The Single Dad knew something was wrong when his phone rang for the fifth time.
It was 10:46 on a Friday night, and the name glowing across the screen belonged to the last person he wanted invading his evening.
His CEO.
He turned the phone facedown.
Across the living room, his nine-year-old Daughter sat cross-legged on the rug beneath a blanket, eating popcorn from a red plastic bowl while an animated movie played on television.
She looked toward him.
“You’re not answering?”
“No.”
“It’s her again?”
The Single Dad stared.
“How do you know?”
“You make the face.”
Apparently everyone in his life had developed an advanced taxonomy for his expressions.
“What face?”
“The work face.”
He picked up another piece of popcorn.
“No work tonight.”
His Daughter smiled.
He had promised her that.
It had been nearly three weeks since they had managed a complete evening together without a client emergency, an executive call, or his CEO deciding that something marked Monday could suddenly become urgent Friday night.
Tonight belonged to his Daughter.
Pizza.
Movie.
Chocolate ice cream later.
Nothing else.
His phone vibrated again.
The Daughter stopped smiling.
“Dad.”
“I know.”
“What if something happened?”
He looked at the screen.
Sixth call.
The CEO never called six times.
She sent messages.
Short ones.
Cold ones.
Need this before seven.
Move the meeting.
Revise page sixteen.
Your explanation does not change the deadline.
She did not call repeatedly unless a building was burning or a deal was collapsing.
The Single Dad finally answered.
“What happened?”
Nothing.
Only noise.
Music.
Voices.
Glasses.
Then the CEO’s voice.
“Single Dad?”
He sat straighter.
She never sounded like that.
Her words were soft around the edges.
Not incoherent.
Wrong.
“Where are you?”
“Bar.”
“What bar?”
She laughed.
A small, broken sound.
“You sound angry.”
“I asked where you are.”
She named an upscale hotel bar downtown.
He knew it.
Forty minutes away in good weather.
Longer tonight because rain had been falling since sunset.
“Are you alone?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“Driver?”
“Sent him away.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t want him looking at me.”
The Single Dad closed his eyes.
“What happened?”
She did not answer.
Then he heard a man speaking near the phone.
“Sir?”
“Who is this?”
“Bartender.”
The CEO complained in the background.
“Give me that.”
The bartender ignored her.
“Are you someone who can come get her?”
The Single Dad looked toward his Daughter.
She was watching him.
“What condition is she in?”
“Too much wine.”
“She tried to get her keys back.”
“I refused.”
“She’s not driving.”
“Good.”
“She won’t give me anyone else’s number.”
The Single Dad sighed.
“Call a cab.”
“Tried.”
“She won’t get in.”
“Security?”
“She says she’ll fire anyone who touches her.”
That sounded more like the CEO he knew.
The bartender lowered his voice.