Running Against Traffic Page 5

  Al held up his hand. “I won’t invade your private shit. I’ll be just sleeping and working here. And of course we would share the kitchen, and the bathroom. And the living room.”

  “That’s all there is!”

  He shook his head. “Not so. I wouldn’t be sharing your bedroom, I can promise you that.”

  Paige quickly shifted her gaze down from his chest to her glass. “What a relief.”

  Al picked up the jug of iced tea and poured her more. “I’m just pointing out that the most important private areas will remain…Unshared.”

  They sipped in silence for a few minutes. Paige contemplated the leaky roof, and the winter that would be fast approaching and all the holes in the floors through which creepy crawly things could come in from the cold. She had no money to pay a contractor, but she did have two empty bedrooms. Once she got her bills under control and Mr. Hackney forced David to send some money…It might just work.

  “Okay,” she finally said. “When are you being evicted?”

  Al picked at his cuticles. “That’s the other thing…I was actually evicted a few months ago and I’ve been sleeping on Darnell’s couch. I could go get my things now?”

  “So much for easing into this. Arrrg.” She kicked the table leg for a while and pulled at her hair. Finally she sat upright. “Oh, alright. Get your things. And bring back dinner.”

  Al hopped up, looking gleeful and so relieved that she couldn’t help but giggle. “No, no, no,” he said, grabbing her hand. “Come with me. This calls for a proper celebration. I’m thinking top shelf martinis and steaks!”

  “You drink martinis?”

  “Why would you ask that, because I’m black?”

  “No, because you live in Wells Lake!”

  He shrugged. “We drink a lot of everything in these small towns.”

  Paige pushed back in her chair and stood. He had not released her hand. She felt as if she was about to be twirled. “So, I’m sort of short on cash,” she said, stepping around the table, her hand still held aloft. “Maybe we should just get a pizza.”

  Al pulled her up against his chest with great flair. His other arm pressed into her back. “Trust me,” he said, “when Darnell hears I’m moving out of his place and into yours, anything we want will be on the house.”

  Paige was disappointed when he released her abruptly. She had been expecting to be dipped.

  Chapter 7

  Paige jerked upright to the sound of a great clatter downstairs. Her head was throbbing with dull pain and she was ready to drink Wells Lake she was so parched. The martinis and steaks had indeed been on the house, and had gone down easy. Darnell had been in fine spirits after hearing their news, and had wiggled his wide hips in a celebratory hula as he shook the martini shaker in the air like a maraca.

  Al had an annoying habit of asking personal, delving questions with a few drinks in him, but even after two martinis of her own, Paige was able to steer the conversation elsewhere. Darnell brought out their dinners and clapped his brother on the back, making inappropriate jokes about the new living arrangement.

  Deirdre arrived after they were finished eating, and Darnell fixed her a margarita. Al scooted behind the bar to help with ice and restocking. It was a busy Saturday night. There was nowhere else for Wells Lakers to go.

  Paige filled Deirdre in on the situation. “Can Al be trusted? How long have you known him?” she asked, trying to be furtive despite the noise level that forced her to raise her voice.

  Deirdre sucked on her straw and smacked her lips. Her hair wasn’t quite as high that night and Paige noticed that she was actually quite pretty, with lively blue eyes and a set of ta-tas that made Paige deeply envious.

  “They don’t come much better than the Martin boys,” Deirdre said. “I’ve known them for many years. Darnell arranged for Al to go to school over here, even though they lived next door in Shitville when they were kids. Al used to work after school in the store, back when my daddy owned it. He was a good kid. Now he’s a good man.” She took a long drink of her margarita and burped. “You gettin’ any of that?”

  “Getting any of what?”

  Deirdre jerked her head in Al’s direction. “That,” she said, then she laughed long and loud. “I’m just kidding, honey.”

  Paige leaned forward. “Where were their parents, when they were young?”

  “Lucille was a single mom, and she had to work two jobs. Darnell’s ten years older than Al. Different daddies, and neither of them stuck around for long. But Darnell took care of Al, you know? Lucille did her best, but she needed his help. He didn’t want Al fighting or getting into trouble with the law like a lot of their friends. So he sent him to me. Carmen was just a baby, and I was single mom, myself, but Al was a big help in the store, and he would stay for dinner and then I’d take him home. Then Darnell joined the Marines, So Al started sleeping over after dinner from time to time. Then he just stayed.”

  Paige chewed on an olive from her martini. “Jesus, has he ever had his own place?”

  Deirdre frowned. “Have you?”

  Paige swallowed. “What about his mom? Did he still see her?”

  “Yes, of course. She’s the main reason Darnell came back and bought the bar, and Al never moved away.”

  “What’d I miss?” Al asked, hopping back on to his barstool and picking up his glass.

  “Nothing much, we were just talking about how cute you are.” Deirdre smiled, pinching his cheek. “Why aren’t you married, already?”

  “You know why,” he said. “Look around you. Who would I marry? Paige, another round? Let’s ride this wave all the way to the beach because I can guarantee you, there will be no discounts tomorrow.”

  Deirdre stood. “I think I’ll go see if Darnell needs an extra pair of hands in the kitchen,” she said, smoothing out her skirt. She turned to Paige. “Most things happen for a reason. Remember that.”

  Paige declined a third drink and she and Al lurched home in the dark.

  The birds had obviously finished their main performance of the morning, and Paige had mercifully slept through it. There was still quite a bit of chatter and fluttering outside the window, and the rich smell of coffee brewing permeated the air, so she rolled out of bed and folded herself into a short black satin robe over her underwear and tank top, tying the sash tight. She was no longer alone in the house, she reminded herself. Must cover up.

  She staggered down the steps to the kitchen and found Al slouched at the Ugly Table glugging a large glass of water.

  “What was that racket?” she asked, heading for the coffee pot.

  “Good morning, Sunshine,” Al said. “I tripped over a chair. Don’t worry, I’m okay. We’re starting work today. I want to get up on that roof and fix the leaks, make sure we’re insulated. Winter hits fast and hard around here.”

  Paige poured herself a cup of coffee, and turned back in time to catch Al checking out her legs. He quickly looked away.

  She sipped the strong coffee silently until a bit of caffeine kicked in. “Wait, who is ‘we’?”

  “Now look, I need an assistant,” Al said. “I can’t do all this work by myself. When do you start your job?”

  Paige groaned and dropped into a chair. She huddled over her coffee mug as if it was a tiny fire on a cold day. “What day is it today?”

  “Sunday, Paige. You only slept for eight hours.”

  “I start tomorrow. Don’t let me forget to go.”

  “Good, because you’re either going to have to pay Bryce a little something or let him move into the other bedroom.”

  There was a knock on the front door. “Speak of the devil,” Al said. “I’m surprised he’s up at this hour. He must really be hurting for cash.”

  “Wow, someone actually knocks in this town,” Paige mumbled into her mug.

  “COME IN,” Al yelled.

  Paige yelped and pressed her fingers to her temples.

  A boy walked into the kitchen, the same boy she had seen a few weeks
prior, sharing a cigarette on the street with Carmen. He had matted blond curls that were turning into dreadlocks, dark blue eyes and thick, long lashes. Paige figured he was somewhere in his twenties, but he was too dirty to really pinpoint it. His gorgeous baby face made him look like a teenager. The bruise-like shadows around his eyes made him look much older. He wore a leather vest with no shirt, a studded dog collar around his neck, and ripped blue jeans stuffed into unlaced black combat boots.

  “Hot date last night?” Al asked, glancing at his muddy knees.

  Bryce leaned back against the counter and tipped his sunglasses over his eyes. “A girl’s gotta make a living.” Al looked ill. Bryce turned to Paige. “Hello, darling. I’m Starfire.”

  “Bryce,” Al said.

  “Starfire,” Bryce corrected.

  “Bryce.”

  “Starfire.”

  “Okey-dokey.” Paige stood and extended her hand. “Nice to meet you. Did Al tell you I have no money?”

  Bryce shook her hand limply. “That’s okay, honey. I need a place to live. He said I could move into the third bedroom. My stuff’s on the porch, I didn’t know if you had things you needed to move out of there first, or...?”

  Paige folded her arms across her chest and glared at Al, who was looking out the kitchen window, intently.

  “Looks like rain,” Al said, pushing back from the table. “We’d better get started checking out that roof. Let’s go pick up my ladder.” He grabbed Bryce by the arm and pulled him out of the kitchen.

  Paige was still frowning in their wake several minutes after watching the door close behind them, then open and a few duffle bags were tossed into the living room, and the door was yanked shut again. She chewed her lip and tried to think, but her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. What had just happened there? She decided that she must have misunderstood, or misheard them. Perhaps hangover induced hallucination? She absolutely was not going to have another relative stranger living in her crappy house. It simply was not going to happen.

  Paige banged on the bathroom door. She had a small window of time to get ready for her new job at Howard Hackney, Esquire’s office, and Bryce had locked himself inside with some kind of techno house music blaring for a half hour. She yelled that she was going to be late for her first day and therefore wouldn’t be able to feed them, and he danced out, clean shaven and dolled up in mascara and lip gloss. He looked prettier than most girls. He gave her a quick fingertips on shoulders hug and wished her luck. “Don’t worry, you’ll do just fine," he said. "But get some makeup on and fluff out the hair. You might get paid more if you look sexy. Works for me, anyway!”

  Al opened the door to his room, pulling a tee shirt over his sculpted torso. Paige watched for a second too long, and he raised his eyebrows.

  “What?” she sputtered, her face burning. “I’m late and Starfire here was hogging the bathroom. Everyone clear out! And god help me there had better be a pot of coffee made when I get to the kitchen.”

  The boys clattered down the stairs, leaving her to do some involuntary deep breathing exercises, and then look into the mirror. She asked her reflection if she had completely lost her mind.

  Her reflection answered, promptly. “A long time ago. And this bathroom smells like pot.”

  Chapter 8

  “Oh yeah, there it is! Hey beautiful, what’s a girl like you doing’ in a place like this?”

  Paige had just stepped out of the bank into the cool October air and she paused on the front steps, watching Al hoot at her from across the street. Passers-by stopped to stare at where he was pointing. Al doubled over laughing, then jogged over to where she stood. “Got my money, honey? Hardwood floors aren’t cheap!”

  Paige thrust an envelope stuffed with bills into his hand. She had barely enough money left over in her account for groceries and a bottle of wine before her next payday, and other bills were late. She had been working at the attorney’s office for two months, and per their agreement, Hackney was working on getting David to send her some money, but it was a slow process and she suspected her boss wasn’t spending a lot of time on it. He did have the time to be frustrated with her taking the entire two months to learn the phone system, and she was still only slightly more effective than Mindy had been. Between buzzing her boss to see if he wanted the call transferred to him or his voicemail and then transferring the call without disconnecting them, if she hadn’t already, she was thrown into a panic, her stomach in knots. The whole money and David business twisted her stomach even more, but she was exiting the depressed stage of things and entering a new era of wrath, which was oddly less debilitating. Depression pulls you down. Anger propels. Anger is spurs in your flanks. Good thing there was distance between Paige and David, and she didn’t have a car. Al, however, was right in front of her. Her Anger looked at him and smiled deviously.

  “Darnell is right,” she hissed. “You need to grow up. And the roof is still leaking, by the way. I had to move my bed! There are no pots left in the kitchen. They’re all catching the rain in my bedroom!”

  Al tucked the envelope full of cash into his jacket pocket and looked at his watch. “I didn’t know we owned pots. Not like anyone was cooking. Okay, my break’s over. See you tonight, dear.”

  “Don’t call me that!”

  He kissed her on the cheek, patted her Anger on the head, and bounded away. Paige stood fuming for a moment, then turned to stomp back to the office.

  After sitting at her desk for a while, attempting to transfer calls, and listing to snippets of Hackney’s demented phone conversations through the wall, Paige was ready to leap out of her skin and right out the office window.

  The sunlight glared through the pane, and she noticed that the leaves on the trees outside were turning red and gold. She stared in glum reverie at their gray branches, wondering if she had ever climbed a tree before. She suspected not. She put her hand up against the glass, wishing she could reach through.

  The phone rang again.

  “Howard Hackney’s office,” Paige said in a sigh.

  “Helloooo, Paige dear.”

  “Helloooo, boss’s drunken spouse.”

  “Paige, how can you say such a thing to me,” Mindy slurred. “I could have you fired.”

  “You won’t even remember I said it.”

  “Put me through to my husband.”

  “Nope.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Because you’ll tell him what I said to you and I’ll be fired. I have a leaky roof, I need this soul-draining job. Also, transferring calls is not as easy as one might think.”

  "I know, that was the worst." There was a moment of quiet, fractured by what sounded like ice cubes clinking against glass.

  “Mindy,” Paige said sternly. “Don’t you think it’s a little early for cocktails?”

  “I’m havin’ coffee, I don’ know what you’re talkin’ bout! Please put me through to Howard.”

  “Promise you won’t tell him what I said, first.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Okay, you can talk to him now.”

  “Paige?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m so, so glad we’re friends. I treasure our friendship. Women need each other, ya know? Love you.”

  “Love you too, Cuckoo-bird. Hold on.”

  Mindy hung up.

  Paige heard Hackney’s shuffling feet approaching her desk, and she hunched low in her chair and stared intently at her computer screen, silently willing him to walk right by. The shuffling stopped. She looked up, feigning surprise.

  “You didn’t hear me coming, did you?” he asked, looking smug.

  “No, I didn’t,” Paige said. “You’re…Stealthy.”

  “I know it. I’m like a bobcat.” He clawed the air and hissed a little bit.

  Paige waited. There simply wasn’t any appropriate response to that.

  Finally Hackney hoisted his round rear end up onto the corner of her desk and clasped his hands in clear consterna
tion. Oh lord have mercy, what now? Paige thought, inching her chair backward on his wheels to retreat as far from him as possible, as he leaned forward with furrowed brow.

  “But seriously,” he began. “Like a bobcat, I have very keen senses. I have to, in this profession. And I’m sensing that you are very troubled.” He tapped the side of his head for effect.

  “I would be morally and ethically remiss,” he continued, his voice beginning to rise and fall like an evangelical preacher, “if I didn’t take the bull by the horns and insist that you see someone. A professional. I have scheduled sessions for you twice a week for the indefinite future, and they will be paid for by the company.” He snapped a business card onto the desk in front of her and hopped to his feet. “Your appointment times are on the back of the card.” The balding bobcat shuffled back to his office.

  Paige peered down at the card, which read “Dr. Walter Hackney, PhD” and an address. Her first appointment was that very afternoon.

  Paige eagerly fled Mr. Hackney's office at one thirty to have plenty of time to locate Dr. Hackney’s office. A crisp breeze blew away some of the stagnant air of the law office that cloaked her. She checked the address on the card and started walking, nearly jumping into a bush when Al yelled from across the street. “Work it, girl!”

  She frowned and charged across the street to where he was lounging on his usual bench eating lunch. “Stop doing that, you scared me!”

  “Aw, sorry baby.” He didn’t sound sorry.

  “Where is 20 Green Street?”

  Al took the card from her and shook his head. “Hackney’s sending you to see his dad, huh? He’s around the corner by the drug store. Learn the roads, Paige. Wells Lake is only five square miles.”

  Dr. Hackney’s office waiting room was small and musty, and there was no receptionist. There was no front desk, even. It looked like an old man’s living room, piled high with crinkled magazines and catalogues for patients to flip through while they waited. How patients let him know they were there waiting, Paige had no idea. After a few minutes of sitting with her feet dangling, her body puckered into the over-sized, over-squishy sofa, she finally climbed out and knocked on the door to the inner office. There was no response. She knocked louder, still nothing. Finally she decided what the hell, and opened the door.