Haze (21 page)

He returned and handed me the glass. In his other hand was the ice cream bag and two spoons. "I noticed that. Phish Food, huh? My favorite."

I started laughing uncontrollably. I don't know where the giggles came from, but they had arrived with a vengeance and I stopped caring.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"I don't know. Give me one of those spoons." I took a big gulp of the water and set it down on the table next to the couch. He tossed me the utensil and I missed. It landed on my lap.

"Nice catch," Jesse said. He ripped the plastic and the top off the ice cream and took a bite. "God, this is so good. It never gets old."

I tore into mine as well and filled my mouth with sweet, sugary bliss. It was exactly what I needed and calmed me damn near instantly. "People should eat ice cream instead of taking anti-depressants," I said.

"I think you're right."

We ate in silence for a few minutes, enjoying every bite as much as the one that came before it. I had forgotten the world, forgotten my troubles, let them go as if they were things that just didn't matter anymore, diurnal distractions that were fading away into the night.

Jesse interrupted the silence, his voice full of concern. "Hey, Effie, you said something about an old man. What the hell were you talking about?"

I started laughing again and told him the story.

"Oh, that was Bill! He's a nice guy. I didn't know that about him."

"Have you ever
talked
to him?"

"Just greetings and goodbyes." A look of fascination broke out on his face. "
Shit, I don't know if I could start over again like that. Props to him for having the guts."

"Is being alone better?" I asked.

Jesse paused and then looked at me quizzically. "I don't think there's any good reason for either of us to be talking like this."

Even before he finished his sentence, I was already on a new subject. "Oh yeah, and Sam was outside in the street too!"

"Sam? What was he doing there?"

"Meeting someone at a restaurant. He looked surprised to see me. I bet he got caught in the storm too. He deserved it after being mean to me."

Jesse raised an eyebrow curiously. "That's weird. Wouldn't have expected to hear that on top of everything else that went down tonight. You probably packed more excitement into ten minutes that most people have in years."

"I guess I did," I admitted quietly.

***

Jesse actually stayed out in the living room with me most of the night, probably fully aware that I didn't want to be left alone. He didn't have to do it, nor did I ask it of him. I couldn't even express how much it meant to me, and so tonight, I wouldn't even try.

"I'm going to head off to bed," Jesse finally said. I knew it was coming eventually, so I had braced myself for it. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks so much." It was all I had.

"I owed it to you for the ice cream. Don't beat yourself up too much."

"I won't," I said. "I'll beat myself up just the right amount."

He smiled. "Goodnight, Effie."

After he left, I realized I had been sitting in my wet clothes the whole evening. I shut off the TV and then took a hot shower, thoroughly appreciating the cleansing stream of water. I felt good again, but I was worried that it would be a different story when I tried to fall asleep.

After the shower, I tossed my clothes in the hamper and got into bed. I checked my phone for the first time since I had been caught in the storm: five missed calls from Jesse and one text from Jack. I wasn't sure if I should open it.

My willpower failed.

Him:
It will all be okay, Effie.

It was unspecific yet positive, and its emotional claws started to dig into my tractable flesh. I felt that knot start to form in my stomach, but I fought it as hard as I could. Overwhelming pangs of guilt were the last thing I needed before trying to fall asleep.

You're just doing it until the deal is over and Sam calms down.

I kept saying those words to myself over and over again. Each time they felt more and more like self-flagellation than reassurance. Being alone felt off, but then again, what did I expect during a
break
? Taking a break involved being apart, so everything was going according to schedule.

My
schedule. The thing
I
supposedly wanted.

Let it go for now, Effie. It'll all be fine. Jack even says so...

If I could make it through this, I'd know my feelings were authentic, not just lust-crazed, thoughtless bursts of emotion and obsession that only mattered in the short-term. There was also that notion of pride, the desire to keep my job and move up in the world.

If I could make it through this...

What did that even mean? It wasn't chemotherapy or something. I wasn't dying. I'd be okay. Something told me that, at least. Unfortunately, just because it was
okay
didn't mean that it would be easy or uncomplicated. I could foresee that already.

Just let it go...

Thankfully, sleep was good to me that night.

Chapter 12

I hated to admit it, but the break was actually mollifying me, even after only a day. My mind seemed less cluttered, especially since I didn't have to lie to Sam if he questioned me.

Sorry, Sam
, I joked to myself, recalling a previous incident.
I can't make it out to lunch because I'm meeting my grandma for tea. Maybe tomorrow?

I would then proceed to go eat with Jack at some fancy, upscale place and be back to work five minutes early. And then, I'd be embarrassed when I later forgot my story. It was a little ridiculous sometimes. No wonder Sam was suspicious...

I actually wanted to brag about the things I did with Jack, so keeping them buried only served to frustrate me. This relationship was providing me with something like clarity, even if it wasn't perfect. I didn't really have anyone outside of Jesse and Laura whom I could even mention him to, at least not yet.

At night, however, I went to bed filled with
bittersweetness with regard to my decision. As far as my emotions were concerned, Jack wasn't going anywhere. I took deep breaths until I numbed the longing that I felt—but that didn't work for long.

I'd inadvertently start thinking about the incredible sex we had, and
dammit, I wanted more of it. I would start imagining the intensity of his expression as he fucked me, his arms pinning mine to the bed as he made me call out his name over and over again...

This
was tough.

Stroking his chest with my hands, feeling his taut
pecs flex as I fought to maintain a rational mind amidst so much pleasure. In and out, filling me and then leaving and coming back for more as soon as he departed. I remembered it so well, felt it like it was really happening.

My fingers would crawl slowly down my body until they were right against that sensitive flesh, as if I were Jack's very own marionette, subconsciously doing what I wished Jack was doing instead of me.

Even though I was in tune with my own body, Jack still did it better—even in my imagination. Plus, there were other senses as well when we were together, watered down from the real thing in my fantasies. I wanted
that
so badly. I would come and gasp loudly, louder every time than I had intended, my climax mildly shameful yet full of relief.

Was this how teenage boys felt? It was always such a joke, but in reality, this was something serious. I wasn't entirely unfamiliar with pleasuring myself, but it wasn't really my style, either. I definitely wasn't used to lust like this; that was clear.

Thursday afternoon rolled around—time was moving fast, but not nearly as fast as I would have liked, especially since there was no news of the deal—and Sam and I were sitting there eating sandwiches that he had offered to buy from a local deli. My Reuben was gigantic and would probably wind up serving as both lunch and dinner. Our need to chew was the only thing that interrupted our casual chatter. He seemed to be in a delightful mood.

It had been three days since the incident where I ran into Sam. He hadn't mentioned it, and I had forgotten too, quite possibly due to the poignant events that followed.

"How was that restaurant the other night, Sam?" I asked. I presented the question as innocently as possible. "Did you ever find it?"

He looked shocked that I had asked, his benign expression fading fast. "Huh?"

His tone made me take a step backward and assess what I had said. No, it wasn't anything too serious. "When I ran into you the other night. Don't you remember? You weren't just
stalking me
, were you?" I laughed, hoping to lighten the mood.

Sam stopped eating and stared down at the table.
Had I really offended him?
After a quick glance out the window, he responded. "Yeah. Yeah, I do now. It was pretty good."

"Cool," I said. "The restaurants are good in my neighborhood, even if they don't compare to the
fancy ones." I had nothing else to contribute. In fact, I was feeling pretty bad about asking and then joking around about it. He had sounded so shocked.

There was the divorce and the talk of losing his job if he didn't get this deal. Something wasn't adding up. That night he had seemed weird too, not quite like himself.

Did he have a drug problem or something? Was he meeting a dealer when I ran into him? With all of the stress he was under, I guess I could understand his need to seek "treatment" and self-medicate. I felt horrible for him and wished I had never said anything at all.

"Are you okay, Sam?" I asked.

"I'm fine," he said, rebuffing my concern. "Just fine." I faintly smelled whiskey on his breath, just like I had the other night.
Hmm...

We were the last two people in the break room, so I decided to prod one step further. It turned out to be the straw that broke the camel's back. "If something's up in your life, it's okay to talk about it. I'll listen."

After he started talking, it all came out at once, his message unequivocal.

He was going through divorce proceedings and his soon-to-be ex-wife was going after everything he had. On top of that, the label was going through a corporate restructuring and trying to become more efficient. Everyone had been given a sales/signing quota, and if they didn't meet it, they'd be cut.

"I've been so depressed," he admitted. "I haven't been able to control myself."

"Aw, Sam. You've got to hang in there." I felt like my words carried no significance at all, especially due to the serious nature of his problems.

"I just really need that deal with Jack Teller. My cut of that deal will be just enough to cover my fuckin' legal fees. No more fancy cars for me, just... the ability to survive." At least avarice wasn't his motivating factor.

Dammit
.
I was hoping that wouldn't come up. I knew how Jack felt about it, how he was opposed to signing with a label that wasn't perfect for Lexy. If I went to him and begged, it felt like it would only make things worse for all of us. Every sympathetic part of my body tensed at once.

"Don't those guys shop around?" I asked. "Try to find the best deal? Are we offering
the best deal
?"

"His terms are so
fuckin' crazy. He wants full creative control. He won't let us suggest anyone that he doesn't approve himself." He paused as he coped with the tumult of his thoughts. There was a look of pure defiance on his face when he continued. "I've got people hurting here, and all he cares about is his bullshit
art
. The whole industry is in a slump, so what does he expect? If the label goes under, we're all out of a job."

"Is that really
gonna happen, Sam? Aren't you being a tad bit overdramatic?"

His response was ready as soon as I finished. "The numbers that you're crunching used to be ten times what they are now. That's the truth. The industry is changing, Effie. MCI might wind up a thing of the past, a dinosaur in the industry. Happens all the time. I've already heard news of a possible buy-out."

I didn't like where this was going, but then again, I was the one that had encouraged him to vent. At the very least, I was getting his perspective outside of his usual blowing up and then hassling me, all because Jack had said he liked me at the
first goddamn meeting
. Why had Sam been so fixated on that stupid interaction? I couldn't figure it out.

I was finding myself caught in the middle of something pretty damn serious. I wanted to support my label—it was my job, after all—and I wanted to support Jack. Based on what Sam said, the two things apparently were mutually exclusive, and MCI would lose money if they signed with Jack's unwavering terms, further obscuring the best possible solution. One way or another, Sam would get what he needed out of the deal, even if it all went to his legal fees and I wasn't sure how to feel about that. What about the rest of us?

In a way, it felt like I was in quicksand.