Chapter 17: Too Sleepy or Just Drunk?
A little after ten in the morning, Bruce opened his eyes and instinctively called out, "Mom... Mom... where are you?"
After shouting a few more times, he suddenly realized he was in his own Greenwich Village apartment, not at his parents' house. Then fragments of memory surfaced: after dinner, despite everyone's protests, he'd stubbornly insisted on riding back to the Greenwich Village with them.
He vaguely remembered them urging him to stay the night. They probably thought he was drunk.
Bruce got out of bed with a pounding headache. Shower first.
Under the spray, he tried to piece together the evening. He had a fuzzy memory of someone entering his room this morning—either Monica or Rachel, since Monica had a spare key. Whoever it was had checked on him, said something, and left.
The phone rang. With shampoo running down his face, Bruce let it ring. When it stopped, his mother's voice came through the machine: "Bruce, I've called twice—are you still asleep? Call me back the moment you wake up!"
Moments later, just as he was stepping out of the shower, someone knocked. Wrapping a towel around himself, he opened the door to find Joey.
"Hey, you okay? Your mom couldn't reach you, so she called Monica at work, who called me to check on you."
"I'm fine. Just exhausted plus last night's wine. Slept like a rock. Thanks for coming by—but how does my mom even have Monica's number?"
"She asked for it when we left last night. You should probably call her back."
"Good point. Come in."
They moved to the living room. Bruce dialed his mom. "Hi, Mom, I just woke up."
"You scared me half to death! I called twice—if you hadn't called back, I was about to drive over there!"
"What happened? I'm fine."
"Don't you remember last night? Grace was sitting right next to you talking, everyone was there, and you just passed out at the table. So embarrassing! And then when we tried to let you sleep it off, you suddenly woke up and insisted on leaving with your friends. I don't know what to make of you."
"Sorry. I pulled an all-nighter before that and didn't sleep all day yesterday. Add some wine at dinner and I honestly don't know if I was drunk or just exhausted."
"Call Grace right now and apologize. After what happened, she might be upset."
"I will. But Mom, I just fell asleep from exhaustion. She's not as sensitive as you think. Plus, she pranked me first—switching places with Audrey so I wouldn't know who she was—so I'd say we're even."
"I know about that. I think she's fun—spirited. Alright, I'm hanging up. Call her!"
Bruce hung up and turned to Joey. "Let's go get coffee. I need caffeine."
"Not calling Grace first?"
"Maybe later. Coffee first."
Bruce stood, but Joey stayed on the couch, watching him. "Forgetting something?"
Bruce looked around, then slapped his forehead. "Right—my keys."
The keys were on the coffee table. Joey picked them up. "Anything else?"
Bruce frowned. "What else?"
Joey shrugged. "If you think we're good—let's go."
Bruce opened the door. Cold air rushed in and he yelped, "Holy crap, it's freezing! Wait—why am I going out in just a towel?"
He ran back to his room to get dressed. Joey's laughter followed him. "I thought you'd only notice when we got to the café!"
Downstairs, passing the Lincoln limo parked at the curb, Joey said, "Nice ride."
Bruce answered absently, "Yeah."
A few steps later, Joey stopped and grinned. "Pretty sure that's your rental..."
Bruce blinked and turned back. "I completely forgot to return it. Now it's a day late and I'll pay extra."
"My fault—I drove it back yesterday and should've reminded you."
"No worries. I know what we're doing after coffee—returning that car. You're coming with me."
"Of course."
Inside Central Perk, Rachel greeted them with a grin. "Well, well, well—if it isn't last night's designated table-sleeper."
Bruce tried to think of a comeback but gave up. "You win. Coffee, please." Then he remembered something. "This morning while I was asleep, I felt someone in my room. Was it you or Monica?"
"Both of us."
"Why?"
"Your mom asked Monica to check on you before work. After last night, we all thought you were drunk. That's why we stopped by."
As they finished their coffee, Joey suddenly asked, "You said the car's already overdue. Does that mean whether we return it now or tonight, they'll charge you another six hundred?"
"There's a grace period—about ninety minutes. We picked it up around ten-thirty yesterday, so returning it before noon won't cost extra. But it's past that now, so they'll count it as another day. Why?"
"In that case, why not just return it tonight?"
Bruce shook his head. "No way. I'm done going out today."
"Then can you lend me the car? I swear I'll bring it back tonight."
"What for?"
Joey grinned. "I want to take a girl out to dinner—in style."
"You met someone new?"
Joey nodded.
"When?"
"Recently."
Bruce gave a knowing look and didn't push further. "No problem. After your date, drop her off and return the car. Oh, and—" He pulled out his wallet. "Before you return it, fill the tank and pay the six-hundred-dollar extension fee. I'm not sure how much gas costs, but I've got..." He counted. "Eight hundred and fifty. The rest will cover coffee."
He peeled off bills and handed them to Joey. "Here's eight-fifty. I'll pay for coffee with what's left."
Joey waved his hands. "No way. You're lending me the car—I can't let you pay for everything. Just give me six hundred. I'll cover gas, and coffee's on me today."
Bruce didn't argue. He counted out six hundred. "Alright, Joey. Thanks for the coffee."
They left the café and said goodbye outside. Just before heading upstairs, Bruce called back, "Hey, Joey—if you and your date end up doing anything in the car, make sure there's no evidence, or I'll lose part of my deposit."
Joey gave a thumbs up and headed off.
Back upstairs, Bruce picked up the phone and dialed Grace's number. It rang several times—no answer.
After a moment, he tried again. Still no pickup. Mid-ring, it occurred to him: Grace would be at work now.
When the call went to voicemail, he left a message: "Hi, Grace. I just realized while calling that you're probably at work. Anyway, I'm sorry—I fell asleep while you were talking to me at dinner last night. That was really rude. That's all. Talk soon!"
He'd barely hung up when the phone rang. Thinking it was Grace, he answered eagerly—only to hear Ruby, his old agent. "Hi, Bruce, it's your favorite agent Ruby—long time!"
"Hey, Ruby. It has been a while. I know you don't call without a reason—what's up?"
"I'm calling to tell you Crazy Clerk #69 is killing it—midnight screenings across hundreds of theaters are sold out. Didn't you know?"
"If you hadn't told me, I wouldn't even know it had opened."
"When it's about our money, how can you not pay attention? If it's doing this well in theaters, the video release can't be far behind. Once it hits VHS, we'll collect royalties next quarter."
"Thanks for the news, Ruby. That's great."
"What's up? You don't sound nearly as excited as when you cashed your first check. Found another income stream?"
That first script she mentioned was the adult parody he'd sold early on.
"I am happy—you just can't hear it over the phone. Of course I'm thrilled to make more money."
He still hadn't mentioned breaking into legitimate screenwriting.
"That's my guy. Keep that hunger, because we've got more work."
"What now?"
"Wildcat loved Crazy Clerk #69, so they're greenlighting a sequel. They want you on the script again—and they upped the fee to twenty thousand. They offered fifteen; I pushed to twenty. Same royalty structure. Twenty grand—sound good?"
Bruce hesitated. "Uh, Ruby... how do I put this..."
Sensing his tone, Ruby's excitement cooled. "What's wrong? They want you because the first one was a hit. It's twenty thousand—don't tell me you're passing."
"Sorry, Ruby. I'm done writing adult scripts."
Ruby thought she'd misheard. "Come again? Why? This is the best opportunity you've had. Why walk away?"
Her voice rose sharply.
"You know I never planned to do this forever. I told you that when we first met. That day has come. Sorry, Ruby."
"I get it—you want mainstream. Every writer does. But you can write other scripts and bang out the sequel on the side. They don't conflict, right?"
Bruce thought for a moment. "They don't, but I simply don't want to write it. Sorry. I'm hanging up now. Find someone else—honestly, anyone can write it. Just keep inventing new scenarios."
"But Wildcat specifically asked for you!"
"Bye, Ruby."
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