As Giovanni began to stir from his slumber, he was immediately aware of the dull throb in his head and the queasiness in his stomach.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and squinted against the harsh morning light filtering in through the blinds. He groaned as he realized that he was waking up with a hangover.

He shifted uncomfortably in his bed, feeling the sweat on his temple and the dryness in his mouth. As he tried to sit up, his right hand flew to his forehead.

Giovanni winced at the sharp pain that shot through. He shouldn't have had so much to drink last night; the memory of the party was hazy now.

With a sigh, Giovanni swung his legs over the edge of the bed and gingerly stood up, struggling to steady himself against the dizziness that threatened to overcome him.

Apparently, gravity disagreed because he fell back to the sheets with a soft thud. Even then, he wasn't fully awake. Giovanni didn't know how long he lay there, but what felt like only ten seconds later, he started jerking awake to the sound of a scream.

It was not loud per se, but it pierced right through his head. He was not alone.

A lady was trying— and failing miserably —to get past his German Shepherds. He did not even have to check; it was definitely Bruno and Poco keeping her frozen to the spot as she held onto the mirror for dear life. Giovanni could see her tall frame trembling even from behind.

The brunette had her shoes in her hands and the way she stood perched on the tip of her toes told him she'd been trying to sneak out before he woke up. Probably grabbed some of his stuff too.

Sleep blurred his focus. Nevertheless, Giovanni noticed the way her shoulders shook violently when she screamed again. "For God's sake, Britney! It is just a dog."

Just like his recollection of the party, his hair band must have disappeared sometime last night. Giovanni shoved his hair out of his face with another groan. Why did he always hit on thieving bimbos?

"Bruno! Poco! Leave her alone." Britney whimpered pathetically as the two dogs ran to him. The strap of her G-string stretched as she bent down to grab her blouse, after which she hightailed it to the front door. Typical.

The shortest of his bodyguards poked his head in as the lady, now clad in a blouse and panties, tried to run past him. When he grabbed her arm, Giovanni saw that she towered over him by a couple of inches. She was pretty tall.

"Let her go, Antonio."

Giovanni let his face fall on the white bedspread as his skull throbbed some more. Then he sat up almost immediately. "Alright, guys. I get it."

Bruno was barking at the top of his lungs and Poco was licking his legs. Giovanni grabbed him and threw him on the bed. "Fine. I'll get up."

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Even as he stumbled around to find some food, Giovanni knew his day was going to be a slow, miserable slog. Aspirin found him first and he popped three into his mouth with a glass of water. Bruno was still barking.

"Antonio!"

Giovanni waved dismissively when his bodyguard walked in. "My head hurts. Get them out of my sight."

The day was definitely not his. He was making himself a meal when a phone rang.

"It's today."

"I love how you say good morning, papacito."

He heard his father click his tongue on the other side of the call. "Papá."

Giovanni slurped a spoonful of flakes into his mouth. "What?"

"If you want to be Spanish so bad, at least get the words right."

He chuckled as milk dripped off his chin. Papá Gambetti was extra touchy today. "What's up, dad?"

"It is today."

"So, you keep saying. What is?"

Silence stretched between them for five seconds. Giovanni rolled his eyes. What was the problem now?

"How was the show?" his father asked instead.

Giovanni had to think long and hard about that one. The fashion show was a blur of booze, drugs, models, and fellow rich brats in his head.

"Sweet," he said quickly. "Giselle outdid herself."

Mr. Gambetti obviously did not buy that. "What time did you get back?"

The spoon on the way to his mouth paused halfway. "From the show?"

"From yesterday, figlio."

Giovanni gulped. "Uh… seven", he cleared his throat, "ish."

"I take it that means 7 a.m."

That was absolutely correct. "Nope. I got to the penthouse last night. 7 pm."

Either he was not up for his usual scolding, or something else was more important, but Mr. Gambetti simply sighed. "Whatever, figlio. Get dressed. It's today."

That was all. The line went dead.

Giovanni exhaled in relief. He already felt like crap. The last thing he needed was for his father to speak to him like he was a five-year-old.

There was a woman on the TV going on about a shuttle or something when he walked over to the couch. CNN had been covering it all morning. He would change the channel, but he could barely remember what day it was. Searching for a remote control he had not seen in days would be a stretch.

Giovanni sat; his eyes fixated on the screen. His brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing, but everything seemed to jumble together in his mind.

"Guess I'm watching the news now," he muttered to himself.

His head tilted slightly to one side as if he were trying to adjust the reception. He squinted and leaned closer, hoping to catch a clearer glimpse of what was happening.

There was a rocket on the screen. An actual skyrocket. Only the lower part fit the frame as the reporter spoke to a woman who claimed she was the 'AA' of something. Their voices blended together: a cacophony of distorted noise. He scratched his head, wondering if he was missing something important, but he couldn't quite figure it out.

A live broadcast came on next. A bunch of nerds began hustling around the rocket thing with all kinds of machinery.

Giovanni ate more of his cereal as he continued watching, still puzzled. Was NASAA back in business?

He recognized the President's representative though. He once met the man at the wedding of the Vice President's daughter. The RVP was shaking hands with a group of scientists lined up a distance away from where the rocket was stationed. One man, three women.

Wait… Giovanni knew that man. Tall. Dark hair. Dark stubble on the chin. Lab coat. He wore glasses, not the nerdy kind.

The man looked insanely familiar. Giovanni grabbed his cereal again, laughing it off. He must still be drunk.

"...where the long-awaited Inter-Galactic GG-20 is set to depart from the planet today," the reporter continued to say as the screen switched back to her face.

Giovanni sat up with a start. Dr. Foxxman. That was what his father was talking about. "Crap."