The Interview (22 page)

“You should think about it,” said Annette.

“Think about what? Going around getting in fights? You two
are whacked.”

“No we're not,” Kim protested. “Think about it. Who
stands up for women in abusive situations? Nobody, that's who. The
police don't do anything.”

“The courts don't either,” Annette continued. “What
do they say? Get a restraining order? Please, that does nothing.
And think of the number of kids that nobody does anything for. It's
horrible, Kelly.”

“Yes it is. Horrible.”

“You're not taking this seriously.”

“Annette, what do you want me to take seriously? I mean, what?
I'm a mailman, remember. I'm not some kind of . . . I don't even
know what kind of person you're trying to describe. You know why
nobody stands up for abused women and children?”

“Why?” asked Kim.

“Because there's no money in it. Nobody is going to make a
living going around sticking up for abused people. Not to mention
that it's illegal to go around beating people up. Whether they
deserve it or not, is not part of the legal process. I can't believe
the cops haven't hauled me off to jail yet.”

“You don't have to beat anyone up,” Annette said.

“Yeah,” Kim continued. “You weren't going to hit
Ben. He threw the punch. You were defending yourself.”

I laughed without humor. She didn't know what I had done to him.
Self-defense went out the window after the first blow to the head.

“I almost killed him. It wasn't self-defense. You were out
cold. You don't know.”

“I was faking.”

“What?”

“I was faking. He didn't knock me out. It hurt like hell,
believe me. But I stayed down because I wanted to distract him.”

“You are so full of it.”

“I am not. I saw what you did. I saw that kid stop you, too.”

“You saw him?” That would be a nice break. Kim might be
able to help me find him. “What did he look like? I can't
remember.”

“Sorry, neither can I. I wasn't out, but I was pretty dazed.”

“Dammit.”

Annette asked, “Why is that important?”

“'Cause my bike is in the driveway and I don't know how it got
here.” I left it at that. Trying to explain Mr. Trooper
sounded like too much trouble and would only cloud the issue.

“Your motorcycle is here?” asked Kim.

“Yeah, it's in the driveway. Key's in the ignition.” So
I lied a little bit. I definitely wasn't getting into the envelope on
my desk.

“So cool.”

“No, it's not cool.”

“He must have followed you home,” Annette explained.
“Then he just left the bike.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

I stuffed more food in my mouth.

“Why aren't you working today, Kelly?”

“Well, if you must know, Annette. Cindy gave me the weekend
off.”

“For what?”

“A going-away present. She's going away, and I got the present.
Works out nice that way.”

“Kim said you were suspended.”

“Really.” I glared at Kim. She smiled and forked a piece
of potato into her mouth. “OK, I'm suspended. But not really.”

“See, Kelly. It's perfect. The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

“Annette, you haven't gone to church since your husband passed
away. Don't even start with that.”

“I don't go because the church itself has become a failed
political organization run by child molesters. I still believe in
God. And I very much believe that he works in totally bizarre ways.”

“And I'm a millionaire,” Kim blurted out.

Annette turned and looked at Kim with a smile on her face. “You
didn't mention that while we were cutting the potatoes.”

Kim shrugged. “I forgot. Kelly's the only one that knows, and
he just found out last night.”

“Bizarre,” I observed. “Must be the Lord at work
again.”

“Actually, I kind of agree with Annette.”

“What about your parents? You didn't seem too happy with God
when you were telling me that story.”

“Doesn't mean that Annette isn't right. Think about it. I got
all this money. I'm not doing anything with it. You're going to lose
your job any day now.”

“I am not losing my job, Kim. Thanks for that. This shit
happens every time a new boss comes in. It blows over and everybody
goes back to doing their thing. She can't touch me.”

“All we're saying is that you should think about it,”
chimed Annette.

If Tristan and Mr. Trooper were here, they would have been giggling
and clapping. Well, maybe not Mr. Trooper.

“OK, I'll think about it.”

“You will?” They said in unison.

“Yeah. I'm going to go have a cigarette and think about how
crazy the two of you are.” I stood up and deposited my plate
in the sink. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“Are you mad?” Kim asked.

“I don't get mad, Kim. I don't get anything. Annette left that
part out. Didn't you, Annette. She neglected to tell you and so did I
for that matter, that I don't feel anything. I have brain damage. I
don't have emotions. That's why I did what I did to Frankie. That's
why I told you that story last night. Because you were attaching all
this stuff to me. Your life's foundation is cracked, Kim.”

“You're wrong, Kelly,” Annette said. “You're
special.”

“Special in what way, Annette? Special in that I can't love.
Special in that I won't shed a tear when you or my parents die.
You're right. I am special. I don't feel anything.”

“You feel something or you wouldn't have stopped Ted yesterday.
You wouldn't have stopped that guy last night. You feel lots, Kelly.
You just don't give yourself any credit.”

“If you don't feel anything, then why haven't you moved on from
Frankie? Why have you been my jogging buddy for so long?”

“For the same reasons you couch hop, Kim. I don't like
expectations. I'm comfortable with Frankie and you. I know what you
expect of me. Nothing.”

“Wow,” Kim said sadly. “You are so wrong, Kelly.”

I took a deep breath. “I need a cigarette.”

THIS WAS LAME. ALL OF it. It was all lame. I was over people and
their newfound love of telling me that my life had no meaning. It
didn't matter if they were right. They were. But that did not matter.
What mattered was what I wanted. Problem was, I couldn't remember
what it was that I wanted.

Lame.

I sprawled out on the lounge chair and opened the Times, found the
anorexic sports section, and read T.J. Simers take on Tiger. It was
typical Simers. I like him because he doesn't take anything too
seriously. The other big guy at the Times takes himself and sports
way too seriously. The Sports Section should be about sports. The
front page is about life. It's never a good thing when the two get
confused. Kind of like mailmen and superheroes.

I closed the paper and opened my book. I heard the slider and glanced
up at Kim.

“Peace?” She held up the peace sign just to be sure I
wasn't going to do anything rash.

“You should be waving a white flag.”

“I'm not surrendering. I just want to come kiss you goodbye.”

“You're leaving?”

“Why, Kelly Jenks, is that disappointment I hear in your
voice?”

“No. It's relief.”

“You're a shit.”

“Never denied it.”

Kim walked over and straddled me. She flicked the book on the ground.
I didn't mind.

“Sorry about ganging up on you in there. We kind of got carried
away.”

“It's cool. I've been getting ganged up on a lot this week.
Starting to get used to it.”

“I want to thank you again for last night.”

“Great first date. Tough to top. We'd probably have to kill
someone if we ever go out again.”

“I'd like that.”

“Killing someone?”

“Could be fun if it was the right person, but I was referring
to going out with you again.”

“I'll see you on Tuesday.”

“Not jogging tomorrow?” she asked.

“Neither of us are. You need to be mellow.”

“And you have a busy night ahead. Frankie's coming to town.”

“Is that jealousy I hear?”

She held her thumb and index finger slightly apart. “Little
bit. It's cool, though. I'm not jealous of her as much as I'm jealous
I won't get to do what she's going to. Like we said, 'We like what we
have.' That hasn't changed. I just want a little more now.”
Kim leaned in and gave me one very good reason to climb back into
bed. She pulled away and said with a smile, “Something to think
about.”

“I concur.”

She laughed. “You're a trip. I'll see you Tuesday.”

Kim kissed me quick, then was gone. Something to think about indeed.
It was hard to admit, but if Frankie called and canceled right then,
I wouldn't have minded. I haven't been with anyone else other than
Frankie in a long time. I'm loyal, I guess. Stupid was a better
guess.

“Kelly?” Annette poked her head out the backdoor.

“What's up?”

“I'm going to run out with Kim. We good?”

“We fine, you dork.”

“We'll finish that conversation later.”

“OK.”

“I have more to say on the subject.”

“OK.”

“I'm not done.”

“Got it. Go play with your new buddy.”

“And Kelly. She's a keeper.”

Then she too was gone. Weird. And still lame.

CASEY PICKED UP THE PHONE on the third ring.

“Hey, it's Kelly.”

“Kelly!” she said happily. She pulled away from the
phone and said, “It's Kelly.”

“Tell him thank you,” Kristin said in the background.

“Kristin says thank you.”

“She's welcome.”

Casey repeated my message to Kristin, then asked, “You at
work?”

“Nah. Cindy gave me the weekend off.”

“Cool. I took the weekend off, too. Family emergency.”

“I heard. How's she doing?”

“She's a mess. Kristin, I'm going to go talk to Kelly for a
minute.” There was silence for a few seconds then, “OK.
I didn't want to talk in front of her. You did a good thing
yesterday.”

“I didn't do anything. You did it.”

“No, you don't understand. This woman had it bad. I thought I
had it bad with my dearly departed. Nothing compared to what she's
been going through.”

“I don't want to hear about it.”

“Why?”

“That's your department. Not mine. I called to see if she was
OK and if you needed anything.”

“I need a shovel.”

“Why?”

“I need to go dig a hole to bury that man of hers in.”

Good ole' Casey. “OK. Anything else?”

“So much. She has nothing, Kelly. Nothing. No money. No job. No
education. No experience. Nothing. That prick controlled everything
in her life. He gave her a prepaid MasterCard to do her shopping. She
has no access to the checking account. I don't know what she's going
to do.”

“I have a thought about that.”

“Share?”

“No. Let me look into it. Is she dumb?”

“No. She's smart. Just lousy taste in men. Her dad was no
picnic. Same cliché, different bruises.”

“OK. I'll get back to you later on. You two cool for the
weekend?”

“Yeah we're good. I don't think she's going to bolt or
anything. We're just laying low, playing in the garden, watching the
cat pester the dog.”

“Have you talked to the cops?”

“An Officer Bradford called. I'm not calling her back. You?”

“Yeah, same person. She seems all right. Concerned about
Kristin. Some neighbor called in a complaint that I was accosting
Ted. Ted denied it. I did the same. I'm supposed to call her when I
know that Kristin's OK. Is that cool with you?”

“Fine. Don't tell her she's here though.”

“Wasn't going to. I don't think it will be a problem.”

“K. Call me later.”

“Cool. Late.”

I hung up, found Officer Bradford's card, and dialed the number. I
got transferred to voicemail.

“Officer Bradford. Kelly Jenks. Just calling to let you know
that our mutual friend is doing fine. Have a great day.”

Now that those bases were covered, I hopped in the shower.

THIRTY MINUTES LATER I PULLED onto the Row. It was 10:30 in the
morning. Frankie's flight landed at four. The plan was to find out if
Tristan was all talk or if he actually backed up his bullshit.

I pulled into the driveway. The first thing I saw was Ashley standing
in the doorway and talking on the phone. I climbed out of the Cougar
and sauntered up to Ashley. She raised a finger and smiled at me.
“OK. OK. Right. I got it covered. Have a good round.”
She disconnected.

“Good morning, Mr. Jenks.”

“Hi, Ashley. Is Tristan around?”

“That was him on the phone. He's playing golf.”

“Golf? Why?”

“Well, he does a lot of business on the golf course.”

“Yeah, but golf is so lame. No worries, I'll come back.”

I started to turn, but she stopped me.

“Tristan asked me to help you with whatever you needed.”

“Not sure you can do that, Ashley. I think I need to talk to
Tristan.”

“Come inside. I'm confident that I will be able to assist you.
I'm not just a pretty face with a big mouth. I have brains.”

I shook my head. “You misunderstand. Didn't mean it that way.”

“Then come inside.”

I shrugged. Bit my lip. “What the hell. We'll give it a shot.”

Ashley led me into the office where I had first met her. She took a
seat behind the desk and gestured towards the couch.

“Well, what can we do for you, Mr. Jenks? Is it the money?”

The money. I had forgotten all about that. I was so rich and all.
What's a hundred K to a guy who has everything? “OK. Let's
start there. And you can drop the mister stuff.”

She leaned to her right, pulled a drawer out, then straightened back
up holding a brown folder. Ashley laid it out on the desk, glanced
down the page then looked at me.

“We've set up a couple different accounts for you. Tristan paid
you the sum of $10,000 as an independent contractor. That money was
deposited into a Chase checking account under your name.” She
handed over a receipt for the deposit. “We have all the
applicable tax forms on file, so if the IRS comes a calling we've got
that covered. The other $90,000 has been disbursed into a variety of
stocks and mutual funds.” She slid a few papers over to me. I
glanced at them and noticed that I had signed all of them.