Losing Control (6 page)

Lane was on the couch, watching television when I entered the loft. It was late evening; I was exhausted from a hard day at work trying to sort things out with an obnoxious client. When I went to sit on the couch, Lane handed the remote to me.

“Am I still getting the silent treatment?” I asked.

He said nothing.

I switched to a channel showing a wildlife documentary, something about boars and lions.

“I ordered takeout,” Lane said. “If you want I can heat it up for you.”

First sentence in two weeks! “Thank you,” I said. “That would be nice.”

He got up and went over to the fridge and I could hear him putting things in the microwave. He brought back to the couch two plates of something that looked like fish and two cans, a beer for me and a soda for himself. I was too hungry to care, so I took up a fork and placed the strange objects in my mouth. An odd burst of flavor coated my taste-buds. “This is good,” I said, my mouth still masticating the food bits.

Lane grinned. “I knew you’d like it,” he said.

“So what have you been up to?”

“Not much,” he said. “I was out with a friend.”

“Female friend?” I pried.

“Yes, it was a female friend.”

“Ahh.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” I said. “So what did you and the female friend do?”

“We watched a movie.”

“Which one?”

“I don’t remember,” he said. “But it was horrible.”

“Sorry.”

“What about you?”

“I was trying to sort things out,” I said. “This client is the worst. No one else can deal with her so I have to. I wouldn’t wish her on an enemy.”

“Not even Walters?”

“Well, maybe Walters then.”

Lane smirked.

“You look like you’re in good spirits,” I said. “Did you kiss the female friend when she was leaving?”

“I don’t kiss and tell!”

“Not even to your cool big brother?”

“The cool big brother is a myth,” Lane said. “Besides, anyone who says the words ‘cool big brother’ in one sentence gets casted off the island for that atrocity alone.”

“Ouch.”

“So,” Lane began. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go ahead.”

“Can I bring the friend home this Friday?”

“You mean the female friend you may or may not have kissed?”

“Shut up. And yes.”

“Hmmm,” I said. “Let me think. Are you going back to school?”

Lane got up from the couch.

He looked angry at first and then he was obviously trying to calm himself down. “You want me to go away that bad then I’ll go,” he said.

I put the food plate on the couch and stood. “Lane, that’s not what it is. You know that’s not true.”

He crossed his arms and stood there. He looked hurt and angry at the same time. “I’ll go back, okay?” he said. “You don’t have to worry about that. Just let me stay here for a while. Please.”

“You can stay here as long as you want,” I said. “So long as you tell me you’re not going to quit school.”

He started staring at the floor. “Okay.”

I went up to him and put my arm around him. He didn’t give in much but at least he didn’t protest. “Thank you,” I said and kissed his head. He squirmed away at that.

“So can I bring her?” he asked.

I smiled. “Why the hell not,” I said. “I’m leaving this Friday for another work trip. You and your friend can have the loft to yourself over the weekend.”

Lane’s face finally looked like I had made him happy. “Cool,” he said and coming from Lane that was thank you enough. “Can I also have some cash?”

“What happened to your allowance?”

“I went a little overboard buying someone a gift.”

“Right,” I said, reaching for my wallet. I took out most of the cash I had and handed it over to him. “Here you go.”

He took the cash and stuffed it inside the pocket of his jeans. “Is it okay if I go out for a walk?”

I checked the time on my watch. “Now?” I said. “It’s late.”

“I’ll be quick.”

I could call Stanton and ask him to keep an eye on Lane. “Sure,” I said. “Not more than a half hour, okay?”

“Okay,” he said and ran out.

I immersed myself back in the food and the nature documentary where a male lion was trying to save its young from the clutches of an angry wild boar.

It was a little over a month since I broke up with Nick but seemed it happened ages ago. Somehow, the further I stayed from him, the less I wanted to go back. I had officially been looking for a job for a while, without much luck, and it was starting to get on my nerves. If I didn’t get a job soon enough I was going to be in a lot of trouble. That whole week, I had called pretty much every one I knew that I thought might be able to help but nothing came through. And it seemed to me that by breaking up with Nick, I also broke up with our so-called mutual friends. Most of them were either too busy to attend my calls, or were never there. Others blatantly asked me when I was going to give up the ‘charade’ and go back to Nick. Naturally they were not happy with my responses, which I agree were downright cold, thanks to the fact that I had been dealing with this for long enough. But that’s fine. Even if Penny remains my only friend for the rest of my life, I would have no complaints. She was more than enough. She was always there for me and I could count on her to be supportive. She had opinions and wasn’t afraid to share them, but she was also respectful of the opinions of others. We didn’t always agree, but we held one another in great respect.

In any case, there I was, sitting by the phone that day, waiting for the one special call to come and invite me to a second interview or something along those lines, but there was nothing and the phone didn’t ring. Even Nick had stopped texting like he used to. I was in a staring competition with my phone this time, and I realized this is just nonsense. How was it people like Nick had it all figured out and I was so clueless? I was on the verge of losing it. When no amount of staring at the phone or at my computer screen produced any results, I decided to step over to the refrigerator and let junk food do its thing.

Half-way through a giant tub of mint-chip, I was about to give myself up to day-time television, when I heard the door unlocking and Penny stepping in. She saw the ice cream and promptly brought herself a spoon to match. That folks is the reason I love Penny so much.

“Are you depressed again?” she asked.

“Can’t a person eat ice cream without being judged?”

“So, you’re not depressed?”

“Oh, I’m totally depressed. But I still don’t think you should judge me.”

“What I’m about to tell you might make you want to rethink your comfort-food choice.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Penny produces a business card for BRENDA SORKIN.

“Who is she?” 

“She’s hiring writer types for a part-time copywriting gig.”

“Copywriting?” I said. “I’ve never done any copywriting.”

“Well, I might have told them you did though,” she said. “But listen, before you start baring your fangs at me, they don’t need someone with experience.”

“A company that doesn’t need someone with experience? How’s that even possible?”

“I’m pretty sure they are paying less than market price,” she said. “That’s why they’re asking for fresh young talent.”

“Yep. Every time someone says fresh young talent and hiring in one line you should just assume they’re cheap.”

“Either way, its work, right? That’s what you said you needed?”

“Of course Pen,” I said. “I’m still allowed to make jokes about it, though.”

“Who knows you might actually end up enjoying it.”

“What if I suck?” I asked the obvious question.

“Then they will fire you,” she said. “Big deal. No one’s hiring you anyway and your resume is pretty shitty as it is.”

I grinned because she was not wrong. I’ve been known to have brief moments of bad decision-making in the past. Okay, so who am I kidding, most of my life is bad decision-making, but when it’s on the resume it’s there for life.

“I already got you an appointment with her on Tuesday,” Penny said. “Ten. Sharp.”

Penny was right.

I didn’t want the ice cream quite as badly as I did before.

“Lane?” I called out, leaving my luggage by the door and entering the loft. It smelled different. I had barely walked over to the breakfast bar when a young girl, must have been in her teens, wearing a black tank top and lots of eye makeup ran into me. She was carrying a backpack of some kind and she looked me over. “Lane,” she yelled. “Your extremely hot brother is here!”

I tried to shelve out a smile but I was certain it must have come out as forced as it felt.

She winked at me and did a little wave thing with her tiny hand, traipsed out the door. I walked upstairs, and the bedroom smelled even worse. “What the hell have you two been doing in here?” I said, taking off my suit jacket and placing it on the bed.

Lane sat rubbing the sleep out of his eyes to one side, dressed in a wife-beater and a pair of dangerously low-hanging jeans. “You really want to know?” he asked.

I noticed the multiple empty condom wrappers on the ground. “I guess not,” I said, realizing my maid was going to have a hell of time in here. I went to the wardrobe to get myself a pair of lounge pants and a t-shirt to go with it. But before I could head to the bathroom, I saw something on the nightstand. It was a tiny plastic bag with some sort of pills inside. I held it up for Lane to see. “Would you mind explaining this?” I asked, my anger levels already reaching higher frequencies as I tried to think of the excuses he was about to give to me.

Lane looked suddenly wide awake. “That’s not mine,” he said.

“Lane,” I said. “You think I reached twenty-nine without going through adolescence?”

“Look I tried maybe one or two. But it’s really not mine.”

I knew that was as close to a confession as I was going to get. “I thought Dad gave you the drug speech when he was giving you the condom speech.”

“We were partying,” he said. “Not like this is routine or anything.”

“I hope not,” I said, heading to the bathroom.

“Can I get that stuff back?” Lane asked as I opened the bathroom door.

“Absolutely not,” I said. “You don’t think I’m that stupid, do you?”

“Look, if she comes back for it—”

“Tell her to go to your extremely hot brother!” I snapped, almost turned on the shower and then peeked out. “This is
not
over, buddy.”