Not Looking for Love: Episode 6 (A New Adult Contemporary Romance Novel) (16 page)

"Finally! What's going on with you, Scott?" Janine screeches, sending a web of pain through my brain.

She sounds concerned, scared and angry at the same time. It always amazes me how she can get that tone just right.

"Nothing much," I mutter, as though she'll believe it and stop pestering me.

"My mom says you moved back to Westchester a few weeks ago," she goes on. "And then you just disappeared again. You haven't answered any of my calls either. Your dad has no idea where you are, neither do Derek and Andrew."

"Did you call Mike too?" I snap. She really needs to learn when to stay the fuck out of my business. I'm standing perfectly still, waiting for the pain of walking over here to die down.

"I would've, but he's still locked up," she counters.

"Yeah, right."
 

"He's not?"
 

"Maybe I haven't been calling you back because there's nothing to talk about," I say, but it's a feeble attempt and she catches on pretty fast. At least I got out of explaining about Mike.

"Yeah, but then you wouldn't be picking up now." She sounds hurt and outraged now. She can blend those very well too.

The skyscrapers outside are dotted with squares of light, and I can see the long line of red tail lights going uptown from where I'm standing.

"Are you being like this because of all those things I said about Gail?" she asks finally. "I'm sorry about that. I spoke out of turn, and I won't do it again."

"A little late for that," I snap.
 

"You're not together anymore, right?" she asks quietly, and I do know she's genuinely sorry, but…

"Yes, it's just like you predicted."

She inhales sharply. "She dumped you?"

I stumble back to the bed and sit down too quickly waking a pain like someone hit me in the stomach with a baseball bat.

"What's wrong?" she asks, but I ignore it.

"I'd expected more support from you, that's all," I mutter. I don't know why I'm even arguing with her. It's just making me nauseous again.

"I was trying to be supportive," she says. "I just didn't want you to get hurt."

I could tell her everything. Maybe she can figure out the answer. But she'll tell her mom eventually, she always tells her everything, and then it'll get out. And I have no idea what Mike will do if that happens.

"I broke up with her," I say finally. "It wasn't going to work out. Too much baggage. And we didn't have enough in common."
 

It's hard to lie about it, and I'm pretty sure Janine knows that's what I'm doing.
 

"Bullshit," she says, proving me right.

I gaze out the window for awhile, it helps with the dizziness.
 

"It's all really fucked up right now," I say.

"Did you decide to help Mike, and Gail couldn't handle it?" Janine asks slowly, getting back on the subject I've been trying to change.
 

"In a manner of speaking," I say before I realize I was going to. I should've just denied it, because that wasn't it, not even close. I said no to Mike and I meant it. And that's why I'm in this shit now. No, I'm in this shit now because my brother's a real life psycho.

"I don't get it," she breathes.

"Neither do I," I counter.

"Scott, you're gonna have to start making some sense right now," she snaps, blending outrage and exasperation now.
 

But how can I?
 

I run my hand over my face, wincing as I press too hard on my swollen cheek.
 

"What's wrong with you? Why do you keep making noises like you're in pain?" she asks exasperatedly.

"Because I am."

"Over Gail?" she asks, disbelief thick in her voice. "You know I never meant all the things I said. I just thought maybe you were making a mistake, but then—"

"Louie decided to get even last night," I interrupt.

She gasps so hard it comes out as a whine. "No. Are you alright?"
 

"I will be."

"That piece of shit," she says. "He had it coming when you—"

"I almost killed him. He had to eat through a fucking straw for a month."

"I guess," she concedes. "Though I'll never understand you men. Why can't you just yell at each other?"

"That would be a lot less painful," I say. "So where are you now?"

"I'm back in Thailand."

"Back? Where else were you?"

"I was in LA up until a few days ago, thought maybe we could meet up, but you weren't answering my calls."

"Why don't you just come home?"
 

"I like travelling," she answers and leaves it at that. It would be nice to see her again. It's been ages.

"So, you ever coming back?"
 

"Eventually, I guess," she says, like maybe she's not sure. "It's just so much easier to let go here."

I know what she's talking about even though she's not saying it directly.

"It’s probably time to let go," I mutter. I'm not sure it's not gonna make her yell at me. She doesn't like it when I'm too harshly honest either, just like Gail.

"David's birthday's coming up," she whispers. I can hear tears in her voice, even though it's still firm. Janine never did cry easily.

"I know." It's on May 3
rd
, or would be. "I can go take some flowers, or something. If you're not gonna be here."

She sighs. "That’d be nice. My mom and me went last year. I couldn't sleep for a week afterwards. I thought I'd just light a candle here this year."

Memories are trying to enter my mind right now, but on top of everything, I know I can't handle thinking about David. Or go to his grave next week. Or ever. I haven't actually been there since the funeral.

"You are alright, aren't you?" she asks, catching me off guard.

"Not exactly," I mutter.
 

"I know, but I meant, you will be, right?"

I have no fucking idea. Probably not. But I don't say it. I could just tell her everything. But then she might be in danger too. I don't know what Mike's capable of. I really don't.
 

"What?" she asks. Like she can hear me thinking. But I can't tell her, and I can't try to die anymore either. Because I don't know if Janine will ever get over that. Or if Gail would, for that matter. She just lost her mom.
 

"I'm sorry that I haven't been calling you back," I mutter, changing course completely.
 

"It's OK," she says. "Just don't do it again."

There's a knock at my door, and I jerk sideways too fast, my whole side exploding in pain.

"What is it now?" she asks as I gasp.

"Gotta go," I manage through gritted teeth. "There's someone at the door."

I just hope it isn't Mike.

But it's not Mike, it's Greg.

"They just let you in downstairs?" I ask as he enters and tosses my car keys on the stand by the door.

"Yeah," he mutters, fishing a bottle of pills from his pocket and handing them to me. "Here, for the pain."

I squint at the label, but can't make out what the pills are in the dim light. I take two anyway, since fuck it, how much worse can this get?
 

"You should really open a window here," Greg says and strides over to it. "It smells like blood and cigarette smoke."

"I wonder why," I say and sit down on the sofa bed. No way I'm walking all the way over to the window.

He cracks open the window, the wind whooshing in like the whole place is about to implode.
 

Greg gets a small saucer from the kitchen and lights a cigarette by the window. "You have a much nicer view than me."

It suddenly clicks. "You live in this building too? Does everyone that works for Vlado?"

"Nah, just his favorites," Greg says.
 

"You're one of those?" I ask, turning my head too quickly, sending it throbbing all over again.

"Once upon a time," he mutters. "But never again."

I'm satisfied with that. Greg sounds like he wants out too, so he can be my friend.
 

The pills I took are starting to work, I think, since I feel like I'm floating now. Or maybe I'm just about to slip into a coma.

Greg shakes his head. "Your brother wasn't too happy when he learned you can't do the job on Friday."

"He hasn't called me yet, so it can't be that bad." I bend over to pick up my jacket off the floor to check my phone. There's pain but not very sharp, and more like someone else is feeling it.

The battery's dead, so maybe Mike did call.
 

"You planning to sleep over again?" I ask as I stumble over to the charger.
 

"You want me to go?" Greg asks and I shake my head reflexively. Having him over's gotta be better than staring at the ceiling all night.

My phone starts beeping with voicemails as soon as it turns back on. It rings just as I'm about to listen to the first one.

"What do you mean you're not doing the job on Friday?" Mike barks as I pick up.

"I got into a little accident," I mutter. "I should be better soon."

"I can't leave you alone for two seconds, can I?" he says. "I swear you should still be wearing diapers."

"I wish you'd fucking leave me alone forever," I snap back.

“I’m coming over now,” Mike says.

“No, don’t. I’m going to the doctor,” I lie. Having him over right now is the last thing I want.

"Fine, but unless you've got broken bones you're coming on Friday!" he yells. "I'm sick of your fucking excuses!"

"Try saying some of that shit to my face sometime!" The blood rushing in my ears is so loud it's drowning out the noise from the street. "But no, you're too scared to do that."

"Stop testing me Scott," he says in a cold voice, the complete opposite of his yelling before. "It will end badly, and not just for you."

All my anger disappears in a flash like he just dumped a bucket of icy water over my head. He's too dangerous to argue with now. Too deadly by far.

"Whatever, Mike. Sure, count me in for Friday," I say.

My hands are shaking by the time I finally get to hang up.

"Mike's not exactly alright in the head, is he?" Greg asks, adding, "I heard what he did to your girlfriend. Sick shit. I would've killed him for that."

"I should have," I mutter and go back to the sofa. If I'd killed him I'd probably be serving a life sentence right now. But in a way, I think I might be anyway. All the pains are back, sharper than ever.
 

Greg walks over, stands over me. "You know, I have an Xbox upstairs. I could bring it down?"

I nod, even though I'm pretty sure I might actually have one of those epileptic seizures they keep warning about if I play tonight.
 

But it's time I stop fighting all of this, stop thinking about it. I'm doing this, going all the way. For Gail. And just thinking her name brings a pain worse than all the others combined.

I'm mostly fine by Wednesday, all the sharp pains only dull aches. Though the left side of my face is a black mess and my head starts pounding if I move it too fast. All the aches and pains also keep me from sleeping for more than a few hours at a time.

So I'm up just before ten, pacing up and down in front of the windows. I call Greg fifteen minutes later. He's been spending most of his time over here playing video games and smoking. We don't talk about anything important, but it's been nice not being alone. Seems like maybe he feels the same way.

I'm getting nervous about the job on Friday though. Mike stopped by last night, to make sure I was fit for it, but thankfully he didn't stay long. My stomach starts cramping just from thinking about him, and it's a lot worse when he's actually around.

"Wanna go check out the route for Friday?" I ask once Greg picks up.

"What?" he asks groggily. Seems I woke him up, but I'm not sorry.

"There's another meeting tomorrow and I want to see what we're dealing with in person," I explain.
 

"Someone else already did all that," Greg complains.

"I'd like to see it for myself," I say. "But I can go alone. Go back to sleep."

"No, no, I'll come," he says and I hear the sheets rustling in the background. "I'll be down soon."

We're parked in front of the showroom about an hour later. It's just as I feared, the hardest part will be driving the cars from here. The streets are too wide with no real alleyway system. But maybe there'll at least be fewer patrol circling around, since the neighborhood's all upscale.

"This doesn't look like an easy job," I mutter, peering at the showroom windows.

Greg chuckles. "Seems you'll finally be graduating from stealing cars out of people's driveways."

"That was easy and lucrative. This is complicated and dangerous." I start the engine and make for the closest route to the bridge. “You know these places have better security than a fucking bank?"

"Enjoy the challenge," Greg says. "Just snatching cars from the rich must've gotten boring for you."

Boring is not quite the word. I wanted out. For good. But I don't know Greg well enough yet to go into all that.

"It did have a certain Robin Hood vibe to it," I say instead. "While this is more like corporate crime."

Greg laughs. "Robin Hood? As in stealing from the rich and giving to the poor?"

I shrug. "With me being "the poor."

"That's a winner. Gotta remember that one," Greg says chuckling.

"A victimless crime, anyway."

"So's this."

"Yeah, not so much. I'll consider myself a victim if I go back to prison over it. Which seems very likely right now." We're stuck in a traffic jam due to construction barely a hundred yards from the showroom. This is definitely not the path to take.

"Prison sucks," Greg concedes. "But Vlado never takes on jobs he doesn't think he can handle."

"You know him well?" I ask. I still haven't been able to figure out their relationship. Though I'm pretty sure not all is well between them.

"Better than I'd like to," he mutters, then cracks a window and lights a cigarette.