by Claire Adams
“I’ve always hated girls like that. You know that. There just aren’t that many choices.”
“That’s just cause Tony’s part monkey. You’d have to be one of the dumbest women alive to work for that thug. He looks like he just crawled out of a meth pipe.”
“But he comes through, and he doesn’t cause any trouble,” I said.
“I think it’s cause he likes you.”
“Dear God, no.” I shuddered.
“You know you want a piece of that white chocolate.” Matt licked his lips.
“I’m going to puke.”
“Come on; you haven’t even taken a shot yet.”
“I don’t want fake anymore,” I said. “I’ve been seeing this new chick, Maria.”
“Seeing?”
“We’ve hung out a few times.”
“Which means you’re ready to shoot her and dump her body. Has she been looking through your phone?”
“No, I don’t think she cares about that. It’s fun, honestly. I haven’t had a woman like this in a long time.”
“She must be experienced,” Matt said.
“No. In fact, she didn’t even know Tony was running an escort service. She thought she was actually delivering packages.”
“I don’t believe it. Who could possibly be that dumb?”
“Not dumb,” I said. “A little naïve, maybe. I don’t think it ever occurred to her. She’s not even really a hooker. I’m her only client. She just needs the money.”
“Are you sure? Have you checked for track marks?”
“I don’t need to. She’s so innocent. It’s mind-boggling, and it’s not that she’s stupid. She just doesn’t get into any of that type of shit.”
“Then why does she need the money?” Matt asked.
“I have no idea, but I don’t care. I swear to you, she’s magic.” I took a drink.
“It sounds like you like her.”
“I do not.” I set my drink down.
“And now you’re getting defensive?”
“No, I’m not,” I said.
“Yes, you are. You never ever go for girls like this.”
“It’s just a few times is all.”
“Psht, that’s enough. I know you. Two or three a day sometimes, and I know that hasn’t changed. You’re the same man you always were. You just got caught up.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I downed the rest of my beer.
“What is it?”
“I don’t want to go through all of that.”
“Which means there’s something,” he said.
I cocked my head. “I can’t do that. I won’t do that. You know it.”
“You’re human, Jake, and you’re getting older. You can’t spend your life alone. It’s not healthy. You need somebody to fall asleep with at night, just like the rest of us.”
“I don’t. I’ve got everything, remember? I don’t need anyone.”
“Cause money’s the most fulfilling thing in the world.” He laughed. “Be realistic, Jake.”
“I should go.” I got up.
“I don’t mean to piss you off, man.”
“No, it’s not that. I’m tired. Gonna call it a night.”
“All right, man.”
I was furious at Matt. Did he have to rub it in? He knew that I couldn’t get caught up with a woman, but he kept pushing just like everyone else. What I did with my life was my choice.
Chapter Eighteen
Mercedes
“You know you don’t have to do that,” my mother said. She was off work for a few hours, and she watched me mix up a bowl of dumplings.
“I want to do something nice for Dad. He hasn’t had a home-cooked meal in months, and he deserves it.” I stood over the counter mixing the dough in a big glass bowl.
“It’s just a lot of work,” she said. “That’s all you do is work. It must be terrible.”
I looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Look who’s talking.”
“I just think you should put your feet up a little bit,” she said.
I dropped the spoon, washed my hands, and sat across the table from her. “I know you’re worried, Mom, but it doesn’t have anything to do with me.”
“No, sweetie, don’t…”
“It’s okay to be upset, but deflecting is just going to make it worse. You’re worrying about everything, and it’s tearing you up.”
“I’ll be fine.” She brushed me off and pulled a cigarette pack out of her pocket.
“Oh, no. You are not starting that again.” I snatched it out of her hand and put them under the faucet to ruin them.
“Don’t do that.” Her voice was subdued and filled with tension.
“This is what I’m talking about.” I threw the wet pack in the trash. “You’re taking this out on yourself.”
“You’re right. I just have to do better.”
“No,” I admonished her. “That’s the kind of thinking that started this behavior.”
“What do you want me to do? Live in bed?”
“I would prefer it. You still haven’t quit your night job.” I pulled the lid off the stock pot on the stove. A wave of savory steam flowed out into the kitchen.
“I’m not going to,” she said.
“What about sleep? Sanity? Don’t those things matter?”
“Not as much as you and your father. You need stability. Besides, I don’t know how your job is going to work out. You just started.”
I wanted to scream and tell her that she needed stability, that I could handle it, and that she was just hurting herself. She was in too much pain to handle what was happening, but telling her all that wouldn’t make a difference. I brought her a spoonful of broth. “Try this.”
She took the spoon and downed the steaming liquid. Her face lit up. “That’s fantastic.” Seeing her smile was a huge relief.
“You don’t think it needs a little more salt?” I asked.
“No, once you serve it the taste will bloom,” she said.
“I think you’re right.” I grabbed the bowl and started spooning the dumplings into the pot. “It won’t be long.”
“Have you spoken to Loren?” she asked.
“Yeah, she should be here any minute.”
“I am hungry,” my mother conceded.
“Did you tell Dad?” I glared at her playfully.
“No, I did exactly what you told me. He has no idea what’s going on.”
“Please,” he said, hobbling into the kitchen. “You really think I haven’t smelled that?”
“I should’ve known.”
He walked over to the stove and looked in the pot. “Did you make biscuits?” he asked.
“Shit.” I ducked down to open the oven and got blasted in the face with steam. I jumped back to get a look. The biscuits were soft but golden, the perfect consistency. “Thank God.” I grabbed a mitt and pulled them out.
My father snatched one right off the pan and sat down to eat it, completely undaunted by the heat. I handed him a plate and a pat of butter. He devoured the whole thing in one bite. “Give me another one of those, would you?”
“Mike,” my mother scolded him.
“I can eat whatever I damn well please.” The doorbell went off.
“That’s Loren.” I handed my dad three biscuits and walked out to answer the door.
“Sexy package delivery.” Loren rushed in and gave me a hug. Her brown hair had been braided into pigtails.
“You just got off, huh?”
“Can you tell?” She wore a pair of tight white shorts and a blue shirt that looked like it was three sizes too small.
“Nah, come on. Dinner’s almost ready.”
When we walked into the kitchen, my father was eating what must’ve been his fifth biscuit with two more sitting next to him, and my mother cupped her forehead in dismay. My father waved and smiled. He had bread sticking out of his mouth.
“How are you guys?” Loren pulled a soda out of the fridge. My dad reache
d out, and she handed him one.
“We’re alright, I suppose,” my mother said. “How are things with you, Loren?”
“Good, just working.”
“Talk to my daughter,” my mother said. “She can’t be working 16-hour shifts every day. She’s going to get burnt out, and it’s not good for her.”
“Mom,” I said.
“She’s a grown woman.” Loren opened her soda.
“Thank you.” I set the lid on the pot to let the dumplings boil.
“I know when I’m outgunned.” My mom pulled a soda out for herself. My father reached out with his mouth full and motioned for her to grab him another. He’d already finished his, and the butter was half-gone from the amount he was putting on his biscuits.
“Why are we talking when there’s food?”
My dad shoved another biscuit in his mouth, and we all laughed. The tension melted once I started serving bowls. My father didn’t say a word, aside from a few grunts and a thank you each time I handed him another bowl.
“So, what’s it like?” my mom asked when she was finished picking at hers.
“What?” I asked. “My job?”
“It’s so easy,” Loren said. “We drive, hand people packages, and leave.”
“But you have to carry them around, don’t you?”
“Most of them are small.” Loren caught my eye.
“But some are really big,” I said.
“Yeah, but most of the ones I get are nothing,” Loren said.
“So, the packages vary in size. It can’t be good on your back. Why would you do that to yourself, Mercedes? You’ve got so much potential.”
I motioned behind me at the drawer where we kept the money. “I don’t even think I could make that much with my degree.”
“I just don’t understand why you’re making so much.”
“This isn’t just a package delivery service,” Loren said. My eyes went wide, and I glared at her. “These are specialty packages, important stuff. That’s why they tip us so good, and it’s all cash. We don’t have to report our tips at all.”
“Are you happy?” My mother looked me right in the eye.
“I am.” That came out too fast, before I could stop myself, and with it, a flood of sentimentality.
“Then that’s what matters.” When we were all done, and I had my father settled back in bed, Loren pulled me outside to have a cigarette. She had these super thin sticks. I couldn’t believe she got anything out of them.
“What happened? Are you doing okay? Are the guys getting to you?” She lit her cigarette, and we sat down at the patio table.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re doing it,” she gasped.
“I am not.”
“You’re defensive. I can tell. Don’t do it, Mercedes. It’s not worth it. They just treat you like dirt, and it gets to you.”
“I’m not whoring myself out, which is clearly more than I can say for you.”
She sighed. “It’s not a regular thing. I’ll go weeks without it, but I need to pay my bills, and I’m very picky about who I do it with.”
“It’s weird. I don’t like it. I do feel dirty. I feel like I’m getting myself in over my head, and I know I’m gonna get hurt, but it’s…”
“It’s what?”
“It’s the money. Look at my dad. They’re gonna cut him off pretty soon, and I need to save up enough for his treatments.”
“You’re doing it for every delivery, aren’t you?” Loren took a puff of smoke and blew it out.
“No, I’m not. I only have one guy.”
“One? How are you making money? You’re not selling Tony’s special packages, are you?”
“God, no. He’s not gonna slip that shit into one of my packages, is he? Because I do not feel like going down for that shit.”
Loren smiled and shook her head. “So, this is what happened. And you can’t say a word because Tony will get all mad and do something. The man is obviously insecure.”
“What did you do?” I asked.
Loren was trying not to laugh. “Oh, God. I called him the day after you freaked out on me, and I told him I wanted to see him.”
“You’re giving me chills. What happened?”
“I went in there wearing a bikini top and short shorts, and I slammed him up against the wall,” Loren said. “He was ready to come. Then I grabbed him by his scrawny, red neck and said that if he so much as looks at you wrong, that I will chop his dick off and feed it to him.”
“What’d he do?” I asked.
“He was trying to act all hard, saying that he and his homies were gonna come for me, and that I couldn’t talk to him like that. I just wrapped my hand around him as tight as I could, and he started to choke. By the time I let him down, he was on the ground crying, ‘Please don’t hurt me, yo.’”
“Oh my God,” I said. “I wish I could’ve seen that.”
“I almost put my phone on record so I could show you, but I didn’t want to have anything in my pockets. It would’ve ruined the whole outfit.”
“Is he gonna let you keep your job?” I asked.
“Are you kidding? Aside from food stamps and baby powder with flecks of coke in it, I’m his main source of income. The other girls just go one time, take the client, and run.” She took another puff of her cigarette and put it out. “Honestly, the only reason I’ve stuck by him is because I don’t have to sell myself.”
“I don’t like it. He creeps me out. I can’t even be in his presence without wanting to puke.” Part of me wondered if she was lying about not selling herself.
“I’m surprised he still has something between his legs. He tried to come on to this one chick, Stella. Her boobs were so big that they hardly ever fit properly in a bra.
“He came on to her so hard. The second he tried to whip it out, she slammed him to the ground, and he had a bruise covering his face for a week. He told everybody that he fucked the motherfucker up good, but we all knew.”
“I’ll bet he peed his pants,” I said.
“In the end, what matters is our money and your sanity. Are you happy?” She met my eyes.
“I am.” I didn’t like the way I felt when I said that. It was too good.
“I hope so. Don’t go too far. It’s good money, and it’s easy to get caught up in it. I don’t want to see that happen to you.”
“It won’t.” It felt like a lie.
Chapter Nineteen
Jake
“What is your projection on liquor sales in the Midwest?” Samantha asked.
I called Samantha the wasp but not because of her sting. She had bottle-blonde hair with a huge set and gigantic glasses that took up most of her cheeks. She wore the same pink skirt suit she wore to every meeting. Rumor had it she was so cheap, she hadn’t bought clothes since the ‘80s, which made perfect sense, considering the shoulder pads that stuck out at much as her hair did.
“I think that with the addition of our Irish coffees, we should see an increase in sales,” I said. “We’re also converting some of our nightclubs in the Chicago area into pubs with fireplaces, which I’m sure you’ve seen.” I sat at the head of the conference room while the other board members nodded out.
Samantha, however, was taking notes on a yellow pad. “I don’t see how that could get us the necessary 15 percent.”
“I don’t think 15 percent is necessary,” I said. “Our restaurant chains are killing in Detroit and Minneapolis.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I think these pubs are a waste of money.”
“Please,” David, a washed-out alcoholic with a black combover, spoke up. “Do you really think people are going to go dancing when it’s 20 below? You can barely stand outside in that weather, much less wait in line. You’ll die from exposure.”
“But liquor’s down five percent,” she said. “We’re not going to grow.”
“We’ll have to accept the limitations that the climate is imposing on us and adapt as best as we can,”
I said. “If you have a better idea, please, let us know. We’re more than willing to listen to it, and we’ve already got think-tanks working on it.”
She set her pen down and looked around. Nobody else wanted to be there. “Fine,” she said and stormed out. The rest of the board followed her. Moira waited in the hall for me when I walked out. I hired her because of her competence and her age. I didn’t need any more distractions at work.
“Jake,” she said, holding her phone and staring down at it. “They want to know if you’re bringing a plus one to the Rose Gala.”
“Shit, I forgot all about that. Meet me in the office. I have to make a call.” I walked back into the empty conference room to call Maria.
“Hello,” she said, sounding happy to hear from me.
“Hey, how quickly can you be at my house?”
“As soon as you need me.”
“Good, and tomorrow?”
“Of course.” She was eager, and I wanted her just as badly.
“Good, I’ll see you soon.”
When I got back to the house, I ran upstairs to change, added a spritz of cologne, and checked my hair. Nothing wrong with wanting to look good and making sure my hair was perfect.
I took a look at myself from the side to make sure my white polo hugged the skin the way it was supposed to. It had to hang just right above my belt buckle and pull in around the stomach to show off my muscles. It didn’t look perfect, but I was never going to be satisfied.
The doorbell rang when I was putting on my shoes. I ran down the stairs and stopped in front of the door to take a deep breath and calm myself. When I answered, Maria leaned against the doorframe, wearing a red top and tight jeans.
“Hello,” she said, beaming. She bit her bottom lip, and her eyes traveled down my chest and over my stomach.
“Hey.” I felt like an idiot just standing there staring at her, so I stepped aside to let her in. “I need a favor,” I said when I closed the door.
“What’s that?”
“I have to go to a charity gala tomorrow, and it’s mostly catty businesswomen. If I go stag, they won’t respect me, and there’s already talk at the office. You don’t mind going with me, do you?”
“No, not at all. What is it?”
“It’s for the Rose Foundation. They run a fund for underprivileged cancer patients.”