FicWad

Another Day Another Dollar

Sitting in the cafeteria enjoying yet another delicious industrialized meal. Lunch was usually her rushed fifteen minutes of solitude in an otherwise stressful, but rewarding, day of counseling and treating families with a little bit of research thrown in. Chris checked her phone as it vibrated on the table. It was a text from Trick.

“Tracks are sounding great. Miss you.”

Chris grinned. She had only been back in Dallas for twenty-four hours. She had been in Chicago with Trick, recording. It was the scariest thing she’d ever done, but working with Trick and finally getting her music out there was so much fun, not to mention, cathartic. She had seen Stacy, Joe, Andy and Becca, of course. Becca and Andy had hosted movie night at their house. She had been to 24 and to her parents’ house. They had moved a year before, so it was easier to be there. She had avoided Pete, as usual. Normally Pete was good about it. When she visited Chicago, he’d call before he’d show up somewhere and didn’t complain when everyone spent most of their time with Chris. But this time, there were no calls from Pete. He must have been out of town.

Now she was back at Children’s. Patrick was working on mastering her tracks for a demo tape. He had offered to use his industry contacts to get her a meeting, Pete had even offered to sign her, on the spot, no strings attached. Chris had refused. She appreciated the offers, even Pete’s, but if she was going to do this, she wanted to do it on her own merit. Patrick had insisted, however, that he help her record it. Having a professionally recorded demo could only help her.

Chris was on top of the world.

Then, there it was again. The flash of a familiar Midtown hoodie that had been haunting her all day. She saw it as the elevator doors closed when she arrived that morning. In the outpatient wing. And there it was in the hot lunch line. She turned to get a better look. Sure enough, it was a real-life, in the flesh, Midtown sweatshirt. They were rare to begin with, but she hadn’t seen one outside of Chicago, ever. And she had never seen one with that particular streak of bleached fabric across the hood…well not one except for...

“Pete.” Her fork dropped to her tray with a clatter. The figure in the hoodie had paid and was turning now. Yup. Definitely Pete. Chris was frozen. He was looking around the room, presumably trying to find a seat. His eyes met hers for a second before she looked down hurriedly, hunching over trying to be invisible.

“Chris?” His voice came.

The word shit went through her mind.

“Christina Henry?”

His voice was closer now. She rolled her eyes and sighed. There would be no avoiding this. She looked up at him and gave a small wave. He came to stand next to her table. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He stood there awkwardly.

She continued to look at him. He looked exhausted and worried. She knew that he had taken the band’s breakup hard, and she had also heard that he and Ashlee were getting a divorce. Whatever it was that brought him to Children’s, she felt bad for him. That’s a lot of stuff to deal with. She moved her bag from the other chair to the floor. “Why don’t you sit down?”

He gave her a grateful smile and sat.

They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes before Pete asked, “So you work here?”

Chris looked down at her name badge as if she hadn’t seen it before. “Ya, I’m a genetic counselor here.”

“Very cool.”

More awkward silence.

Finally, Chris decided to bite the bullet. Her curiosity was killing her and she had an appointment in a few minutes. “Why are you here?”

Pete seemed to crumple a bit in his chair. “Bronx,” he said in a small voice. “He’s here.”

“What happened?” Chris asked, genuinely concerned.

“He broke his arm last night,” Pete said. “He’s in a cast.”

“Oh my goodness, how did he do that?”

“I’m not sure, he was staying with his mother. When I went to pick him up this morning it looked funny and Bronx couldn’t use it…so I brought him here.”

The tone in Pete’s voice made Chris decide not to ask anymore questions about how Bronx got hurt.

Pete continued on, “He’s talking to a social worker now…because of the divorce and everything the whole process is really complicated.”

“That sucks,” Chris said. “Who’s his doctor?”

“Umm I think his name is Polley or something?”

“Dr. Pollard?”

“Ya.”

Chris smiled, “He’s a great doctor, the kids and parents both love him. Bronx is in good hands.” She could see some relief pass over his face. Then she said apologetically, “I have to go now, I have a meeting.”

“Ya. Of course.” As she stood, Pete asked, “Maybe you could stop by and say hi? Bronx has heard lots of stories about you from Patrick and all them. I’m sure he’d like to meet the famous Chris in the flesh.”

Chris smiled. She checked her schedule. “Ya, I could stop by before Pollard does his afternoon rounds. He won’t release Bronx until he’s taken another look at him. Are you in emergency or did they move you to temp outpatient?”

“We’re not in the ER anymore.”

“I’ll find yall.” She gathered the rest of her things. With a little wave she said, “See ya later.”

Once she was out of the cafeteria, she sent a panicked text to Patrick, “Um Pete is in my hospital.”

She had barely gotten to the elevators before she received the text, “WHAT?! Is he ok?”

“Bronx broke his arm. He asked me to stop by the kid’s room later. Apparently he’s heard lots of stories about me?”

She was getting off on the oncology floor when Patrick returned her text, “Ya we do kinda talk about you a lot.”

“Gee thanks. How long has he been in Dallas?”

Chris slipped into a bathroom to buy herself a few more minutes before her meeting. Patrick replied, “A week or so. Apparently Ashlee’s being crazy and suing Pete for custody. Pete can’t leave the state with Bronx until the custody battle is over. How you handling things?”

Chris just responded with “Freakin” before leaving the bathroom and walked into her meeting. She left forty-five minutes later after a particularly brutal consultation where she had to explain to a four year old and her parents that the cancer that was making her sick was genetic and if the parents had another child it was highly likely that that child would also have the disease. She checked her phone. Patrick had practically written her a novel.

“It’ll be fine. Go meet the kid. He’s really sweet. Plus his mom’s a total nutcase and Pete’s falling apart himself. Just a thought, maybe try to be friends with him? Not saying you have to, just saying he could use some kind of support system there.”

When she hadn’t responded, he texted her again, “So either A. you’re pissed or B. you’re in a meeting. If you’re pissed, I’m sorry, it was just a suggestion. If you’re in a meeting, ignore option A. Love you!”

Chris laughed to herself and texted him back, “Love you too, was actually in a meeting. I’ll see what I can do. Tell you how it goes later.”

Chris stopped by her office to push the meeting with her interns back an hour and then wandered down to the floor where she suspected Pete and Bronx were. After a quick question at the nurses station, she had managed to locate the right room. She knocked on the open door and popped her head in. Dr Pollard was there talking to Pete and Bronx.

“Hi Chris,” Dr. Pollard said, a confused look on his face. “Is there something I can do for you?”

Chris just smiled. “I heard we had a very special patient in this room. Apparently he’s a big fan of mine.”

The confused look didn’t leave Dr. Pollard’s face, but Pete said, “Hey Bronx, I want you to meet someone.”

Chris walked into the room and sat on Bronx’s bed. The little boy was looking up at her with curiosity in his eyes. She tapped his bright green cast and said, “Did you know, one time when I was seven, your daddy broke my arm and I had to wear a cast just like that?”

“Really?” the little boy asked. He turned to his father who nodded seriously.

“I’m Chris,” she said when the boy looked back to her, “I’m sorry I haven’t met you yet.”

“Chris from Uncle Patrick and Uncle Joe’s stories?”

“Yup.”

“Wow.”

Chris turned to Dr. Pollard, “Sorry Doctor. I interrupted.”

“That’s ok, I was just telling Bronx and his dad here that he was all set to go home.”

“Yay!” Bronx said.

“I’m going to run down to the nurses station and get the discharge papers. Maybe Chris would go over them with you?” Chris nodded. “Can you come with me, I need to talk to you about our earlier consultation.”

“Absolutely Dr. Pollard.” Chris stood. “I’ll be right back.”

Pete nodded and Bronx waved to her. Once they were out in the hall, Dr. Pollard said, “I thought you were gonna cross the line back there.”

“What line?”

“You know how some people get when we have famous patients…”

“Oh ya. No I’ve known Pete since I was born.” The doctor nodded.

They had reached the nurses station and he asked for the forms. After he signed it, he handed them to her, “They can leave once this is done. Oh and I was serious about the consult from earlier, did you get the results back yet?”

“No, I should have them tomorrow morning. I’ll let you know,” Chris said taking the forms from him. They waved goodbye and Chris walked back up the hall. “I hold in my hands, gentlemen, the papers for Bronx’s freedom.”

She helped Pete through the paperwork. Bronx was happily watching cartoons on the television. “So I hear you’re here for a while,” Chris said. He looked at her, confused. “Patrick told me.”

“Ya. I’m living in some hotel. Bronx is going back and forth between me and his mom right now. I’m not sure how long that’ll last after this…”

Chris nodded, the wheels in her head turning. Patrick did say he needed a friend. “Living in a hotel sucks.”

“Ya. But what other choice do I have?”

Chris straightened and took a deep breath, reminding herself that that was a long time ago and she should forgive and forget and help her friend out. “You could stay with me. I have a guest room.”

“Really?” He looked at her skeptically. Chris nodded firmly. “I couldn’t do that to you…”

“Pete, you’re practically family. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t let you come stay with me?”

“You’re sure it’s ok?”

“Yes, Peter.”

“Thanks. I really do appreciate it.”

Chris smiled. “Sign there.” She tapped the paper as she stood. She went to sit on Bronx’s bed. “How would you like to come stay with me for a while?”

“Will you tell me funny stories about Daddy?”

“Absolutely.”

He clapped his hands together and looked to his father. “Can we go, Daddy?”

“Of course, buddy.”

Chris’ pager buzzed, she checked it. “Shoot.” To Pete, she said, “I gotta run. How bout I take y’all up to my office? I have this thing to do and a quick intern meeting before I can go home, ok?”

Pete nodded. Chris smiled and stood, holding a hand out to Bronx. “Come on, little. Let’s go, I’ve got some pretty rad toys in my waiting room.”

“Yay!” Bronx practically bounced off the bed, holding Chris’ hand.

She led them down the hall. They stopped quickly at the nurses’ station to drop off the paperwork before continuing up to her office. Once she got them settled in her little waiting room, Chris took off to a consult. Then she and her gaggle of interns returned to her office for their daily meeting. Finally done, Chris sent her interns away, closed her door, took off her shoes and called Patrick.

“Soooo, good day?” Patrick answered his phone.

“Ya…”

“How’s B?”

“He’s so cute, Trick.”

“I know. How’s his arm?”

“Broken, but he seems to be doing well. Kid’s a trooper.”

“And Pete?”

“He’s stressed, like bad, I can tell.”

“Ya, he’s been that way for a while.”

“I offered to have them stay with me.”

“Really?” Patrick was surprised.

“He can’t live in a hotel. That isn’t right. Not while I live in the same city.”

“You sure you can handle that?”

Chris sighed. “We were best friends for a long time. I owe him. It’s time to move on.”

“Good for you. Let me know how it goes?”

“Always. Talk to ya later. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Peace.”

Chris hung up and went to open her door. She popped her head out into the waiting room outside her office. Pete and Bronx were playing with Legos on the floor. “Hey guys, I’m done for the day. I just gotta grab my stuff and then we can get out of here, ok?”

“Sounds good,” Pete replied.

Chris got her bag, put on her tennis shoes, put her dress shoes in her bag, logged off her computer, turned out her lights and locked her door. In the waiting room again, she said, “All set.”

In the elevator she asked Pete, “Where did you park?”

“Umm,” Pete searched his pockets. He pulled out a parking ticket and squinted at it. “3B? You?”

“My car’s in the shop. I took the bus today. Can I ride with you?”

“Absolutely. We have to run by the hotel to get our stuff.”

Chris nodded. They managed to find the car, get to the hotel and check out, and Chris directed Pete to her apartment that was five miles away from Children’s. As they pulled into the parking lot of her building, Pete said, “Again, you live in the most ridiculously awesome places.”

“Becca’s dad is in real estate, remember? He hooked me up. That’s my spot,” she said pointing. Pete pulled in they all got out of the car. They climbed a couple of flights of stairs and Chris keyed open her door. “Home sweet home.”

“Cool house, Chris!” Bronx said.

“Thanks, little. Make yourself at home.” She threw her bag onto the table by the door and walked further into the apartment. “So it’s dinner time, but I think all I have is Ramen.” She had disappeared into the kitchen. After banging around for a while, she called out, “Yup, only Ramen. Want to order in?” She had walked back out to the living room where Pete and Bronx were.

“Pizza?” Pete asked Bronx.

“I’m sick of pizza,” Bronx said, shaking his head.

“Pizza’s your favorite, dude.”

“Ya, but we had pizza last night. And the day before that, and before that,” Bronx recalled.

“Really?” Chris could see the anger flash in Pete’s eyes, but she also saw him push it away, keeping his voice calm.

“Ya. Can we have something else?”

She could see him losing the struggle with his anger. She put a hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear, “The room you’re staying in is down the hall and to the right.” Louder she said, “Hey Bronx why don’t you come with me into the kitchen and we’ll look at the take out menus I have and pick something delicious, ok?”

“Ok!” Bronx jumped up from his seat on the couch.

As Bronx and Chris walked into the kitchen, Chris could hear Pete stalk off and a door close. She picked up Bronx and sat him on the counter. He let his feet swing back and forth while she opened up the drawer with her menus in it. After many points and counterpoints, they finally decided on hamburgers. Chris took Bronx back to the living room and turned on the television for him. Then she went to the guest room. At the door she heard Pete talking heatedly into his phone.

“She can’t just feed him pizza for four days! Was it even new pizza or leftovers.” There was a pause. “Amanda tell me.” Another pause. “See this is what I’m talking about! This is ridiculous. I have to tell them.” The other person must have been talking. “I have to. It isn’t good for B. I have to go. Bye.”

It was then that Chris knocked. Pete called out for her to come in. She walked in holding out the take out menu. “We’re getting burgers, sound good?”

Pete ran his hands over his face sighing. Then he looked up at Chris, “Ya, that sounds good.”

“You ok?” Pete shook his head then he let it fall into his hands, not speaking. She sat down next to him, a little awkwardly. It had been a while since she had to talk Pete down. And the last time she had to do it, their relationship was much different. She patted his back. “It’ll be ok. You’ll figure it out. I can help. You can talk to me about it or I can buy you booze and lock you in this room and let you get really drunk while I watch Bronx. Whatever you need.”

He started laughing and looked up at her. When he saw she was dead serious, he reached out and hugged her. She let him. When they pulled apart after a few seconds he said, “I knew there was a reason we were friends.”

“Well I am pretty awesome,” She said with a smile. “Why don’t you pick something to order, and we can talk/you can drink later?”

“Thanks, Chris.”

“No problem.” She handed him the menu and stood up.

“For the record, I don’t do that whole ‘get drunk locked in a room by myself’ thing anymore.”

“I’m impressed,” she teased.

“I have grown as a person, you know,” he said back, a smirk on his face.

“Just pick something to eat, Wentz. I’m going to go play with your adorable child.”

“You do that.”

“Figure out what you want, then we’ll order,” she said, leaving the room.

Pete appeared in the living room a couple of minutes later to find Chris and Bronx having a very serious conversation about Caillou. Chris looked up at him, “Ready to order?”

Chris called and ordered the food and the delivery man arrived a half an hour later. Bronx was almost falling asleep at the table. All the excitement of the day must have been getting to him. Pete changed him into pajamas and brushed his teeth before letting him watch one more show before bed. Bronx was asleep after a few minutes of sitting on the couch. By the time Chris had finished cleaning up dinner, Pete was carrying Bronx to bed.

Chris collapsed on her couch and pulled out her phone. She had felt it vibrate during dinner. She looked at the screen. It was Patrick. “So, everyone still alive? Or did you kill him?”

Chris couldn’t help laughing out loud. She typed back, “It’s fine. We all had dinner. Pete’s putting Bronx to bed now. I told him I’d listen after B went to sleep.”

Pete came back into the room before Patrick replied. He sat in the chair that was a little ways across the room.

“So. Do you want to talk about it, drink, or ignore it completely and watch television?” Chris asked.

Pete was quiet for a second before he launched into explanation. “Ashlee’s crazy. She’s gone back to the whole party scene. She had stopped, we both did, when we found out we were having Bronx. But things have been tough for her. She has a hard time with the ‘mom’ stuff sometimes. That, plus her music career tanking. She started drinking more and staying out with her ‘friends.’ A few months ago I told her she had a problem and that she needed to get help. She refused. Then filed for divorce. Bronx had been staying with me in Chicago since January. But last month I got served with papers about this custody thing….Ashlee’s trying to say I’m an unfit father. So I had to bring Bronx to Texas last week. She insisted that Bronx stay with her. But, this whole broken arm thing, and now left over pizza for every meal for three days?” He looked up and she could see the tears in his eyes. “If they give her custody, I don’t know what’ll happen to him.”

In that moment, it didn’t matter that he had hurt her so badly. It didn’t even matter that they had been together. What it all came down to was that Pete was her best friend and he had been forever. And even though she hadn’t spoken to him for a couple of years, she could stand to see him in this much pain.

In an instant, she was across the room. She sat in Pete’s lap so she could wrap her arms around him. All the awkwardness and tension from earlier dissipated. Pete’s head fell to her shoulder as he began to cry.

Chris rubbed his back. “It’ll all be ok.” When that didn’t seem to sooth him, she said, “I’ll kill her. Would that fix it?”

He started to laugh and he pulled back. “I think that’ll just make it worse, but I appreciate the offer.”

They sat like that for a moment, looking at each other, smiles on their faces from Chris’ half-serious offer. Then Pete leaned up and kissed her cheek.

In a flash, the old familiarity was gone and the awkwardness was back in full force. Chris quickly stood and went back to the couch, keeping her eyes down. Moments of silence stretched into minutes.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean-“

“Don’t,” Chris said shortly. She took a couple of deep breaths before saying, “I can be your friend Pete. I can do that. I think I need to do that and I think you need us to be friends too. But I can’t-what just happened-I can’t do that again.” She looked up. It was Pete’s turn to stare down at his knees. “Peter. Look at me.” He did. “Promise.”

“Promise what?”

“Promise that we’ll just be friends. That things like that won’t happen.”

“I promise, Christina.” Pete’s tone was serious. She knew he meant it.

She sighed in relief. “Thank you. Now,” she said, briskly changing the subject, “Have you told your lawyer about the arm and the pizza?”

“He knows about the arm. I called him as soon as I knew Bronx would be ok. He’s the one who called in the social worker. Apparently her testimony is more powerful than mine. I’ll call about the pizza tomorrow. Amanda, Ashlee’s assistant, told me that Bronx wasn’t exaggerating about eating pizza for three days in a row.”

“I know you’re mad about it, but it may help your case.” Pete nodded. “Listen. I’m serious about doing whatever I can to help. However long you need to stay, if you need me to babysit, whatever.”

“Thanks, Chris.”

“What are friends for?” She grinned. Then she stood. “Now what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t offer you a drink? I’m gonna get a beer. You want one?”

“Ahhhh alcohol. The great comforter.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t drink at all anymore? Because that year and a half when you were straight-edge, you where pretty lame,” She said over her shoulder, starting to walk toward the kitchen.

“All I said was that I didn’t lock myself in a room and drink by myself anymore. I also mentioned that I don’t party. But a beer is not partying. Straight-edge just wasn’t for me.”

She had already returned, two bottles in her hand. “I thought you’d say that.”

She jumped over the back of the couch and bounced on the cushions. She leaned over and handed him the second bottle. They cracked them open.

“So, friend,” Pete said, “My life has been splashed all over the place. What about you? Patrick is the only one who tells me anything about you, and that doesn’t happen very often. Andy and Joe won’t tell me anything, nor Becca or Stacy. They get all quiet and tense if I ask about you. Unity, I expect. I don’t think they’ve forgiven me for-“

“Ya…anyway, umm, I moved back to Austin after-um, and I lived with Sara. I did a year of internship and then got the Genetic Counselor position here.”

“How’s Sara? She hasn’t been up for a while.”

“She doesn’t make it up very often anymore. Not since she and Joe ended things.”

“What happened there?”

“They did alright for a while. Joe came down a bunch-“

“I think he did that to check on you.”

Chris smiled to herself. She knew that. Joe and Sara’s relationship was very…physical. When Sara picked a hysterical Chris at the airport she offered to breakup with Joe on the spot. Chris asked her about it a couple of days later. How could she just stop seeing Joe. Sara said that the one time that she and Joe actually talked, they had come to the agreement that their relationship wasn’t really meant to last and they were all about having fun. And that was fine. In fact, it was great for them. When it did end four months later because it was getting inconvenient with all the things going on in their separate lives, no one was hurt. No one else had to pick sides. They could sit in the same room comfortably. They occasionally hooked up if Sara was in Chicago or if Joe was visiting Chris in Dallas and Sara happened to be there. Sometimes Chris was jealous of their easy arrangement. Most of the time she wasn’t. She wanted someone to be there for her. But it made both of them happy, so good for them.

“Chris?”

She shook her head a bit, realizing she had been staring off and silent for a while. “Sorry.” She smiled. “I know Joey came down to check on me. But anyway, after a while, their lives got too busy. I don’t think either one of them was exactly in it for the ever, ya know?” She almost said ‘like we were,’ but she managed to stop herself.

“They did make that whole friends-with-benefits thing work pretty well.”

“Uh huh,” Chris replied absent-mindedly.

“And what about your music? I know you were up in Chi a couple of days ago.”

She smiled again. “It’s good. Patrick recorded a couple of my tracks. He says they’re sounding good.”

“Can I listen?”

She paused. Some of her stuff was about him. Well really one was about him. The particularly loud, anthem-y Bird With a French Fry. But she was proud of it, of all of her songs. “Ya. Once I listen to them, sure.”

“Have you heard Patrick’s stuff?” He asked grinning.

“Ya. It’s great, isn’t it? Did you hear he’s doing a couple of dates with Bruno Mars this summer?”

“Mmmhmm. He’s really excited. And super nervous.”

“I know, right? It’s adorable. I keep telling him he’ll do great.”

Pete laughed. “Me too. I don’t think he believes me.”

“He’s putting Becca’s kid brother in his video. I’ve never seen a teenage boy so excited.”

“Is he putting your tape in with anyone he knows?” Pete asked.

Chris knew what he meant. “No. I’m sending it out myself.”

“Admirable,” Pete said. “It’s gonna be rough, you know? Eleven out of twelve people turn you down.” Chris nodded. “You’re sending in a tape to Fueled right? And DecayDance?” She shrugged. “You really should.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“An opportunity is an opportunity. If not DecayDance, at least give a tape to Fueled. They know your name. They’ll at least listen to it without throwing it away.”

Chris nodded. “I think I will.”

“Good.”

They talked some more, and soon they finished their drinks. Chris got up and stretched. “I gotta go to bed. I have an early meeting.”

“When? Do you need a ride?”

“My meeting’s at eight…I know it’s early. You don’t have to take me.”

“Eight is not early. That monster gets up at 6:30. We’ll take you. No problem.”

Chris smiled. “Thanks.” She reached out to take his empty beer bottle. “Sleep well, ok?”

“You too. See you in the morning.”

For the first time in two years, the noise that woke Chris up for her job at 6:45 in the morning wasn’t the obnoxious blaring of her alarm clock. It was a crash from the kitchen. Momentarily forgetting about the other two people in the apartment, she sprang up and out of bed, sprinting toward the kitchen. She screeched to a halt in the doorway, first confused, then highly amused.

Bronx was sitting at her kitchen table, giggling Pete was desperately trying to clean up cereal that had some how been flung all over the floor.

“Drop something?” Chris asked, leaning against the doorframe.

A/N: review? great.