Standing By

Tangled

(Kevin)

My arm crept out of the warm little nest of a bed and smacked the alarm. I did not feel like a 6:00 AM workout this morning. I really didn't feel like it. My fingers fell on the snooze button and I let myself fall back asleep.

It went off again ten minutes later and I hit the snooze button twice more before finally crawling out of bed at 6:30, rubbing at my eyes. I popped the TV on for some news and started the coffee machine for a nice cup of coffee. I took a quick shower and pulled on my workout clothes, intending to head downstairs to the gym. Out of town or not, I still needed to take care of myself. I poked my key in my pocket and paused at the TV, where it was talking about an abundance of muggings in this area last night. Yikes. I better watch myself. Always travel with others, ideally one of those security guards. I'd be an easy target. I may be tall and muscular, but the second anyone grabbed me and tried to mug me, I'd be a kitten. I am not a fighter. Never have been, never will be. I was raised a God-fearing, Jesus-loving pacifist that wouldn't raise a hand to anyone, not even to defend myself. They'd stick a gun in my face and I'd just hand over all of my belongings, probably tell them to have a nice day, even. I reached out to turn the TV off.

"—of Grammy-award winning group Pentatonix—," the news anchor was saying just as I clicked it off. Wait, what? What about Pentatonix? I could think of no good reason whatsoever to mention our group while doing a report on muggings. I grabbed the remote off the desk and dropped it in my haste to turn the TV back on. I aimed it at the TV and poked the on button in the same movement, with the end result being my having thrown the remote at the TV. OK, now, KO, stop, just stop.

I managed to turn the TV back on just in time to hear, "...on the conditions of Hoying and Grassi."

"What?!" I yelled at the TV, dropping the remote again. "Say what?!"

"We'll let you know more on this developing story as we have more information," the anchor promised.

That wasn't good enough for me. What the heck were they talking about? Muggings? Pentatonix? On the conditions of Hoying and Grassi? What the heck was that supposed to mean? I turned to the TV and started yelling at it again. "What about Hoying and Grassi? What about them? What about them, tell me, tell me now!" I actually shook the TV as if that would shake loose additional information.

"In other news, cleanup efforts continue on the Hudson...," the anchor droned on uselessly.

"Ah, pffft on your cleanup efforts," I grumbled, sticking out my tongue and blowing them a raspberry. I grabbed my phone and started sending out frantic texts, first to Mitch and Scott, then raising the alarm to Kirstie and Avi. "Dang it!" I exclaimed when Scott's phone dinged annoyingly at me from my own dresser. I'd picked it up from the lounge last night so no one would steal it, as well as stored their meals in my mini-fridge. I gave Mitch precisely forty-seven seconds to respond—he's usually really good about returning texts and practically has his phone surgically implanted into his hand—then called. Still no answer. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to think rationally through my rising panic. My phone started ringing and I quickly pressed it to my ear. "Mitch?"

"No, babe, it's me," came my girlfriend's voice from the other end.

Crap. Normally, I love talking to her, but just not now. Making a face, I told her, "Sweetheart, I'm really sorry, but I can't talk right now. Can I call you back?"

"I just heard on the news...," Alyssa started before changing herself up. "I mean, OK."

"Thanks, sweetheart, I love you," I assured her, hopping on one foot as I tried to fix my shoe, whose tongue had gotten folded over somehow.

"Love you too," she told me as I inevitably stumbled and tipped over on the bed and dropped the phone. I finally just tore the shoe off and put it back on, carefully tucking the tongue down with a finger. I picked up the phone, sat down on the side of the bed, trying Mitch twice more. Gosh darn it! I took out some frustration by throwing my phone at the desk chair.