Jake Me

by Sabrina Stark

  His voice was flat. "Are you?"

  Actually, I wasn't. But the longer he lingered, the worse I felt. Embarrassment aside, none of this was his problem. It was mine. I picked up the suitcases and mumbled, "Well, I guess this is goodbye."

  "Guess again," he said.

  I turned toward him, fighting the urge to fall into his arms and pretend that everything was okay. "Guess again? What do you mean by that?"

  "I mean there's no fucking way I'm leaving you alone at some construction site." He glanced at the suitcases. "I'll get those."

  I yanked the cases backward. "Why?"

  "Because we're going back to my place."

  If only I could. The job-trailer was a tin can on wheels. Jake's penthouse was an oasis of sky-high luxury. But that's not why I longed to return. I gazed up at him, waiting for him to tell me that we stood a chance, that he'd at least consider the possibility that he deserved a slice of happiness in this world.

  In front of me, he said nothing.

  I let out a long, weary breath. "Jake, let's be realistic. What's changed since this morning? Or, since before Maddie showed up, in fact?" I fought against the tide of despair. "Nothing." I swallowed and forced myself to continue. "Nothing has changed."

  "You serious?" His jaw clenched. "An hour ago, you told me you had a safe place to stay." He glanced toward the construction site. "You think that's safe?"

  Even as a kid, I'd been on a ton of construction sites, but never for any length of time. And I sure as hell never slept there. No one did, really. Maybe my brothers were joking. I squared my shoulders. And if they weren't, so what?

  I'd met more than my share of construction workers over the years. Usually, they were pretty nice guys. A few gals too. Sure, they might get rowdy every once in a while, but who didn't?

  About the equipment, well, that was safe too – unless I happened to jump out in front of something, and I had no plans of doing that any time soon.

  I wasn't afraid to stay there. Mostly, I was just grossed out.

  That stupid job-trailer didn't even have a bathroom. My gaze drifted to the row of orange porta-potties just inside the fence. I stifled a shudder.

  Still, I made myself say, "Yeah, of course it's safe. And in case you didn't notice, I was doing just fine before you showed up."

  He gave me a deadpan look. "Were you?"

  "I didn't mean here," I clarified. "I meant at Maddie's place."

  "You think that was any better?"

  "Okay," I said. "Yeah, my place was a dump. And yeah, my roommate wasn't exactly a nice person. And yeah, my jobs kind of sucked. But I would've figured it out. And I will this time, too." My voice rose. "So if you're just hanging around, because you feel sorry for me—"

  "That's not it."

  "Okay, whatever," I said. "Because you're worried about me? Forget it. I'm fine. This is fine. Everything's fine."

  What a crock. It wasn't fine. I wasn't fine. And if he stuck around much longer, neither one of us would be fine, because I was in serious danger of losing it. I flicked my head toward his car. "So just go. Okay?"

  "No," he said. "Here's what we're gonna do—"

  "We're not going to do anything," I told him. "You're going to get into your car and drive away."

  "The hell I am."

  "And I'm going to throw my stuff in the trailer and wait for my brothers." I took a deep breath and tried to rein in my emotions. "Let's just stop this, okay? You made it pretty clear that we don't belong together. So why wait? Why draw this out any longer than we have to?"

  "Luna—"

  "You told me this was goodbye."

  "I'm not leaving you like this. If anything ever happened to you—"

  "Nothing's going to happen to me."

  "Listen," he said, "come back to my place—"

  "No!" I glared up at him. My mouth was dry, and my hands were damp. My shoulders were tight from holding those stupid suitcases. But I couldn’t set them down. Because if I did, Jake would surely swoop them up, and I'd lose what little control I had in this sorry situation.

  He held up his hands. "Just hear me out. Okay?"

  Gripping the suitcase handles tighter, I gave him the briefest of nods.

  "This is what we'll do," he said. "We'll head back to my place, get you settled, and then, if you want, I'll leave."

  I gave a quick shake of my head. "What?"

  "Stay as long as you want. Invite your brothers too, whatever."

  "I'm not kicking you out of your own place."

  You're not kicking me out. I'm offering. Big difference, okay?"

  I gave him a dubious look. "Offering? Or making the choice for me?"

  "What?"

  "What happens if I say 'no'?"

  "Why would you?" he asked.

  "Oh my God. Do I really need to spell this out?" I glanced away. "You know what? Just forget it." I hoisted the suitcases higher and turned to go.

  I felt his hand on my elbow. "Hang on."

  With a sigh, I turned around. "What?"

  "Yes."

  "Yes, what?"

  "Yes, you need to explain it."

  "It's just wrong," I said. "And weird."

  "Weirder than sleeping here? In a construction zone?"

  "Yes, actually."

  He reached for the suitcases. "Lemme me get those."

  I yanked the cases away. "No."

  His muscles grew rigid. "Why not?"

  "Because you'll throw them in your car, and then I'll be screwed."

  "Baby, come on," he said. "I feel like an asshole standing here while you carry those." He reached for them again.

  Again, I yanked them away, only to feel the smaller one slip from my damp fingers and go flying. With a sad, hollow sound, it landed on the sidewalk, popped open, and toppled over, ejecting panties and bras onto the dirty concrete.

  "Son of a bitch," I groaned. "Not again." I dropped the larger suitcase and dashed toward the mess. Frantically, I began plucking undergarments off the grubby sidewalk.

  Instantly, Jake was crouched beside me. "Let me get those."

  I whirled toward him. "Just stop, okay?"

  A wolf whistle sounded in the distance. I turned to look. A few construction workers had remained at the fence. One of them was giving me the thumbs-up. I looked down at my hands. I was clutching a lacy red bra. I flung it to the sidewalk and screamed out, "You want it? Come and get it!"

  Next to me, Jake's voice was soft. "Baby—"

  I whirled toward him. "Stop! Just go away, alright?"

  He reached for me. "No. Not like this."

  "Like what then?" I gave a choked half-laugh, half-sob. I glanced down at the sidewalk, still littered with my stuff. Screw it. I didn't have a washing machine anyway.

  Unless I wanted to wash that stuff in the porta-potties, I was totally screwed, short-term anyway. In fit of pique, I dove down onto the concrete and swooped up everything, dirt and all. I stood and marched toward the nearest trash can.

  I felt a hand on my elbow. "Luna," Jake said. "Come on."

  I yanked out of his grip and kept on going. With a sound of defiance, I flung everything into the trash can – all my underpants, all my bras, and apparently, all my dignity, because the construction workers let out a rowdy cheer.

  Just shoot me now.

  I whirled toward the guys. "You want 'em?" I yelled. "They're all yours!"

  From behind me, I felt familiar arms close around my waist. The arms were strong, but the embrace was gentle. I turned and buried my face against his chest, giving in to the flood of emotions that threatened to wash me away.

  I felt his hands in my hair and voice in my ear. "Shhhh…It's okay."

  It wasn't okay. It was crap. Still, in spite of my outburst, I knew it wasn't really Jake's fault. Bleary eyed, I pulled back to look at him. "Can you do me a favor?" I asked.

  He looked nearly desperate. "Anything."

  "Just help me get my stuff into the trailer." I gave him a pleading look. "And then leave.
Okay?"

  Chapter 12

  Alone in the trailer, I woke with a start to the sounds of my brothers' voices. I sat up in the top bunk, only to slam my head, hard, into the sloped metal roof. "Damn it," I groaned.

  "Uh, good morning?" Steve said.

  I flopped back down on the bunk and closed my eyes. "Oh shut up. It's not morning." The trailer had only a few tiny windows, covered in faded blue checkered curtains. Through the gaps in the fabric, I could see plain as day that it was still early afternoon.

  Probably, they'd been gone less than an hour.

  Sunlight aside, the rumble of construction equipment was a painful reminder that the day was far from over – and I was a long, long way from Jake's place.

  At the thought of Jake, I turned my head into the pillow – which had no pillow case, by the way – and tried to imagine myself somewhere else.

  Tahiti. That would be nice.

  "Are you okay?" Anthony asked.

  With a weary sigh, I turned toward them. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes. My brothers were sitting on opposite sides of the trailer's only table. On it, I spotted a large takeout bag from a local drive-thru burger joint. Next to the bag were three takeout drinks.

  I pointed. "Are one of those for me?"

  Anthony lifted the only drink that was missing a straw. "Coke, right?" He dug into the takeout bag and pulled out a wrapped something-or-other. He set it on the table's edge. "Got you a burger, too."

  "Actually," Steve said, "Maddie got the burger. I tried for sundaes too, but…" He shrugged. "Eh, she got all funny about it."

  "By funny," I said, "do you mean flipped out and called you a bunch of names?"

  "Pretty much," Steve said.

  With a sigh, I climbed down from the bunk. I crossed the small metallic space, and squeezed myself in on Anthony's side of the small booth. I turned to him and said, "Speaking of which, please tell me you didn't steal Maddie's car."

  My brothers loved cars – really, really loved cars. In the summers, they both practically lived at the local racetrack, where Steve was the semi-psychotic driver of car number sixty-three. As for Anthony, he did more driving off the track, sometimes with cars that weren't technically his own.

  "Hey, I've never stolen a car in my life," Anthony said.

  Technically, this was true. Of all the cars they'd 'borrowed' over the years, I'd never heard of them actually keeping one. But it made me incredibly nervous just the same.

  "Let me guess," I said. "You 'borrowed' it?"

  Anthony shrugged. "Call it a test drive."

  "Meaning," I said, "that you 'test-drove' it to the burger place and waited for Steve and Maddie to show up and buy you lunch?"

  "Oh, sure," Anthony said, "because that wouldn’t have been obvious at all." He grinned. "Nah, I parked it the next street up. You know, past the burger place."

  Steve was laughing now. "You should've seen that roommate of yours. After we hit the drive-through, I just 'happen' to hit the street where her car is parked, and she's all like, 'Stop the fucking car!', which by the way, is pretty stupid, because we're driving a truck, right? And I'm acting all dumb like 'What? Why?' And she's like, 'Because that's my car, dumb-ass!" Steve lifted his drink to take a long, noisy slurp. "Which I also think is funny, because she's no genius herself, you know?"

  I was almost afraid to ask. "So then what?"

  "So then," Steve continued, "I stop the truck, and she jumps out, leaves her burger and everything, sitting right there on the dashboard–"

  In spite of everything, I almost laughed. "Did you eat it?"

  "Hell yeah, I ate it," he said. "It was still in the wrapper."

  "I got the fries," Anthony said.

  "Anyway," Steve continued, "she gets to her car, and surprise, surprise, the keys are sitting right there in the ignition. So get this. She flips me bird, starts the thing, and takes off without so much as a thanks for the ride."

  "Gee," I said, "how rude of her."

  "You're telling me," Steve said. "So anyway, I wait 'til she's out of sight and double back to get Anthony." He lifted his burger. "And here we are."

  I shook my head. "And you did all this just to get a free lunch?"

  "Hardly." Steve shoved the burger into his face and took a huge bite. With his mouth full, he said, "She was mean to you."

  I stared at him. "Mean to me?"

  "Hell yeah," Steve said. "We heard her yelling at you from like a mile away. And we're getting all pissed about it. But she's a girl, so we can't exactly get out and kick her ass. So Anthony says, 'I know. Let's take her car, give her something else to bitch about.'"

  I turned toward Anthony. "Really?"

  "Sure," Anthony said. "We had to do something to get that chick away from you."

  "Yeah," Steve added. "That one? She's like a big-ass bag of crazy just waiting to pop."

  I wasn't quite sure what he meant by that, but I definitely got his point. In spite of everything, I felt the hint of a real smile. "So you guys did all of that for me? Seriously?"

  Steve lifted his burger in a mock toast. "Hey, no one messes with my sister." He grinned. "Well, except for me."

  "I hate to sound ungrateful," I said, "but seriously, don't do that again, okay? You guys need to be more careful."

  Steve snorted. "Says the girl who's dating a psycho."

  At the thought of Jake, my heart sank. "He's not a psycho." I sighed. "And we're not dating."

  "Could've fooled me," Steve said.

  "Yeah," Anthony said. "The way he talks, he's got a serious thing for you."

  I gave my brothers a perplexed look. "The way he talks? What do you mean?"

  "He stopped us on the way in," Steve said.

  I shook my head. "The way in to where? His penthouse?"

  "No," Steve said. "Here." He pointed vaguely toward the street just outside the construction area. "He was standing over there, on the other side of the fence."

  I swear, my heart stopped beating. "Doing what?"

  "The way it looked," Steve said, "watching you."

  Chapter 13

  Jake was watching me? With a pang, I recalled our sad goodbye just an hour earlier. Silently, he'd carried my suitcases to the job-trailer. Together, we'd ignored the commotion around us – the rumbling of machinery, the stares of construction workers, and whatever heartache either one of us might have been feeling as we reached the end our sorry journey.

  At my request, Jake had handed over my suitcases and left me alone at the trailer's entrance – or so I'd thought.

  Sitting at the table, I looked from Steve to Anthony. "Really? He's here? Now?"

  I scrambled out of my seat and dove for the nearest window. I nudged aside the curtains and searched the street-side parking area for Jake's car.

  It was gone.

  I turned to my brothers. "Very funny."

  "Actually," Steve said, "it was kind of funny. The guy looked ready to explode."

  Now, I knew they were joking. After my crazy outburst at the trash can, Jake had been the poster-child for self-control. In truth, he'd been so calm, it was almost scary.

  "It's no joke," Steve said. "The guy stopped us on the way in, told us that if anything happened to you, he was holding us responsible."

  "Yeah¸" Anthony added. "He's all like 'You keep an eye on her. Or else.'"

  "Or else what?" I asked.

  Anthony shrugged. "Eh, whatever it was, it didn't sound good."

  On the other side of me, Steve said, "So, you gonna tell us what happened, or what?"

  "With what?" I asked.

  "With you and the psycho."

  "For the last time," I said, "he's not a psycho. In fact, he's really nice. So stop talking crap about him, okay?"

  "Chill," Steve said. "I meant it as a compliment."

  "Yeah," Anthony said. "We're fans. Bigtime."

  "Never mind," I said. "So when he said that, what'd you guys tell him?"

  "We told him the truth," Steve said. "This is like the safest plac
e in the city."

  I gave Steve a dubious look. "Is that so?"

  "Shit yeah," Steve said. "You've got this big-ass fence surrounding the whole thing, some security guy roaming the perimeter, and after dark, you need a code just to get in and out."

  "A code?" I asked.

  "Yeah," Steve said. "The site has two entrances, right? One for trucks, and one for people, workers, I mean. After dark, it's like a damn fortress. Without the code, you're not going nowhere."

  Confused, I shook my head. "Like a password or something?"

  "No," he said, "like a lock-combination. We're sewer guys, not secret agents."

  Anthony was nodding. "Still, pretty sweet setup, huh?"

  I let my gaze drift around the trailer. The place was old and tiny, with a weird musty smell that gave me the sniffles. Strewn across the floor were fast-food bags and empty pizza boxes. Or at least, I hoped the boxes were empty. With my brothers, I could never be too sure.

  I tried to not to sound as disturbed as I felt. "But you're not seriously staying here?"

  "Why wouldn't we?" Steve said. "It's the bomb."

  I looked around. The bomb? Or like a bomb exploded? My heart sank. "But when we talked, you said you had a place."

  "Yeah," Steve said. "This is it."

  "I meant a place with a bathroom."

  "There's bathrooms," he said.

  I gave him a look. "You mean the porta-potties?"

  "Well, yeah, those," he said, "but sometimes, we hit the hotel across the street. Sneak in when they're not looking."

  "Sneak into what?" I asked. "A hotel room?"

  "Oh get real," he said. "I mean the lobby. Or their fitness center."

  "Except now," Anthony added, "they're getting all funny about it, like they don't want us to use them no more."

  From what I had noticed earlier, the hotel looked pretty upscale. It wasn't surprising at all that they'd balk at having hundreds of construction workers tromping in and out all day. But that was beside the point. "Seriously," I said, "we can't stay here."

  "Why not?" Anthony asked.

  "Well, for one thing," I said, "it can't be legal. Can it?"

  "Hell if I know," Anthony said.