The Duet (2 page)

No, this environment wasn’t for me. I’d play the game for another few months and then I’d move on to my next adventure. Hell, maybe I’d get the ball rolling and start searching for a new career as soon as this tight-ass permitted me to return to work.

“Now Izzy,” she was back to patronizing me, and she placed her glasses on the end of her nose as she flipped through my file with a long-suffering sigh. “It has come to our attention that there have been far too many instances of insubordination where you are concerned.”

And we’re off.

“I must preface this by saying we really did take a chance on you, what with your higher education deficiency and all that. That being said, I am truly disappointed at the lack of gratitude you’ve shown in the months that you’ve been here.”

I stared at her, mouth open. Lack of gratitude? “I’m sorry. Gwen, is it?” I nodded toward the brass name plate on the desk. “What exactly is it that I’m to gratify? Despite my ‘higher education deficiency’” (I went ahead and added air quotes here, because I knew Gwen would appreciate the gesture), “I tested higher than any other applicant in the last two decades. I believe that was what they told me when they offered me the job at my very first interview. It’s not like you did me a solid by hiring me. I have the skills required, and I’ve performed my job to perfection.”

Gwen stared down her long, pointy nose at me. “Hmmmm.” She jotted something down in my file, and I felt my body temperature rise considerably.

“You seem to have an aversion to authority, don’t you Izzy?”

I rolled my eyes, not even trying to hide it. “An aversion to authority, a loathing for the ludicrous, and a distaste for dumbasses. Yes, I guess you could say that.” I knew I should’ve filtered my commentary, but I couldn’t seem to keep my mouth from acting of its own free will.

“Well,” Gwen slammed my file shut with a sense of finality that really had an effect on me. “Blue hair and refusal to adhere to the dress code notwithstanding, I think it is beyond evident that…”

“Wait a second. You brought me in here because of my hair?”

“We have a strict dress code policy here at…”

“Yes, I am aware of the policy. I read all one hundred and twenty-three pages of your employee manual. That was the most work I’ve had to do here in one day since I started. I believe it said no open toe shoes…” I kicked up my doc martins. “…no visible tattoos, no piercings other than the earlobe, no transparent clothing, and a neat and groomed appearance at all times. Nothing about hair color. I would’ve remembered that. And besides, I had purple hair for my interview!”

“Yes, I recall.” Gwen pursed her lips even more, if that was possible. I wondered if she made that same exact face when sucking a lemon. Would her lips eventually stay like that if she didn’t stop it? “We assumed you would have it fixed before you reported for work.”

“Have it fixed? But it wasn’t broken.”

Another deeply affected sigh. “Listen, I understand how you young people feel the need to express yourself in bold, unorthodox ways sometimes, and that might’ve been more widely accepted in New York…”

“New Jersey,” I said through clenched teeth. It had just become glaringly obvious to me that there was no way I was leaving here and going back to my desk. My illustrious career, along with my upcoming eligibility for the 401K, was over before it had begun.

“Isabel, please do not interrupt me. This is the kind of insubordination that I’m talking about.”

“It’s Izzy, you cow, and I lived in New Jersey, not New York. Did you even read this at all?” I leaned over the desk, knocking over all manner of knick-knacks and pencil cups, picked up my file, which was amazingly thick for an employee with such a slight tenure, and tossed it at Gwen’s self-righteous head. And for good measure, I may or may not have also tossed the remainder of Gwen’s morning coffee down the front of that hideous dress.

Ten minutes later, after being quite literally tossed onto the sidewalk by security, with nothing in my hands except my car keys and a framed photo of me and Cooper that I had kept on my desk, my situation began to sink in. They hadn’t even let me keep the massive collection of useless office supplies I had commandeered during my short stay. I was proud of that collection.

I pulled up to my apartment, but didn’t get out of the car. Now it was really hitting home. I had no job, I had no money. My goal for moving out on my own had just gone up in smoke, and all because I couldn’t conform to polite society for just a few hours a day.

This was my third job in the year since I’d moved back to California. My first weeks were spent receiving and cataloguing inventory at a pharmacy. Unfortunately, I mispronounced Alprazolam one too many times, and I accidentally put the Neosporin Original in the box with the Neosporin Maximum Strength. Then there was the unfortunate time I failed to bring to attention a gross overabundance of maxi pads. Clearly I should have known that an error was made in the ordering and that we only needed ten cases of pads, not one hundred. When the mistake was discovered, all one hundred cases were dragged out of the warehouse where I had neatly stacked them, and were placed on and around my work station; to remind me of my neglectful ways. I may have gotten to keep the job if I had been able to refrain from ‘wallpapering’ my boss’s cubicle with the overstock. It only took one case of pads to cover ninety square feet! They were super-longs! Plus, I’m pretty sure the heavy protection had the added benefit of sound-proofing that cubicle. If you ask me, I did her a favor.

I then worked as a janitor in a middle school for a few months. The hard, physical work was therapeutic, and the fact that I rarely came in contact with other people was a bonus. But after one little “prank” in the boys’ bathroom that literally made me lose my lunch, I decided that I wasn’t cut out for that line of work. In fact, I ruled out anything in the medical field after that incident. I couldn’t risk ever coming into contact with bodily functions in such a bold way again, and God knew I’d seen enough Maxi Pads to last me a lifetime.

So I decided to try my hand and work for “the man”. I mean wasn’t this the kind of company that made America great?

I let my head bounce against the steering wheel in frustration. As much as I dreaded my cubicle job every day, I have to admit that this stung. I was disappointed in myself, and that didn’t happen very often. I glanced up at my apartment window. I wanted to go in and just plop down on my bed so that I could process this in peace. But the chances of me having the place to myself at this time of the day were slim.

Sure enough, just as I was considering getting out of the car, Jay leaned over the edge of the balcony, staring off into the distance for several seconds before his gaze shifted down to the exact spot I was sitting. I fidgeted in my seat, swallowed the lump in my throat and pulled out of the lot. I would drive around for a few hours until I knew Jay and Cooper would both be gone.

I turned up the radio as loud as it would go, rolled down all the windows and sped along the road, tapping to the music and shaking my blue head to the beat.

2

Jay was feeling more and more uneasy as the night wore on. This had been a terrible idea, and he should have tried harder to talk Cooper out of it.

“Are you sure you can trust this guy?” Jay asked.

“Yeah, man. I told you. He’s the one that got us the gig at Darden’s. I’ve known him since last year. He’s cool.”

“Then where the hell is he? We’ve been sitting here like lame ducks for over an hour.”

They were waiting in Cooper’s car, in the middle of some field with the parking lights on and the engine off. They could see the cars on the highway from where they were sitting, but Cooper assured him they wouldn’t be noticed. Jay wasn’t so sure.

Cooper burped. “Hand me another beer, will you?”

Jay reached into the cooler behind the seat and took out two beers. As long as he had to sit here with nothing to do but stare into the dark night and smell Cooper’s farts, he might as well lighten up a little. He handed Cooper a can and took a long pull of his own, then leaned back into the head rest and closed his eyes. This wasn’t the first thing he would choose to be doing tonight, but as far as Tuesday nights went, he could do worse. At least he wasn’t holed up in the apartment, hiding in his room from Izzy. He had come to hate the times when they were both home. Never before had there been so much awkwardness between two roommates.

Speaking of which…

“So, Izzy moving out next month?”

Cooper handed him a flask. Jay stared at it for a few seconds, but he knew better than to refuse it, or to point out that maybe Cooper should lay off the hard stuff since he was eventually going to have to drive them home.

“Nah. Didn’t you hear? She got canned yesterday from that fancy job of hers. She’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“She got fired?” Jay took a fortifying sip from the flask and winced as the burning fire of cheap whiskey flamed up in his throat all the way down to his stomach.

“Yep. But get this!” Cooper shifted in his seat and turned to face Jay. “Darden’s gonna pay her to open up for us this weekend. He says it’s a trial run, but if she’s any good, he’ll make it permanent. She can warm up the crowd for us.”

Jay wasn’t sure what was more surprising about all that – the fact that their fledgling band warranted an opening act, or the fact that Izzy was a singer.

“She sings?”

“Sings, plays the guitar, works the audience. She’s unbelievable. Only thing is, she doesn’t like it.”

Jay looked over at Cooper, no longer concerned whether or not his friend knew he was probing for information about Izzy – any information he could get. “What do you mean? Like me?”

“No, it’s not that she’s scared of performing. She just doesn’t like it. Something to do with her old man and bad memories or some such shit.” Cooper took a swig of beer, then dangled his hand casually over the steering wheel, his thumb making lazy circles on the can. “Izzy is mostly a ‘live in the moment girl’; that’s what I love about her. But when it comes to her family, she gets a little funny.”

“Don’t we all,” Jay mumbled.

“Hey, sorry man,” Cooper gave Jay a sympathetic look and Jay just shrugged. It wasn’t that he wasn’t devastated that his mom had just died a few months ago. It was more that he thought his life should feel much different, and nothing seemed to really change. Here he was, enabling Cooper with his bad habits; pumping him for scraps of insight into Izzy, and genuinely farting around with the band. He wasn’t taking anything too seriously; not his future, his current lack of a job situation, or the fact that he should at least try to communicate with his shattered father instead of ignoring him, pretending that anything in their family was normal.

The minutes ticked by, and they drank in silence. It was Jay who noticed the police cars first. They were still a distance away, having to travel a long winding path to reach the spot in the field, and their flashers weren’t on, but Jay knew without a doubt they were coming for them. Whoever this guy was that Cooper claimed could be trusted, he had sold them out.

Jay swallowed back the panic and glanced over to where Cooper was slouched over in the driver’s seat. He had only a split second to decide what to do.

He jumped out of the car and ran around to the driver’s side, flinging the door open. Cooper sat up, a little dazed, but he instantly snapped to attention when he glimpsed the headlights approaching fast.

“Get out,” Jay said.

“What?”

“Get out of the goddamned car, Cooper.” Jay yanked him out, not too gently. He didn’t have time to clarify the situation for his friend. “Go around the other side. Hurry up!”

Cooper scrambled out of his seat, and Jay slid behind the wheel. The only question now was, should he try to leave? It was unlikely the cops would chase them down; they were just loitering in the field. Had they been sober, and without open beer cans all over the back seat; had they had a good hiding place to stash the weed Cooper was attempting to unload; had all of those things been the case, the officers would come upon them and simply ask them to move on. Unfortunately, that was not the way it was. Jay knew that if they sat there and waited, their fate was sealed. If they tried to run, there was a small chance they may get away; but if they were chased, the trouble they’d be in would be multiplied. In addition to all the laws they were already breaking, fleeing the scene and drunk driving would be added to the list.

So he sat. Cooper was now completely lucid and he was swearing at Jay and yelling for him to drive. But listening to drunken temper tantrums was quite normal for Jay and he was able to tune him out.

In fact, Jay tuned out the whole scene. The next time he was aware of what was happening, he was riding in the back of the squad car, a stoic but angry Cooper beside him. And the strangest thought was playing in his mind. He wondered if his dad would notice him now. Twenty-three years old, and Jay was still seeking attention from his old man. Could he be any more pathetic?

3

Sunday dinner at the O’Donnell’s that week was a sullen affair. It was bad enough that we had the whole “marijuana-gate” incident hanging over the dining room like a depressing shroud. But when Jay dragged in a very hung-over, slightly green-tinged Cooper, more than half an hour late to the dinner table, you could have cut the tension in the room with a knife.