The Job (26 page)
I
take her into my arms and her fingers curling into the skin of my back as she
sobs against my chest.
What
I want is to ask her what happened, but I don’t want her to up and leave, not
when she’s feeling like this.
At
this moment, I don’t know anything more than the fact that she’s still crying.
I
hook one strap of her shirt with my big toe, the shirt falls out of my grasp
and I grab it again.
“What
are you doing?” she asks.
“I
don’t want you to get cold,” I tell her and bring the shirt up to my hand and
give it to her.
“Thanks,”
she sniffs. “Do you have any tissues? I’m sorry I’m like this right now.”
“Don’t
worry about it,” I respond, still nervous to push for more information. “There
are tissues on the counter in the bathroom.”
“Would
you mind if I sleep here tonight?” she asks.
“Not
at all,” I tell her. “I’ll tell you what,” I smile, “you can even have the
bed.”
“You
mean it?” she asks. “I mean, it’s your bed. I’m not just going to kick you out
of it.”
“Whatever
would make you most comfortable,” I tell her.
Regardless
of anything else, I know what this feels like. Maybe what I felt isn’t exactly
what she’s feeling now, maybe it is. Either way, I know that gutted feeling.
“Thanks,”
she says and walks to the bathroom to grab a tissue for her nose and another
for her eyes.
I
give her some space while remaining close enough that she doesn’t even feel a
hint of alone right now.
She
comes back out of the bathroom with a blank expression on her face and she
doesn’t say anything as she walks past me toward the bedroom and shuts the door
behind her.
So,
this will be two nights on the couch. I could be irritated, but tonight’s not
the night for that.
In
the morning, though, I’m going to try to talk to her and hopefully find out
what happened. If I don’t know what’s going on, I can hardly do anything to
help.
Not
that there’s a whole lot I can do to help anyway.
*
*
*
When
I wake up,
it’s
morning or early afternoon. All I know
right now is the sun is bright coming through my window.
I
rub my eyes and sit up on the couch. It takes a few seconds to remember why I’m
here and not in bed, but when my brain comes back to me, I get up and walk to
my bedroom.
The
door’s open, the bed is empty.
“Jessica?”
I call, but there’s no answer.
I’m
having a hell of a time remembering whether it’s Sunday or Monday. Until I land
another contract, it doesn’t really matter so much, but that might tell me
where Jessica went.
I
call her name again, but she’s not here.
My
phone is on the coffee table, but there’s no message from her.
Apparently,
though, it’s Sunday.
I
type a message, “Hey. Sorry I wasn’t up when you left. How’d you sleep?” but I
don’t bother waiting for a response.
The
hot water hasn’t run out, so if she took a shower this morning, it’s been at
least an hour.
I
clean myself and take a quick look through the help wanted section, not
expecting to find much. This isn’t usually how I get my jobs anyway, but it’s
always worth a look. My phone starts ringing, though, so I quickly fold the
paper and answer the call.
“Hello?”
“Hey
Eric,”
it’s
Jessica, “are you still planning on coming
in to help finish up training with Cheryl?”
“I
didn’t know we were doing a second day,” I tell her, “but yeah, I can come in.
Are you already at the store?”
“We’re
not at the store,” she says. “We’re at the bar. I think you should join us.”
I
laugh. “What kind of training are you doing in the bar?”
“Mostly
which liquors go best with which chasers,” she says. “Are you coming or not?”
“Sure,”
I tell her. “Where are you?”
She
gives me the name of the bar and I catch a cab. I’m not sure if I’m going to
end up drinking anything or not, but it’s clear enough that they’re already
drinking.
I
didn’t bother to don anything fancy, just a clean white t-shirt and a pair of
jeans. When I walk into the bar, though, I realize that I might be a little overdressed.
Calling
this place a bar is misleading, as it’s more of a dungeon with people drinking
in it. It’s not a sex or fetish club by any means, but I’m certainly wearing
the most clothing out of anybody in here.
I
find Jessica sitting at the far end of the bar. She’s chatting with some woman
I don’t know: certainly not Cheryl. As I approach, she just looks up at me,
gives me the slightest nod and goes back to her conversation.
“What’s
up?” I ask when there’s a break in the conversation.
“Oh,
aren’t you a handsome one?” the woman asks. “My name is Delilah.”
“I’m
Eric,” I tell her. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Jessica
here was just telling me about you,” Delilah says, “something about a nice
dick?”
“Hey,
can I talk to you for a second?” Jessica asks me and, before I can say yes,
she’s on her feet, stumbling into me.
“You
all right?” I ask.
“Yeah,”
she says. “I just need a bit of fresh air.”
“Where’s
Cheryl?” I ask. “I thought you were out with her.”
“Well,
we got together and talked about some things, but she didn’t want to come to
the bar,” Jessica answers.
I
help her outside, and once the sun is in her face, she takes a deep breath.
“Would
you mind taking me home?” she asks.
“I
took a cab, but I’ll be happy to make sure you get there safe.”
“I
drove,” she says. “I can’t drive home for obvious reasons, though.”
“Sure,”
I tell her and ask for her keys.
“Yeah,
that’s part of the problem,” Jessica says. “I kind of made a little wager with
Delilah in there that kind of lost, so I ended up paying for drinks for both of
us, only I didn’t have enough money to cover all of it, so I gave her my car
keys for collateral. You’re going to need to go in there and pay the balance on
my tab and get the keys from her. I don’t think it should be much more than a
hundred dollars.”
“A
hundred dollars?” I ask.
“Yeah,”
she says. “I’ll pay you back when you take me home, I just didn’t remember to
bring enough for
evverry
eventuality.”
“Come
in with me, stand at the end of the bar near the door and don’t talk to anyone
or order any drinks or do anything but wait for me, okay?” I tell her.
I’ve
never been to this place before, but I’ve got a really bad vibe as I go back
in. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that nearly everyone in the room
is staring at me.
They’re
not goths and they’re not ravers. They’re not the typical club or bar crowd
either. I’m not sure how to describe the clientele other than to say that they
appear very territorial and I seem to be infringing on that territory at the
moment.
Still,
we can’t really get out of here until I get Jessica her keys back.
I
walk back down to the end of the bar and find Delilah.
“Hey,
you did come back,” she says. “I was wondering if you would.”
“Yeah,”
I tell her. “I understand that my friend owes some money for drinks, and I’m here
to settle up and get her keys.”
“All
right, dearie,” Delilah says, and leans over the counter toward the bartender.
“How much is my tab?”
The
bartender answers, “Two-fifty.”
Fucking
hell.
“All
right,” I answer and pull my wallet out of my pants pocket. I remove my card
from inside and set it on the counter.
“Too
bad,” Delilah says. “I was really looking forward to taking that Merc out for a
test drive.”
“What
was the
bet
?” I ask.
“What
was what?” Delilah responds, cupping a hand to the side of her ear.
“What
was the
bet
?” I ask again.
“Oh,”
Delilah nods. “She said that you wouldn’t come if she called you. The way she
said it, I had a feeling that you would.”
“You
had a feeling?” I ask.
“Yeah,”
Delilah says. “Listen, she’s not good for you. She doesn’t appreciate you. If
you’ve got more in those pockets, I bet I could find you someone that’ll put a
smile on your face without all the drama that one’s going to give you.”
“Thanks,
but I’m not interested,” I tell her.
“Too
bad,” she says again.
The
bartender hands me back my card and I sign the receipt. I put the card in my
wallet, my wallet in my pocket, and I turn back toward Delilah, saying, “Now,
the keys if you don’t mind.”
“You
know we don’t bite,” she says.
“I
never said you did,” I answer. “I’d just like to get her home. It’s kind of a
rough time.”
“Oh,
I think we all know about that, sweetie,” Delilah says and stands up to better
access her front pocket. She pulls the keys out and holds them above my open
hand but, before dropping them, she leans in close to my ear and says, “If you
change your mind, give me a call.”
She
stuffs a piece of paper into my front pocket and drops the keys in my hand.
“Ta-ta,”
she mutters, and I force a smile as I turn to walk away.
The
problem is, Jessica’s nowhere to be found.
None
of the Above
Jessica
“If
you’re that worried about it,” Kristin says, “call him. If you would have told
me that he was there, I would have walked over there,
myself
and we would have figured something out.”
“How’s
Mom doing?” I ask.
“She’s
going to be laid up for a while,” Kristin says. “They took out cartilage from a
few of her joints, and they’re going to be taking her in for a scan later today
to see if they got it all.”
“How
could they not be sure about something like that?” I ask, trying and failing to
unlock my phone’s lock screen.
“They’re
just being cautious,” Kristin says. “How much did you drink? You know both Mom
and Dad are going to flip the fuck out if they know you’re already drunk.”
“I’m
fine,” I tell her.
“Get
your shit together, will you?” she asks. “You’re supposed to be the reasonable
one and I’m supposed to be the drunken idiot.”
“How
do you suggest I do that?” I ask. “‘Get my shit together.’”
“I
don’t know,” she says. “Maybe dial down the drinking for starters. You’re not a
heavyweight, so stop trying to act like one. And what the hell is going on with
you and Eric?”
“I
have no idea,” I tell her and finally manage to unlock my phone. I find Eric’s
number and call it.
“You
just left,” he says, answering the phone. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,”
I answer. “I kind of got in touch with both you and my sister. We’re headed—” I
turn to Kristin, “Where are we headed?”
“You’re
going home,” she says. “I’m going to the hospital to check up on Mom.”
“I’m
going with you,” I tell her.
“Not
like this, you’re not,” she retorts.
“I’m
either going home or to the hospital,” I tell him and turn back to Kristin.
“I’m fine. I want to go to the hospital with you.”
“You
can come later today after you’ve had a shower, a nap and some coffee. And, you
know, brush your teeth,” she says, holding her nose like a child.
“If
you want to meet me at my apartment, that would be okay,” I tell Eric.
His
sigh is very audible.
“All
right,” he says. “Is there anything I can pick up for you on my way?”
“Yeah,”
I tell him, “I’m running low on vodka.”
Kristin’s
sitting in the driver’s seat, shaking her head. “You need to get your shit
together, sissy.”
Of
all her terms for me that I don’t like, and there are many of them, “sissy” is
the only one that actually pisses me off.
“What
the fuck is your problem?” I ask her, covering the phone. “I can’t remember how
many times I’ve picked you up from bars, parties… I’ve basically been your
fucking designated driver since we were in high school.”
“Yeah,
and I’m finally starting to see why that pissed you off so much,” she says.
“Mom’s in the hospital. This isn’t all about you, Jessica.”
For
whatever reason, her use of my first name makes me feel like an asshole.