Chapter Three
“Have you heard anything lately from Ben?” I asked Norma as I folded the stocking embroidered with his name and packed it in the tote marked CHRISTMAS. It was Martin Luther King Jr. Day, so even though Norma worked on her laptop most of the day, it was from home.
“Not since I called him last week with the news about Dad.” Her words were obscured as she spoke around the spatula handle between her teeth. She’d taken a break to make grilled cheese sandwiches, and I’d seized the opportunity to have an actual conversation. Norma took the flipper from her mouth before going on. “And I got a short email yesterday.”
I stifled a yawn and looked at my watch. It was after noon, way past my bedtime, especially when I had to be back at the club by ten that night. But it wasn’t often that Norma and I had daylight hours together, and I liked to be with her. In her company, I was less inclined to wandering thoughts of sensual lap dances and a sexy-grinned ringmaster who occupied my mind way too much. Especially since he’d made it clear what exactly he wanted from me. I couldn’t give it to him, but as I lay awake trying to sleep, I fantasized that I could while my hand crept underneath the band of my panties and danced around in regions I’d ignored for way too long.
Getting off felt good and all, but it was also a blaring reminder of how alone I was most of the time.
So I put off bedtime as long as I could when Norma was around. Besides, someone needed to get the holiday decorations put away, and if it wasn’t me, they’d probably still be up come summer.
“Yeah, I read that email.” It was one of the reasons I’d been thinking about him.
“If you read the email, then you know as much as I do about him.”
Norma had waited until after my birthday to call Ben with the news about Dad. He’d taken it fairly well. He’d been upset, of course, but he hadn’t broken down like we’d expected. After that, he seemed to withdraw. Maybe that was his way of handling it. Or maybe he just wasn’t that worried about it, being across the country and all.
But then there was the email.
Norma had left her laptop up and her email open. I’d seen his name, so of course I read it. His four sentences had stayed in my mind like a memorized poem.
Checking in. Don’t bother sending more money this month. I’m working overtime this week. I won’t need any more.
It was fairly banal, really. Nothing special, but something about it put me on alert. It wasn’t the brevity of it—Ben was often a short and sweet type of guy. The message itself didn’t necessarily raise any red flags. And Norma regularly supplemented his paycheck from the movie theater that he worked at, so the topic wasn’t unusual.
Just, Ben wasn’t…strong. I hated to think of him as fragile, but that was a fair description. He’d been better the last couple of years. Not like before. He had his job. He had friends. Boyfriends, occasionally. I supposed I shouldn’t worry.
Still, he was far away. It bothered me not to have him closer where I could see him and know he was okay. Especially now that Dad would be out so soon.
I put my stocking on top of Ben’s, followed by Norma’s. “What did you think about the email? Did it seem strange at all to you?”
“No. Should it?”
Maybe it was me. I felt off. I’d felt off for several weeks. It started the night of my first encounter with JC and only grew more when I’d seen him again, but I refused to give him full credit for throwing me for an entire month. So he’d said some things that wouldn’t leave me. So he made my insides twist and turn with want. It didn’t mean anything. I was due for a total life examination. That he was there when it began was merely a coincidence.
But just because I was going through something didn’t mean that Ben wasn’t going through something too. In fact, considering the circumstances, I’d count on it.
“Maybe not.” I stood and pulled the ceramic stocking holders off the mantel, wrapping each piece one by one in newspaper. “Do you think it’s weird that he asked you not to send any money? I mean, why doesn’t he need any extra spending money?”
She buttered the top of the sandwich that was cooking. “He said he has overtime. He must be doing okay.”
“Even with overtime…is he not going out? Is he turning into a recluse? Is he not splurging on himself ever?”
“Gwen, you’re being paranoid.”
“You’re right, you’re right. I know you’re right.” But I couldn’t let the worry go. I felt an unexplainable anxiety. Like an itch that I couldn’t quite locate, I kept scratching at my mind, trying to figure out the thing that was making me so uncomfortable. So uneasy.
I bent to pack the final stocking holder and closed the tote. “We should go visit him.”
Norma flipped a sandwich, the butter sizzling as it met the hot pan. “Okay, tell me when and I’ll look at my calendar.”
This was how this conversation always went. One of us suggested visiting, and the other said to pick a date, and then neither of us would agree on a good week to take off from work. Maybe Norma wasn’t the only one of us that was a workaholic.
This time I meant it. I needed to see Ben. I needed the break. I needed...something. But what?
An image of JC popped in my head, which I quickly squashed. It wasn’t JC I needed nor anything he had to give. But maybe California for a weekend could make a difference. It was something at least.
I stacked the tote in the corner with the rest of the boxes that needed to be put in storage. There weren’t many—our celebrations were minimal at most. Then I crossed to the side of the island counter that was opposite my sister and stretched my body across it and propped my face up with my hands. “Let’s really do it this time, Norma. Not just talk about it. Let’s really go to San Francisco.”
“Of course.” She didn’t meet my eyes, but she was buttering the next piece of bread, so maybe I was reading too much into it.
The gesture also made me nostalgic. The whole situation did, in fact. It reminded me of days in college with Ben still in high school, both of us living with Norma. She’d cook for us then too. We never really celebrated holidays until it was just the three of us. This year, it had only been Norma and me.
I turned my face so my cheek rested against the granite countertop. “We really should have made him come home for Christmas.”
Norma pursed her lips. “He didn’t want to, Gwen.”
“But we should have convinced him.” So we’d had the conversation a few times. It didn’t change how I felt.
She removed the skillet from the burner and wiped her hands on her jeans. Then she turned her full attention on me. “He doesn’t want to be here. Don’t you get that?”
I straightened to a standing position and met her patronizing tone with one that was obstinate. “Then we should have gone to see him.”
“You didn’t want to miss work.”
“You didn’t want to miss work.”
She rubbed her hand over her mouth, and I suspected she was revising whatever it was she originally planned to say. After a moment, she nodded once. “Neither of us wanted to miss work.”
“Okay, well, let’s both miss work and see him now.” I cocked my head and studied her, trying to read her silence. “Why don’t you want to go?”
She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t say I didn’t.” She put the just cooked sandwich on a plate and pushed it toward me. “There’s grapes in the colander over there if you want some to go with.”
I slid the plate closer to me but ignored the topic of food. “You didn’t say anything. So I had to read your expression and your face said it’s not going to happen. Don’t you want to see him?”
She met my eyes. “I want to see him. Of course I do, Gwen. He’s my baby brother.” He was much more than her baby brother. She’d practically raised him. She’d practically raised both of us.
Her focus went to her own sandwich where she picked at the crust, and this time I was sure she was using the food as an excuse. “He doesn’t want us there.”
“Nah. That’s not true.” Then I thought about it a second. “Did he say that?”
“He doesn’t have to. I can tell.” Her voice was tight. Much like me, Norma rarely showed her emotions, and I never knew how to react when she let a bit of sorrow or disappointment slip past her stoic front.
“No, you can’t tell.” Maybe she actually could. She talked to Ben a lot more often than I did by email and by phone. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to him, but Norma was the mother figure in his life.
Still, he and I were close. There was no reason I knew of that he wouldn’t want to see either of us.
Was there?
A possible reason popped into my head, and I blurted it out. “He doesn’t want to have anything to do with the past. Does he? Including us. That’s why he’s pulling away.”
She shrugged. Then she thought better of it and shook her head. “I don’t know. Don’t listen to me. Maybe I’m wrong.”
Her body language said that she didn’t think she was wrong. And now that I’d had the epiphany, I realized she was probably very right. I picked at a hangnail on my thumb, mostly so I wouldn’t have to look Norma in the eye any longer, but also because the tiny sting of pain comforted me. “We aren’t Dad, though,” I mumbled. “We aren’t the bad guys.”
“No. But we remind Ben of him. I can understand that he doesn’t want to be here. It’s easier to forget about it all without constant reminders.”
I wondered if that’s what she thought of me as—a constant reminder. Did I make her remember our childhood? Did I make her miss our mother? Norma was twelve when she died. She remembered Mom better than I did. We both looked like her, but I was the one who had her fair coloring—her blonde hair, her blue eyes. Did Norma see her when she looked at me?
Or worse, did I make her think of Dad?
Even if I did remind her—even if we reminded Ben—I wished it wasn’t an excuse to break the three of us siblings apart. I wanted us all together. I wanted to protect the little family I had. Wanted to stay close and bonded.
If I couldn’t have that, I at least wanted to make sure we were all safe. “If Ben wants to be in San Francisco, then I support that. But I worry about him. Especially when we don’t hear from him or when I don’t know that he’s engaging in his life. He pulled away before, remember? Before he—”
“I know.” She cut me off, not wanting to hear me finish the sentence as much as I didn’t want to say it. “I know, Gwen. I worry too.”
She gathered her brown hair off her back into a ponytail, held it for a second, and then dropped it again. “I’ll call him, okay? Let me call him.”
And because Norma was the one who always dealt with Ben, I’d let her. “Okay.”
***
Eighty-Eighth was busier than usual that night. Apparently MLK Jr. Day was something people had decided to celebrate this year. I wasn’t complaining—I liked to be busy.
The club closed at four-thirty, and because Matt and I were so fast when we shut down together, I was done with my reports a little after five. I left him in the office to finish up his work while I checked on the floors.
I did my normal walk-through, checking the restrooms for stragglers before crossing the main dance floor to the bar by the kitchen. The place was quiet, but there was a single figure sitting on a stool at the end, his back toward me. I looked around for Alyssa or Greg—the closing staff for that floor—but didn’t see them anywhere. They were usually quick at cleanup, so I suspected they were already in the employee room, punching out.
But that made the lone figure more puzzling. “Excuse me,” I called, as I got closer. “The club is closed.”
The man turned, and my pulse tripped. “Oh. It’s you.”
JC seemed less surprised to see me, which made sense since it was my work, and I was expected to be there. Still, I didn’t have to like it. That he again had the balance and I again was thrown.
His lip ticked up, and I imagined he was pleased to have me off-kilter. “Hey. Nice to see you.”
As they always did, his eyes raked down my body, slowly. His pupils dilated as he took in each part of me—my chunky heeled black sandals, my bare shins, my black flared Jersey skirt, my white V-neck ballet sweater, the curve of my generous breasts.
Above that, his stare lingered at my throat, then at my lips.
The back of my neck grew warm, even with my hair pinned up. My mouth watered, my skin felt on fire from just one simple sweep of his gaze. It made me forget the question I should have been asking—why was he here?
Finally he met my eyes. “You look good, Gwen.”
The compliment knocked me. Not because he’d given it—men rained compliments on women in my work environment. But because he’d actually looked before saying it. And because it was absent of the sleazy undertone that usually accompanied such words. There were still hints of desire, yes, just it felt less about trying to get laid and more about actual appreciation.
I’d have rather had the lewd ogle. That, I knew how to deal with. This, I didn’t. It confused me as it begged me to consider that maybe JC wasn’t that horrible of a person, and that wasn’t something I was willing to acknowledge.
So I put up my guard and returned his sincerity with Class A bitch. “I thought you said the next move was mine.” I wasn’t making a move, but, dammit, I didn’t want him around tempting me.
“It is.” He cocked his head. “Are you ready to make it?”
“Uh, not a chance.”
He turned away from me. “Then pretend I’m not here. I didn’t come for you.”
It wasn’t until he’d said that he wasn’t there for me that I realized how much I wanted him to be there for just that very reason. Stupid. Because I thought I didn’t want him there at all. If I wasn’t careful, he was going to accuse me of giving mixed signals. I certainly was giving them to myself.
Just walk away, I told myself. Do your work. Ignore him.
I couldn’t ignore him. “I guess you probably don’t have to leave with the rest of the customers, do you? Another part of your informal deal? It’s not Tuesday.” Even to myself I sounded childish and snotty. It did nothing to calm the butterflies in my stomach.
JC took it in stride. He swiveled on his stool to face me with his whole body. He had on dark jeans and a dark blue pullover underneath a brown leather jacket. He wore this casual look as easily as he wore the business look. Wore it with just as much sex appeal.
Without a trace of animosity, he said, “You are incorrect about that. It is Tuesday. It has been for…” He glanced at his watch—a stainless steel sports thing—expensive, I gathered, but not flashy. “Exactly five hours and two minutes now.”
Dammit, he was right. It was the problem with working the job I did. My days and hours were always screwed up. I wouldn’t go to bed until around eleven a.m. and, for me, Tuesday would begin when I woke up later that evening. But, for everyone else, it had begun in the middle of my shift.
He’d trumped me again.
I could either let my mistake make me feel foolish, or I could simply concede. “You’re right. It’s Tuesday morning.” Then, I couldn’t help myself, snotty returned. “Still, you don’t have the room booked—and all the privileges that go with it—until tonight.” When I’m not here, I added silently.
Honestly, though I was hard and serious, I wasn’t usually a giant dick. But with JC, I felt the express need to protect myself, and since I had no authority over him with his ridiculous arrangement with Matt, bitchy was the only weapon I had in my arsenal.
If he noticed, JC didn’t acknowledge it. “Ah. True, true. But I’m not here as a customer right now anyway. I’m waiting for Alyssa.”
“Oh.” Disappointment gathered in my belly, chasing away the butterflies like a thick storm. I thought he’d been waiting for Matt. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Because why shouldn’t JC be with Alyssa? She was a pretty enough girl, and obviously she knew much more about the man than I did. Just because he’d made a move on me, did I think that meant he wasn’t pursuing anyone else?
And more importantly, why did I care?
I didn’t. Of course I didn’t. “Well, she should be out in a few minutes. We normally make non-employees wait outside the front door, but since you’re already up here…” Really, I wished he’d leave. “Anyway, I’ll just get back to…” I couldn’t even remember why I’d come down anymore.
Alyssa burst out of the employee room and thankfully cut off my awkward attempt at conversation. “JC, you’re here. How was your flight?”
I turned toward the kitchen, not wanting to interrupt them, or maybe not wanting to witness any displays of affection.
But Alyssa stopped me before I got too far. “Oh, Gwen. I almost forgot. You have a phone call on line two.”
“Okay. Thanks.” The ringers on the bar phones were kept on silent, so it wasn’t strange that I hadn’t heard it. It was strange that I’d get a call at this time of the morning. I didn’t know anyone except the people I worked with. It had to be Norma. She knew I didn’t keep my cell on during work hours. Matt had a strict policy of no mobile devices while on the clock—partly because it was more professional but mostly to protect celebrities and other high-profile club-goers from being photographed and recorded in unflattering situations.
But since Norma rarely contacted me at the club, I was nervous as I walked across the bar and picked up the receiver on the other side of the counter.
“This is Gwen.” I twirled the cord around my finger and glanced behind me at JC and Alyssa. I wished suddenly that I’d gone to another room to take the call. Since Matt didn’t allow cordless phones in the club, I was stuck. He worried they’d get lost, the battery would die, and no one would be able to find them again. Usually I agreed. Right now, I thought that phones that didn’t move were ridiculous.
Even more ridiculous was how distracting JC and Alyssa were. The way her eyes lit up as JC told her whatever it was he was telling her…Pathetic. I wondered if he’d told her she looked good. Wondered if his eyes had raked her body as thoroughly as they had raked mine.
“It’s me.” Norma pulled my focus back to the receiver, her voice tight and low. But she probably hadn’t had coffee yet since it was so early.
Still, there was something too tight about it. Too low. “Are you all right?” Maybe she was getting sick and needed me to bring home soup and lozenges.
“I’m fine. It’s Ben.” She cleared her throat. “He tried again.”
All noise around me disappeared, the laughter of Alyssa and JC no longer registering in my awareness, and all that was left was the sound of my heart beating in my ears and Norma’s voice telling me the thing I dreaded most—Ben had tried to kill himself.