Killing Kate (5 page)

Drake shakes his head.  His sensual
mouth tightens into a small smile that I fix my gaze on.  I resist the urge to
touch his lips with my fingers, wondering if they are indeed as soft as they
appear.  “This is Jack’s actual money, completely legitimate funds.  The house
is fully paid off.  There’s also a car.  I hope you’re not uncomfortable by
what I’m about to say, Jenna, but I’ve taken the time to do a little research
on you, “ he waits and looks at me to see if I look shocked.  I try and
restrain myself from reacting physically.  “I think you could use this money. 
You can quit your job in that stupid cage, start over, and do something
different.  Maybe try going to school or starting some sort of business.” I
scowl at the mention of school.  I always hated school with a purple passion. 
“It’s entirely up to you, of course.”

“The house is also half Devin’s,” I
say quietly, but the words falling out of my mouth sound hollow.  I already
know I’m taking this money and moving into Jack’s house.  My life is shit. 
Drake is right.  I work and live in a cage and this money and Jack’s house is
my only way out of it.  I want to abandon everything I have going for me  or
not going for me  and take whatever I’m being handed.  “I have to talk to
Devin,” I finally say.  “I can let you know what we decide.”

Drake nods.  “Of course,” he tells
me.  “Contact me during normal business hours, preferably.”  He yawns
dramatically.  “You’re a tough girl to chase down, Jenna Parker.”

“Not really,” I reply.  “I pretty
much sit around my apartment drunk or sleeping unless I’m at work.”  Ugh, way
too much candor, I think.  Now I sound like a loser, which I pretty much am
compared to the man I’m sitting next to, in expensive clothes looking perfectly
coiffed and prepped for business at whatever hour of the day.  I’m wearing
Goodwill clothing and could probably use a hairbrush and a shower.

“I’m not here to judge you.  I’m
here to help you,” is his reply, and I look at him quizzically.

“Help me?” I say, looking straight
at him.  His brown eyes and thick lashes look sleepily at me and I shrink back. 
“You’re my scummy father’s lawyer, not my genie released from the lamp.”

He grins.  “Money and property? 
I’d say I’m exactly what you imply.  Your genie from a magic lamp.  Your wish
is my command.”

I shrug.  Erase the past, I think. 
“Maybe.  I’m not sure that you have the answer to all of my problems, but money
and property doesn’t hurt.”

Drake finishes his beer and leans
closer to me.  “And what, pray tell, are ‘all of your problems’?”

I can’t hold back much longer at
this point.  I swivel my stool toward Drake and lean as close as possible.  My
hands rest on his knees and pull them apart and I stand up and place my hips in
between his parted knees.  My face is inches from his own and I can feel the
sharp intake of breath from him.  He wasn’t expecting me to be forward.  Men
never expect me to be anything other than a waif.  Every now and then it comes
out, and it’s all me. “You don’t get to fucking ask about my problems,” I
whisper.  “My problems are my business.”  I am pleased to see him looking
flustered and a little bit red.  I push my drink to him.  He finishes mine and
stands up.  “Leaving so soon?”

He actually grins at me, reaches
into the back pocket of his tight jeans and fishes out a card, which he pushes
over to me across the bar.  I touch it with my hand and our fingers graze. 
“Call me when you’re sober tomorrow.”  He reaches in his pocket and throws a
few twenties on the bar.

“Who says I’ll be sober tomorrow?”
I say after him as he walks out.  I sit still for one hundred seconds, counting
slowly to myself, my lips moving with each count.  I stand up on shaky legs.  I
need to get home.

Kate stands next to me on the El
platform.  Shady characters stand around waiting for the train.  A man is
vomiting over the platform onto the tracks on the other side.  I can hear each
retch from him over the occasional sound of a car whistling by on the street
below.  “You need me now, don’t you?” she asks and I just nod.  She smiles
mischievously.  I feel myself anxiously awaiting the comfort of a seat on the
train in a quiet car to ourselves.  The train finally pulls up and I sit down
in a seat and Kate sits down next to me.

I cover my lap with my bag and her
hand slides under it between my legs.  She pulls up my dress and her hand slides
inside my panties.  Her touch makes me moan slightly, but I am unfortunately
not alone on the car.  There is a young couple chatting quietly to themselves
and a haggard woman who looks like she is riding to work early.  Two young
girls wearing club clothing are standing behind me near the door and chattering
away.  No one sits directly across from me, so I let Kate continue.  Her
fingers plunge inside of me and my breath comes faster through my slightly parted
lips.  Her thumb pushes on my clit and my face scrunches up in concentration. 
In my mind I see Drake at the bar, sitting on his stool as I move closer to him. 
In my head he kisses me, lips grazing down my neck and over my shoulder,
pushing the strap of my shift down and his hands cupping my breasts.  I imagine
him pressing himself close to me and feeling how hard I am making him.  I want
to make him hard.  In my mind he wants me, and doesn’t turn around and go home,
but pushes me onto the bar and lifts up my dress and fucks me, while everyone inside
of the bar watches me.  The bartender unzips his pants and grabs his cock while
he watches, and two other men hold my arms at my sides, even though I want
everything that’s happening to me, but it feels good to be grounded.   I feel
the waves inside of me building.  My left hand slips inside of my purse and
pushes down on Kate’s hand through it, bringing her fingers deeper inside of
me.  I’m afraid to open my eyes, but I imagine where I am right now and picture
the couple on the train watching me.  I am aware of my surroundings, and the
prospect of someone knowing what I am doing frightens and excites me.  Kate
leans over to me and kisses my earlobe gently and moves her fingers faster.  A
surge of wetness and I explode, but all I can do is wriggle a bit in my seat
and press my thighs together to stop her hand from moving anymore and making me
scream.

“Next stop, Morris,” I hear through
the train PA system.  Getting off at Morris in more ways than one, I think to
myself.

When I get home, I barely have a chance
to stub out my cigarette before I completely pass out on my mattress.

*

“I think it’s a good idea,” Devin
is saying.  He means that if we live together, he can keep an eye on me, and I
find this just a teensy bit on the offensive side.

“I don’t need babysitting,” I tell
him.  We are sitting outside of Ennui, the coffee shop across the street from
where I live on a Sunday afternoon.  The breeze from the lake feels nice but
I’m feeling completely numb.  I know what this is going to mean for me.  It will
mean less late nights, less drinking, more scrutiny from Devin.  I’m feeling a
bit sick at the idea, but I am more on board than I let on.  I can quit my job,
I can start over, and I can leave my shithole apartment that felt so good to
get out of today.

“You don’t want to go to therapy
anymore, so you get me instead,” Devin says.  He is wearing white painter pants
covered in red paint and I think strangely of blood.  His shirt is white, too,
and I think ironically of how I chose black shorts and a tank top to wear to
see him and how it was reflective of how we are – him the eternal optimist, and
me the dark and brooding one.  “My lease is up and my rent is ridiculous for
what I get.  Your apartment could easily be abandoned and your lease broken and
you could save the money you spend on it to do something else.  Maybe you could
buy a real bed or something.  You could quit your job and go back to school…if
that’s what you want to do,” he adds, realizing that he is listing off his
ideal sister, not what I feel I’m actually capable of doing.  But everything
he’s saying isn’t out of left field; I’ve already considered all of these
possibilities, including an actual bed.  “And selfishly, I’m tired of being
alone and could use the company.”

Oh, he’s getting to me.  I know how
Devin is.  He gets weird about being alone for too long.  He works too hard, he
comes home, he paints, he doesn’t talk to people for days at a time.  He’s let
people he knows come live with him in an attempt to be more social and it’s
done nothing for him except allow him to be endlessly fucked over by assholes
and moochers who take advantage of the fact that he makes decent money and is
never home to know what’s going on in his own apartment.  “If we move, we’ll be
in the suburbs,” I say.  “I can’t get to work easily from the suburbs, and you
know I can’t drive.”

“I don’t want you working at that
place anymore,” Devin says quietly.  I can feel something from him.  It’s like
he wants to explode just thinking about it.  “I hate that people watch you do
that.  I hate that you’re trapped in that cage for hours.  I think about how
people look at you in there, Jenna.  It pisses me off.  You’re better than
that.”

I say nothing as I sip my
espresso.  The hair on the back of my neck feels damp and I consider cutting it
all off this summer, but it’s a passing thought that’s distracting me from
making an actual decision.  Devin looks flustered.  He wants this to work, I
can tell, and I suddenly don’t want to disappoint him.  “Okay, okay,” I say. 
“I’ll do it.  I’ll quit my fucking job and live in the suburbs and slowly die
inside just to make you happy.”

“Stop it,” he says, looking like he
wants to grin and I feel a strong urge to slap the stifled smile off his face. 
“Let’s do this.  Jack’s house is big enough for the two of us to live without
getting in each other’s way.  I can make the third bedroom a studio.  The one
with the closet so I can stash supplies in there.”  I nod, wondering what’s in
it for me.  Devin is getting excitedly animated.  “Do you think maybe you’d
like to enroll at Morgan College for some classes?”

I shrug, not knowing what to
think.  “How will I get there, Devin?”

“Get your license, Jenna,” Devin
says.  “Jack’s car can be yours.  I have my bike.  I could use the car if I
need to transport something to a gallery.”

“Sure,” I say.  “Whatever you want,
Devin.”

Devin reaches for my hand but I
snatch mine away.  He looks less excited and sad and I feel guilty, even though
I did it on purpose.  It’s like I enjoy manipulating how he feels.  “It’s going
to be good, Jenna,” he says quietly.  “You’ll see.”

But I don’t see.  All I can think
about is how we’re going to be in Jack’s house.  It’s not the same house we
grew up in but it still feels like Jack.  We went and looked around earlier in
the week.  Everything about it had a freaky familiar feeling.  The thing that
bothers me the most is that Jack lives the same way I do.  No bed, just a
mattress.  Not much furniture other than the necessities.  Ashtrays still
overflowing with cigarette butts.  The idea that his spit was still lingering
on them made me sick.  “We’ll have the place cleaned out before we move in,”
Devin had said, already assuming that I would agree.  He was definitely living
there with or without me.  Also, living with my brother at my age?   Am I dooming
both of us into never meeting anyone who would be a permanent part of our
lives?  What girl would want to date a man who lives with his sister?  Didn’t
Devin want to get married one day and have a family?  I’m the reason he can’t seem
to be a normal guy with a girlfriend or wife.  The guilt is overwhelming
sometimes.  He never blames me outright, but I feel like if Devin had a normal
sister he wouldn’t have to be permanently looking out for me.  He tells me all
of the time that it’s not a bother and that he doesn’t care.  And I know it’s
not my fucking fault.  Normal people come from normal childhoods.  But still.

“I guess I can talk to Drake to see
what has to be done,” I say.  “I’m sure there’s some legal shit like transfer
of property.”

Devin’s face darkens.  “Let me call
him,” he says.

“No, its fine,” I say.  I want to
call Drake and talk to him again.  The way he left me the other night, well, it
left me feeling…something.  Devin can tell.  Why can’t I fucking hide anything
from him?  “You want me to grow up, so let me handle this for once.  You just
sit and look pretty or something.”

“Okay,” Devin agrees, but he isn’t
happy.  “I’ll let you handle things.  Just be careful, Jenna.”

“And why would you say that?” I ask
coyly.

“Because,” Devin says.  “Men like
him have had real relationships with women who aren’t anything like you,
Jenna.”  He shakes his head.  “Whatever I say is going to sound shitty, but you
know what I mean.  He probably hooks up with women all of the time.  I saw him
taking you in at Jack’s funeral.  You’re beautiful, Jenna, and men will look at
you, but let him know he can’t touch.  You’re an emotional person who isn’t meant
to be used and thrown away.”

“Now you just sound like an
overprotective big brother,” I say.  “I’m fine.  And how do you know that I
haven’t hooked up with men like him before?”

“You haven’t,” Devin says, and of
course he’s right, but sometimes I wish he didn’t know everything about me. 
“Is Kate still around?” he asks.

“Sometimes,” I say.  “She comes and
goes as she pleases.  Sometimes I don’t even know she’s there.  I open the
fridge and find all of the food gone and don’t remember eating it, or I wake up
and I’m out of cigarettes after I just bought a pack.”