by Helen Cox
‘Oh yeah, Esther did mention something about frying omelettes on the coast for a season,’ said Mona.
‘That must’ve been somewhere between the timely death of her first husband and hooking up with her new actor boy toy,’ Jimmy sneered.
‘What?’ My head swerved in Jimmy’s direction. Esther had been married? She’d mentioned Jack Faber in her letters, an actor she’d met at the diner and fallen head over heels for, but a husband? That’d never come up.
Actually, she’d never revealed anything much about her life back in England, not in the whole time I’d known her. I guess if she’d lost a husband there, that was probably why. Being a young widow isn’t exactly what a woman dreams about when she walks down the aisle. God, poor Esther.
Mona glared at Jimmy, but when she spoke, she kept her voice very cool and calm. ‘You want to talk about Esther like that? You can go elsewhere, you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.’
‘I know a lot more than you think I know,’ said Jimmy, digging his fork into a slice of tomato on his plate so the seeds and juices oozed everywhere.
‘Huh.’ Mona shook her head at him. ‘You only think you know, fool. And I’m a fool too for letting you back in here after what you did to her.’
Jimmy frowned at Mona. His breathing was heavier than it had been but he didn’t argue back.
‘What…what did you do?’ I asked, wondering if whatever he’d done to Esther was as bad as what I’d done.
‘Buy me dinner sometime, maybe I’ll tell you the story,’ he replied, his voice sharp.
Looking at his hardened face, the lines of bitterness etched deep around his eyes, I really didn’t know what to think of Jimmy. But Mona must’ve been mad at him for a reason and she was the one I needed on side. Right then, she was my only link to Esther.
‘Is this guy for real?’ I asked Mona.
‘Haven’t really figured that out yet,’ she replied.
‘Oh, I see. Go right ahead. Blame Jimmy. That’s convenient. The fact that Esther’s boyfriend beat me to a pulp. That don’t figure in this, right? I mean, that’s just an alright thing to do to a guy?’
‘And I suppose you were the innocent party?’ Mona folded her arms. ‘You did absolutely nothing to provoke him?’
‘I didn’t hit first. That I can say.’
Mona rolled her eyes. Arguing with Jimmy did seem like a dead-end pursuit. He turned then, fixing his stare back on me.
‘Are you a waitress like Esther? Because frankly, in my experience, waitresses are a whole lot more trouble than they’re worth.’
‘Keep it up, Boyle. That’s strike two. One more and you’re out that door,’ Mona hissed. Jimmy raised his hands in mock surrender.
‘You know many waitresses that carry a guitar around with them?’ I said. ‘I’m a musician.’
‘Is that code for unemployed?’ said Jimmy, and gave a short, breathy laugh.
‘Well, up until recently I sang lead vocals in a band. But now I’m solo.’
Yep, so-low alright.
‘What band, will I have heard of ’em?’ asked Mona.
‘Oh, no. It was just a tribute act in a casino. The Sexties,’ I said.
Jimmy, who was taking a drink, spat out his soda at this.
‘The what? The Sexties?’ he said, looking me up and down. Oh great. This fella was obviously what me and the other band members used to call a ‘suggestible’ – a guy who heard the word ‘sex’ in our band name and then couldn’t think about nothing else.
‘Yeah.’ The back of my neck felt all hot again, but it always did when people asked what I did. It wasn’t the sex thing. You can’t sing in a band like the Sexties and be coy. But being a member of a Sixties tribute act in Atlantic City wasn’t exactly the New York Philharmonic, and most people weren’t quick to let you forget that. ‘It was dumb really. You know casino events managers. Not exactly known for their sense of subtlety. But the tourists loved us. The Sexties sang the sexiest songs of the Sixties.’
‘Bet you wore cute little outfits too,’ Jimmy said, his eyes on my body rather than my face.
‘Actually, we did.’ I gave Mona a quick wink to signal I was about to have some fun here. Christmas had been miserable and ten minutes ago I’d been crying my heart out. Winding up a sleaze like Jimmy Boyle seemed like a sure way of cheering myself up. ‘We wore little red halter tops with ‘The Sexties’ written across the chest in shimmering, gold print. Denim hot pants and black stiletto heels.’ Jimmy’s jaw hung loose at my description. I would’ve taken more pleasure in this if I’d been exaggerating, but that’s exactly what we had worn. Night after night, and it was damn uncomfortable.
‘You don’t say.’ The words drifted out of Jimmy’s mouth. He was lost in a vague daydream now. Mona put her hand across her face to hide a giggle. But the fun wasn’t over yet.
‘Yeah, course my halter top and hot pants had to be cut a little larger than the other girls to accommodate my shape. As you can see, I don’t exactly live off salad.’ I moved my hands down the sides of my purple sweater dress, pressing the material flat against me to illustrate how my body bulged out at the top, tapered in at the waist and curved out at the hips.
Jimmy’s eyes were wide now, and I swear I saw him gulp.
‘Where’d you say you were stayin’ tonight?’ he asked, still half in a daze. Mona laughed at him and shook her head. I joined in and would’ve laughed harder except where I was staying was a bit of a touchy subject.
‘Uh, actually I got a room booked in some fancy hotel,’ I lied.
‘Oh yeah, which one?’ asked Jimmy, snapping out of his trance.
‘That’s privileged information, I’m afraid.’ I smiled and then took a sip of my coffee. ‘Not really the kind of thing you go round blabbin’ to strangers.’
Jimmy looked at my suitcase and then back up at me. He was doing some figuring but exactly what he was working out about me, I couldn’t tell.
‘Why’d you say you were in town?’ His eyes were narrowed at me now.
‘You always ask this many questions?’ I teased, biding a bit of time.
‘Force of habit. I’m a reporter for The Chronicle. So, just naturally curious, you know,’ he explained.
‘Well, I’m just passing through.’ I took another gulp of coffee, shielding my face with the large mug. I was a terrible liar, which is why, if I could avoid it, I never did it. I had a feeling, though, that it was a skill I was going to have to work on if I wanted to stay alive.
‘From where to where?’ Jimmy pushed. I kept drinking my coffee. Pretending I was thirsty when really I just needed thinking time… and the warmth to get me through the cold night ahead.
‘New Jersey to Grosse Pointe.’ Another lie. ‘On my way home to see the folks. Missed them over the holidays with one thing and another.’
Mona nodded along, seemingly swallowing my story, but Jimmy just stared straight at me. He didn’t believe a word of it, I could feel it.
At that moment, the doorbell chimed, closely followed by the words ‘Evening jelly bean, how ’bout some coffee?’
‘Will you excuse me?’ said Mona. ‘That’s my husband.’
I turned to look at him. He was a tall, black man with a hairline that suggested he was somewhere in his late thirties. He had a trimmed beard and calm, steady eyes. Oh, and he was wearing a police uniform.
Neat. A cop. Just what I needed.
I diverted my eyes back to the counter real quick, my shoulders tensing. Out of the corner of my eye, I felt Jimmy looking at me but tried to pretend like I didn’t realise. Glancing back at the glass frontage of the diner, I could see it was still snowing outside. I didn’t want to go back out there but this Jimmy fella wasn’t going to let up with his questions, and hanging out with a cop wasn’t a smart idea just now. Besides, if I told any more lies I might have to account for some of them when Esther got back.
I looked at my Swatch and feigned surprise at the hour.
‘Wow. I’d better go an
d check in. Mind if I pay up?’ I called down to Mona.
‘Sure thing, honey,’ the waitress said, placing a saucer on the counter with my check. I looked at the amount and paused. I couldn’t really afford to tip but I’d just told Mona and Jimmy I had a swanky hotel lined up so I couldn’t very well not tip. God damn it, Bonnie, why do you have to open your big yap? Inwardly, I called myself names I’d never dare say in front of my mama and doled out two of the seven dollar bills I had left in the world.
The tears that I’d managed to squash by taunting Jimmy started to swell again. I had to get out of this place before I made my second scene of the evening. The last thing I needed was to start bawling in front of a police officer who may or may not be in the pocket of the very man I was trying to escape.
‘Thanks for the coffee.’ I pulled my leather jacket back on and managed to smile at Mona, though it was a fragile smile, likely to break any second. ‘I’ll swing by later tomorrow and catch up with Esther.’ I did a good job of making it sound like no big deal either way, when really my life depended on it.
‘It was… interesting meeting you,’ I said to Jimmy, picking up my guitar and my suitcase. He’d gone very quiet but was still staring at me.
‘Yeah. Interesting is the word I’d choose,’ he said without a smile.
Looking towards the door, I took a deep breath, lowered my head as I passed the cop and walked away.
I braced myself for the brutality of New York in a blizzard.
Chapter Two
Outside the diner, ankle-deep in snow again, I watched my breath smoke up into the icy air and shuddered. It was nearing midnight. Besides a Chinese takeaway joint on the corner, the buildings out on East Houston were silent and shuttered. Here, I was the only soul walking the streets. Well, who would be out at this time of night in the cold? The day after Christmas. Even in New York, a city that had a reputation for never really slowing up. Only folk with nowhere else to go would be out on a night like this.
Trudging back to the subway station at 2nd Avenue in my green Doc Martin boots, tears threatened again. God damn it. I had to pull myself together if I was going to get through this. Alright, so the last four days had been among the worst of my life. So I had nobody and nowhere to turn to. Fine. But I got out of Atlantic City alive. What else mattered?
Tonight would be lonely.
Tonight would be cold.
But the next day Esther would be back and things would be better. I’d make her laugh, like I used to, on those gin-fuelled nights backstage at the Crystal Coast Casino. That’d be enough to win back the heart of a one-time friend. It just had to be.
I’d almost reached the mouth of the subway entrance and was debating whether to pay to ride a train or just leap over the turnstile so I might hold on to my last five bucks when I felt it. A heavy hand on my left shoulder, gripping me tight from behind.
Oh God no… They’d found me
I sucked in a deep breath and held onto it.
My eyes widened.
My jaw stiffened.
But that’s all there was time for. Taking more than a second to react might mean I wouldn’t see New Year.
Before fear or doubt could paralyse me completely, I dropped my luggage. Cringing at the imagined dent in my Fender Jazzmaster guitar, I clenched my fist and swung around as hard as I could, punching my assailant across the cheek and letting out a bass grunt as my fist knocked hard against flesh and bone.
‘Jeeesus!’ The guy cried out and put a hand to his face while I was wringing my hand and gasping at the sting. I’d forgotten how much it hurt to sock a person, but I had my other fist raised ready to strike again when a vaguely familiar voice asked, ‘What you do that for?’
‘Shhhooot.’
It was Jimmy Boyle.
I’d just punched Jimmy Boyle in the face.
He wasn’t bleeding, but there’d probably be a pretty big bruise there in the morning.
‘Damn it, what the hell did you creep up on me for?’ I yelled, anger rising over the shock he’d given me. ‘You can’t just sneak up on a woman in New York at midnight. Saying that, I’m surprised I didn’t smell your cologne first. You must be downwind.’
‘Wait a minute, wait a minute. Just let me get this straight. First you punch me in the face’ he said, giving his cheek a gentle prod where I’d hit him. ‘Now, you’re telling me I smell bad?’
Those were two God-awful things to do to a person, especially one right after the other. But probably out of relief that Frankie’s guys hadn’t in fact caught up with me – out of relief I wasn’t going to die, at least not right that second – the urge to laugh bubbled up inside. I clamped both hands over my mouth to contain it, but still, a small chuckle escaped.
‘Oh, I see, this is funny, is it? You think this is funny?’ Jimmy ranted, but his annoyance only made me want to laugh harder and eventually the edges of his mouth gave in to the infectiousness of it and slanted upward. Just enough for the expression to be classified as a smile.
‘Here, let me see,’ I said, choking back another giggle. I put a quivering hand up to his chin and turned his head to the left, so it was illuminated by the yellow beam of a nearby street light. He already looked a little dark along the cheekbone. I cringed, bit my lower lip and moved my eyes from the brewing bruise to the brown of his eyes. They were so intense, like they saw more than most. Or maybe, had seen more than most.
‘You’re shivering,’ he said. His breathing was deep and erratic, as well it might be after being socked in the face without warning.
‘It’s cold, genius,’ I said, telling myself again it was the weather that was making me shake, not the fact I thought my number was up just minutes ago, or that the air between me and the reporter seemed suddenly charged with something unspoken.
Though they had more reason to now than before, Jimmy’s eyes didn’t look angry like they had back at the restaurant. He stood stock-still, staring at me, while I ran my fingertip along his cheek, as if that could magic away the pain I’d caused him. ‘I’m so sorry for hitting you, but you scared the hell outta me. You gonna be OK?’
‘I’ll live. Won’t be the first time I go into the office with my face all beat up.’
‘You make a habit outta gettin’ punched in the face?’ I said, shuffling my hand back into the warmth of my pocket.
‘Let’s just say I’m no stranger to the ice pack.’ Jimmy almost growled these words.
‘Bit of a weird way to get your boss’s attention. Don’t most people impress their boss by inviting them to a summer barbeque or something?’
‘Well, I guess I ain’t most people,’ he said, opening and shutting his jaw a couple of times, flinching as he did so. ‘Where’d you learn to punch like that?’
‘I grew up on the outskirts of Detroit. Where do you think I learned to punch like that?’
Jimmy summoned a smile, though it was clear from the crinkling of the skin near his eyes that it hurt when he did.
‘My dad paid for a few self-defence classes after I came home from school one day with a broken nose. I wasn’t a popular kid. The rest I learned sorta ad hoc on the walks to and from the schoolyard.’
‘Wish I’d known all that before I approached you from behind, in the dark,’ Jimmy said, looking down at me in such a way that his blond waves fell into his face.
‘Well, I’ll consider wearing some kind of sign around my neck.’ I gave him a goofy grin and the smile returned to his lips.
Snowflakes swirled around us, catching in Jimmy’s hair and no doubt mine. ‘Look, I’m real sorry about your face,’ I said, peering up into the sky. ‘But I really gotta get inside. It’s freezing out here.’
Jimmy stared at me for a moment and I leaned my head in the direction of the subway entrance. The gesture was to make it clear we were parting ways here but, it seemed, Jimmy had other ideas.
‘Right. I’ll walk you down.’
‘But… oh.’
Before I had time to argue, he’d picked up
my guitar case and suitcase and hurried down into the relative warmth of the subway station. Looking around, still conscious that someone might be on my tail, I sighed and followed after him, the scent of stale nicotine growing stronger with every step downward.
‘So where’s this swish hotel of yours?’ Jimmy asked when I reached the bottom of the stairs.
God damn it.
What with the fright I’d had and punching a complete stranger in the face, I’d forgotten about that. This is why I didn’t tell lies. The effort required to keep a lie going was incredible. Nothing’s worth that much effort. Nothing.
‘Uh, I need to check the subway map actually,’ I said, walking over to the wall to take a look at one that was framed behind some glass. Jimmy followed, placed my luggage on the floor and looked on, massaging his cheek now and then to take the sting out of the blow I’d dealt him.
Staring at the multi-coloured lines leading to Brooklyn, Queens and the Bronx, I felt that blush creeping up my neck again just as it had back in the diner. With my hair cut just below my jaw, it was more visible than it used to be, and boy did I ever feel it right then. The vulnerability of my bare neck on display. Turning crimson with the knowledge that this was all pretend. After a minute of false calculations and running my finger along various sections of the map, Jimmy put his hand flat against the glass in front of my eyes. I looked at it and then along the sleeve of his brown, sheepskin coat until I reached his face, or more specifically his eyes, which searched mine for answers I didn’t want to give.
‘There is no hotel, is there?’ he said. His voice gentle. His expression level. I looked to the ground and scratched just above my right eyebrow, debating which lie I should tell next. But something, I still don’t know what, stopped me. I looked at him, swallowed hard and shook my head.
‘How’d you know?’ Though concealed beneath my blue hair, the heat from my blush burned around my ears.
‘As a reporter you get to read people pretty well. But in your case, you’re just a lousy liar.’ He shook his head at me. ‘You got anywhere to stay? Anywhere at all?’