by Lolah Lace
“Yeah, there’s only one Jagger and he’s the best at everything he does.”
“You think so?” Jason asked.
“I know so.” Sara countered.
“I don’t believe he can sell candy better than me.”
They all laughed. I wanted to laugh too. Jason was engaging and funny.
“So ladies, what Sweet Treats can I interest you guys in today?”
“I’m thinking I want some Smarties today,” Sara responded.
“Great choice. I’m thinking we have Smarties for sale today.” Jason joked.
My cell phone vibrated under the counter. I grabbed it and looked down at the screen. My son was calling. I answered before it stopped ringing. I hurried my over forty behind to the kitchen at the back of the store. I found a place where I was out of sight.
“Aaron.”
“Hey, Ma, what you doing?”
“I’m at the store working.”
“You got some customers?”
“Yes, but my assistant is helping them out.”
“That guy you were talking about.”
“Yeah, Jason. I wish you had come down here with me. There are a whole bunch of pretty White girls your age coming in here.”
“No thanks. There’s a whole bunch of pretty White girls right here in Naperville.”
“Oh boy, whatever. Is everything okay over with your father?”
“Yeah, it’s cool. I’m about to go up to open gym. I was just calling to check on you.”
“You were calling to check on me.” I chuckled.
“Yes, Ma, I gotta make sure you stay out of trouble.”
“You’re so funny.”
“Did you run into any of your old boyfriends?”
“I haven’t been here long enough to run into anybody.”
“Cool, look both ways before you cross the street, brush your teeth before you go to bed, no riding in the car with strangers, no twerking for a Gucci bag, this is not a hot mom summer.”
I sighed. “You sure you don’t want a career in comedy?”
“I gotta go. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”
“Okay, Aaron. I love you.”
“Love you too, bye.”
“Bye.”
The cell phone call ended. I felt better. I felt guilty. I had been conflicted about leaving my sixteen-year-old son with his father. Erik was a good father but he wasn’t hands-on like me. The divorce didn’t change a thing. He hadn’t stepped up as a father or filled the void that our divorce made. Being in the same room with your children wasn’t the same as actually talking to them. Our parenting skills differed tremendously. My opinion on it didn’t matter then and it didn’t matter now. We were divorced. I couldn’t tell him what to do now or when we were married. Aaron was old enough and smart enough to take care of himself. That gave me some comfort. I cringed thinking about all the greasy fast food Aaron would be eating without me around to guide him from the drive-thru windows.
I left the kitchen and walked back into the store. All Jason’s little admirers were gone. It all seemed innocent enough. He didn’t seem interested in any of them. I still was going to keep my eye on him and them. They were underage and although he was just twenty years old, absolutely nothing illegal would happen to those fast ass girls on my watch.
Jason was leaning on the glass countertop looking out the front window of the store. His dark denim jeans fit him to perfection. I could see why these girls were so enamored. He must’ve felt me approaching because he whipped around to face me. I hadn’t made a single sound so it was odd that he felt my presence in the room.
“What happened to your fan club?”
Jason shrugged. “They probably had to hurry to the drugstore for more mascara.” He smirked.
“Right,” I said remembering the cluster of black mascara caked on the blonde one named Sara.
“I’m just trying to sell candy for my boss lady.” He cracked a cheeky smile.
“Who is it they said you resemble?”
“Huh?”
“The famous guy those girls say you look like?”
“Uh, some guy in a boy band.”
“You have a doppelgänger.”
“I suppose so.” He shrugged.
“What’s the name of this boy band?”
“Toxic Shock.”
“I’m too old. I don’t know who there are.”
Jason smiled like I’d said something funny. “Stop saying that. You’re not too old.”
“I am, last boy band for me was NSync and the Backstreet Boys. I was completely done with boy bands when I took my daughter to see B2K. Have you heard of them?”
“Yes, I’ve heard of B2K.” He smirked like my question was absurd. “You didn’t bring your kids to Galena?”
“No, my sixteen-year-old son is too cool for Galena. I couldn’t bring him here to be miserable and bored. He wanted to hang out with his friends this summer.”
“So you left him at home?”
“Yes.”
“Does he have a car to get around? Seems like he’d be lonely.”
“He doesn’t have a car. He just turned sixteen. He’s not actually at home. He’s staying with his father.”
“Your ex-husband?”
“Yes.”
“And your daughter, she’s living with your ex too?”
“No, she has her own apartment. She has a job near campus.”
“Campus?”
“When school starts back she’s going to be a senior. She goes to the University of Chicago?”
“Oh, a college.”
“Yeah.” A college, the University of Chicago isn’t just a college. “Do you ever drive up to Chicago?”
“I’ve been a few times but you know, I mostly stay right here in Galena Illinoisss.”
“Illinoisss,” I repeated his mispronunciation. “Why did you say that?”
“Say what?”
“Illinois with the ‘S’ like you don’t live here. The ‘S’ is silent. Only people from other states say Illinoisss like that.”
“I wasn’t born in Galena or this state. I was born in California and I’ve just staying with my aunt and uncle for a while.”
“For a while?” Why? Was he running away from something?
“Just for the summer until I figure out some things.”
“Is your mother in California?”
“No, uh, she’s no longer with us. Dead, yeah she’s dead.” His voice trembled.
“Oh my God.” I covered my mouth.
“She died years ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have asked. I didn’t know.”
“No problem. I understand. It was a long time ago and most people my age have mothers so there’s no way you could’ve known.”
“Yes, but I was just being so Illinoisy.” I joked.
Jason cracked a smile. It made me feel better about intruding on this young man’s personal life. I was acting like those teens that were in here.
“Well I asked you questions and you asked me questions. That’s how you get to know people.” He was being nice and letting me off the hook for the meddling.
“Is it? I’ll have to remember that.”
“You can ask me anything. I love to hear your voice.”
Silence hit me. I didn’t know how to respond. “You’re good with the kids that come in here. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“No, I’m an only child. I know you have a sister, Cherise.”
“Yes, and I have a younger brother too, Robert.”
“You’re the oldest?”
“Yes.”
“You look super young. I thought you were twenty-something when I walked into the shop and saw you for the first time.”
“Ha, that’s cute. You know you shouldn’t lie to your boss.”
“I’m not lying about that. I’m looking right at you. Your skin is beautiful, radiant. You glow.”
Why was this young man saying these things? He already has the
job.
“My skin, it’s far from perfection. That glow is called oily combination skin.” I waited for him to say something. I was feeling uncomfortable and wanted to get away from discussing my looks. He was looking at me. It gave me a strange feeling. It wasn’t uncomfortable but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“I guess our eyes just see different things.” He tossed out the sentence like, I don’t know— casually.
“So, you have a driver’s license but no car.”
“Yea, I’m without a car.”
“Are you saving up for one?”
“Saving?”
“Are you going to go and get a car with the money you make over the summer?”
He chuckled. “I’m okay on my bike.”
“I know you’re only getting minimum wage here but by the end of summer it might be enough to get you some old beater.”
“A beater?”
“An old car.”
“You’re right. I may think about it, saving for a car.”
“I’m just saying. I don’t think you can put a girl on the back of my bike.”
“I prefer a woman and you’re right. I hope I can find a nice lady with a car. She can drive me around. I believe in equal rights. I plan on finding a woman millionaire to cater to me.”
“Good luck with that.” I teased.
“I aspire to be a male gold digger.”
“If you set goals I’m sure you can achieve them.”
“That’s the plan.”
“You think you can handle the massive crowd while I do a little inventory.”
Jason looked around the store at our zero point zero customers. “Yes, I got this. I’m here to help you in any way I can.”
“I wish my kids were this cooperative.”
“I have absolutely no problem being your slave.”
Huh? “You’re so funny.”
“Yes, I’m funny.”
Jason was smiling at me. As innocent as the smile seemed I felt a little uncomfortable. It wasn’t his jovial grin that gave me pause. It was his smoldering chestnut eyes. There was lust in his eyes. I’d seen it before in young men and old men. I’d seen it when my son’s little high school friend’s mouths would be agape when they first met me. My son told me I was a hot mom. He’d told me I didn’t look like the average high school mom. Jason reminded me of that conversation.
None of it fazed me because it truly was nothing to be concerned about. Jason was different because he was legally an adult. He was six feet four and had the body of a grown-ass man. He could grow facial hair if he was so inclined. I knew that the look in his eyes should’ve made me feel apprehensive. It just didn’t. But it should because he was a complete stranger to me.
As a man, he was bigger and stronger than me. I couldn’t dismiss that he was here alone with me. But for some reason, I wasn’t afraid. My brain didn’t go there. My instincts and my women’s intuition weren’t saying that Jason was dangerous. I just hoped I wasn’t wrong. I was wrong about a lot of things but I’d never been wrong when judging someone’s temperament.
Chapter 5
JASON
Digging in deep, that was what therapy was supposed to be for me. I was told I had serious control issues. I couldn’t dispute the claim. I needed to get to the root of why I was doing all these self-destructive things. I wasn’t skydiving out of airplanes, bungee cord jumping or playing Russian roulette. I was doing drugs. I had been speed-balling off and on for a few years. I could admit to that much.
I’d grown quite fond of heroin but I wasn’t averse to coke, pills, and booze. I know I shouldn’t joke about it. But I didn’t and don’t think I have a problem. This line of thought always seemed to get me into trouble because admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery. It took me a long time to want to actually recover. Drugs freed my mind of all my problems, my thoughts, my nightmares, and all my massive responsibilities.
I’m not normally a liar. But I lied and said I have a drug problem to appease the people around me. Or was I now lying to myself? I wasn’t going to reject this rehabilitation process. I was going to make an effort to embrace it as best I could. I was here dealing with it and myself. This was apart of the recovery. I wasn’t a coward. I faced things head-on and this would be no different. I was a winner in everything I did and I could win at this as well.
My days were structured. Fiona made breakfast. Eating healthy and regularly was in my strict routine. This morning I wolfed down the tasty meal and I still had time to work on the song I started a few days ago. There was something about this lazy town that fostered my creativity.
I was down the stairs in enough time to walk into David’s office for my daily eight o’clock talk until your mouth was dry session. The Doc was sitting in his chair looking the same as the day before. His brown hair was pushed back from his thin face. He never shaved or hadn’t since I moved in. His brown beard had a few specks of gray throughout. He was wearing a brown sweater with patched elbows, tan trousers, and old ragged trainers, he called them gym shoes. The shoes were a brand I’d never heard of but seemed to be his favorite pair.
I sat in the huge leather chair across from Dr. David. He had extensive education in all the addiction stuff. He wanted to be called David instead of doctor and I was obliged to do so. He had this way of making me feel like a huge disappointment. I didn’t think he did it on purpose. Was this the way of all trained psychiatrists? This was my first time with a head shrinker. I probably should’ve seen one at the ripe age of ten but that never happened. Now I was here trying to desperately sort out my depressing life.
“How’d you sleep?” He always asked this.
“Like an infant baby on his mum’s jubblies.”
“On a scale of one through ten, how are you feeling today?”
“I’d go with a proper eight.”
“Why an eight?”
“I don’t know. I feel all right. I’m inspired to write without the burden of feeling like I have to do it. I’m not in contact with my mates so I don’t have that added pressure. I’m well-rested. I’m eating meals regularly. I’m not shagging so that’s rather frustrating for my willy. Therefore the number is an eight.”
“Is having sexual relations that important to you?”
“Yes, no, I don’t know.” I leaned to the side.
“But it’s worth two points on your happiness scale?”
“No, not two points, one point.” I corrected.
“And the other point?”
“I don’t know. It seems you need that spare in order to stay humble.”
“Do you think of yourself as humble?”
I had to think before I answered this one. “I come from humble beginnings. I haven’t forgotten. It wasn’t that long ago.”
“True, but you’ve been famous and living your life out in the public for some time now. Can you even really remember your humble beginnings?”
“Yes, I can. The beginning was some of the happiest times in my life. I felt full.”
“What do you feel now?”
“Empty, like an empty cup that’s constantly having heaps of water poured into it. But the trick is the cup has a hole in the bottom so it never gets full. It just stays empty but wet around the edges.”
“Have you ever thought that you are the one that is removing the bottom of the cup? You made the hole.”
“It doesn’t feel like it. I mean seriously. Why would I bloody do that?”
“I don’t know. Could it be self-sabotage?”
“I don’t know what it is.”
“Well, why do you think you feel this way? Empty?”
“Probably because bad shit keeps happening to me, all around me. For fuck’s sake, it’s like I’m cursed and blessed all in the same life.”
“Do you really think you’re cursed?”
I had to think about it. “Well, is there another word for it. I have no family, no friends outside of my career.”
“You have a family.”<
br />
“Not really, I only have my aunt.”
“You have your band. Your family doesn’t necessarily have to be people that you are blood-related to.”
“Rubbish! They will turn on me just as soon as I ruin everything. If I went solo they wouldn’t be happy for me. They wouldn’t stay my mates. They would think I abandoned them.”
“I don’t think you really believe that.”
“It’s true. When a band breaks up everyone stops talking to each other.”
“Do you want to go solo?”
“No, I don’t. Not right now. I’m happy with my mates. I’m the team captain. I’m eventually going to get overthrown. Bitterness and jealousy is always the cancer that blows things to smithereens.”
“Why do you believe this will happen to you and your group?”
“Human nature. The King always gets overthrown.”
“Do you think of yourself as the King?”
“Yes, and I’m not ashamed of it. I’m the star. I’ve been in this business for a long time. No one wants to give me respect because of my age but I’m a damn good songwriter. We’ve had four number one hits because of me. I’ve had seven other number ones for songs I’ve written and produced for other artists. I deserve more respect than I get.”
“Your fans respect you.”
“Well, these industry pillocks don’t. They believe because I’m in a boy band I’m not worthy. But I’m going to show those moon-faced idiots.”
“I believe you already have. You will continue to show them your value and worth. But you can’t show them anything if you resort back to your old ways.”
I groaned. “I believe I had my old ways under control.”
“You equate being in control with overdosing, cardiac arrest, dying and being revived with being in control?”
He had me dead to rites. “Not always in control but I had my moments.”
“They will never hear your future works if you die of a drug overdose. Have you ever thought that you were put here for a higher purpose?”
“By who? God? Sorry, doc but he’s a fucking wanker. If he exists at all, I have no respect for him. He’s taken everyone I ever loved.”