The Brevity of Roses (17 page)

Each day he made a mental list. Things to do. Steps to get back on track. Ways to move on with his life. Most days he accomplished little more than a run on the beach. He ran and ran and ran—as if he were training for a marathon. It was amazing he could run at all, when living was such an effort. Sometimes, he wondered at this dual sensation of being hollow, yet lead-filled.

Thirty miles later, he merged his car onto I-80, heading toward San Francisco. Today’s list: do some shopping; have lunch with his agent; maybe phone his old college roommate and—if Tony would get drunk enough with him—crash on his sofa tonight. Less than fifteen minutes later, Jalal wiped that list clean, and swung off onto the 680. He could drive up to San Francisco anytime.

Because he had traveled this part of the route countless times in the last twenty-two years, he drove on autopilot for the next hour. He had kept tally of those early solo trips taken during school breaks. He made no road trips after he moved to New York, and made only two, from his home to his parents’ and back, right after he returned to the West Coast. But through the next seven years, after Meredith fell in love with his family, the two of them made frequent drives to Seattle, though usually not along the coast. They took the 101 from Coelho. He merged onto that freeway now. Less than seventy miles to the Monterey Peninsula.

That would be a nice place to stop for lunch. He considered the restaurants he knew there. Maybe he would even stop at the aquarium, do the tourist thing. Today was a Tuesday—off-season—it would be peaceful, and he had time. He had more than enough time. He had nothing else. But when he came to the 156 turn-off, he kept on driving. Coelho was less than two hours further on. He could stop for lunch somewhere between here and there.

When he reached Salinas, he grabbed coffee and a candy bar with his fill-up at the mini-mart and, for a moment, sat in the car with the engine running. It was not too late; he could still take 68 over to Monterey. He could avoid this self-torture. He could get a grip.

He could let Meredith go.

Jalal pulled out onto the street and took the entrance ramp onto 101-S. The mileage sign read:
Coelho 98
.

Nine

“GET YOUR HAND OFF MY ASS, Wayne.” Renee set the full pitcher of beer on the table and swatted his hand away with her empty tray. Wayne, Jerry, Dominic, and Brian were four of her regulars—good guys.

“Aw, come on, Renee,” said Wayne, grinning, “you know you want me.”

She shook her head. “Not even in my wildest dreams.”

Jerry sucked in his gut and expanded his chest like a peacock in full display. “Give up, Wayne. She wants a real man.”

“You got that right,” she said, flicking a subtle wink to Jerry. “So, if you guys see one walk in, let me know.”

The men cracked up, Jerry included. She always tried to leave them laughing. The tips were better. And every penny saved brought her one second closer to getting out of this place, one minute closer to starting her real life. None of the crap she’d lived through until now had been a life. Another month’s worth of paychecks, plus tips, and she’d be gone. She’d be reborn. Hallelujah! Praise the lord and pass the wine!

With more strut than step, she returned to the bar. “Hey, Rick-o, where’s my pitcher for table six?”

“You must have called that order in by telepathy, Renee, ‘cause I never heard it.” He filled the pitcher and set it on the bar. “You’re in a good mood tonight.”

“I’m seeing that light at the end of the tunnel.” She loaded her tray and flashed him a smile. “Just seeing the light.”

For the first four years after moving to California, she served in five restaurants. When she turned twenty-one, she switched to waiting bars, and in just two years, she’d lost count of those jobs. A couple of them, she’d deliberately forgotten. Working in bars paid better, but that money didn’t come easy. She spent the greater part of her waking hours in a mostly male world. Trouble and testosterone both started with
T
, and, in her mind, that was no coincidence.

The night was early, but Rick’s Place was already full, and she and Maria did some fancy moves to avoid tripping over each other as they hurried to keep up with the customers. Renee checked her watch. Three of them should have been waiting tables by that hour. She filled her tray with dirty glasses and headed back to the bar.

“Shelly
is
working her shift tonight, right?” Rick didn’t answer, but she knew by the way his hand jerked and sloshed the head out of the glass of stout he’d heard her. “Damn it, Rick! You
knew
I needed off early tonight.”

“You got an order to put in, Renee?” He dumped the stout, drew another one, and set the pint on the bar just as Maria arrived to collect it. He took a breath and turned to face Renee. “Shelly will take your shift Sunday, if you want.”

“Well, I
don’t
want. You know damned well, I want all the hours I can get. I just needed to get out of here a couple hours early
tonight
. Matt and I are going to go see a friend’s band play.”

Rick shrugged. “Shelly called in sick. What could I say?”

His easy-going nature was what made him bearable to work for, but at times like this, it frustrated the hell out of her. She sighed. “Just give me two draft lights and a Heineken. And is Oscar still working on my nacho order back there, or did you give him the night off too?”

Rick almost succeeded in hiding his amusement. “With a smart mouth like that, it’s a good thing I like you, Renee.”

She called home on her first break. Matt didn’t answer until the fourth ring. “Hey. Bad news. I can’t get off early after all. Sorry.”

“Uh-huh,” he said.

“So, I can’t go to Rock Hard with you.”

“Yeah. Got it.”

Well, hell!
Obviously, something more important than her had his attention. What was it this time: TV? Xbox? A damned Hot Pocket? “Geez, Matt, you could try sounding just a
little
disappointed.”

“Oh! Of course I’m disappointed, Renee. For sure.” He cleared his throat. “But you won’t care if I go to the club anyway, right?”

Maybe it was some inflection in his voice that triggered her female intuition, but just like
that
, she knew. Forget the Xbox; he was playing a different game. She closed her eyes and wrestled her voice under control. Still, her tone fell flat. “Sure, Matt, go ahead. You have a real good time.”

She clicked off and stared at her phone as though the whole scenario played out on the darkened screen. A dozen little signs came together into the big picture. Like Matt’s recent flurry of text messages from ‘some guy at work’. And why he’d started showing up here during her shift, but—she realized now—only on the nights she worked with Shelly.

Matt had known she’d have to cancel out on the club because he’d planned to go with that little bitch who’d called in “sick” to work.

The clock on the cable box read 2:47 when Renee got home. Without bothering to turn on a light, she kicked off her shoes and padded through the dark toward the bedroom. Her last few hours of work were a blur. The what-to-do-about-Matt problem had kept her preoccupied. She needed sleep. A lot of it. Forget removing her make-up; she didn’t have the energy. She’d need a clear head tomorrow when Matt came slinking back with a lame excuse about spending the night passed out on some dude’s floor.

Damn him
. Why’d he have to cheat now? “Six more weeks, Matt. That’s all I needed—” She’d flipped the light switch and the glare exposed the mess he’d left behind: half-opened drawers, empty hangers on the bed, a leftover packing box. Gone. The breath she held eased out like a prayer. “I wanted to be the first to leave this time.”

During the minute she stood in the doorway surveying the remnants of Matt, she assessed the situation, adjusted her plans, and shot her middle finger into the air.
Done, and done.
She cleared the bed with a sweep of her arm, peeled off her tip-increasing micro-skirt, cut the lights, and crawled under the covers.

Only two cups of coffee into the morning, Renee had already evaluated her finances. Paying the full rent and utilities on this place would eat another month’s pay, so it made no sense to stay until June. A nice bottle of Stoli would get Bonnie in the rental office to backdate her notice. Rick had known for months she was saving up to leave, so what difference would a few weeks make?

Quitting her job had a down side. Rick was a good guy, not much to look at, but he had his act together, mature, the kind of guy she
should
hook up with. The kind of guy she always overlooked while blinded by the all-looks-no-substance jerks like Matt. Rick was the closest thing to a friend she had, and she would miss him. But staying was not an option, she had to get out of this town.

She opened her notebook and picked up her pen.

Dear Mom,

I guess it won’t surprise you to hear that I got dumped again …

Renee could have saved time by driving all the way on I-5, but if she had to look at one more mile of nothing, she’d lose her mind before she got to Los Angeles. During a gas stop, she pulled out the map and saw she was only a few miles north of a road leading to the coastal highway. A few minutes later, she headed toward the ocean. She was still over 200 miles from L.A. when the warning light came on. Her car had run rough for the last couple of days, but she’d hoped it was only water in the gas line. Just once in her life she wanted to own a car that wasn’t a rolling junk pile. She kept driving. When she came to the next mileage sign, it read
Bahia de Sueños 12
. Okay, that’s where she’d stop.

It turned out to be one of those quaint places—tourist towns—with a ton of art galleries and gift shops, but only one gas station in sight. She pulled in. The girl at the cash register looked to be all of sixteen, and stoned.

“I need someone to take a look at my car. Can—”

“We don’t do that here,” said the girl.

Keep smiling
. “No, of course you don’t, but I hoped you could tell me where the nearest garage is.”

Blank stare.

Wait for it …

“Oh!” said the girl. “Like where they do car repairs?”

“You got it.”

The girl gave her directions and Renee set off in search of a place called Geary’s Auto Care. Along the way, she discovered the real town, the part where the residents lived and did business. She pulled up in front of the shop and walked to the door, anticipating the tinkle of a bell when it opened.

An average looking guy, maybe in his thirties, stood behind the counter. He looked up. “May I help you?”

She glanced at his name tag. “Hi, Keith, my warning light came on.”

“Wow! Really?”

It took her a second to realize he was joking. She faked a laugh. “Yeah. So, can you please check to see what’s wrong with my car?”

“Sure can … but not today.”

Renee flashed him her slinkiest smile. “But I’m sure it wouldn’t take—”

“Just diagnosing the problem could take the computer an hour.” He pointed to the clock. “It’s five; I was just closing up.”

She sighed. Not even a little flirting would get her what she wanted this time. “Okay, but you can do it first thing in the morning, right?”

He shook his head, pushed aside some papers on his desk, and ran his finger down the appointment list. “I’ll put you down for two.” He slapped a form and pen on the counter. “It’s fifty dollars for the diagnosis, you’ll have to sign to authorize that. When I find the problem, I’ll give you a call to get your okay on the repair, so make sure your cell number’s on there.”

She signed.

He checked her signature, then looked up at her and smiled. “Enjoy your stay in our lovely village, Renee.”

“How do you know I’m just passing through?”

He laughed. “Big city girl, aren’t you? Believe me, if you lived here, I’d have seen you around, and if I’d seen you, I’d remember.”

“
Riiight
.” She took a step toward the door. “See you tomorrow, then.”