Parker Security Complete Series

by Camilla Blake

  Cole slowed his bike as we got to the area that Jeremiah had been that time I’d seen him. There wasn’t any sign of him today, though.

  “What’s all this?” Cole said. He hopped off his bike to examine the pile of stuff that was gathered on the sidewalk. I got off, too, and wheeled my bike over next to him, looking down at a collection of candles, cards, bouquets of flowers, beer bottles, a chessboard… and crosses.

  Cole blinked. Someone had written on one of the crosses, fashioned out of white cardboard: Jeremiah. It was obvious what it was—a memorial—but I didn’t want to believe it. Or I wanted to think that it was for someone else, some different Jeremiah, but I was pretty sure that was his chessboard.

  “No, this can’t be right,” Cole muttered, looking around. He ran a hand through his hair, the expression on his face agitated. He caught me looking at him and tried to force a smile. “He must be around here somewhere. I’m sure of it. He might be at Dottie’s. Or maybe the library—he likes the library. But I’m sure everything’s fine. Let’s just go ask one of these guys over here…” Cole wandered off, down toward the end of the block where a few guys were sitting against a chain-link fence.

  “Hey,” he said. “Has Jeremiah been around? We were just looking for him.”

  Cole’s tone was friendly, without a hint of anxiety in it, but I could tell the second the words were out of his mouth that the answer he was about to get was not the one he wanted. The three guys looked at each other, then one of them looked toward the collection of stuff that we had just been standing next to. The guy in the middle picked up the paper bag sitting in front of him, which clearly had a bottle in it, and took a swig.

  “He’s dead,” the guy said after he swallowed, setting the bottle back down in front of him. He stared up at Cole with bloodshot eyes.

  “Dead?” Cole said. “How? When? What happened?”

  “Went up to Sacramento to visit his family. Cops got called to the neighbor’s house over a domestic dispute and somehow Jeremiah ended up shot dead.”

  Cole was shaking his head. “No,” he said. “That didn’t happen. No way. Don’t mess with me right now, man; I’m not in the mood for jokes. No way that happened.”

  “The hell it didn’t.” The guy hefted himself up. He reeked of alcohol and something else, something beyond ripe. I tried to keep my face neutral, but the smell was overpowering. “You didn’t hear about that? Don’t you got one of them smartphones that you can be on all the time? That tells you anytime anything happens? Unlimited data plan and shit?”

  “I haven’t really been following the headlines,” Cole said. “I haven’t watched any news stories or paid any attention to that stuff.”

  The guy shrugged. “Might not have mattered, anyway. No one really seems to care when the police shoot a black man, especially if he’s a homeless old one like J-dog.” The guy sighed heavily. “Makes you feel invisible. But we’ll remember him. That’s what all that there stuff is for.”

  Cole pressed his lips together, his chin trembling. The guy squinted at him. “You gonna cry?”

  The tears were already running down the sides of Cole’s face. “Yes,” he said calmly. “I am. Jeremiah was my friend.”

  “I know. He liked you. Said you weren’t bad for a white boy.”

  I reached out and took Cole’s hand. He wiped at his face with his other hand.

  We stayed down there a while longer, and Cole talked to some of the other guys. Then we walked the next block over to a bodega and Cole bought a bouquet of multi-colored tulips that he went back and left at the memorial. He stayed there, down on one knee, for several moments, and when he stood back up, he had tears in his eyes again.

  “I don’t even have a picture of him,” he said. “Never bothered to take even one photograph.”

  “But you’ll always remember him. And the time you guys spent together means so much more than a picture ever could.”

  ***

  I was glad that Cole didn’t want to try to ride back to his place; instead we walked the bikes on the sidewalk. He wasn’t crying anymore, but he was clearly distraught, and I was afraid that he’d end up forgetting where he was or what he was doing and ride straight into traffic.

  “How could I have not known this happened?” he kept saying. “I thought it was a little weird that I hadn’t seen Jeremiah lately, but that’s happened before, and then we always end up running into each other at some point. I can’t believe that’s never going to happen again. And I bet he wasn’t even doing anything wrong.”

  To be honest, I hadn’t paid much attention to any of the headlines regarding police violence against black men. I might see a random headline, or something someone posted on Facebook, and I certainly did not agree with any innocent person being shot just because they happened to look a certain way, but it had never happened to anyone I knew, and no one I knew had been affected by that.

  Until now.

  There was a sick, sour feeling in my stomach as we walked, in part because I was again realizing how ignorant I was about pretty much everything. And if I had never met Cole, I’d still be firmly encased in that bubble, not knowing any better. This was painful, yes, but I was glad that I was here with him, glad that I could at least try to make him feel better.

  When we got back to his apartment, we sat on the couch and Cole cried, his head in my lap. I stroked his hair and whispered Shh, though I knew it was good that he was able to get it out.

  “I can’t even remember the last thing I said to him,” Cole said. “I never got to say goodbye, or tell him that he was one of my closest friends.”

  “It sounds like he knew that, though. And how would you have known that any of this was going to happen? There was nothing you could do about it. You can’t blame yourself.”

  We stayed like that on the couch for a while, and then Cole got up and went out to the kitchen to get a drink of water. I looked at my phone and saw that I had missed a call and there was a voicemail. The number was one I didn’t recognize, and as I put my phone up to my ear to listen, I wondered if it was my mother, trying to call me from a different number, hoping that I’d pick up if I didn’t recognize it. But it wasn’t—it was a man’s voice I couldn’t identify.

  “Uh, hey,” the message started. “This is Tim from Cornucopia. I was wondering if you wanted to come in and shadow one of our servers, maybe tomorrow night? It’s usually slower on Sundays, and that would be a good chance for you to get a feel for the job. And... and if you like it, you’re, uh, you’re hired. So, yeah. This is Tim, if I didn’t say that already, and if you want to give me a call back, you can. Okay, bye.”

  Despite the bad news we had learned today, I felt the tiniest of smiles come to my face. It was the only callback that I’d gotten so far, but that was good enough for me.

  I set my phone back down on the coffee table as Cole came in with his glass of water.

  “I think I got a job,” I said.

  He turned and looked at me, his eyes red. “You did?” he asked, and then he smiled, too, and it made me happy that I was able to do something to take his mind off of Jeremiah, even if it was only for a few seconds. “Baby, that’s awesome. I’m so proud of you. Where is it?”

  “At Cornucopia. The last place I stopped in that day I went out job-hunting.”

  “I know the place,” he said. “I’ll have to come out to eat some night when you’re working.” He took a deep breath. “I really am happy for you, even if I might not seem that excited. I know this is a big deal.”

  I put my arm around him when he sat back down next to me. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what I was feeling right now; part of me was in shock that I had actually gotten a callback, and I was excited, but I couldn’t be that happy about it right now because Cole was so upset. And I was too, in a way, though it was different because I hadn’t known Jeremiah as well, didn’t have the same history that Cole did. I wanted nothing more than to be able to take his pain away, but I felt so helpless. And perhaps for the
first time, I realized how painful that can be—to know that someone you love is hurting and there’s nothing you can do.

  ***

  The next day, I tried to push all the nervousness from my mind, tried not to give in to any self-doubt. I knew that they were doing me a favor, hiring me despite the fact I completely lacked experience. I hoped that my desire to do well would make up for it.

  I was working the dinner shift, shadowing one of the more seasoned waitresses—servers—Darlene. She was an older woman, maybe around my mom’s age, and when she found out that not only was it my first restaurant job but also my first job, instead of looking down on me, she sort of became like my cheerleader.

  “Well, good for you, honey!” she said. “That shows some initiative right there. Wish I could say the same thing about my son.”

  “He doesn’t work either?”

  “Oh, he has a job, but only because I told him I wasn’t going to be footing his portion of the bill anymore. He still lives with me. He’s probably about your age. How old are you, twenty-two, twenty-three?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  “See, I was right. He’s twenty-two, but the way he acts you’d think he just turned fifteen. Boys sure as hell mature a lot more slowly than girls do!” She let out a hearty laugh and patted me on the shoulder. “You’re going to do just fine; I can tell already.”

  And she was right. There was definitely a bit of a learning curve, but Darlene made sure to inform every table that I was training, and everyone was actually very nice to me—and patient when I accidentally mixed up an order. Of course, I didn’t want to feel too proud of myself, because I knew that I had it pretty easy, being Darlene’s shadow and all. It would be different if I were on my own.

  At the end of the night, Darlene tried to give me half of the tips, a wad of cash, mostly tens and fives, some ones. “You earned it,” she said.

  “Oh, no, I don’t want to take your tips.”

  “I’m not giving you all of my tips! But you should at least get something. What’s the point in having a job if you’re not going to get paid?”

  I hesitated, but then took the money she was offering me. I’d won money from bike races before, but this was the first real money that I’d ever really earned through a job. It might not have been much, but it sure did feel good.

  ***

  The next morning, Cole was up early to go into the office. I got up with him, even though he said I didn’t have to since I had worked the night before.

  “I don’t mind,” I said, and I really didn’t. I felt well-rested and I wanted to see him off. I made him eggs and toast while he was in the shower, and I was just pouring his coffee when he came out.

  “Wow,” he said, standing in the doorway for a moment, surveying the scene. “I really don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

  “It’s nothing,” I said. “It’s the least I can do.” I looked at him closely. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better. I mean, I still can’t believe that I’m never going to see Jeremiah again, but I know he would want me to just keep on going. Not let anything derail me, even something like that.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  I ate a piece of toast and drank some coffee while Cole had his breakfast, and then he had to rush off, but not before giving me a long kiss goodbye. The sort of kiss that made my inner thighs tingle and made me wish we could just go right back to bed.

  “Have a good day,” I told him.

  I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with myself for the rest of the day, so when Lauren texted and asked if I wanted to meet up a little later for lunch, I said yes. I cleaned up the kitchen dishes and picked up the living room a little bit before taking a shower. Then I went online for a short while, and then it was time to go meet Lauren. The day’s rhythm so far had been simple and peaceful and I was really enjoying it.

  “So, how’s it going?” Lauren asked after we’d been seated at the restaurant. “Your mom’s been telling my mom all sorts of crazy stories. Are you really planning on never going back to your parents’ house? You know that’s crazy—right?”

  “I don’t know—is it? Things have actually been going really well.”

  “You’re not sick of it yet?”

  “Sick of Cole?”

  “Well, maybe not sick of him, but just sick of living in such a tiny little place?”

  I tried not to take offense to what she was saying; she wasn’t deliberately being malicious—she was just used to things being a certain way. Much in the way I had been used to things being, before all of this happened.

  “I like his place,” I said. “It’s really the perfect size for two people. You know, when you’re living with someone you actually want to be around, having a mansion doesn’t really make sense.”

  “Huh.” She frowned. “I never really thought of it that way. I sincerely doubt that Trevor and I will ever be living all nice and cozy like that!” She laughed. “But seriously? You’re not planning on going back to your parents’? I think your mom is really freaked out about it. She was over the other night, and I wasn’t eavesdropping or anything, but I could hear her and my mom talking out on the deck. Your mom thinks that you’ve been brainwashed or something. I think she might want to 5150 you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “She’s not having me committed—I don’t care how worried she is. What she doesn’t seem to get is that I really feel better about things now than I ever have. I have a job.”

  Lauren’s jaw dropped. “You do? Where? Doing what?”

  “It’s at this restaurant. Cornucopia. I’m a waitress. I mean server.”

  “Shut up. You are not.” She started to laugh, waiting for me to join in, tell her of course she was right; I would never do something like that. But I didn’t laugh, because I realized how not funny this whole thing was.

  “Look,” I said, “I don’t want to keep living life like this. I want to actually, you know, take some responsibility for myself and my life and not just be sponging off of my parents.”

  “Like me, you mean.” Lauren had stopped laughing and I could hear a slightly bruised tone in her voice. “You think that’s what I’m doing, don’t you? That I’m just sponging off my parents.”

  “Well... yeah. But I was too,” I added quickly. “I’m not necessarily faulting either of us for it. It’s just how things have always been, so I think it’s natural to just go along with it. But we don’t have to. It doesn’t have to be that way.”

  “Listen to you.” Lauren shook her head, a frown on her face. “Do you know how ridiculous you sound? What are you trying to prove? And how much are you working, anyway? We’ve got a bachelorette party to plan!”

  “My job isn’t going to get in the way of your bachelorette party. Plenty of people have bachelorette parties and gainful employment. And I’m not trying to prove anything. Other than to myself, which is that I can be an adult and not have to depend on anyone else. You don’t have to get mad at me. I’m not saying that you should do this—I’m just telling you this is what I’m doing.”

  “I know, but you’re getting all pretentious about it. Listen, Stell—you can’t help the family you were born into. That’s not your fault. So you shouldn’t punish yourself. And besides, you’re not really doing this on your own, as you put it. You’re living with Cole. That doesn’t really count. You’re totally half-assing it.”

  I stared at her, not quite believing that she was being such a bitch about it. I thought she’d be happy for me. Maybe there’d be a little doubt mixed in, but I figured she would’ve at least been supportive.

  “I might be half-assing it,” I said, grabbing my purse off the back of the chair and standing up, “but it’s still doing a hell of a lot more than you are.”

  “Where are you going?” she demanded. “You can’t just leave.”

  “Sure I can. Why would you think I’d want to sit here with you and have you judge me and be a complete bitch about something that I actually feel pretty good a
bout? Just because it’s not what you would do doesn’t mean I’m doing anything wrong. You’re as bad as my mother!”

  My voice got louder with each word, so by the time I got to that last sentence, I was basically shouting. People in the restaurant were looking over, some trying to be more discreet about it than others. Lauren had turned a deep shade of scarlet.

  “Will you sit down?” she hissed. “You’re making a scene.”

  “I don’t care. You’re so concerned with what people think, people you don’t even know. I’m done being like that.”

  “Yeah, okay, Stella. We’ll see how long that lasts for. We’ll see if you’re still saying the same thing once you and Cole get sick of each other and he asks you to move out. What are you going to do then—get your own apartment?”

  I hated the tone in her voice—the judgment, the certainty that I would fail if it weren’t for Cole. Part of me might have even believed she was right. But I didn’t want things to be that way. I wanted to think that I could do this on my own, whether or not Cole was with me.

  “Have fun planning your bachelorette party,” I said. “And if you think you’re going to need help with it, find someone else.”

  Lauren’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?” she snarled, her eyes narrowing. “You’re telling me that you don’t want anything to do with this? Because, what—now you’re too good for it?”

  “I’m not even going to bother to respond to that.”

  Lauren made a face. “Oh, yeah? You just did.”

  I was vaguely aware that pretty much everyone in the restaurant had stopped what they were doing and was watching us, as though we were some afternoon soap opera. Which, honestly, was kind of how it felt. I saw someone even raise their phone and take a picture, but at this point, I was beyond caring. I wanted to say something back to her, wanted to have the last word, but I knew if I did, she’d just have some response, and we could go back and forth like that all day long. So instead, I left. I turned my back on my oldest friend and walked out of the restaurant without another word.