Right before New Year's, my father-in-law got picked up by the police, and they called me to come down to the station to collect him.
I didn't think much of it. I just drove over and brought him home.
The man was in his sixties. He'd gotten busted at a karaoke bar for ordering a "fruit platter"—code for the kind of company no married man should be paying for—and it just so happened the cops were running a vice sweep that night.
He was terrified his wife would find out, so he asked me to pay the fine on his behalf and made me swear, over and over, not to breathe a word to Mrs. Abbott or my wife.
I nodded and agreed.
A week later, I got called into my manager's office. He told me that I was the one caught at the karaoke bar soliciting, that it constituted a disciplinary violation, and fired me on the spot.
No matter how I tried to explain, he wouldn't listen. He waved a citation from the police in my face and told me to pack my things and get out.
When I got home, my wife and kid were gone. So was the savings account. I called her, but she'd already heard the story and believed every word of it. She wanted a divorce, and nothing I said could change her mind.
I had nowhere left to turn, so I went to my father-in-law's place, determined to set the record straight in front of everyone. I never made it past his building. A car hit me the moment I stepped off the curb.
——
The next time I opened my eyes, I was back. Right before New Year's. My father-in-law hadn't even called yet.
To avoid repeating the tragedy of my previous life, I walked outside, grabbed a bike-share, rode it into traffic, and slammed straight into a luxury car.
A Maybach. The owner got out, seized me by the collar, and started demanding answers.
I played dumb. "I don't have the money to pay for this. Why don't you just call the cops and have me arrested?"
And that was that. The police took me in. Seven days in detention.
By the time I got out, I found ten missed calls on my phone. All from my father-in-law.
I ignored every one of them. I went back to work like nothing had happened. After all, in my previous life, it was getting involved in the old man's mess that cost me my job, my family, and my life. Now that I had a second chance, I'd have to be out of my mind to go bail him out again.
I'd barely sat down at my desk and started going through my files when the manager summoned me to his office.
His name was Maurice Lambert. We'd always been friendly—"brothers," practically, or so he liked to say. I walked in with an easy smile. "Hey, Maurice, what's up?"
Maurice's face was dark as a thundercloud. He grabbed a courier envelope and hurled it at my chest. "Look at what you've done!" he barked. "See for yourself!"
I pulled out a single sheet of paper. It was a disciplinary citation from the police station, stating that I'd been arrested at a karaoke bar for soliciting seven days ago.
The room tilted. That was impossible. I'd been detained for crashing into a car and getting into an altercation with the driver. I'd never set foot anywhere else that day.
So why was the exact same thing from my previous life happening all over again?
Before I could get a word out, Maurice was already tearing into me. "I never would've guessed you were that kind of person!"
"The whole office knows now. Everyone's heard that someone from our department got busted at a karaoke bar."
"The higher-ups held a meeting about it. They want you gone."
"Pack your things. Get out. Don't bother coming back."
I frowned, set the file in my hands gently on the desk, and let out a cold laugh. "Manager Lambert, if you're going to fire me, you'd better have proof."
"How do you know this document is even real?"
Maurice froze. His face flushed a deeper shade of red, and he jabbed his finger against the paper. "What the hell are you talking about? It's a citation from the police station. How could it be fake?"
I looked him dead in the eye. "I think it is fake. Why don't we call the police right now and verify it?"
Maurice clearly hadn't expected me to push back without an ounce of fear. He shot to his feet, shoved the door open, pulled out his phone, and dialed 911.
