Cracking my neck as I walk up the steps, I glance around at my huge backyard. Six months ago, I had it completely torn up and made drought efficient. Hired the best landscape architect, who removed almost all the grass. I live in Los Angeles, we’re in a drought, and I’m sick of being a drain on the water supply. Now it’s covered with desert rocks, succulents, and drought-resistant flowers. I had a huge outdoor kitchen and bar built to the left by my pool, which I decided to leave. I use it, and the tile in it was hand-painted by a famous artist in the 1950s. Hundreds of tiny bistro lights hang over it, and several cabana-style couches complete the look.

Too bad I’m the only one who sees it. I don’t think Rachel has been back here unless it’s to sneak a cigarette. I have no idea why she thinks she’s hiding that disgusting habit. It’s not like I don’t have a nose and security cameras.

Yeah, I need to throw a party. What’s the point of having an incredible house if you don’t show it off?

“Hot out. Right, Mr. Powers?” Max smiles again, adjusting his straw hat over his eyes.

I grin at him. He’s probably the same age as me, although the sun has taken a toll on him. Max has worked for me for over ten years. He shows up on time, always seems happy, and loves his family. Last week after my run, he showed me a bunch of pictures on his phone of his granddaughter.

“Should have done laps this morning,” I say, running my hand through my hair, which is starting to curl from sweat.

“Yeah.” He nods as if that is obvious, and I almost laugh.

My theory was I needed to sweat out the poisons, though that’s BS. If my day wasn’t packed, I’d have Sam come over and give me an IV full of electrolytes and fluids. But I’m needed in court in two hours, and after that I’m meeting some of my Harvard buddies for dinner.

“You take care, Max. If you need water, you know where it is.” I motion with my head toward my pool house.

“Thanks, Mr. Powers. See you next week,” he calls out, but I’m already entering through the French doors, tugging up the bottom of my T-shirt to wipe my face and let the air conditioner do its magic. I make my way toward the kitchen. I’ll down a few cans of Still water. Not as good as the hangover infusion, but it will have to do.