by Emily Bourne
It’s drastically low. Adrian runs his hands over his face and a groan reverberates through him. He swallows the sickening feeling creeping up his throat and locks the drawer. His eyes sting at the thought of the twenty people counting on him. We don’t have long to go. He remembers the meeting with the government and laughs at the six weeks waiting period. We’ll be long gone by then.
He kicks his chair back as he stands, and it falls backwards with a clang. He moves to the door and reefs it open, slamming it close when he steps into the hall.
“Adrian?” Tessa says hesitantly a few feet away. “Are you ok?”
Adrian moves to wave her off but notices his hand tremor. He sucks in a breath and digs his hands into pockets.
He spins away from Tessa. “I’m fine.”
The door of Eddy’s office opens and Eddy leans out the doorway. “What’s going on?”
Adrian rolls his eyes and keeps walking. “Everything’s fine.”
Eddy steps into the hall and grabs Adrian’s arm. “Hey, what is it?”
Adrian stops and nods towards Eddy’s office. “You have someone in with you. They need you. Go back in. I’m fine.”
Eddy looks at him, knowing he’s not fine, but nods. Adrian and Eddy have always agreed the people who come here for shelter and support come first.
“Ok, we’ll talk after,” Eddy says, returning to his office.
Adrian’s hands ball into fists in his pockets as he winds through the hall towards the bedrooms. His jaw clenches, hoping no one stops him with a problem. One more issue and he may explode.
He watches Maria make her way towards the common room, and calls out, “Did you put the food away?”
Maria stops and turns to him. “The what?”
Adrian huffs and turns towards the dining room. “Forget it. I’ll do it.”
Adrian storms through the dining room and whacks the kitchen door open.
Jazz jumps and yelps by the kitchen bench. She clutches her heart, leaning over. “My goodness, Adrian, you scared the life out of me.”
Adrian relaxes his shoulders, blinking at her. “Jazz? What are you doing in here?”
Jazz shakes her shoulders, going back to a bag. “Myra and Taz are catching up on sleep so we all vacated the room.” Jazz sighs as she organises vegetables on the bench. “I just needed to keep myself busy, you know. It was wild meeting her.”
Adrian moves to the bench. “Did Maria ask you to do this?”
Jazz shakes her head. “No, I haven’t seen her. I just came in to see if anyone was around and these things looked like they needed a home. Is that ok?”
Adrian releases a breath, smiling. “Yeah, it’s completely fine. Do you know where they go?”
Jazz points to the vegetables. “I was thinking the fridge.”
Adrian laughs and takes the bag of kitchen supplies. “You take care of those, I’ll put these away.”
Jazz moves around the bench to follow him. “Well, show me where they go so I’ll know for next time.”
“Deciding to stick around for a while?”
Jazz backs off half a step. “Oh, no... I just...” She thinks on her words. “Just in case I have to grab something for Hector, or something.”
He smiles at her. “It’s ok. I’m glad to have your help.”
“I’d like to be more useful.”
Adrian stacks a few boxes, and asks, “What else do you want to be doing?”
Jazz sighs and leans against the bench. “I guess I need to know the day-to-day running.”
Adrian raises an eyebrow as he swings to face her. “Like a schedule?”
She lights up. “Yes, that would be great!”
Adrian laughs and returns to the shelf. “There’s no schedule.”
“How can that be?”
“Easily. It’s not a business. It’s just tending to people when they need it, and leaving them alone when they need it. People are free to come and go as they please. It’s a drop-in-centre. No schedule.”
Jazz huffs as she loads vegetables into the fridge.
Adrian stands and watches Jazz’s frustrated body language. “Is routine important to you? Like a compulsive disorder?”
Jazz grimaces. “You think I’m OCD?”
“A few months ago, a guy living here had it. Eddy explained to me what it was.” Adrian raises his hands in defence. “I’m just trying to work you out. You’re a very mysterious person, Jazz.”
Jazz laughs. “Mysterious? Me?”
“At least I can understand everyone else. Every day, I see the fear, the longing, the desperation, on so many people.” Adrian takes a step closer to her. “And then there’s you. You walk tall when others slouch or cower. You speak properly where everyone else drops letters or uses slang. Even the way you dress.”
Jazz pulls at her t-shirt. “I got this here.”
“You just look very put together that’s all.” He takes a step back, smiling. “I’m not trying to insult you. They are not bad qualities. You’re just different.”
“Is that why you dress so neatly?” Jazz asks, stepping around him and looking him up and down. “Still a t-shirt and jeans, but no rips, stains or crinkles. Common enough to say you’re one of them, but elevated enough to show you’re someone of authority who can help.”
Adrian splutters a laugh. “Authority?”
Jazz shrugs. “It must feel nice to be in a position of power.”
“Hey, hey. I’m not trying to wield power over anyone.”
“Something brought you to start up a place like this. Or did you take it over from someone else? Like a family member or mentor?”
“You know, you’re very good at deflecting.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Any time I ask you about yourself, you turn it back around on me.”
“Do you notice that because there’s something you are keeping secret? What are you hiding from, Adrian?”
Adrian laughs. “Nice try. At some point you have to talk to someone.”
“What makes you think there’s anything to talk about?”
“Everyone who stays here has something to talk about.”
Jazz smiles. “Does that mean if I don’t talk, I should leave?”
Adrian grins, about to joke he needs another kitchenhand, but his smile drops when he remembers his money situation.
Jazz’s expression grows serious. “Adrian? What’s wrong?”
Adrian shakes his head, forcing a smile as he holds his hips. “No, nothing.”
“You’ve been nothing but a ball of optimism since I got here, and now you look like you’ve met death. What’s the matter?”
Sweat takes over Adrian’s forehead. He quickly wipes it off and slips past Jazz. “It’s nothing for you to worry about. No one here should have to worry about it, but me.”
“Hey,” Jazz hushes, clutching his forearm. Adrian stops and looks back at her. “Like you said, everyone needs someone to talk to. You’re obviously stressed. What is it?”
When Jazz lets him go, Adrian sighs and his posture collapses. “There’s no money.”
“What do you mean? Like stolen?”
His eyes widen as he shakes his head. “No, it’s just gone. We don’t have any donations, and more and more people need help.” His eyes wander to the door leading to the back alley. “This city is all kinds of messed up. The rich have everything and everyone else has to struggle for food or shelter.” He sighs and turns his back to her as his face creases. “It’s not fair.”
“I had no... I didn’t...” Jazz pauses, and Adrian feels her hand squeeze his shoulder. “I’m sorry. But you shouldn’t feel you have to take on all the burden.”
Adrian turns to her. “But everyone relies on me.”
“Sure, you support everyone, especially on an emotional level. I’ve watched you tend to every person here like they are the only one here. But they all lend a hand. No way are they expecting you to be solely in charge of the money coming in. I’m sure if you aske
d people like Hector and Maria, they would help with fundraising ideas.”
“I just don’t want to put that pressure on them. They do enough lending their time.” His face grows pale as he chews his lip. “I shouldn’t have let Myra and Taz in this morning, but I couldn’t turn them away.”
“Of course not. You talk to Eddy about this stuff?”
Adrian nods. “He knows.”
Jazz takes a deep breath, and then says, “I can help you find ways to get money.”
“Really?”
“I have business training.” Jazz purses her lips, looking hesitant, so Adrian decides to not ask her to elaborate. “If you’re comfortable showing me your expense figures and where you already have funds coming from, I can work out an action plan.”
“Are you sure?”
Jazz nods, smiling. “It’d make me feel useful.”
Adrian smiles. “Well, if it’d help you feel better, I’ll gladly take your help.” They keep eye contact, smiling, as tingles play at Adrian’s limbs. He lowers the tension and teases her with, “Lord knows your kitchen game is a little off.”
Jazz scoffs, unable to hide her grin. “Is that so?”
Adrian’s smile grows to the point his cheeks hurt. “It’s a little funny watching you. You make the most mundane tasks look so hard.”
“Oh, stop it.”
“Who knew dusting needed so many instructions?”
“That’s it,” Jazz says, fully letting her guard down and lunging towards the sink and flicking sudsy water at him.
Adrian blocks the attack. “Hey, settle down. See, you don’t even know what to do with washing up water.”
Jazz laughs and splashes him again.
“Be careful, I may attack back.”
Jazz lifts her hands, water running down her arms.
“Thanks,” Adrian says, reaching for a towel, but then swiftly scoops a hand into the water and splashes Jazz.
Jazz shrieks, her hands flailing in front of her face. “Ok, truce. Truce!”
Adrian laughs, drying his hands. “Truce.”
Jazz swipes the towel from him to dry her hands and arms.
Adrian rolls his shoulders back and feels a weight lifted after unburdening to Jazz. He fixates on the shine of her hair as it falls by her face and the magnetism of her dark almond eyes. A tingle runs down his spine as he thinks she’s just as beautiful as the first moment he saw her.
“Thank you for offering to help,” he says. “I appreciate it and I’d like to hear your ideas to keep this place afloat.”
“You do such good for many people. Maiden City needs this place.” Jazz smiles and rubs his arm. “We need you here, happy and well.”
Adrian swallows awkwardly, blushing from the soft pressure of her hand.
Jazz lowers her gaze, taking her hand away. “I might go check on Myra and Taz.”
Adrian steps aside. “Ok, sounds good.”
Spoilt
JAZZ tussles her hair in front of the mirror, a smile tingling her lips. She plays with how the waves fall, and curls a lock by her ear, enjoying the moment of feeling feminine. The moment is for her. Not to gain maximum engagement on a Collage post.
She giggles at her reflection. Her heart warms with the thought that she doesn’t mind if Adrian notices how she looks.
“You look pretty,” Myra says, fixing the shawl around her hairline.
Jazz blushes. “Thanks. The colours of the pashmina really suit your complexion.”
“Brings out the bruises?” Myra smirks.
“I hardly notice them.”
“You’re a bad liar.”
“Sorry.” Jazz looks down at the lilac sun dress she took from the donation pile. “Does this look all right?”
“Yes, perfect.”
Jazz felt bad taking another item of clothing from the donations, but she couldn’t handle wearing the same outfit after her shower. She plans to donate a good portion of her wardrobe once she returns home.
“Do you want to go to the common room?”
Myra winces. “Bit noisy.”
“I can try to find some games or something for Taz and bring them back.”
“That’d be nice. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
Jazz makes her way to the common room where the sounds of teenage boys hits her before seeing them. She shrieks as a billiards ball flies her direction and smacks the wall behind her.
“Shit! Sorry,” DJ calls out.
Jazz slams a hand over her racing heart. “Sorry? That could have hit me in the face.”
“It was my fault,” Ferg says, sliding in front of DJ with arms out wide. “I was teasing him and he hit the ball wrong.”
Jazz lowers her hand and composes herself walking towards the boys. “You guys have made up?”
Max slides an arm over DJ’s shoulder. “We’re all besties.”
Jazz eyes DJ. “All good?”
“Seriously, we are all good.” DJ smirks and adds, “Sorry for almost destroying your pretty face.”
Jazz flinches from the dryness of his words. “Ok?” She looks between the boys; wary things may not be well despite their words. “Apology accepted.”
Ferg runs a hand over his cropped auburn hair, puffing out his chest. “Is there anything we can do for you, Miss?”
Jazz peers around the room. “I saw a box of children’s toys in here somewhere. Where was that?”
Max points beside the couch. “Over there.”
Jazz spots the crate. “Ah, thank you.” She lifts it up and spins to the doorway. “Thanks, boys.”
“See, she’s not that uptight,” Ferg stage-whispers to the boys.
“Heard that,” Jazz teases, leaving the room to the sounds of nervous laughter.
She missed arm day at the gym but carrying this box back to the room makes up for it.
“Here we are,” Jazz says, entering the bedroom. She kneels to the floor as Taz runs towards her. “See all this cool stuff, little man.”
“Wow,” Taz says, extending the o.
Jazz giggles, helping him take out the toys. “I know, how fun.”
“Thanks, Jazz,” Myra says through gritted teeth as she pulls herself further up the bed.
“Myra?” Jazz moves towards the bed. “Are you ok?”
“My side is killing me.”
Jazz places her hand over Myra’s which digs into her ribs. “Perhaps we should take you to the hospital.”
“No way. He’ll be looking for me there.”
“It’ll be safe.”
“No,” Myra snaps. “You don’t understand what it’s like for someone like me.”
Jazz leans back from the bed. “I’m sorry.”
Myra purses her lips, her eyes steely on her son. “I didn’t mean to yell, but have you ever been to The Limits? You probably live in a palace, right?”
“I’m here now,” Jazz whispers. “Why don’t you educate me?”
Myra tsks, rolling her eyes. “Like you want to know.”
Jazz moves closer to the bed, clasping Myra’s hand. “I do. Tell me. Tell me about your life.”
Myra locks eyes with Jazz. Her eyes droop with sorrow. “It wasn’t always like this.” Jazz squeezes her hand, letting her continue. “I had a good childhood. Good parents. Great brothers. Nice people at the mosque. But then teenage rebellion happened...” Myra’s lip upturns at the memory. “It was so silly. I wanted to be like the blonde girls in the magazines. And then I met Danny.”
“Taz’s father?”
Myra nods, a disgusted expression crossing her face. “The worst mistake. I found him dangerous, mysterious, handsome, and romantic.”
Dangerous and romantic?
“You’re probably judging me hard.”
Jazz sucks in a breath, and her eyes widen. “No, not at all.”
Myra grins. “Bad liar.”
Jazz winces. “Sorry.”
Myra bats her free hand. “Don’t worry about it. It was just foolish sixteen-year-old tho
ughts. We had a good year, but then he started hitting me.” Tears form in the corners of her eyes. “I tried to leave, but he’d stop me or find me before I reached my parents.” She swallows hard. “Then I became pregnant, and he said I couldn’t leave.”
Jazz interlocks their fingers, willing herself not to cry.
Myra whispers, “It wasn’t with Taz.” Tears roll down her face. “I had a miscarriage because he’d still hit me. I lost my first baby because of him.”
Jazz rushes her body over Myra’s. She hovers over her, careful not to hurt her wound, and strokes the shawl over her hair while keeping herself close.
Myra presses her hands into Jazz’s back. “The last three years have been a living hell.”
“I won’t let him hurt you again,” Jazz whispers. “I promise.”
“Mummy,” Taz’s small voice pipes up.
Jazz lifts herself from Myra, who wipes her face and smiles at her son. “Yeah baby?”
Taz pouts, looking between the two women.
Jazz wipes her face dry and smiles at Taz. “We’re ok, little man. Did you find something fun in the box?”
Taz grins, lifting two toy trucks.
Jazz gasps with enthusiasm. “Wow, that’s awesome.”
Taz shows them how to push the trucks along the carpet and Jazz applauds him. She eyes Myra, who slumps to the side, watching her son.
“I’ll get you a doctor,” Jazz whispers.
Myra searches Jazz’s face. “What?”
“I’ll bring a doctor here. A good one. You know I have the means.”
Myra smiles. “Thank you. But play with Taz first, I might take a nap.”
“Ok,” Jazz whispers and moves closer to Taz. “Can I have a go?”
Taz slides a truck over and Jazz pushes the truck back and forth. “Like this?”
Taz takes the truck back and shows her how to push the truck forward only.
“Oh, was I not doing it correctly?” Jazz asks with a laugh.
Jazz eyes Myra lying on the bed and she finds it difficult to keep her face happy for Taz’s benefit. Her stomach churns, and revulsion at her own privileged life seeps through her body.
Taz yawns, and Jazz helps him onto the bed to curl up against his mother. She closes the door on the two after blowing him a kiss.
