Dead End Job (5 page)

Then I went to bed.

With the lights on.

First thing I did when I got up the next day was check my e-mail. No reply from Leo. I called his house. His mother said he was still asleep. I could tell from the tone of her voice that she knew something was up. She sounded pretty cold—but she never liked me much anyway. I asked her to get him to phone me when he woke up.

I was in the kitchen, fuming, when Dad came in. He asked what the problem was. I almost told him about Devin and the e-mailed
photos and everything, but I changed my mind. Dad's not crazy about me going away to art college next year. He thinks I'm not ready to leave home, that I couldn't handle myself in the big city. Hearing about Devin would only make things worse. So I said, “Nothing.” Dad just figured I was in one of my moods, I guess.

I called Kyla. Her brother said she was babysitting the Haney kids. He thought she'd taken them to Crescent Beach. I grabbed a sweater and headed out to find her. I needed to tell someone.

I shouldn't have been surprised to run into Devin on the way. I knew what he was up to by then, but I still jumped when he slid out from behind the war memorial.

He said, “Hey, Frances!” like it was some big shock that we ran into each other. “Did you get my photos?”

I nodded. That was all I could do. I was so mad I was paralyzed.

“Do you think I have any talent?”

It took me a couple of seconds to get my mouth to work.

“Oh, you have talent all right,” I said. “For lying.”

He gave me this “shocked and appalled” face. I almost expected him to say, “Well, I never!” like he was some rich old lady on a sitcom.

I didn't let him say anything.

I went on, “Don't even try to deny it! I talked to Tom. He doesn't know who you are. I checked on the Internet. There's no mention of you—or all those wives and kids you told me about. You're lying!”

Devin laughed. Did that ever piss me off.

“What's so funny?”

“You're so gullible!” he said. “You believe everything you read on the Internet? Of course Tom denied it! Of course he hid it! He's got all this money and he doesn't pay child support to anyone. Not a cent. You can imagine how bad that would look for someone in his position. Do you think he could have built that nice house if he actually paid alimony?”

He was just babbling away. Saying anything that came into his head. Making up
more stupid stories. What did he think? That I was an idiot?

“Shut up,” I said. “I don't believe you.”

“But you believe Tom?!?” He threw his arms up in the air. “Why do women always fall for that guy?”

“Shut up!” It all just came pouring out of me. “Quit the acting! I don't believe anything you ever told me. Not about Tom. Not about the recording contract. Not about the weather. Nothing. I don't want to listen to you anymore. I don't want to see you. Stop following me. Go home.”

“This is my home now,” he said. Suddenly he was talking to me like he was the youth minister at the Baptist church. He'd gone all calm and blissed out.

“Devin,” I said. “I'm serious. Go home. You need help.”

“I need you,” he said and tried to take my hand. “And some day you'll realize you need me too.”

I swatted him away.

“Don't touch me!” I said. “If you come near me again, I'll scream.”

He chuckled like I was being such a silly little girl.

“I mean it!” I said. “Don't touch me. Don't call me. Don't follow me. Do me a favor. Just forget we ever met!”

“I can't do that!” he said.

I wanted to slap that stupid smile off his face.

“Sure you can!” I said. “I have!” It wasn't true, of course, but it sounded like a good way to end our little conversation.

I took off.

My heart was going
wump, wump, wump, wump, wump
. I was shaking. But I felt good too. I felt like I'd done it. Like I was finally rid of him.

I didn't even bother trying to find Kyla. I was desperate to see Leo. I was ready to do something I should have done weeks before. I was going to be totally honest with him. I was going to tell him all about Devin. Then I was going to apologize and apologize and apologize until Leo was ready to forgive me.

I tried all his usual hangouts—his house, the rink, the school, the Dairy Maid, the
football field, his grandmother's, everywhere. There was no sign of him. I left messages with everyone, telling them to say I was sorry. I didn't care how pathetic that looked. I just wanted us back to being the way we were before.

The more I looked, the worse I felt. I was pretty sure Leo was avoiding me. Who could blame him? He must have hated me when he found that picture. I spent all this time telling him he had no reason to be jealous—then he gets hit with that. He probably felt like as much of a sucker as I did.

I'd pretty much given up hope of finding him by the time I got home.

Then I saw the package leaning up against the front door.

It was a bouquet of red roses, all wrapped up in pink paper. There was one of those little typewritten cards on it, the kind you get from the flower shop. It said, “We've both done things we regret. Let's work it out. XXXXX.”

I was so happy.

I had a big smile on my face all the way to work—but it disappeared as soon as I got there.

Mrs. Abdul was leaning against the counter, groaning. The baby was coming.

She looked terrible. She was sweating and every so often she'd open her mouth as if she was going to scream, but no sound came out. It made me think I never wanted to get pregnant.

A couple of minutes later, Mr. Abdul came racing in to take her to the hospital. He told me to lock up the store when my shift was over. He wouldn't be back that night.

I was really freaked out. I hated seeing Mrs. Abdul in so much pain and I was scared there was going to be something wrong with the baby. I just hung around, chewing on the end of my hair and worrying. A couple of customers came in, but time seemed to take forever.

Then Kyla called and took my mind off the Abduls.

She didn't even say hello.

She just said, “Question: Where does Devin live?”

“I don't know.”

“I do!” I could hear her doing her little victory dance. “At least I think I do. Dad was hunting with Uncle Bill and they found an old car parked out by the radio tower. They said this pale, skinny kid was staying there. He acted all strange when they tried to find out what he was up to. I immediately thought ‘Devin!' Who else would be crazy
enough to hang out in the woods during hunting season?”

“It doesn't surprise me,” I said. Although it actually did. Devin told me he hitchhiked here. Why would he lie about having a car? I was starting to think he'd lie about anything.

“That's not all. The guy told Dad he was a biologist doing field research. He claimed his baby blue 1994 Fiesta was his mobile lab.” Kyla snorted. “Even my dad isn't stunned enough to fall for that. Can you believe that guy?”

“No,” I said. “I can't. Not anymore, at least.”

Then I told her all about Devin and the Google search and the pictures of me at the beach and everything. For a while I had to put up with some snarky comments from Kyla like “Oh, well, I can see why you thought Devin would be perfect for me!” But she came around.

She loved the part about me telling Devin off. She was cracking up. Apart from my little brother, I never tell anyone off.

She was enjoying it too much. I tried to distract her.

“Yeah, well, it was a day of many important firsts for me,” I said. “I yelled at someone, and I got roses from Leo!”

“Yeah, right,” Kyla said. “Now I know you're hallucinating. Leo's a nice guy, but he doesn't do flowers.”

“Well, he did today!” I was almost singing. “He even added a little note.” I recited it from memory. “‘We've both done things we regret. Let's work it out. XXXXX.'”

“XXXXX?” Kyla said. “C'mon, Frances. Leo doesn't do kissy-kissy either.”

I said, “What are you saying?” although I didn't really need to ask.

“Yoo-hoo! Time to wake up!” She said it in her crazy-old-lady voice. “Those roses are from Devin.”

I tried to deny it. I argued with her. But I knew she was right. I bet, somewhere inside, I knew the flowers were from Devin all along. I just didn't want it to be true.

All I really, really wanted was for the guy to get out of my life. He was like a stain
or a rash or a wart that you just can't get rid of.

I didn't know what more I could do. I'd told him to go away. I'd told him to leave me alone. How much clearer could I have been? Why was he still bugging me? Couldn't he get it through his thick skull that I didn't like him?

Kyla said, “You've got a stalker on your hands, Frances.”

That's not what I wanted to hear. It really annoyed me. Typical Kyla, I thought. Always blowing things way out of proportion. Anything for a good story.

“Quit exaggerating, Kyla. It's bad enough as it is.”

“I'd call the cops if I were you.”

“Oh, please! And tell them what?” I said. “‘He gave me flowers. Arrest him!' Sure.”

“What about him taking those pictures of you?” she said.

“There's no law against that either. It's not like I was naked or anything,” I said.

“I don't know, Fran. I don't like the sound of this guy. He makes up stories. He follows
you. He won't take no for an answer. There's something wrong with him.”

“Duh! Obviously. But being nuts isn't illegal.”

“Yeah, but that doesn't mean it isn't dangerous,” Kyla said. “At least according to my bible.”

She meant
People Magazine
. She's a junkie.

“I read this article a little while ago about celebrity stalkers. The guy in it said something like ‘Sure, they're crazy—but crazy isn't stupid.' That's what makes them so dangerous. Stalkers are insane
and smart
.”

“I could say that about you, Kyla. But I wouldn't have you arrested. Unless you don't quit it, that is.”

“I'd be worried, Fran. Who knows? Devin could get violent.”

“Shut up!” I said. “Now you're just trying to scare me.”

“I'm not,” she said. “I'm just warning you.”

“Look, the guy's not a stalker. He's just pathetic. He's never done anything violent.
And anyway, even if he did, I'm a big girl. I could probably take him.”

Kyla started laughing.

“Oh, right! There's a fight I'd
love
to see. Devin the Creep versus Frances the Klutz.”

She was howling. She could barely catch her breath. Kyla knows what a spaz I am.

“I can just picture the two of you, flailing away at each other! It would be better than the WWF. No! NO! I'm wrong! It would
be
the WWF. By which, of course, I mean the Weirdo Wrestling Federation! We'll get Devin a cape and a mullet, and we'll get you one of those little silver leotards and a boob job. You'll make millions.”

It was so stupid I had to laugh too.

After the day I'd had, I needed it.

And the day wasn't over yet.

Mr. Abdul called at about nine o'clock that night to say he had a brand new-daughter. I tried to sound happy, but I didn't do a very good job. I was so bummed out about Leo and the picture and the flowers.

I tried to call him, but there was no one home.

I could have screamed. I wanted to kill Devin for screwing up my life. I kept thinking about what I was going to do the next time I saw him.

I was going to tell him that he was repulsive and disgusting and sick and perverted. I was going to say he smelled bad. I was going to threaten to call the cops. I was going to say whatever it took to get rid of him for good.

That was my plan, anyway.

It started to pour at about ten o'clock. With all that rain, the customers pretty much stopped coming. To keep myself busy, I drew a little card for the baby. I was tired and cranky so it wasn't very creative. I just sketched a picture of the harbor and wrote “Welcome to Lockeport's newest citizen!”

That took me until about 10:30. I still had an hour and a half to go. I figured Mr. Abdul was going to be tired the next day. I decided to help out by unloading some stock in the back room for him.

I knew something was wrong as soon as I walked in.

I smelled roast chicken.

“Frances! You surprised me!”

Devin was standing in the back room, holding a couple of wineglasses and trying to look cool. Beside him was a big cardboard box set up like a supper table. It had two place settings, a candle, a carving knife, a take-out salad and one of those little roast chickens you buy in the grocery store.

Devin put the wineglasses on the “table” and waved me away.

“Go back! Go back!” he said. “I'm not ready for you yet.”

All that stuff I was going to say to him? I totally forgot it. I just stood there with my hand on my chest and my heart going crazy.

“How did you get in here?” I said.

“Fran-cessss,” he went, like I was being stupid. “The bathroom window! You were the one who showed it to me. Remember? Our second night together?”

He was doing that romantic thing again. I couldn't stand it.

“Get out of here!” I said.

“What?!” He was laughing. “We haven't even eaten yet!”

“Get out!” I said. “You're not allowed in here.”

“I'm not allowed in a store? Frances, how do you expect Mr. Abdul to make any money if you won't let the customers in?”

He winked at me. He thought he was so clever.

“You're not a customer,” I said. “I'm calling the cops!”