Haze (37 page)

"Well, he surprised me too. Said he had good reason for it. Family inheritance that he wanted to share or something. I don't give a damn one way or another. Money's all money to me."

I heard some tapping on the door behind Edwin and he leaned back and opened it. Terri ran out of the room, bounding in my direction and hopping on my leg. I wholeheartedly welcomed the whimsical distraction.

"You old fool!" Edwin called. "Leave the customers alone. Get in your bed." Terri didn't listen.

"It's okay," I said, smiling and petting the dog's soft fur. "She's fun." I guess the landlord was the only one allowed to have pets in this building. The dog seemed just as excited as I was. It softened me a lot. Terri oozed unconditional love, her tail wagging back and forth with a frenetic energy that I could never match.

"It's less fun when you deal with her every day and night. She never tires out."

"I can imagine." I grabbed the stray check on the desk and neatly ripped it into quarters before shoving the pieces into my pocket. Edwin seemed to be focusing on his computer screen again, so I decided to make my exit. "I'm gonna sneak out," I said. "Thanks again, Edwin."

"Don't thank me," he said. "Thank your buddy, Jack."

"I'll try."

Edwin tried to regain control of Terri and succeeded this time. The dog settled into the oversized plush bed and suddenly looked comically small next to the huge doggie furniture, which added to the already overwhelming cuteness.

I stepped into the hall and made my way back up the stairs, feeling like every step I reached was another accomplishment independent of the one that came before it. Honestly, I felt somewhat euphoric but also uncertain. Something told me there was some condition attached to Jack's gesture, something that I hadn't uncovered just yet.

After walking back in the apartment—I had left it unlocked, assuming that I wouldn't be long; probably not the best idea, but whatever—I sat down at the table and poured myself a totally rotten cup of coffee. It tasted like shit, but hey, why did I care? My
day
tasted better already.

I realized I needed to get in contact with Jack. He had done this without my input, and while I was a little disappointed to rely on his charity—defending my honor still felt like a real thing whether it was stupid or not—this brought a ton of relief. I had some time to get my shit together, some time to reflect on the bullshit that had taken place. Sam had been literally vicious, like a rabies-stricken dog. Had I stuck around, he probably would have ripped my throat out until my blood soaked the carpet in the office.

I wasn't ready to die.

Fueled by some fresh caffeine, I went head-to-head with my broken phone. My patience was freshly renewed after the surprise downstairs, so I figured now was the time to make a move. I sat down on my bed, staring through the broken glass, trying my hardest to navigate my contacts.

I got Jack centered on the screen, but every time I pressed his name, it chose the contact directly above or below.

"
Dammit." I was clenching my teeth. The very simple act was feeling quite arduous, as I predicted it would.

I kept my cool, but yeah, this was tough. Finally, I got his number centered on the screen and slowly brought my finger against the green call button. I delicately tapped against it, hoping not to accidentally trigger some other part of the screen.

Bam!
I got it. The call began. I fell onto my bed and stared up at the ceiling.

"Hello?" Jack's voice carried a hint of sarcasm, like he knew exactly why I was calling him before I said anything.

"Hi, Jack. Do you have something you'd like to say to me?"

I heard what sounded like some papers shuffling around. "I miss you."

Was he going to play dumb?
Maybe he didn't think I would have noticed.

"Jack, I think there's something else you need to tell me." I held my ground.

He quietly laughed. "Maybe
you
need to tell me something. Like
thanks
."

"Jack, you asshole! I didn't ask for anything." I wasn't sure if I was actually perturbed about his random act of kindness or not.

His quiet laughing became a guffaw, and I couldn't help but join in. "I'm going to stay at my suite tonight. Where we first met. I want you to come stay with me."

"We first met at MCI," I reminded him. "I don't
wanna stay there."

"I'm not kidding. We need to talk. Seriously."

I dug my toes into the comforter on the bed, my free hand mindlessly toying with my hair. "At the Palace?"

"Yeah. I'll send a car whenever you're ready."

"But I never agreed to anything," I said, delicately walking the line between saying yes and no.

"Effie, I'm serious." He actually did sound serious, free from his usual jovial tone. "I've been
thinking about this a lot and we need to talk about it."

This was weird but in a good way. I had called
him
to talk, and here he was asking
me
to talk while we talked. "Okay, Jack. You're on."

"Okay. I need to finish up some work, but after that, anytime is good. Do you want me to make dinner?"

"Sure." I had nothing better to do.

"So six-thirty is okay?"

"Yeah."

"Be ready then," he said. "See
ya, Effie."

The call ended and I sat there in silence. I figured he had some apology to give, some insight into why things were happening as they were. I was intrigued for sure, but I had no idea what direction this would go.

And now my fucking apartment was paid off for the rest of the year. Was he just trying to make me some slacker who sat at home all day doing nothing? I didn't like that idea one bit—but then I realized it was actually up to me to find another job. I had one less bill to pay for the time being, and that wasn't bad. I wondered if should I call my mom and tell her to call off the money transfer.

No, not yet.
She liked that she had the opportunity to help me after I had turned her away so many times in the past. My humbling of myself had actually turned out to be a good thing.

I packed some clothes in my backpack and sat there on my computer, watching episodes of TV shows instead of looking for jobs. I didn't know what Jack had up his sleeve, but wondering about it was really driving me crazy. I couldn't focus on anything. In this situation, mindless entertainment would distract me better than job searching, I was sure of that.

Obsessively watching the clock, I allowed the day to fade away slowly. I needed to savor these long summer nights, because winter would be arriving soon and it would be cold as hell. Why couldn't it just be summer forever?

Finally, it was time. The limo was waiting outside, ready to take me to that fancy hotel where all of my troubles had really begun. Jesse hadn't arrived home, so I left him a note on the table that just said "Out with Jack."

The limo was empty, and Percy was friendly and affable as usual. I sunk into my seat and did my best to keep my mind straight. I felt like a canvas, one attacked by splashes of random color from a rogue painter. The colors blended and coalesced, the intended shades a mystery.

Life had too many questions, and the harder we fought to discover the answers, the more they evaded us. You could spend your whole life trying to make sense of everything, only to suddenly uncover the answer the second you stopped trying.

Sometimes you were inches away when it felt like miles. And because you didn't know, you'd actually
wander
miles away, a self-fulfilling prophecy regarding wisdom.

The trip to Jack's suite seemed to take longer than usual, my mind overwhelmed by flashing memories. What had gone wrong?
Had
anything
actually
gone wrong? Were the pieces just finally fitting together? Why did I remain so obstinate, so unwilling to budge with regard to my career options?

What was the source of that feeling?

"Miss Jacobs, we're here. You can sit in the back as long as you want because I've got all night, but I just wanted to let you know we've arrived. It's my duty."

"Oh, thanks, Percy," I blurted out. I hadn't even realized that the limo had stopped moving. That familiar hotel was in the picture, the one I had visited with Jesse not that long ago. It felt like years, but I knew it wasn't.

"Jesus, girl, you've got something
big
going on in that pretty head of yours." Percy let out a boisterous laugh.

"Yeah. You could say that." I looked away, not quite embarrassed but also not quite comfortable.

I grabbed my bag and bid Percy farewell, walking up to the hotel by myself. Jack wasn't there waiting for me, and I didn't know if it was intentional or not. The walk to the lobby wasn't glamorous at all, just mundane and predictable.

The interior of the Palace was gorgeous as usual, and I couldn't help feeling humbled by its sheer power. I walked inside, finding Jack near the elevator. He looked gorgeous as usual, his appearance so recklessly clean-cut, if that made any sense. I swallowed hard and tried to ignore the initial response my body had when seeing him.

"Follow me, miss," he said, acting as if he owned the place. I nodded and followed along. We stepped into the elevator and rode to the forty-second floor, just like we had the first time. The attendant made some small talk with Jack; I couldn't get my own lips to move.

Soon, we were there, the creaky elevator coming to stop. Jack led me to the room, our walk just as silent as the elevator ride had been. He unlocked the door and led me to the living room area, sitting on a chair that had a counterpart right across the way—
face-to-face.

I tossed my bag on the floor near the chair and took a deep breath.

"Drink?" Jack asked.

"Yes. Anything."

"I can deal with that." He disappeared into the kitchen and moved bottles and glasses around. I stared at the bare walls of the suite. They were neutral, free from any decorations or reminders of success. Maybe that's why he kept this place—to hide from those images.

Jack returned with the drinks, dry Manhattans, and I accepted mine eagerly. I sipped and set it on the coffee table.

"I know a lot has happened," he said quietly.

"That's an understatement." I stared at him, trying to gauge what was going on inside his head. The harder I looked, the more I wanted to just cuddle up with him in that chair and fall asleep. I gave myself a figurative slap and straightened out my head.

"And I know what
I
want to happen." He paused, sipping his Manhattan, savoring every drop. "I just don't know if it's what you want."

C'mon, Jack,
I thought.
Keep going. Tell me what it is.
Unwilling to wait, I took control.

"Why did you pay for my apartment? I didn't need that!" After I said it, I expected him to say
Yeah, you definitely fucking needed it. You had to call your mom to beg for money!
—but he didn't.

"Effie, please. I wanted to do it. So I did."

"Why can't I solve my own problems like an adult? Without someone intervening?"

His retort was snappy and biting. "Why the hell can't
I
help someone that I care about? Maybe your mental and physical well-being is important to me."

My toes tapped nervously against the carpet. I felt stuck, mildly defeated. This was like yelling at someone for buying you a present for your birthday because you were going to buy the same thing yourself. "What's this all about?" I asked.

"I'm starting a label, as I told you already. I want you to work for me."

A rush of warmth overwhelmed me, but then it turned to cold, blackness. "Did you set me up or something? Get me fired so that I wouldn't have a choice?" I didn't realize how awful I sounded until after I said the words. They were out though, so now I had to deal with the consequences.

He didn't respond. Had I just taken this too far and ruined the best plan yet? Was he about to snap? I really felt like shit.

"No." Lifting his drink, he poured almost half of it down his throat at once, swallowing and then rubbing his eyes. I could see his lip twitching slightly, that little quirk that seemed to surface in situations like these. "That's
not
what I did."

"Sorry." I stared off into the room in a daze, wishing that the curtains were open so I could see that cathedral again. I didn't dare move from my seat, however. "What I said was rude. I'm sorry."

Jack didn't say anything.
Great move being a bitch, Effie.

"It's just—" I trailed off, not knowing what to say. "I wanted to, uh, work for something. I don't know, it's kind of stupid. My dad always talked about hard work and it affected me. It's stupid." I started at my toes as they went deeper into the carpet.

His eyebrows furrowed. "It's not some bullshit position," he said firmly. "It's accounting at my label. It actually
needs
to get done. You can't just pretend to do it. I don't need to go to jail for tax evasion."