Jack leaned toward me, as if to tell me a secret. “If you want me all to yourself, then just say so.”
“And expect for a serial seducer to change the error of his ways? Sorry, I don’t have the time to wait for Hell to freeze over,” I cracked, trying to avoid all chances at falling for any of his possible advances.
“I can be very determined when the reward is worth it,” he replied.
“Like the same careful dedication you demonstrate in regard to your own health?” I quipped. “I know far too many men like you. Too high opinion of themselves, too little practicality to remind them of their own mortality. You all think you’re invincible, whether it’s from physical limitations or ethical persecution. And I’d prefer to not fall victim to your latter.”
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?” he remarked amusingly.
“And what does kill you still leaves you dead,” I confirmed.
“Perhaps,” he said, in a strangely, matter-of-fact, yet skeptical manner.
“What, are you immortal? Greek god? Vampire?” I teased.
“Nah, I’m really not into the whole scepters and togas thing, and I like the sunlight far too much,” he countered.
“Oh, really?” I laughed. “So, unidentified immortal, what was your favorite period in history to live through? Rise of the Roman Empire? American Revolution? Victorian era?”
He shook his head. “No, I’d have to go with the late-sixties, and the whole of the seventies.”
“In the entirety of mankind, your Golden Age can be found in the latter half of the twentieth century?”
“What can I say? I’m a sucker for running water and indoor plumbing,” he replied whimsically. “Besides, you’ve got Hendrix, Zeppelin, the best cars ever produced, not to mention the perfect pastime in the evolution of technology,” he explained. “Those were the days when people really connected with one another. No Skype, text messaging, or Facebook updates. To be a functional member of society, you actually had to leave the comfort of your desk chair. Back then, people had real communication skills. You still opened doors for people, and said ‘thank you’ when the gesture was offered to you in return. It was the perfect median between innovation and simplicity.”
I could only look at him bemusedly, as if he had plucked the words right out of my head.
“What? You disagree?” he asked, taking notice to my expression.
I shook my head.
“What then? You’re looking at me as if I just spoke to you in Klingon.”
I finally laughed. “No, it’s just that I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”
“You mean something well articulated?”
“NO! No, that’s not what I-”
“Take it easy,” he reassured, seeing me blushing at my misuse of words. “I know, I don’t look like the archetype of intelligence and appreciation. Just goes to show you, sometimes people can surprise you.”
“I’m seeing more of that these days,” I replied rather sheepishly.
Suddenly, a bloodcurdling bang erupted in back of us as we entered the cafeteria. I whipped around to see that the heavy duel doors behind us had somehow detached from the magnetic holders on the base of the wall and had slammed shut. Breathing a sigh of relief, I turned to Jack only to see that he was clutching the back of his head. He extended his free hand out onto the wall beside him for support as his knees began to buckle.
“You okay? What’s wrong?” I asked.
Before Jack could reply, I instinctively reached out and wrapped my arms around him to keep him propped upright as he started to slide down.
Clearly out of my weight class, I struggled helping him over to the closest table.
“I’m gonna go get the nurse,” I said after he took a seat.
He grabbed my arm as I started to walk away. “I’m fine.”
“Clearly you’re not,” I replied.
“Trust me, I’m okay. It’s just residual effects from my accident last fall. I didn’t hit my head on the field just now. Chambers just knocked the wind outta me.”
“Is it normal to still suffer with symptoms from over a year ago?” I asked, sitting down beside him.
“Well, after suffering from a subdural hematoma following a severe skull fracture, I’d find it hard to believe that someone could just bounce back,” he said, still holding the back of his head.
“Oh my God.”
“Yeah, I only wish I could say it wasn’t nearly as bad as it sounds, but clearly, I can’t.”
“Was there any permanent damage?”
He smiled. “You mean, am I still able to perform at optimum level?”
“Anything permanent asides from the broken innuendo filter in your head?” I chuckled, giving him a light slap on the arm.
“That wasn’t working beforehand, but everything else is functioning just fine. So you can rest assured.”
“You two have hall passes?” asked Mrs. Oakley, an office administrator, as she walked by.
I handed her mine.
“And what about you, Romeo?”
“I just came from the nurse. Patty herself will confirm,” said Jack.
“Well, you both seem to be healthy enough to be on your own separate ways, so I suggest you hop to it,” she said sternly.
We stood up and Jack took hold of my hand, kissing the back of it before gently returning it to my side.
“We on after school?”
“Sure. Same time?”
He nodded.
Mrs. Oakley waved him away, so he gave me an impish grin and a wink as he surrendered to her order and left. I started heading down the hall as well when she said, “I’d be careful with that one if I were you.”
I turned to look at her just as she surveyed my appearance disapprovingly.
“And I’d rethink that plunging neckline as well. You’re a young lady. Leave something to the imagination,” she derided. “I don’t want to send you to the principal for a dress code violation.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied, rather vexed.
“Hey, beautiful,” said Ian, hugging me as I came up to the Saturn after the final bell.
“Thank you,” I said, happily returning the gesture. “I needed that.”
“Long day?”
“That’s an understatement,” I said just as Gwen approached.
“What happened?”
“Asides from a full workload unkindly gifted by Mr. Rothenberg, my Baby being out of commission, and being threatened with a write-up for my supposedly inappropriate attire? Not much.”
“What?”
“Yeah, apparently my neckline is considered indecent,” I said.
“I don’t see anything wrong with it,” replied Ian.
“Of course you’d say that,” chuckled Gwen. “You have to admit though, Foster, it is a little more low-cut than usual for you.”
“And Stacy and the rest of her clique beat me hands down,” I contested. “Yet, they don’t get lectured by Oakley.”
“Oakley? Oh, don’t listen to her,” said Gwen. “That woman’s incapable of smiling. She just wants everyone else to be as miserable as she is.”
“Speaking of things that are indecent...” muttered Ian, seeing Jack enter the parking lot. “You want to get out of here? I’m off of work today.”
“Sorry, I can’t,” I said. “I’ve got tutoring.”
“And I’ve got to go with Trish. We’re tracking down a lead on an investigation for the paper,” said Gwen.
“Not about-”
“No, it’s a human interest piece, involving a certain... teacher.”
“I take it, since you have investigating to do, that this isn’t going to be an article acknowledging said-person’s achievements?”
“Sorry, a bit more spicy than that,” she replied. “But I can still drop you two off at home before I head out.”
“Sounds good,” I said.
“Actually, I was wondering if I could drive you,” addressed Jack a
s he approached. “We can skip the pretenses for a formal meeting at four.”
“I don’t know how I feel about you being in the car with him,” said Gwen judgingly as she looked Jack over. “Bad things seem to happen when he’s around.”
“Well, firstly, I wasn’t the one driving last night. Secondly, what are her other options? Being ensnared in your deathtrap as you run your car through one of her neighbors’ houses?” cracked Jack. “I’ve seen you behind the wheel. Not promising.”
She scorned him with a brutal glare. “And what are your intentions with her?”
“Poor, at best,” he remarked, wrapping his arms around my torso as he perched his chin on my shoulder from behind.
“Aren’t you a comedian?” I chirped, giving him a soft hit with my elbow.
“Come on,” he said, motioning to the Impala. “You know you want a ride. And she misses you.”
“She?” scoffed Gwen. “Of course, you’d have to be enough of a misogynist that you’d refer to your car as a female. We’re all just objects to you, aren’t we?”
“I’m not a misogynist,” replied Jack. “I love women. And I happen to believe that comparing two separate classes of American beauty is a compliment.”
He had hardly won Gwen’s consent.
“Besides, you have to admit, there are striking similarities between the two,” he continued.
“Such as?” Gwen queried, immediately tipping her vote against his favor. “And don’t say that you can ride in both of them.”
“I was going to say simply that they both deserve the utmost respect and devotion. The state of a man’s car says a lot about him. If he puts the attention into caring for his wheels, he’s more than capable of showing the same dedication to a woman,” he affirmed. “Not to mention that to have either one at a first rate measure is gonna gouge a massive hole in your wallet.”
“Funny,” said Gwen glaringly. “Cassie, you want a ride or not?”
Jack’s embrace around me tightened. “In other words, do you have a death wish?”
“I’m good,” I replied. “I’ll give you guys a call when we finish up.”
Ian and Gwen both deflated at the declaration.
“Good luck with Mr. Cellophane here,” remarked Gwen as I turned from them.
Jack and I both cast each other nervous looks.
“Don’t worry. She didn’t tell me,” said Meyer, sharply. “There are plenty of open ears around here.”
“The session shouldn’t take too long,” I assured, trying to bail out of there as quickly as possible before something uglier ignited.
“But we can’t make any promises,” said Jack, guiding me over to the Impala and opening the passenger door. “Lady, your chariot awaits.”
I climbed in and he joined me a few seconds later.
“You’re a dead man,” I chuckled.
He shrugged, looking at Gwen’s severe glare in the reflection of the rearview mirror. “People have been telling me that for years.”
Chapter 11
Fever
“Wait, we just passed up my street,” I said, seeing the sign for Avery Lane shrinking in the distance behind us.
“Today’s lesson has been cancelled on behalf of the weather,” said Jack. “Time to show you a different side of town.”
“What? Your sleazy, gambling, roughneck part of town? No thank you. I prefer to not get stabbed in a bar fight today.”
“Just hold off judgment till we get there, okay?”
“Well, if I die, you’re the one who’s gonna have to tell my dad what happened,” I said. “So be prepared for your own private, unlawful burial.”
“Deal.”
Jack took us past the harbor and down to New Haven’s boondocks where the quaint, kempt colonial subdivisions devolved into neglected shacks. I was about one more suspected crack house away from commandeering the steering wheel and taking us back to civilization when Jack turned the car onto a gravel road that had a large, inky farmhouse resting at the end of the stretch.
“Is this the part where the axe murderer comes out to greet us?” I said.
He simply smiled as he spun into an open space between the other cars parked out front.
We climbed out and headed up to the porch where there were several old-fashioned whiskey barrels stacked up beside the door, along with the sign that read “Capone’s Hideaway.” He pulled the door open and we were greeted with the mouth-watering aroma of succulent steaks cooking on a grill as we headed down a long narrow hallway decorated by dozens of 1920s jazz photographs.
“Welcome to the Hideaway,” said a young hostess donned in a cobalt blue flapper dress. “Party of two?”
Jack nodded, and she took us to a dimly lit dining hall full of lush leather furniture, cherry oak tables, elegant red velvet couches, gleaming hardwood floors, and white and black damask floral wallpaper.
“Your waitress will be with you shortly,” said the hostess, handing us our menus as we parked a seat at a booth. “Enjoy your meal.”
“Thank you,” we both said before her departure.
“Well, surprise, surprise. Look who the cat dragged in,” said another woman not a moment later.
“Hello, Doris,” Jack replied grinningly, peering up at a fortysomething-year-old blonde in a black dress.
“Hey, sweetie. See you’ve brought company with you today,” she said, smiling at me as I took notice to her nametag. “What can I start you two off with?”
“Dr. Pepper,” I said.
“Same.”
“Okay, coming right up,” she said, leaving us with a cheerful pep in her step.
“I take it you come here often?” I asked, scanning over the menu.
“Yep.”
“Kinda curious since you’ve only just moved here.”
“I’ve been in the area plenty of times before, and I have business not far from here that I’ve been attending to for a couple of months now, so I find myself in these parts frequently. Since moving here though, I guess you could say I’ve become a bit of a regular at the Hideaway,” he replied. “So what do you think?”
“It’s different.”
“Well, you should love it then.”
“Meaning?”
“You seem to have an admiration for the peculiar.”
“Oh, really?”
“Uh-huh,” he grunted with a soft chuckle. “Your manner of speaking, thinking, dressing, your peculiar choice in friends...”
“What can I say? I have deep appreciation for proper English. My analytical mindset comes courtesy of my father. I’m free to wear whatever I please. And my friends are good people. Simple as that.”
“Simple, yes. Standard, hardly.”
“And what grief do you have in regard to Ian and Gwen?”
“It’s not grief. You’re just a baffling trio is all.”
“Why?”
Jack laughed. “Come on. The rocker chick, the magician, and the Nancy Drew cheerleader? How does that happen?”
“Coming from a guy who would take his tutor to a hidden speakeasy? I don’t think you have room to talk about peculiarities.”
“So you do like the place?”
“I like anything that reflects a certain past time,” I said. “Unfortunately, western civilization doesn’t allow much to stick around in its pursuit to constantly innovate. If a building’s been around for more than fifty years, we have to plow its rich architecture down and replace it with a bigger, more characterless structure.”
“You’d love Europe then.”
“You’ve been?”
He nodded. “On occasion.”
“I have to admit, I’m a bit jealous actually. I’d love to go to Italy. Can’t imagine what kind of photography I’d get there.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t have any pictures of my travels.”
“None? Why’s that?”
“I never take a camera with me.”
“Are you crazy? Who doesn’t want to document
their travels?”
“That’s the problem people have these days. They want to document everything. They always have a camera or a device of some kind glued to their hands, forcing them to spend their experiences seeing things with only one eye.”
I laughed.
“You know what I’m talking about,” he said grinningly. “During concerts, you always see the same hipsters who pay more attention to the screens on their phones as they record the show instead of the act they actually came to see. Why? You have the opportunity to live in the here and now, so just enjoy it and put the devices down.”
“You definitely have a point.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying you shouldn’t take the opportunity to capture a moment. If you’re standing in front of the Coliseum, then of course, snap a picture. Just make sure that you give yourself the opportunity to see things with both eyes. We live our whole lives looking into screens. Don’t let those pictures or videos be the only proof you have for yourself to refer to. The mind is a powerful thing. Don’t discredit its ability to remember.”
“Are you always this candid?”
“Life’s too short to waste it fretting over propriety. If a hipster wants to come out swinging because I didn’t say all the things to make him feel warm and fuzzy, then by all means.”
“That philosophy also has the tendency to provoke others to actually shorten your life. There are more and more loose cannons out there just waiting for someone like you to come along and give them a reason to go a few rounds in the boxing ring.”
“I can take care of myself just fine. Besides, fighting builds character.”
“Oh, is that what you have? Character? My bad. I was mistaking it for poor manners. Though, I do still have to give you kudos for your viewpoints. Your packaging doesn’t exactly match your insides. And since people are seldom surprising these days, you are a breath of fresh air.”
“Really? Well, let me ask you then, what do you want out of this life, Cassie?”
To say he caught me off guard would have been an understatement.
“What? I’m being unpredictable. Go with it. What do you want?”
My fingernails scratch around the carvings other patrons had engraved into the table as I tried to find a decent reply. “Um... I don’t know. To be happy, I suppose.”
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