The phone’s insistent ringing dragged David up from a shallow, uneasy sleep. He fumbled for it, too slow. Voicemail.

  “Hey there, darlin’,” Francis’s voice drawled. “Just a reminder about the meetin’ today. It’s been pushed to eleven. Hope to see you. Call me back when you can.”

  David squinted at the clock. 10:00 a.m.

  “Crap.”

  He swung his legs out of bed, the tail end of a dream dissolving before he could grab it, blue light, motion, the sense of being watched.

  He didn’t notice the sheet had slid off the mirror or the woman wearing his nightgown staring back.

  Cold water. A towel. No mirror. He moved with the efficiency of habit, practiced at not looking. He rifled through the closet and put on the first things that came in reach.

  “Why did I let them keep me up so late?” he muttered.

  The clock answered by ticking.

  He rushed for the door and nearly tripped over Lobo. The dog yelped and skidded aside.

  “Sorry, buddy.” He gave the dog a quick head rub for an apology and headed for the door.

  Outside, the morning felt too bright. He pulled out of his driveway and headed for the freeway.

  The traffic blurred past. David’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as if that would hold the inner turmoil back.

  “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.”

  Francis’s face surfaced in his thoughts. Rowan’s. Chris’s. People who hadn’t laughed. Friends who hadn’t looked away.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  This is insane, he thought. I should turn around.

  A shadow crossed the windshield.

  David ducked instinctively. “What the…”

  A raven cut across the sky, banking hard before vanishing between buildings.

  “Damn bird again.”

  A horn blared.

  “Pay attention, dumbass.” He corrected the wheel, heart racing. When he checked the mirror, the raven was gone. He missed the woman's eyes looking back.

  Get a grip.

  Ocotillo rose around him, trim lawns, wide streets, a kind of calm that felt bought and paid for. He pulled in beside a Chevy Silverado. Pink and blue balloons bobbed on a sign near the door.

  “Francis really scored,” he muttered. “Golf-course living on a working-class budget.” He stared at the balloons.

  He sat in the car longer than necessary.

  What am I walking into?

  A half-formed fear flashed through him, something humiliating, something dangerous. He shook his head.

  “You know Francis. She wouldn’t…” He stumbled from the car to the door.

  His finger hovered over the doorbell.

  He glanced back at the car. It was just a few feet away.

  I can still leave.

  He turned.

  The door swung open.

  Music spilled out with laughter, perfume and the smell of food.

  “Raven! You made it!”

  Francis stood there in a black miniskirt and white blouse, heels sharp enough to be dangerous. She took his hand before he could step back.

  “Well, come on in.”

  He followed, caught between courtesy and her grip.

  A flicker of movement on the car roof drew his eye.

  The raven again.

  “Oh shit.”

  Francis paused. “What is it, hon?”

  “That bird. The one from the tavern.”

  She looked. Nothing. “Ain’t seein’ it, sugar.”

  The door closed with finality behind them.

  David swallowed. He looked around, his pulse pounded in his ears.

  I’m really here.

  The house buzzed with voices and light. Laughter bounced off the walls. The smell of baked snacks and beer mixed with perfume.

  Men in skirts and heels. Women in ball caps and loose jeans filled the room. Conversations mixed TV, fashion, sports and politics. No one fearing to be themselves.

  David stumbled on the carpet.

  Francis squeezed his hand. “Easy now. Ain’t nobody here gonna bite.”

  She guided him forward and nodded to Chris and Rowan. “Friends,” she said, gently.

  “Yeah,” David replied, his voice thin. “Friends I’ve only ever seen one way.”

  As he stepped fully into the room, the commotion died off. Heads turned his way. David forgot to breathe.