The Aeon Star

by Hart, Lauren T.

  "Late night?" Jamie asked as she sat down at the kitchen table next to Erin, with a cup of coffee in hand.

  "Not really."

  "But..." Jamie looked confused. "Aren't you just getting in?"

  "I was out running."

  "Sure you were," Jamie smirked.

  Jennifer looked to Erin. Erin tried to shrug discreetly then looked away.

  Is this how it was going to be? When she considered Jamie's long-standing attitude towards Ashley, and the fact that they were on Jamie's turf, Jamie's rules, the situation looked pretty grim. But she wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt; maybe Jamie knew about Nick's hedonistic past and she was just trying to look out for her.

  "Would you like to tell me why you're so opposed Nick? Or to me being with Nick?" Jennifer asked. "What has he done to you?"

  "Oh, come on, Jennifer," Jamie spat back. "It's his type. It's who he is. All you see is his charm and good looks. It's like you've already forgotten that he's a freak who worships aliens. It's probably already too late for you. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before you're preaching about French angel aliens and getting your very own star soul tattoo." Jamie thumped her hand against her chest — she was referring to Nick's tattoo — clearly she didn't know about the design of stars across Jennifer's back.

  Jennifer uncomfortably shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

  "I just hope it's not to late for you," Jamie sneered. "But as quick as you were to whore it up with the alien worshipping freakazoid, I sincerely doubt it."

  Jennifer glanced toward Erin who had practically huddled herself into a ball on her chair and was intently examining the edge of the table with her thumb and forefinger. She was pretty sure she was seeing the real reason she'd never tried to go for Marcus. Sure, Marcus was rude and condescending, but Jamie was downright mean.

  "Yep, I think I see it now," Jennifer said, leaving the kitchen as quickly as she could for the sanctuary of her room. Ha! Sanctuary... She'd never felt at home at Jamie's — as her complete lack of personal decor could easily attest. Even with her own bedroom it still felt like she was camping out on someone's couch. Maybe it was time to find some place else to live. It would be nice if she could find someplace that felt like home, but she'd settle for a place she wasn't going to be bullied.

  The only good thing to come of Jamie's newly placed rage was that with the distraction of hating Jennifer, Jamie hadn't realized that Ashley and Brett had become involved.

  She didn't dare mention anything to Jamie or even Erin, but Jennifer had already begun her search for a new place to live. Brett had been kind enough to rearrange the schedule in order to let her have Saturday off in order to do so. Jamie hadn't been very happy about the schedule change, even though it hadn't actually affected her. Her tirade about it was so pronounced, Brett had to remind her that he was the boss and she was the employee and he was the one who had final say over scheduling.

  The next morning Jennifer found herself in her room trying to psych herself up for the walk to work. She'd managed so far this morning to avoid any run-ins and there were only three more days until Saturday — until she could look for and hopefully find another place to live. She'd called on a few places already, but she was struggling to find something that was both close to work and within her price range.

  It was almost 9:30 — the last thing she needed was for Jamie to pound on her door, angry that she wasn't ready to go. Jennifer took a deep breath and readied herself for the inevitable onslaught of insinuation and insults from Jamie. She'd expected to see Erin waiting for them in the front room, but she wasn't there. "Erin?" she called, but Erin didn't have to answer, Jennifer saw her almost as soon as she said her name. She was in the kitchen with Jamie who was sitting on the floor, with her phone in her hands, crying.

  "Jamie," Jennifer rushed to her side. "Are you okay? What happened?" She looked to Erin when Jamie didn't answer, but Erin just shrugged and shook her head.

  Jennifer pulled her cell from her pocket. "I'll call Brett and tell him we're going to be late."

  In an instant Jamie's demeanor went from hopelessly sad to raging mad. She pushed Erin and Jennifer away from her and stood up. "While you're at it, tell him I quit."

  "What?" Erin said with alarm. "But, why? Why would you quit? You can't quit."

  Jamie held her phone out in front of her. "Ryan just dumped me," she cried. "Because of that... asshole – Brett," she said through gritted teeth. "Because he couldn't mind his own freaking business."

  "What do you mean?" Erin asked.

  "Ryan was having drinks with clients — with clients," she emphasized, "and apparently Brett thought he was out with a date and so he punched him. Now, Ryan has a black eye and he never wants to see me again."

  "Are you sure?" Jennifer asked. "That doesn't sound like Brett."

  "Oh, and I forgot to mention he was out with that slut Ashley at the time."

  "What?" Erin looked confused. "Since when?"

  "Don't be so stupid Erin, it's so obvious that they've been screwing each other for years. I don't know why you're surprised. That bimbo would sleep with anyone."

  "How can you talk that way?" Jennifer said.

  "Because it's true," Jamie shot back.

  "It's not true," Jennifer returned.

  "How would you know? You don't know anything. If you did you wouldn't be defending them, and you sure as hell wouldn't be screwing that psychotic alien freak."

  Jennifer was too shocked to respond, but even if she hadn't been, what would she say? Like Erin had said, Jamie's mind was made up. "You're really not the person I thought you were," Jennifer said after a moment.

  "Neither are you," Jamie said. "You need to leave. Now. Permanently. I'm changing the locks, and anything you leave behind today I'm throwing out."

  Jennifer set her key on the kitchen counter and returned to her room. She didn't have very much so it didn't take her very long to gather her things. Erin knocked on her door a few minutes later. She was carrying a laundry basket with Jennifer's things from the bathroom.

  "Thanks," Jennifer took the basket from her, gathered the rest of her things, and left.

  "See you after work," Erin called to Jamie.

  They were late. Way late. Ashley looked both panicked and relieved to see them, she was taking someone's order, so all she did was nod at them.

  "What's all this?" Brett asked when he saw Jennifer.

  "Isn't this bring-all-your-stuff-to-work-day?" she asked then immediately wished she hadn't. It felt kind of pathetic that her entire life could be fit into a small suitcase, her old oversized purse and a laundry basket. But then again, she wasn't even six months into this life.

  Jennifer brushed passed him and into his office. Brett followed her, shutting the door behind him. She shoved the basket, her suitcase, and her purse under his desk, as out of sight as she could make it.

  "Talk to me girlfriend," Brett said flatly. "Jamie called, yelled, called me a few things, and quit."

  "That must have been after she kicked me out."

  "Shit," Brett shook his head. "Ashley was right. I shouldn't have gotten involved. I knew Jamie would be upset, but I didn't know she was going to take it out on you, or do... this." He gestured towards her things.

  "I was going to move out anyway," Jennifer reasoned. "Jamie just expedited things for me."

  "You can stay with me until you find someplace. Okay?"

  "Brett," she started to protest.

  "This is not open for discussion," he said. "You need a place to live and it's my fault, so you're staying with me. Wait. It is my fault isn't it?"

  "I think it had more to do with me actually."

  "Whatever. You need a place to stay and I have one. I would have offered it to you when I hired you but I didn't want to come off as a total creeper. Anyway, it's still there and I'm offering now."

  "Thanks, Brett."

  There was a knock at the door and then it opened. It was Ashley. Erin was right behind h
er. "I think we need to do some damage control," Ashley said, gesturing them out of the office and into the kitchen. "Apparently Jamie heard a different version of the events last night."

  "Ryan told Jamie he was having drinks with a client and you thought it was something else and so you punched him," Erin offered.

  "I really don't think she was a client," Ashley said.

  Brett scoffed. "He might have been. I caught them in the men's room. He was having sex — not drinks — with her. And for the record, he swung first," Brett brushed his fingers across his jaw, where the skin was just slightly discolored. "I just swung harder."

  "Good for you," Rauly said.

  "I always thought that guy was a douche." Caleb added.

  "Well, now we're short one because of it," Brett said.

  The tension over Jamie quitting lasted all of about five seconds. Jennifer felt bad about the fact that she didn't feel bad about it, but that didn't last very long either.

  Chapter 17

  Plausible Deniability

  Nick called just after closing. He was just about to board another plane, on his way to Washington DC – another place that Jennifer had never been.

  She opted not to mention the fact that she had been kicked out of Jamie's place and was now going to stay with Brett. Besides, she was pretty sure Brett would tell him, and she really wasn't in the mood to re-live the drama.

  Brett lived about thirty minutes from Sammie's across the bay in Alameda, as did Sam. Jennifer had never been across the bridge. She tried not to act as excited as she felt as Brett drove them across that evening. But then, as if the bridge wasn't cool enough, they had to take Webster tunnel, which went underneath the Alameda channel.

  It was one of the coolest things that Jennifer could ever remember doing. It's something Brett did twice a day, every day. But then, he'd probably never been to Mount Rushmore.

  Brett dropped Sam off, at the senior living condo that he called home, and Jennifer took his place in the front seat. "See you tomorrow, Pops," Brett called.

  Brett lived not too much farther, in a sage green house, on Pacific Avenue. The flat terrain, tree lined streets and suburban sprawl felt a world away from San Francisco, and she wondered if that was why Brett had chosen to live there.

  Brett showed her his guest room where she would be staying, and then the rest of the house. He finished the tour with his entertainment room, complete with big screen TV, surround sound, and gazillion channel satellite programming. "Make yourself at home," he said, turning the TV on, and falling backwards onto the couch. "Me casa is your casa."

  "I think I'm just going to go to bed," she said.

  "See you in the morning then," he saluted.

  She didn't remember falling asleep. All she could remember was snuggling close to the overstuffed pillow that smelled of fabric softener and then waking up. She felt surprisingly well rested for a night of sleep that had felt no longer than a single exchange of air. It was just after six in the morning. Jennifer discovered a series of sticky notes stuck to her door on her way to the bathroom.

  The first one read: Call Nick.

  So they had talked. It must have been after she'd fallen asleep.

  The second: We should talk.

  That wasn't good. That was just another way of saying 'we need to talk.'

  She hoped it was about work or her staying with him, or Ashley, but it seemed more likely to be about the fact that she hadn't mentioned to Nick that she was currently residing with Brett and Brett had.

  The third: If you don't smell coffee when you get up just press start on the coffee machine — it's all set.

  Easy enough.

  After a stop at the bathroom, Jennifer made her way into the kitchen, and started the coffee machine.

  She eyed the sticky notes in her hand. Call Nick.

  It felt too early to call Nick, even if he was in a time zone that was three hours ahead.

  She nestled into a chair at the kitchen table and brought her knees up to her chest, listening to the bubbly, spurting, trickle of the coffee maker. She realized that she hadn't actually been in a house since she had become Jennifer Hollis. Houses felt different than apartments, they sounded different too. She could just make out the sound of Brett ambling about in another part of the house. She heard his door open and the floor in the hallway creaked as he neared.

  "Good morning." She smiled at him as he entered the kitchen.

  "Morning." Brett eyed her, quizzically. "Who's Ian?"

  "What?"

  "Hi. Brett Lawson." He waved at her. "When I came in you said, 'Good morning, Ian.'"

  "No I didn't," she squinted in consideration. "Did I?"

  "Yeah." He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat at the table across from her.

  "I'm sorry Brett," she said. "I don't know why I said that. That's just weird."

  It was very weird. Especially considering that she had no recollection of having said the name. Of course this had happened before, with Nick, but she had been unconscious at the time, and was sure it had been a mistaken moan.

  Ian. She searched her memory banks again. Still nothing.

  "Did you call Nick?" Brett asked dropping a couple of brown cubes of something into his coffee from a sugar dish on the table.

  "Not yet," she replied. "What are those?"

  "Brown sugar cubes," Brett explained. "I make them myself." He sipped his coffee. "Nick sent me a text last night. He thought it was strange that I knew when you had gone to bed, so he called. It was a good chat. And by good I mean awkward and uncomfortable."

  Jennifer wasn't sure what to say. Everything she thought of, like: 'I didn't want him to worry,' and 'I can take care of myself,' and the pinnacle — to just shrug and deny any significance whatsoever — just sounded stupid and kind of childish. She finally settled on, "Oh."

  "The short of it," Brett sipped his coffee "is..." he sipped. "That Nick..." sip.

  "Brett?"

  "Let's just say..." long sip.

  "Brett."

  "Don't shoot the messenger."

  "Only for stalling."

  "Ha. Ha." Brett put his coffee on the table. "He has a place for you to live."

  Jennifer returned a confused head tilt.

  "It's his place," Brett said. "It's just an offer you don't have to take it, but it's a good offer. Nick has a great place and it's just him and a couple of kitties."

  "Kitties?" Jennifer smirked.

  "You know, cats," Brett reiterated. "Meow. Meow." Brett pawed the air, "Hisss, phffft." He clawed at the air.

  "Yeah. Cats." She chuckled. "Got it."

  "Meow." Brett put his paw back on his coffee and continued, "Even if it's only temporary it may be a better option than Alameda just because it's in the city and closer to work. But I'm not trying to kick you out or anything. I'm happy to have you here until you find another place. Nick's or otherwise."

  "It sounds... potentially complicated."

  "Yes it does," Brett nodded in agreement.

  They had never really talked about Nick, about his past, but Jennifer always felt like they were on the same page about him. That Nick's past was there, but that wasn't who he was now, and who he was now was what mattered most.

  Jennifer helped herself to a cup of coffee. Then went to the fridge to retrieve some milk. "So what do you think I should do?"

  "Oh, no." Brett held up his hands. "I'm the wrong person to ask."

  "Why would you say that?"

  "You want some eggs?" he avoided.

  "Sure," she nodded, adding some milk and a couple of Brett's home made brown sugar cubes to her coffee.

  Brett retrieved a carton of eggs, and what looked like fresh basil from the fridge.

  Jennifer was about to take a test sip when Brett said, "I'm thinking about asking Ashley to marry me."

  Jennifer set her mug on the table. "Really?"

  "Yeah." Brett nodded, turning on the stove and placing a pan on the burner. "Be honest, what do you think?"

/>   "I think that's great. It seems kind of sudden," her tone deflated during the last bit.

  "That's why I'm the wrong person to ask," Brett said, as he began cutting up the basil. "When life hands you lemons, make lemonade. When life hands you lemon sorbet, and you were expecting lemons, enjoy the sorbet. Or, in my case, ask it to marry you."

  "So you think I should move in with him?" Jennifer pressed, taking a sip of her coffee.

  Brett let out a long breath of air, grabbed a garlic bulb from a basket hanging near the fridge and smashed it under the side of the knife. "If you don't like the sorbet, you don't have to eat it." Brett proceeded to dice up the garlic with the basil. "But I've seen you with lemons." He smiled at her. "I suspect you'll like the sorbet."

  After a breakfast of garlic and basil eggs, which was quite possibly the best breakfast she had ever eaten in her entire life, Jennifer returned to her room to call Nick. She called up the number in her contacts but she couldn't bring herself to press send.

  She wanted the time to think and to decide what she was going to do before he had a chance to convince her. It's not that she didn't like the idea of living with Nick – on the contrary — she liked the idea very much. But that was the problem. The idea sounded great, it was the reality that she worried about. It was all good and well to imagine playing house, but the reality of it was probably not something she could ever accurately imagine. That's the gift and the curse of imagination; it doesn't do the ordinary, everyday, very well.

  Her phone rang just before eight.

  "Hello," she answered.

  "I'm coming home." Nick sounded happy. "I'm on my way to the airport now. You can come over to my house, meet the little ones, I'll make you dinner and we can talk about all the reasons why you shouldn't move in with me before you actually do. What do you think?"

  "I think you're being awfully presumptuous, Mr. Grace."

  "Yes I am," he said. She could hear the smile in his voice. "So I'll see you tonight then?"

  "Nick—," she began her reservations.

  "Please," he said firmly. "Please just give me this. Let me give you this," he added.