Jake Me

by Sabrina Stark

  She spent the next ten minutes, going on and on about the restaurant they were going to, and how much she was looking forward to it. The way she made it sound, food wasn't the only thing on the menu.

  When she finally left, my face literally hurt from concealing my true feelings. Did I believe her? I didn't want to believe her. But it bothered me just the same.

  Trying for a distraction, I threw myself into work and didn't look up until later that afternoon when my door was darkened yet again – this time by Vince, who looked more unhappy than he had the last time he stopped by.

  "We need to talk," he said.

  I wanted to groan. Again?

  Before I could respond, he strode into my office, shut the door behind him, and claimed the exact same spot where Bianca had sat earlier that morning. He leaned forward and frowned. "You do know our phone policy, don't you?"

  What was this? A pop-quiz? In school, I hated those things. I still hated those things. I never did well, especially when the teacher was staring at me like he knew I hadn't studied.

  "Actually," I said, "I'm not sure which part of it you're referring to."

  In truth, I didn't even know there was a phone policy.

  Stupid quizzes.

  He crossed his arms. "Personal calls."

  I glanced toward the edge of my desk, where my company cell phone sat. I didn't have a land-line in my office, so the cell phone served as my office phone too. It was true I had made a few personal calls on the thing, but those were mostly after hours. And really, no one had told me that I couldn’t.

  "Oh," I said, feeling my face grow warm under his cold scrutiny. "I'm sorry, Vince. I didn't realize we weren't supposed to make any personal calls on them." I glanced toward the cell phone. "But I'll stop using it right away, okay?"

  "I'm not talking about your cell phone," he said.

  "You're not?"

  "No. I’m talking about the main office line."

  I shook my head. "But who's calling me?"

  "Guess."

  I bit my lip. I didn't want to guess.

  When I said nothing, Vince said, "Jake."

  "He's calling here?" I said. "Why?"

  "Other than to threaten me, you mean?"

  Oh jeez. This just got better and better. "He's threatening you?"

  "You might say that."

  "I'm really sorry," I said, "but you know, I don't have any control over what he does."

  "Don't you?"

  "No. I don't."

  "He's been asking for you," Vince said. "And the way it sounds, he's having a hard time taking no for an answer."

  "The way it sounds?" I said. "So you've actually talked to him?"

  "No," Vince said. "Bianca has. She's been running interference."

  Well, this was just great. "How nice of her," I said.

  "What?" he snapped. "You've got something to say?"

  "Yeah. I do, actually." I crossed my arms. "I don't believe it."

  "You don't believe what?"

  "I don't believe he's threatening you, and I don't believe he's calling for me."

  "So Bianca's making it up? That's your theory?"

  "Well, she and I aren't exactly the best of friends," I said. "I mean, you knew that going in, right?"

  "What I know," he said, "is that Jake has cost me a lot of money. And a lot of grief." He stood. "So you'll have to excuse me if I'm not eager to think the best of him."

  "Vince, come on," I said. "Bianca doesn't even answer that phone."

  "She does now," Vince said. "We're routing the main number to her cell."

  "But why?" I asked.

  "Because Lisa's out with the flu," he said, "and Bianca volunteered to help out."

  I gave him a look. "Well, isn't that convenient."

  Five minutes later, Vince was gone, and I was wondering what on Earth I'd gotten myself into. The way I saw it, things were bad either way. If Bianca was telling the truth, Jake was seriously losing it. And if she wasn't, I'd be the one losing it sooner or later – meaning of course, my job.

  But then again, I was used to that.

  Or at least, that's what I kept telling myself.

  Chapter 39

  "My boss was a jerk today," I said.

  I was inside the job-trailer of all places, sprawled out with Steve and Anthony while they inhaled yet another pizza. It was nearly ten o'clock at night, and somehow, I just couldn't bring myself to face my apartment alone.

  "But you said he was a nice guy," Steve said.

  "Yeah," I said. "He was. For a whole week. But get this. I was written up this morning." I made air quotes as I used the official term. "Reprimanded."

  "For what?" Steve asked.

  "Mostly," I said, "I'm pretty sure it was for being a smart-ass."

  "Nice," Steve said.

  "No," I said. "Not really." The truth was, I should have kept my big mouth shut. Mental note – calling your co-worker a liar isn't the best way to win points, especially if the co-worker may, or may not, be sleeping with the boss. I let out a long sigh. "You know what the real problem is?"

  "What?" Steve asked.

  "Jake. My boss hates him. My co-worker is obsessed with him. And then there's me, stuck in the middle."

  Anthony spoke up. "Speaking of Jake, did you end up calling him? You know, with that new phone?"

  I shook my head. "No. I powered the thing down. Remember?"

  "Yeah," Anthony said. "But I figured you'd power it back up after we left."

  Sure, like I needed that temptation. There was something about the guy that made me absolutely stupid. Was I so stupid that I'd return to him, even after what had happened? I didn't like to think so, but I couldn't afford to take any chances.

  My jangled thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the flimsy trailer door.

  I felt myself tense. "Are you guys expecting someone?"

  What if it was Jake? Was I really prepared to see him? Should I hide? I glanced around the job-trailer. There weren't many hiding places. Come to think of it, there were no hiding places, unless I wanted to dive under a blanket, or maybe pile of pizza boxes. There were a lot, after all.

  Steve pushed away from the table and peered out the window. "It's that guy again," he said.

  I sagged in relief, even as part of me battled the teeniest bit of disappointment. "What guy?" I asked.

  From outside the trailer, I heard a vaguely familiar voice call out, "Hey, I know you're in there. Open up, alright?"

  "Or what?" Steve asked through the door.

  "Or my boss will kick your ass."

  Suddenly, I realized why the voice sounded familiar. I'd met the guy, a few times in fact. It was Trey, Jake's assistant.

  What on Earth was he doing here?

  I found out a minute later, when Steve opened the trailer door to let him in.

  Trey was lugging a giant expensive-looking suitcase. "I brought Luna's…" He froze in apparent shock at the sight of me sitting on a bottom bunk, trying to pretend I was invisible. He dropped the suitcase onto the trailer floor and stared at me. "You're here," he said, reaching toward his back pocket.

  I spoke up. "Touch that phone, and you're a dead man."

  He froze in mid-motion. "For real?"

  I hesitated. How did one answer that? It wasn't like I'd really murder the guy for calling Jake. But I wouldn't be happy either.

  Steve spoke up. "I wouldn't risk it, man. She's pretty nuts."

  "Hey!" I said.

  Trey glanced around the trailer as if weighing his options.

  "Look," I said, "you could call Jake, but what good would it do? I'd just leave, and you'd be bothering him for nothing." Trying to shift the focus away from Trey's cell phone, I glanced at the suitcase. "What's that?"

  "It's your stuff," Trey said. "I was supposed to give it to your brothers to give to you, but since you're here, I guess I'll just give it to you directly, huh?"

  I looked at the suitcase. Even from here, it looked was way nicer than anything of mine.
"But I already have my stuff," I said.

  Trey shook his head. "That’s not what Jake said." Trey glanced down at the suitcase. "Do you know he had someone come in and professionally pack this thing?"

  I squinted at him. "What do you mean?"

  "It was crazy," Trey said. "It was this professional shopper lady or something. She came in and packed the stuff all special like, so it wouldn't wrinkle."

  I stared at the suitcase for a long moment until it dawned on me. Unless I was mistaken, I knew exactly which stuff was in there. During my weekend with Jake, he had insisted on taking me shopping. In spite of all my protests, the clothes he bought were nicer than anything I had ever owned.

  When I'd left his penthouse, I hadn't taken any of it, well, except for the undergarments, and look how well that had turned out. I stifled a shudder. Parts of them were still stuck in the fence.

  I stared at the suitcase, trying to decide what to do. "What if I don't want it?" I asked.

  Trey gave me an odd look. "Why wouldn't you?"

  The answer was complicated. I didn't want to be just another girl, taking whatever Jake offered, no questions asked. But I also knew that when we were shopping, Jake's heart had been in the right place. It seemed almost cruel to send the stuff back, like a picky dinner guest whose steak was overcooked.

  Jake and I had been friends once, after all.

  Stalling for time, I said, "I don't have my suitcases here, so…" I shrugged and let the statement speak for itself.

  "So what?" Trey said.

  "So I don't know how I'd get the stuff back to my place."

  "Do you not see the suitcase?" Trey asked.

  "But that's Jake's," I said. "I'm sure he'll want it back."

  "No, he won't," Trey said. "Jake has his own luggage. He bought this for you. Personally."

  Somehow, I couldn’t envision it. "He did? Really?"

  "Well he sure as hell didn't buy it for me," Trey said.

  Desperately, I wanted to ask how Jake was doing. But for all kinds of reasons, I didn't want to do it in front of an audience. I glanced toward my brothers. "Could you give us a moment alone, maybe?"

  Anthony turned to Trey. "Got any beer money?" he asked.

  Trey gave him a puzzled look. "No. Why?"

  Anthony showed no sign of moving. "No shit?" he said. "You work for some rich dude, and you've got no cash?"

  "I'm not broke," Trey said. "I use a credit card."

  Anthony held out his hand, palm up. "Eh, that'll work."

  "Oh for God's sake," I said, reaching for my purse. Looking down, I rummaged through it while Steve and Anthony watched. Finally, I pulled out a twenty and handed it over. "Get me some juice or something, will you?"

  Anthony took the twenty and shoved it into his pocket. A moment later, both of my brothers headed out the trailer-door.

  I turned to Trey. "I know I probably shouldn't ask," I said, "but how is he?"

  Chapter 40

  "You want the truth?" Trey said. "He's an asshole."

  I stared at him. "What?"

  "Yeah. He's ticked off all the time. Taking dumb-ass chances." Trey gave me a sour look. "He's no fun anymore." His shoulders slumped. "My job sucks."

  Dumbstruck, I stared at him for a long moment. Somehow, this was the last thing I'd expected from Trey, someone whose favorite responsibility, it seemed, was kissing Jake's butt. "Did you just call him an asshole?"

  "What? You want me to candy-coat it?" Trey said. "You screwed him over bigtime. You expect anyone to be happy about it?"

  Well that was rich. "I screwed him over?"

  "Yeah. The guy goes out to kick the ass of the douchebag who's giving you a hard time, and you take off on him."

  My jaw dropped "What?"

  "Aw shit," Trey said. "Nothing."

  My gaze narrowed. "You said something."

  "No, I didn't."

  "Get real. I heard you." If there was an ass-kicking, I was determined to find out what happened. I crossed my arms. "Who's 'ass' are you talking about?"

  "Mine, if you go blabbing."

  I gave him a pleading look. "I'll make you a deal. Tell me, and I won't blab."

  "No way," Trey said.

  "Why not?"

  "Because you're the enemy. I’m not telling you squat."

  "Oh for God's sake," I said. "We're not enemies."

  He stuck out his chin. "You hurt Jake, you hurt me."

  My heart twisted. "I hurt him?"

  "Damn straight you hurt him. I mean, it's not like he says so, but I can tell. Since you took off, it's like the guy's got a death wish or something."

  I frowned. I so didn't like the sounds of this. "What are you talking about?"

  Trey clamped his lips shut and glanced toward the door. I held my breath, fearful he would try to bolt. When he didn't, I sidled toward the door and claimed a spot beside it. I wasn't exactly blocking his escape, but I was definitely within tackling range.

  "Trey," I said. "Tell me. Please?"

  "I dunno," he mumbled.

  "You might not know this," I said, "but I've known Jake since I was like twelve. So we have a history together. You know?"

  "I know," he said.

  "You do?"

  "Yeah," Trey said. "He's got a picture of you in his wallet."

  "He does? You mean like a recent picture?"

  "No," Trey said. "Like a picture from way back in your hometown or something." With a clinical detachment, he studied my face. "You look the same. But different. You know?"

  "Actually," I said, feeling a little overwhelmed, "I don't know what I know anymore."

  "Well here's something you didn't know," Trey said. "He thought you were a stripper."

  "What!"

  "Yeah," Trey said. "A couple weeks ago. He was looking for you. Remember? Well anyway, his only lead was that call you made to your sister."

  "You mean the one I made from Maddie's strip club?"

  "Yeah," Trey said. "You should've seen him. I thought he was gonna kill someone. He was so ticked off."

  "At me?"

  "Hard to tell," Trey said. "But that first night he went in there, to the club, you know, looking for you, I just knew he was gonna drag your ass out of there."

  I almost laughed. "And what? Give me a firm talking to?"

  "Well, he sure as hell didn't like the idea of you stripping, that's for sure."

  "That makes two of us." It suddenly occurred to me that for all of Trey's earlier hostility, he was being surprisingly open. At the risk of ruining our shaky truce, I said, "Seriously, tell me. Was it Rango's ass that Jake was going to kick?"

  "Maybe," Trey said.

  "I'll take that as a yes." I tried to keep my tone casual. "So was he planning to film it or something?"

  "Hell no," Trey said. "He wasn't gonna film that."

  "Why not?"

  "Because," Trey said, "he was gonna kick his ass but good." He began scowling again. "You don't even know what he was risking."

  I rolled my eyes. "I think he could take Rango."

  "Screw Rango," Trey said. "I'm talking about his dad."

  I gave my head a little shake. "Rango's dad?"

  "You ever meet him?" Trey asked.

  "No," I said. "I mean, it's not like Rango was a big family person."

  "The guy's seriously connected."

  "What do you mean connected?"

  "Put it this way," Trey said. "He's not the kind of guy you mess with. Jake's still looking for him, you know. I mean Rango, not his dad."

  I swallowed. "He is?"

  "Yeah," Trey said. "And the guy's proving hard to find, which is okay by me. It's not like I wanna see Jake dead or anything."

  I gulped. "Dead? You're talking figuratively, right?"

  Trey shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe I've seen too many gangster movies. But I'm telling you, I don't like it."

  A slow queasiness settled over my stomach. "I don't like it either."

  Next to me, the door flew open. I jumped, and that's whe
n I saw him – Jake, looking mad as hell.

  Chapter 41

  For the longest moment, nothing happened. In the narrow doorway of the job-trailer, Jake looked larger than life, half-demon, half-angel, with his dark eyes and hypnotic face.

  Staring at him, I caught my breath and somehow managed to choke out, "What are you doing here?"

  His gaze shifted to Trey. "You can head out," Jake said. "I've got this."

  I whirled toward Trey. "Oh, so that's why you were so chatty all of a sudden? You were stalling?" I shook my head. "I should've known."

  "Yeah. You should've," Trey said. "Because I work for Jake, not you."

  "Butt-kisser," I muttered.

  "Ingrate," he shot back.

  "Trey," Jake said in a warning tone. "I said I've got this."

  I turned to Jake. "So what was this?" I asked. "Some sort of setup?"

  It was Trey who answered. "Hardly. When you were oh so busy looking for beer money, I texted him and told him you were here." Looking beyond smug, he added, "You didn't even notice. Did you?" He gave a slow, self-satisfied nod. "Yeah, I'm a pretty fast texter. Comes in handy, you know?"

  "Trey," Jake said. "See you tomorrow, alright?"

  Still looking way too pleased with himself, Trey sauntered out, squeezing past Jake and leaving the suitcase behind. I stared down at the thing, wondering just how much of that conversation was actually real. Had Trey been only spinning stories to keep me occupied? Was there truth any of it?

  Feeling suddenly deflated, I sank down onto the nearest bunk and sat there, gazing up at Jake. I wanted to say something meaningful, or at the very least, something that wouldn’t make me look like an idiot. "So," I said, "you sure got here fast. You didn't fly here by chance, did you?"

  As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted saying them – not because they were offensive or anything, but because they weren't remotely meaningful. And I still sounded like an idiot. Fly here? Was that really the best I could do?

  "Your job?" Jake said. "You need to quit."

  Of all the things I had expected him to say, that was so not on the list. Here he was, the guy I'd been thinking about non-stop, and what were we discussing? My job.

  How depressing.

  "Is that so?" I said. "And why is that?"