chips.

"I'm serious. Go home. Visit clubs. Whatever. I'll handle Singapore for you."

"Thanks, sir!" I gather the thrash and my briefcase and head out to the elevator.

Once inside, I scramble for my phone as a notification beeps.

It's a text from Zoe.

Zoe: uncle con!!!!!

Connor: emergency???

Zoe: no!!!

Zoe: well yea!

Zoe: trxye is having a concert tonight!!!

Connor: it's friday so you can just go, you know

Zoe: i cant :(

Connor: why

Zoe doesn't reply anymore. The elevator stops once it reaches the ground floor. Then, my phone rings again. This time, Zoe's calling me.

"Uncle Con, can you take me to, um, Bestbuy theater?" Zoe sounds as if she's been running a 5K. Her breathing is uncontrollable.

"Why? You've lived in Manhattan your whole life, Zoe. I'm pretty sure you know how to navigate the subway." I say as I walk through the front door of my office in Wall Street.

"Yeah, it's just...it's an 18 plus gig. I need an adult with me in there."

"What? No. No way I'm letting you go. There's a reason why it was 18 plus."

"Please." Zoe begins to plead.

"No." I answer firmly.

"Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please." Zoe repeats.

By the time I get into the subway, I roll my eyes in exasperation. She hasn't stopped yet!

"Ugh, fine. Just this time, okay? And don't tell your mom."

"I won't. Thank you so much, uncle Con! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Then, I hear screaming, pure screaming, for, maybe, an eternity. I can feel that she's jumping on her bed right now, one of the so-called trxye's songs blaring through the stereo I bought for her last year.

"See you in Broadway." I say with a flat tone, murmuring as I'm already inside the train.

"Front of Bestbuy. Thanks again, uncle Con!" She disconnects the phone.

I've never quite got her obsession with this singer. He's quite eccentric, that's one way to put it. He never has his face on the cover of his albums. He never comes to award shows. Sometimes his brother shows up to accept the award, sometimes no one does. I know all about it as Zoe keeps dragging me to watch him, or his body from the shoulder below, and listen to his songs. I regretted the stereo as soon as she inserted one of her CDs of him.