Minnie Chase Makes a Mistake (16 page)

‘Serious stuff.’

‘I suppose it is.’ Minnie missed James George more than ever.

Jackson tapped the steering wheel in time to the music. ‘You should consider a solar-powered solution instead. Spend more time in the sunshine like me.
With
me.’

Minnie sank into silence. She couldn’t bear to break up with James George and move on without him. She wished she had emotions as cut and dried as Jackson. He had put a broken relationship behind him and kept his self-respect in one piece. She was an embarrassingly clinging, wronged woman who couldn’t do the right thing: turn around and walk away, right now. She loathed her misplaced devotion and the conflict between her head and her heart.  

‘He hasn’t called?’ asked Jackson.

‘We’ve spoken,’ said Minnie.

‘But he’s not ringing your cell phone off the hook?’

Minnie answered, a little snappishly, ‘He is in London. I am in San Francisco. There is an eight-hour
time difference.’

Jackson shrugged. ‘Wouldn’t make a difference to me.’

They drove on. Jackson suggested a bathroom break, which also involved filling up on fuel. He refused Minnie’s money for gas so she bought him a Hershey bar instead and promised him dinner. Then they drove on some more. 

‘Please tell me what you did to get arrested?’ asked Jackson. The intrigue was killing him.

‘It’s a long story,’ said Minnie, sipping more water.

Jackson pointed at the straight road ahead that stretched for miles and miles into the distance. It seemed to cut right through the centre of the earth. ‘It’s a long road, and I’m a good listener.’

Minnie opened up. Talking to Jackson did help. Minnie could feel the tension and frustration start to ease fractionally. She could also clearly see just how hopeless the ‘Greene’ situation was. As the highway signs started to show this road trip was coming to an end, Minnie had made up her mind. There was no reason for her to remain in San Francisco. It was time to go home. Although she had spectacularly failed at reversing the damage she had done to Greene, it was perfectly clear that she couldn’t make a difference if he refused to let her help. 

Jackson, meanwhile, was still shaking his head. His familiar sunshine smile had faded quickly when Minnie talked him through what had happened. ‘I can’t believe you were
Tasered
,’ he said, eyes popping wide. ‘I think you should sue his ass.’ 

‘I will survive,’ said Minnie quietly, imagining the futileness of building a case against the great Greene legal team. 

Jackson reached over and spontaneously squeezed her hand. She squeezed it back. Then she felt uncomfortable. It was more a fatal distraction moment than a fatal attraction one. She said, ‘You should keep both hands on the wheel. Driving with one hand increases reaction time. We are an accident waiting to happen.’

Minnie continued to look out the window lost in thought, watching the unfamiliar world slip by.

‘When did you last have fun?’ asked Jackson, determined to cheer her up. 

‘I know how to have fun,’ replied Minnie, indignant. 

‘I didn’t ask you that. I asked when did you
last
have fun?’

Minnie faltered. ‘You’re asking me to give you an example… like the
last
time… well, the hardest part is narrowing down choices…’

‘I’ve got all the time in the world,’ said Jackson.

Birds could have built nests and hatched eggs in the time it took Minnie to eventually come up with an honest answer. ‘I can’t remember when I last had fun,’ she said quietly, which was an alarming admission for someone who remembered everything. 

‘You deserve flowers every day,’ said Jackson, ruffling her hair. 

Minnie placed his hand back on the steering wheel. She said, ‘That would be a huge mistake.’

‘Why?’

‘I intensely dislike cut flowers. There is no pleasure watching a beautiful bouquet shrivel and die.’

‘You could enjoy the moment,’ said Jackson looking on the bright side.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘What’s the alternative - chocolates?’

‘Chocolates are acceptable.’ She paused and pictured a birthday party. It was James George’s birthday tomorrow. This thought was accompanied with more enormous sadness. She said quietly, ‘Or helium balloons.’

‘Balloons die too, y’know,’ responded Jackson quick off the mark. He whistled through his teeth to mimic the sad sound of a deflating balloon.

Minnie was equally quick to respond. ‘Yes, but I can let balloons go before the inevitable happens. Now you see them, now you don’t.’

Jackson smiled an annoyingly secret smile to himself. He was a strangely perceptive guy. Minnie could see this in the way he looked at her. It was as though he could see the real her – and she wasn’t usually a letting-go kind of girl.

Jackson pulled into the parking lot of the diner across the road from Minnie’s motel. ‘C’mon. Let’s eat,’ he said. ‘Didn’t you promise me dinner?’

Minnie was about to protest because she was feeling exhausted. The shock of the last 48 hours was starting to really sink in. Then she realised that she was ravenous. Unsurprisingly, prison food had not tempted her. 

‘Okay,’ she said, looking at her watch, ‘but I won’t make a great dinner companion.’

‘I don’t need conversation,’ said Jackson, springing from the vehicle. ‘I need food.’ He strode round and opened Minnie’s door. He looked strong, tanned and toned. Minnie surprised herself with the thought that James George, in comparison, was more nocturnal by nature. He was pale and soft. Different. 

Jackson offered Minnie his arm. ‘I figured you might need some help getting down.’

‘I might not look particularly athletic but I
can
negotiate steps,’ said Minnie defensively. She took his arm nonetheless. She had a detailed flashback to gymnastic Licky Vicki in her bed and suddenly felt horribly insecure. 

‘Come surfing with me,’ said Jackson. He looked serious. 

Minnie looked alarmed. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘You will love it.’ He raised his hands in enthusiasm. ‘What’s not to love?’

She tried to make a joke. ‘The only surfing I do involves an Internet connection.’

‘You’re scared.’

‘I’m a mathematician,’ said Minnie. ‘Odds versus probability. I conclude that I would hate surfing.’

Jackson looked unconvinced.

Entering the diner Minnie received a welcoming nod from her waitress, Sarah-Jane. As Jackson came through the door, clearly with Minnie, an eyebrow was briefly raised in Minnie’s direction that seemed to say, ‘catch of the day’. Once settled comfortably in a booth, Minnie ordered a pasta dish while Jackson ordered just about everything on the menu.

‘High metabolic rate,’ he explained, when he caught Minnie staring at him.

The banquet of food arrived and Jackson encouraged Minnie to try something of everything. She picked a little, not as hungry as she thought she was.

He sprawled on the seat opposite, feet planted wide apart as though there was an invisible fixture between his knees. Minnie, once again, couldn’t help comparing him to James George who liked to sit with his legs crossed or knees pressed together. 

Minnie didn’t have to worry about making conversation. Jackson talked about the surfing forecast, the size of wave breaks, his training schedule under a new coach and a brief history of the Mavericks.  

She was still no more interested in surfing than before but she liked listening to him talk.

‘We could be good together,’ said Jackson, offering her a taste of his strawberry milkshake. 

‘I don’t think so,’ replied Minnie with a polite smile, declining the milkshake and Jackson’s suggestion. She had managed to eat some more and was starting to feel better.

‘Give me one good reason,’ he said.

She considered her answer carefully while sipping her water. Then she said, ‘Because you’re more a “Victoria’s Secret” type of person whereas I’m more Victoria Sponge.’

Jackson chuckled and, for a second, looked as though he was imagining supermodels in designer underwear. ‘Are you saying I
can’t
have my cake and eat it?’

Minnie smiled despite herself. ‘I’m saying
exactly
that.’

Jackson turned his attention back to the menu. The mention of cake had made him hungry again.

‘We need to order the apricot pie. It looks awesome.’

Jackson, noted Minnie, was fond of hyperbole, whereas she had never had the occasion to use the word ‘awesome’ in her life. This made her a little bit sad, too. 

Then he noticed her shoulders sag. ‘We’ll order the pie to go. I’ll walk you back to your motel.’

Minnie stood facing Jackson on the pavement outside the motel.

‘Thank you for coming to get me today,’ she said. ‘I know you are training for the competition. The round-trip – and then dinner – well, I’ve almost taken up your entire day.’

‘You’re welcome,’ said Jackson graciously. ‘I’d say any time but you don’t look like a repeat offender to me.’

Minnie smiled. ‘You’re right. There is a first and last time for everything.’ 

‘This feels like goodbye,’ said Jackson.

Minnie nodded. ‘I’m going home.’

‘Back to London?’

Minnie nodded. ‘Tomorrow, if I can get on a flight.’

‘You did what you could.’

‘It wasn’t enough.’

Jackson pulled her into a suffocating bear hug. ‘Goodbye Minnie Chase,’ he said, his voice muffled in her hair. ‘I sure hope you find what you’re looking for. But if you don’t, well… you’ve got my number, yeah? I’d still love to take you out surfing or for a six-dollar burger. So if you ever change your mind…’

12

An audience with Greene

Minnie lay in the darkness in her motel room and relived the Taser moment. Someone had fired 50,000 volts into her. In her mind, those zeros stared back at her like screaming mouths. 

The hot water pipes kicked in around 4am, vigorously hissing and belching into action, cracking and banging, before settling down to a quiet hum. Minnie pictured an old motel monster waking up, cracking his bones as he stretched into shape.

The person in the room above had shuffled back and forth to the bathroom all night. Sad footsteps attempting to distribute the weight of the world on just two shoulders. Insomnia throwing a leash about the person’s neck and leading them back and forth.

Minnie was struggling with orientation. She liked to lie on her left side but San Francisco seemed to be spinning on a different axis. She couldn’t work out which way the room was facing – the door, the window and the wardrobe. Then she would drift off to sleep and awaken, convinced she was back in her bed in London. Furthermore, she was all too aware of people sleeping either side of her room, only separated from her by thin walls; their dreams drifting uninvited into her own. She seemed to absorb strange fantasies and adventures that took her to unimagined places detected by satellite dishes and drawn in from deep space. It was all too apparent that she wasn’t a seasoned traveller; a jet-set someone who took to exploring the world in their stride. 

She wanted to go back home. She needed to see James George and tell him that it was going to be okay. He had made a mistake, he said. He had certainly done that, and hurt her deeply. But he hadn’t murdered someone or robbed a bank. He had hurt her heart. It had been a moment of indiscretion but it wasn’t the end of the world.

The morning came eventually, dragging its heels through a silver cashmere blanket of fog. 

Minnie lay on the bed. She was going home. In a moment, she would get up and go through the necessary procedures to check flight availability and book tickets. She wondered if she should call James George and let him know or should she surprise him. The latter wasn’t a particularly appealing option when she recalled the last time she had surprised him.

This thought made Minnie feel sad. What he did would probably always remain between them, how could it not? It was hard to forgive and forget when she was the kind of person who remembered everything. 

Then the phone next to her bed screeched out several ear-splitting trilling rings – an old-fashioned black and white movie sound that could wake the living dead. 

It was Mary-Ann, the woman who worked on motel reception. She said she would be along in a minute to pop a letter under Minnie’s door. Someone had dropped it off at reception earlier, much earlier, around 5am.

Minnie was surprised and intrigued. Who on earth would have sent a letter when the usual mode of modern communication was online or by phone?  

The untouched apricot pie on the bedside table had scented the whole room overnight. The sweet fruitiness produced a cloying stickiness that clung to the curtains – a
penetrating
smell that also dripped its fruitiness onto the carpet pile and hideously patterned upholstered chairs. It made Minnie feel quite lightheaded when she stood up.

She swayed across to the window and hauled it up as far as she could. The waft of street breeze quickly diluted the heady atmosphere. She inhaled deeply, gripping the windowsill until the wave of nausea passed. 

Turning around, Minnie saw that the letter had now appeared on the carpet courtesy of Mary-Ann’s willing hand. Minnie eyed it cautiously before she approached it, fearful that it might be carrying a fatal electrical charge or some biological agent. She picked the envelope up and gingerly opened it.

Concise and to the point, the message read: 

Mr Ashton Greene invites you to lunch at Harbor Heights on Tuesday 8
^th
July. Arrival time, 12.30pm.

The proposed date was tomorrow. The Harbor Heights’ address was printed on the back but there were no rsvp details, suggesting that Minnie’s attendance was a foregone conclusion. No one turns down an audience with Greene. 

Minnie sat with the invitation on her lap. Her mind raced through a thousand questions and possibilities. It was an expected turnaround and such a giant leap from the last time they met. Jail time to fine dining. It didn’t seem right. What did he want? From what Minnie had experienced with Greene so far, she was certain he wasn’t the type to make apologies.