The Duet

by D'Angelo, Jennifer

  14

  “Thank you so much Tiffany. Hope you see you soon!” I handed my departing customer her credit card, and with it, a double dose of bullshit. If she ever bothered to use that over-processed blonde head of hers, she would realize I was mocking her.

  I sighed. Retail was not my thing. I know – big surprise. I was ready to make another move, but I thought I might try to stick it out for a whole thirty days this time. Though there had been plenty of opportunities for me to get myself fired, I found that both the clientele and the associates at this particular establishment, had their heads so far up their bleached butts that they wouldn’t be able to tell an outright insult from the flattery they were accustomed to.

  These people were hopeless.

  The store was an upscale chain that sold what they liked to think of as trendy styles. Our customers were made up of rich people; trophy wives in their forties who wanted to dress like their teenage daughters, and same teenage daughters with Daddy’s credit card and no spending limit.

  I was not exactly your typical sales clerk material for one of these stores. But with my red hair (we’re talking fire engine red to suit my fiery temper as of late), and my eccentric fashion sense, the management were all too happy to exploit me in order to attract a more “hip” crowd. In return, I got to toy with these people on a regular basis, which had been entertaining for a while, but now I was beginning to get bored.

  The afternoon dragged on. I helped a pair of tweens select some completely inappropriate dresses for a weekend party one of their parents was hosting, and picked out a ridiculously over-priced, not to mention ugly, handbag for a girl about my age who fancied herself some kind of royalty the way she swept her hand in my general direction and snapped her fingers to get my attention. I assured her the bag was one of a kind (we had three boxes of them in the back), and that it was hand sewn (mass produced in China). She didn’t thank me, but I could tell she was totally impressed with my vast knowledge of handbag couture and that she would be back very soon to buy some hideous shoes to match, or maybe a garish scarf or two.

  I finished my shift and went straight home. I didn’t have to be at Darden’s tonight, but The UnAmused was playing. I hoped to get the apartment to myself for a change.

  No such luck.

  I walked in to find Cooper lying on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, and Jay standing over him, wearing nothing but a towel, and prodding him with his toe.

  “What happened?” I dropped my purse at the door and rushed over. When Jay didn’t answer, I looked up at him. Maybe the look on my face was slightly accusatory, I don’t know. But he instantly got defensive.

  Shrugging, he gestured toward Cooper on the floor with one hand and held his towel in place with the other. “What do you think happened?”

  I tried not to think about where his hand was on the towel, or that he was practically naked. I purposely tore my eyes away from his bare, alarmingly solid, torso and the glistening drops of water that dripped from his hair onto his shoulders and down his chest. Instead, I focused on Cooper’s pathetic form, lying passed out on the floor when it wasn’t even dark out yet. And it was the night of a show. How could he get on stage in a few hours when he wasn’t even conscious?

  “Were you home all day?” I asked Jay, averting my eyes from the tattoo that covered one side of his abdomen. But looking at his eyes was just as dangerous.

  “I was in and out.”

  I stared at him for a moment longer, until his gaze just got to be way too much. Then I knelt down beside Cooper, relieved to see that his breathing seemed steady. But my relief was short-lived as I realized my new position now put me in direct line of sight of Jay’s bare legs. Fabulous!

  “I’m getting dressed. See if you can wake him up. We have to be at the club in an hour.”

  The air in the room thinned out as soon as Jay left, making it easier to breathe. I plopped down on my butt next to Cooper, trying to get ahold of my traitorous heart, and my runaway hormones.

  I looked down at my friend; my sweet, funny, larger than life buddy who had always been my champion, even through some of my darkest days growing up. He was a mess. I knew it since I’d moved back to California, but it didn’t really sink in until this moment. Jay may have been the one to get shipped off to rehab, but Cooper was the one who really needed help.

  “Cooper,” I whispered, poking him lightly in the arm. He didn’t stir. “Coop? Come on, now. Time to wake up.” Still nothing.

  I shook him. He moaned something unintelligible, so I kept trying. “Cooper! Wake up buddy.”

  He shifted a little, rolling toward me, and for a moment I thought he was coming around. He opened one eye, licked his lips. And then proceeded to throw up all over me.

  Now I was mad. And not for the obvious reason, although that may have played a small part in my sudden surge of annoyance. Jay chose that moment to step out of the bathroom. Probably not good timing on his part.

  He took one look at me and his eyebrows shot up. “Oh, shit,” was all he said.

  I lost it.

  “Oh shit? Is that all you have to say, you son of a bitch?” I looked down at Cooper, who had passed out once again, laying in his own mess, and my anger just spiked.

  “What the hell, Jay! Why’d you let him drink so much? What is wrong with you?” My voice was that high screechy tone I had often heard from the skanks at the bar after they’d drank too much and caught their boyfriends flirting with someone else. I had made fun of those girls more than once. But I was too pissed to stop and laugh at the irony.

  Jay walked over so that he was standing right over me. “What’s wrong with me? Jesus, Izzy, what’s wrong with you? Why don’t you look after him if you’re so fucking concerned? And maybe if you got your head out of your ass, you would know that he and Trisha broke up again last night. He always gets like this when they break up. But you’re too busy hooking up with your new fan base to notice.”

  My head snapped back in surprise. Those were the most words I had ever heard Jay string together at once. And they were hurtful words. Aimed at me. I didn’t like it.

  “I don’t even know what you’re talking about. I was at work all day, and you were here with Cooper, just watching while he got too shitfaced to stay conscious.”

  I was starting to shake now, only vaguely aware of the pungent stench of the vomit I was covered in. I sat where I was, frozen in place, needing to blame someone for the slippery slope Cooper was headed down. I was grateful for the fog of rage that clouded my vision just enough to cover up the fact that I was partially to blame. I was his friend and I enabled him by ignoring that he had a problem.

  Jay opened his mouth to say something, then he shut it. I could see he jaw moving and his hand ran down the side of his face in a very deliberate fashion; slowly, as if he were trying to gain control. When he spoke again, his voice was so quiet and even, it was almost chilling.

  “I am not Cooper’s babysitter. If he chooses to be stupid over some girl, then I can’t stop him.”

  “So that’s it? He’s in trouble so you just throw up your hands; give up on him?” I took a deep breath. I knew I could have stopped myself from saying what came out next, but instead I spat the words out like poison. “Is that what you did with your dad? Just gave up? You didn’t like the way he was acting, so you just convinced yourself he was doomed anyway? You know, just because your parents had a fucked up relationship, that doesn’t mean that everyone is destined for their unhappy ending. We could help Cooper, if you would just take two seconds and try to care about something or someone other than yourself for once in your life.”

  I stood up and glared at him. I was now shaking visibly, and it was so bad, I had to clench my teeth together to keep them from chattering. But the look on Jay’s face made me feel as sick as Cooper would be feeling whenever he woke up. I was the meanest, most spiteful person on the planet. And that only made me more furious.

  I stepped over Cooper’s limp form, an
d stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I turned on the shower, hoping that the running water would drown out the sound of my sobs.

  15

  The week went by so slowly, it was torture. I checked on Cooper whenever I got a chance. He was moody and short-tempered over his breakup with Trisha, and spent most of his time on the couch watching Family Guy reruns or holed up in his bedroom. I hadn’t seen Jay at all. I knew he came home every night, but had no idea where he went all day, or whether or not he was still mad at me. If I were him, I would be mad at me. I wasn’t exactly anxious to face him in person at practice Friday afternoon, but in a way I wanted to get the unpleasantness over so we could go back to being politely cool toward each other. Avoiding him in the apartment wasn’t all that easy.

  My job at the outlet store was not helping the time go by any faster. Now that I’d considered moving on, I detested everything about it. But I needed to have something else lined up first. I was barely scraping up rent, and there was no way in hell I could count on Jay or Cooper to help me. What I really needed was to move the hell out of there altogether.

  I left the store at three, giving me just enough time to get across town in time for practice at the club, but had an internal argument with myself over whether I should stop for a cappuccino first, and be a little late. I settled the argument quite easily by reasoning that if I had to eat crow with Jay, at least I would have something delicious to wash down the bad taste in my mouth.

  I could have gotten a coffee anywhere on the way, and still been on time; but when I said I wanted a cappuccino, there was really only one place to consider. It was a little bohemian coffee shop that doubled as a medical cannabis dispensary. Not only was the coffee second to none, the owner was an absolute hoot.

  The chimes on the door rang out as I walked in the door. The smell was inviting, but definitely an acquired taste; a strong aroma of fresh coffee beans, with pockets of vanilla, chocolate, and just the hint of pungent marijuana. The light was dim inside, and wisps of smoke drifted up toward the exposed rafters on the ceiling. The décor was a mash-up of Woodstock, Parisian Café, and Island Paradise.

  I had stumbled on the place about a month ago, and now if I didn’t get to stop in at least twice a week, I felt deprived. The owner and I were instant comrades.

  “Izzy! What an indescribable pleasure!” I had barely enough time to look up before I was enveloped in a firm bear hug and the overwhelming smell of musk.

  Jo-Jo had owned this little shop for over forty years, and over time it had morphed into what it was today. In a way, she was a lot like me – she couldn’t quite pick a direction and stick with it – so she didn’t. The shop was a shrine to all her favorite things, and she didn’t apologize to anyone for it.

  “Jo-Jo. You always make me feel so wanted,” I said, giving her frail frame another squeeze, and breathing in a face full of feathers from the orange boa she was sporting. “I wish I could stay all afternoon so you could boost my fragile ego, but I have to run.”

  Jo-Jo walked behind the counter, swatting the air. “Oh, shit on a cracker. I could’ve used a good visit and some juicy gossip. The weekday afternoons are downright lonely here.”

  She began making my usual drink and I leaned against the counter to watch. “Business is down?”

  She waved her hand in the air again, and I winced as a loose feather just barely missed landing in my cup. “Ah, it’ll be fine. Just going through a dry spell. What I need is a good, kickass advertising campaign, but I don’t have the money, and I haven’t been feeling too creative lately.”

  I had to disagree, because Jo-Jo’s outfit was creative if it was anything. She wore black snake-skin hot pants underneath a moo moo or maybe it was a housecoat belted at the waist with a hemp braid, and a pair of Converse hi-tops, bedazzled in colorful gemstones. The ensemble was topped off with the orange boa and some silver hoop earring that dangled down to her shoulders. Her hair was frizzy and wild, and her makeup was slightly smudged under the eyes. She did look like she was having a hard time, and my heart went out to her. I had offered many times to help out at the shop to give her some time off, but she couldn’t afford to pay me and she refused to let me work for free. I worried that it was all getting to be too much for one person, and my heart broke a little at the prospect of her closing down.

  Jo-Jo finished the cappuccino with a generous helping of whipped cream and a drizzle of caramel, and handed it to me. I grabbed a lid from the stack on the counter, and slipped a twenty dollar bill in the tip jar when she wasn’t looking.

  “How’s the singing going, dear? I keep meaning to get out and see a show, but I just get so worn out after I close up here.”

  “No worries, Jo-Jo. You come out whenever you can. I have a nice comfy seat backstage that I keep for you.” I winked at her, then leaned over the counter to give her a kiss on both cheeks.

  She held my face in her hands and bumped her nose to mine quickly. “You come back and see me soon, you hear?”

  I nodded, backing out of the shop with a little lump in my throat. As I got in my car, I promised myself that I would check in on Jo-Jo more often, maybe even insist that she let me help out a little.

  Seeing Jo-Jo had been a good distraction, but now that I was just seconds from facing Jay, I wasn’t sure my stomach would allow that delightful smelling cappuccino to digest properly.

  I fluffed out my fiery hair with my fingers, checked my teeth for lipstick, and double-checked for maximum cleavage before getting out of the car. When I opened the door to the club, I expected to hear my band warming up, or maybe Cooper finishing his practice. I even braced myself for the abuse I would take for being nearly an hour late. But what I never expected, was to hear the wretched, angry lyrics of an unfamiliar song, or the sight of Jay standing center stage singing said lyrics while Cooper stood beside him nodding in unmistakable delight.

  The song ended less than a minute later, and I hadn’t even realized I had walked all the way into the club, to the middle of the floor, standing only about ten feet from the stage. I must’ve been gaping because I felt my mouth close when everyone’s eyes looked down.

  I had heard Jay sing before. I knew he could; he sang harmonies with Cooper, and once or twice I’d caught him working on original stuff, when he thought no one was around. But those words he was singing just now; they were harsh. Bitter, angry words that almost hurt to listen to. Was he singing about me? Had what I said on Sunday made him that angry that he would go to such lengths to make me sorry?

  “Izzy!” Cooper called, hopping down off the stage to stand next to me. “What do you think?”

  What did I think? What a loaded question. The truth was, I was finding it hard to think at all. There was all this white noise inside my head, and I just wanted to put my hands over my ears to try and drown it out. “I, uh… that was… wow.” I said lamely. What an eloquent speech.

  “We’re doing it tomorrow night.”

  “You’re performing an original? In front of everybody?”

  “Yeah, I know, right? Jay wrote it. I told him I wanted something to sing for Trisha, and he couldn’t have nailed it better. She’s gonna shit when she hears it.”

  My breathing returned to normal when I realized the song wasn’t aimed at me at all. But then I bit my lower lip. It occurred to me that I wasn’t sure whether I was more appalled that Jay wrote such scathing words, or that Cooper was so enraged he would sing them. Either way, I felt a little nauseous.

  Cooper walked away, presumably toward the bar to start happy hour early, and I stepped up to the edge of the stage. Jay was unplugging his guitar at a leisurely pace as if he were just waiting for me to approach. I knew what I had to do. I was truly sorry for what I said, and I was going to let him know. He may have an impossible time communicating, but that had never been an issue for me, so I would take the leap.

  “Hey,” I said, looking up at him. He glanced up and nodded once.

  “Look, Jay. I feel really bad about wha
t I said the other night.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s forgotten.”

  “Really? ‘Cause I just… that isn’t like me. I was pissed and I shouldn’t have…”

  “I’m not mad, Izzy. You were right.”

  I tilted my head back to look up at his face, hovering in shadow several feet above me. He looked sincere, but I still felt awful. I opened my mouth to argue, but he cleared his throat, then reached down to help me onto the stage. “Look, you’d better get started. These guys are a little ticked off that you made them wait. And you could use the practice.” He smirked ever so slightly. And I knew that things were back to normal between us. I felt better and worse at the same time.

  16

  Izzy delivered another spot-on performance on Saturday night. Jay listened from back stage, not missing one note, despite the blonde that was trying to gain his full undivided attention by rubbing up against him and feigning interest in learning to play the guitar. He had wanted to watch from the bar like he had the last few times, but had decided it was healthier for him to keep a distance. Maybe the less he looked at her, the less she’d plague his mind.

  Or maybe not.

  He felt her next to him as he waited just backstage to start their set. He didn’t look over, but he knew it was her. They stood side by side listening as Darden introduced The UnAmused, promising the crowd a special surprise in the way of an original song tonight.

  He glanced sideways in time to see Izzy stiffen. He could relate; he only wished he could tell her that they were on the same page. The rest of the band ran out on stage, but Jay hung back for just a second.

  “For the record, I strongly advised Cooper against doing this tonight,” he said. He turned his body to face her as he pulled his guitar strap over his head. His eyes searched hers for a reaction. And then he saw it – exactly as he expected. She was shocked by what he’d said. It pissed him off more than he could say. Why did she always think the worst of him? Yes, he’d written those words. In fact, he’d written that song a long, long time ago. It was when he was a confused hormonal teenager, and he had been angry over some girl who’d dumped him for the class jock and had been pissed at his parents for something they did, or didn’t do, at the time. Did Izzy think he’d really suggest to Cooper that he sing that song to Trisha? The lyrics were brutal. She’d be crushed when Cooper sang them.