Marionette (25 page)

“That would be great. I’ve seen enough of Matisse for one night. Is that okay?” said Nick as he squeezed Tom’s hand.

Tom and I locked eyes. Busted.

I couldn’t contain a giggle. Jess looked at me puzzled, and then kissed my cheek. Busted.

Tom started to laugh. Jess and Nick eyed each other, and comprehension flashed across their faces. Little did they know that both of us had used the other for straight cover. I wasn’t sure about Tom, but I didn’t plan on telling Jess that part.

We arrived at the bar, and while Jess and Nick went to get drinks, Tom and I sat uncomfortably at a booth.

“Okay, how do we handle this one?” I asked.

Tom sighed. “I’m not sure, but I don’t want to tell Nick about our ‘dates’ if that’s all right with you.”

“Duh! That’s a given. I meant at school.” I slapped his hand.

“Now that we both know, I think we can really mess with everyone’s heads. It might be fun.” He flashed a devilish smile.

“Oh, it would drive Min—‌I mean Audrey—‌mad!”

“What were you going to call her?”

His curiosity made me smile. It was nice to let someone in on one of my secrets.

“Minnie—‌for Minnie Mouse.”

“That’s perfect!” He clapped his hands gleefully.

How had I not noticed he was gay?

Our dates returned with the beers.

“So have you two recovered from your shock?” Jess fixed me with a look.

“What do you mean, Tom and I already knew.” I tried to sound confident.

“Of course!” Tom’s falsetto voice didn’t help much.

Nick and Jess said at once, “Sure you did.”

“Whatever. Believe what you want. We found out when Karen told us about her brother.”

Tom picked up my cue. “That’s right. One of Paige’s roommates has a brother who’s gay, and he tried to kill himself because of it. Paige and I had dinner together the night we learned about it and had a heart-to-heart.”

“You didn’t tell me that, Paige.” Jess’s sincere face made me feel slightly ashamed.

Nick put his hand on Tom’s thigh. “That’s horrible.”

Tom tapped my foot under the table. I imagined it was his way of giving me a high five. Yes, I felt guilty about lying, but did Jess have to be right about everything? From the looks of it, Nick was a lot like Jess. If Tom and I wanted to survive the evening, we had to join forces. And I’ll admit it felt good to pull the wool over her eyes.

“Do you guys come to town much?” Jess looked to Nick for an answer. Maybe she wasn’t buying our act completely.

“Not often. Tom and I go to school in different states. Fortunately, we’re only a five-hour drive away from each other.”

Jess gave her “that-must-be-tough” look. “We should plan a date in your town, Nick. What school do you go to?”

“I’m in vet school in Kansas.”

“Large or small?”

I wondered why Jess was asking about the size of the school.

“Small animals. I’m not too fond of sticking my hand up a cow’s butt for pregnancy tests.”

The thought made me cringe. Tom’s face turned a sickly gray. Only Jess was intrigued. “I bet ranch vets make a killing, though.”

While Jess and Nick discussed the pros and cons of veterinary medicine, I glanced around the dive. We had never been to this bar before. Jess had mentioned knowing the owner. It was more of a biker bar than a gay bar. I looked behind the counter but couldn’t quite determine who was the owner. Maybe the burly, tattooed guy who barked at all of the customers instead of saying hi.

“Hi, Jess. I was hoping you’d pop in tonight.”

The voice made me jump.

I looked up and saw Davie.

“Good, you’re in tonight. I heard you stopped by my apartment. If you three don’t mind, I need to talk to Davie for a moment.” Jess leaped up like a cat after a mouse.

Davie motioned her into a back room. When they shut the door, I felt uneasy. What in the hell did they have to talk about in private?

Embarrassed, I looked to Nick and Tom and shrugged.

“She seems like a bundle of energy,” said Nick.

“You haven’t even seen the half of it. Sometimes, she makes me feel jittery, like I’m hopped up on caffeine or something. And she always knows someone at the perfect restaurant or bar.”

Nick stood. “Would you like another beer, Paige?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, Nick.”

Jess darted out of the back room before Nick made it to the bar. She pranced up to him and starting chatting nonchalantly. Nothing about her mood had changed. She was still happy-go-lucky Jess. I kept one eye on the door, but I never saw Davie emerge, so I couldn’t determine his mood. Jess and Nick returned to the table, laughing at something the burly bartender had said. I didn’t peg him as a jokester, but maybe I should stop judging a book by its cover.

Was my gut wrong about Davie? I had thought he was a nice guy at first. Could my second impression be off—‌is there such a thing? But there had been something in his eyes when he’d said my name. Something was off about him. Jess always tried to look for the good in people; I was living proof of that. Could Davie be using Jess to get closer to me? If so, why? Images of Alex and my mother flashed before my eyes.

I tapped my foot anxiously under the table while Jess and Nick chitchatted. Idle talk wasn’t Tom’s cup of tea. Besides, there was a college football game on the TV above the bar and Tom was watching it. I pretended to watch, but I kept a close eye on Davie’s door. After an hour, he appeared looking relaxed. He whispered something in the bartender’s ear and then disappeared behind the door again. The bartender approached us with four beers and told us it was on the house.

Okay, maybe I
was
completely wrong about the creep.

“Do you get this treatment wherever you go?” asked Nick, somewhat baffled. I guessed that two gay guys in a biker bar didn’t normally receive beers on the house. Hassled, yes. Free beer—‌no fucking way.

“Yes. If you need anything in this town, start with Jess. She’ll make it happen.” I clinked glasses with Jess, who basked in my praise.

“Can you make my calculus teacher take it easy on me?” queried Tom.

“What’s his name?” Jess smiled as if she could actually make that happen.

“Dr. Maxwell.” Tom looked hopeful.

“I’ll see what I can do, Tom.” She raised her glass and I could tell her brain was already working on the problem. Surely she couldn’t know Tom’s calculus professor?

* * *

The next day, Jess and I arrived at the restaurant at 9 a.m. to get ready for the early lunch crowd. Mel had to work at the mall, so her shift wasn’t starting until the evening. Surprisingly, working together had helped the three of us bridge that uncomfortable gap. Jess was right: showing Mel how well I was adjusting had seemed to make her more apprehensive about telling my parents about the incident. Getting the scars covered with tattoos actually helped too. Now, Mel and Julia smiled when they saw them, instead of looking ashamed. Why they felt shame, I didn’t know. Perhaps they felt guilty for looking, akin to leering at a car accident on the highway. We all know it’s impolite to stare, but seriously, how can you not search for gore? It’s human nature. The tattoos helped hide the fact that I’m pathetic. Some may not be keen about having black ink on their arms, but trust me, it was better than red-ribbon scars that shouted, “Look at me! I’m a failure!”

By 5 p.m., I was ready to sit down and devour a few sandwiches. Ever since the review in the paper, Julia’s business had been growing like a chunk of snow that was careening down a mountain. Oddly, most of the clientele was male. Jess thought it was a good way for me to work on my flirting skills, which baffled me. Why would I want to flirt with men?

“Trust me, Paige. You’ll have to flirt in all aspects of life, not to just get a date.”

It seemed pointless, at first. Then I gave it a go and my tips increased dramatically. Each dollar helped me toward my goal of escaping home and the parents. After a few attempts, I had the flirting game down. Of course, I paled in comparison to Jess, who always made twice as much in tips—‌at least. But that was still advantageous to me, because all of the money we earned went into a checking account in Jess’s name, so my parents wouldn’t learn about it. Jess had balked at my idea of keeping the money in a red Folger’s coffee can in her kitchen. Apparently, that’s the first place she would look if she were robbing someone.

Soon, Mel strolled in the front door, looking ragged and with Weasel right behind her looking, well, weasely.

“Good lord, this place is packed.” Mel took a seat next to me at the counter.

“I don’t envy you, Mel. You already look exhausted, and the customers keep on coming.”

Mel’s downcast demeanor told the whole story—‌she needed money. I eyed Weasel and wondered why he didn’t get a second job. If Jess was right, their money troubles were his fault, so why wasn’t he working his tail off? Oh, that’s right, he’s a weasel, sucking the life out of his prey.

I watched Mel heave her tired bones off her seat and head into the back to get ready for her shift. Weasel stayed put and ordered a sandwich, which I’m sure was on the house.

Before I could comment, Jess occupied the seat Mel had just vacated.

“Tom and Nick are joining us for dinner tonight.” She glanced at Weasel, gave him a quick nod of acknowledgement, and then continued. “I’m so happy to meet some of your friends.” She shook my shoulders.

“Did you have to pay them, Jess?” Weasel sniggered.

Jess patted his leg. “No, I only have to pay off your friends.”

The hair on his neck stood on end. Was he ready to pounce, or was he scared?

The bell on the front door jingled and I felt a chill from the outside.

“Ah, Wesley. I heard you might be here.”

I turned and saw Davie. “And Paige. We keep running into each other this weekend.” He spoke my name as if he were devouring each letter. It made my blood run cold.

“Yes, a table just opened up!” Jess pulled my arm. “Let’s grab it. The boys are meeting us here.”

Weasel looked betrayed that we had left him alone with Davie, but the glint in Davie’s eye told me to stay out of that conversation. To be honest, I enjoyed watching Weasel squirm as Davie spoke to him. We weren’t that far away, but Davie’s hushed voice didn’t carry beyond Weasel-range. Was Davie the bookie I had paid off? Was Jess helping Weasel with his debt? I know she’s kindhearted, but that was too much. Besides, she had told me not to get involved. So, why was she?

“Hey, how many sandwiches have you eaten?” Jess snapped her fingers in my face to get my attention. “We’re having dinner soon.” She grabbed a napkin from the holder and wiped my cheek.

“Seriously, you’re worried I won’t be able to eat again.” I tried looking around her head to watch the action at the counter, but she bobbed her head playfully.

I did get a glimpse of Davie patting Weasel on the shoulder as he sat down next to him. Soon, they were drinking beers together but still not talking. Shit! I just couldn’t put my finger on what was going on. Each time I thought Davie was a creep, he turned out to be friendly. Next time, I planned on flirting with him to coax information out of him—‌if there was a next time. Part of me hoped there wouldn’t be.

As Nick and Tom walked into Julia’s, Davie headed out. Weasel sat at the counter. More than likely he would stay during Mel’s entire shift, just to get free beers. What an ass!

“Does that guy own this place as well?” Nick eased into the booth and Tom sat down next to him.

“Nope, I do.” Julia approached. “Jess told me you’re friends with Paige. Everything is on the house. What can I get you, boys?”

Nick chuckled and Tom looked impressed.

“What do you suggest?” Nick asked.

Julia winked. “I think I know what you’ll like.”

Off she went like a mother hen and quickly returned with beers and four pulled-pork sandwiches, all of them dripping with extra sauce.

“I make the sauce myself. Word on the street is that it’s like crack: once you try it, you can’t get enough.” Julia set the tray down and ambled off to greet incoming guests.

“Trust me, this stuff will make you hate the dorm slop they try to pass off as real food.” I handed Tom a sandwich.

He took a bite, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

Jess clapped her hands. “I think that counts as a triumph.”

Tom blushed, but didn’t stop eating. By the end of the night, he had eaten four sandwiches. I had three, but Nick only ate two and Jess managed to nibble on just one. It didn’t take much to fuel her ninety-pound frame. She had plenty of beer, though. Whenever I tried to get her to drink less and eat more, she prattled on about how America was founded by a bunch of dudes drunk on beer, and how they got it right. It was hard to argue with her logic, since there wasn’t any. They had drunk beer because the water wasn’t safe and there was no choice. She had a choice, and she chose beer. You can’t argue crazy without sounding crazy. She should have been a lawyer, but then again, business was a decent calling. Jess could out-talk, out-smart, and out-work most of her competition. And clients loved her spunk.

Chapter Nineteen

Sunday morning arrived, and I sat at Jess’s kitchen table, my hand propping up my chin. I was nursing yet another hangover. Jess, on the other hand, showed no signs of a hangover as she flitted around on tiptoe, conjuring up several varieties of greasy food for me.

“How is it that you never get drunk or hungover?” I asked. My head felt ready to pop off.

She gazed at me over her shoulder. “Like I’ve said: practice.”

“You aren’t that much older, Jess.”

“No, but I started drinking years ago.” She turned back to the stove and I couldn’t see her face. It was the first time I had heard this.

“When did you start?” I was curious, and Jess laughed and then flipped some bacon over in the pan.

“You make it sound like I have a problem,” she said. “You’re the one looking like crap.”

“Thanks.” I slurped my coffee angrily. “But when did you take your first drink?”

“Let’s see.” She paused and stirred the spluttering hash browns. “I think when I was nine. But I would just sip drinks.”