by P. S. Power
He mainly slept then, trying to catch up. Spending time setting up counseling sessions, which took a bit of wheedling to keep off the books, but Josh did arrange for a counselor to actually go to their house for it. It took work, begging and money that he didn't have to get it done. Hopefully Bill wouldn't freak out about having to pay two hundred dollars an hour for it. After that all he had to do was check in occasionally. After the third time being told that Amy couldn't come to the phone he got the idea and stopped asking.
Everything ends, and he was ready for it.
He kept saying that in his head, trying to remember not to let it get to him. It wasn't her fault even and she hadn't promised him anything, which was a lot better than some people did. Like his dad when he left, assuring him that he'd be around all the time. Or his mom telling him pretty much the same thing, then burying herself in her work. Josh got the idea now. She'd been hiding from her pain and it all just became habit. Plus she had her Joanie with her there, making work kind of a refuge for her.
Well, he had his workouts and school work. That would do just as well, wouldn't it? Josh could try and hide in work too.
He started running a lot more as soon as the roads cleared enough, pushing himself into the cold and damp, over the piles of slush, not caring when he got wet. His lungs would ache, but that was alright. It hurt less than the pain inside his heart. It distracted him. Sure he was sore all the time but that didn't matter. It felt like he could, almost, outrun the pain for a while. If he went far enough. Fast enough. Eerily josh could feel it, the heartache, following him while he moved sometimes.
The next emergency came on New Year's Eve, when Laura called him, in tears. At first he thought that she might have just gotten kicked out or the news that Bill wanted a divorce anyway, but it wasn't anything like that. They were just supposed to have a big party that night, which they always did for New Year's and they hadn't actually planned anything. Meaning she hadn't. It was a huge event too, the biggest of the year and all these clients and political connections were supposed to come in. That part had gotten arranged perfectly. Over a month before. Of course.
It wouldn't have been a problem, but the party planner that they used hadn't heard from her in weeks, so re-booked for another engagement, thinking the Banisters had fallen through. There were only six good planners in the area, all of which couldn't make it, being their busy season. Hence the tears. Right.
Josh couldn't bring himself to care. That wasn't her fault though. Just life. After a few seconds of listening he sighed.
“Right, get your credit cards and checkbook and grab anyone there willing to help. Come pick me up and we'll make a supply run. Do you know where I live?” It was a little heartening, but she actually didn't. Why that made him feel better he didn't know.
Half an hour later a knock came at the door, Laura standing with Meridith. Samantha was coming to the party, but actually had a job and a life at home, which she'd gotten back to. No mention was made of Amy. That was understandable too, but really, she should have been helping, even if Josh was going to be there.
The shopping was fast and furious. Since it was a party he relented on the no alcohol policy, as long as they all promised not to drink anything. Especially Laura. She grimaced.
“OK. I do miss it though. That warm, numb feeling of insulation against the world...” It sounded a lot more fun when she said it than the puking and hangovers he'd seen, not to mention the virtual destruction of her life, but she promised not to have anything. Meridith did to. She wasn't talking much. Since she always chattered at least a bit, it was noticeable. For a bit Josh wondered if she was sick.
“Oh... no. Um... OK, so, I think it's withdrawal symptoms. I mean I didn't drink that much, but... enough. Things...Yeah.” The voice was subdued, soft and grim.
Laura dealt with it by seeming to pretend she didn't hear. Because that was good parenting right there, wasn't it? Josh didn't know much about addiction firsthand, but he did know that you didn't get drunk once and then go into withdrawals from it. That took time and a lot of exposure.
Meridith rode in the back seat of the very nice burgundy Sudan that Laura drove with a bit less care than he personally liked. No crashing though. They traveled in silence at first, deciding to go with a deep red and cream color scheme when he finally started floating ideas. The food would be an interesting problem, but they didn't have to serve dinner, thank goodness, just some snacks and dessert. They solved most of that by making a trip to three bakeries. They didn't have a punch-bowl waterfall, which was a signature tradition for the Banisters, but that wasn't a huge problem, they just bought a huge glass bowl and a water pump, along with some clear hose and a very nice outdoor fountain statue. The man at the Home-Depot told them how to set it up. They just had to clean it with very hot water first, so that it wouldn't make the punch taste like PVC.
It took the whole day and to him it felt like there was an elephant in the room the whole time, but he didn't mention her by name. Amy had made a choice and it wasn't him. Apparently.
But he still wanted her to be safe and have a nice life. That was the part that sucked most. He couldn't even just feel hurt. He loved her too much for that. If he could help her at all, Josh knew he had to try. How sappy was that?
At the Banister house they had to scramble to get things done in time and Josh ended up on the phone to several local restaurants, asking if they had any wait staff that wasn't working and wanted to make ridiculous sums of money for easy work. It was a lot easier to throw money at a situation to fix it if the money wasn't yours he discovered. By seven he had six men and three women lined up, plus two bartenders who came with their own little matching outfits. Skimpy outfits. He laughed when he saw them. They were actually male strippers by trade, willing to work for them based on the idea that they were going to make a lot more for it than their normal gig.
But they could tend a basic bar too and for some reason thought they worked directly for Josh, not the Banisters. Even given the obvious age problem. That was probably because he told them in no uncertain terms that if Laura tried to get a drink from either of them it couldn't have alcohol in it and if she offered to sleep with them he'd have their testicles in a box if they said anything other than no, in a firm and commanding voice and came to find him instantly. They were both good looking, so it could happen. The part with Laura. The box thing wasn't a credible threat, but they got the idea. Off limits.
“What about the daughter?” One of the men, the black one with all the muscle, who'd decided to be “Barry” for the night, rather than his stage name of “Shazam” asked, checking out Meredith's behind.
Josh shrugged.
“Best not to make a play, but if she offers, well, she's legal. Use protection?” The man smiled, a bright toothy thing.
“Oooh yeah.” That made the other guy laugh, it was clear he was trying to suppress it, but that didn't last long.
“Like you aren't totally gay! No one's buying it Barry. Now if they had a son...”
That was funny and the black guy gave him a look as if to say “I tried” before quirking his mouth and winking at Josh.
“What can I say?” The man smiled. “Women tip better than men at these things, as long as you flirt a little. If they think they might get lucky it opens the pocket book a bit. Flirting with men just causes problems nine times out of ten.”
It was a good act despite what the other guy had said. Josh really had been buying it.
People started coming at about nine, which meant liberating a waiter to help him park the cars. They hadn't had time for valet parking arrangements, but the slush along the road was intense and you had to walk in it in places. He tried to take those, since the man he worked with was already being a trooper, parking cars when he'd come to be a warm and comfortable server at a high end party.
Josh wore his own running shoes, but had borrowed a white shirt and black jacket from Bill. Both were too big, but he matched the other guy well enough. Luckily
the other guy had done work parking cars before, so had a clue how to organize the keys for people. It wasn't anything fancy, just a table with names on sheets of paper laid out, but it worked. Awkwardly enough people kept tipping him. A real valet would have taken the money, and he didn't want anyone to feel odd, so he did too, but it made him uncomfortable. He just shoved the bills into his pocket without looking at them, thanking everyone as warmly as he could.
After ten-thirty the influx of vehicles stopped, so Josh took the chance to run inside and check on things. The dessert table had to be stocked by the waiters, but most of them were busy handing out drinks, which meant something had to be neglected. Josh scrambled, cleaning and then quickly refilling the small plates and setting them out, reloading the whole thing from a rolling cart. He'd covered it with a red tablecloth so that it would match the room. As he worked, head down for the most part, concentrating on getting things just right, he saw her.
Amy.
Right.
She lived there. Not like he could forget that, but seeing her was strange.
Talking to one of the bartenders, the white stripper that was obviously flirting with her outrageously. She seemed to be enjoying the attention too. Well, Josh was outraged, but that wasn't his problem was it? She was old enough to talk to a guy if she wanted and she was legal and everything. Plus she looked about six years older, dressed up as she was, full make-up hiding the slight softness of her cheek that made her look younger. She looked over and saw him looking, so he smiled. It was, he knew, a slightly sad thing, but Josh wanted her to know he cared enough to try. She just looked away, back to her new friend.
Like she hadn't even seen him at all.
He kept working. That was all he was good for anyway.
Apparently.
After that he just ran from place to place, making sure that things went smoothly, that the bars stayed stocked and that Laura and Bill stayed sober. The second time he moved past them Bill caught his arm.
“Ah, there you are,” the man smiled hugely, professionally, gesturing at the woman across from himself, a nice looking older woman.
“Joshua, this is Diane Richards, a good friend of Laura and I. Diane, this is Joshua, the gentleman we were discussing earlier?” He said it knowingly, as if it were a conspiracy.
“Really? I hear good things about your work. Are you accepting clients at this time?” She sounded serious. Formal. It was almost funny but he made himself nod.
“On a limited basis. I have other obligations. Most of which involve factors that allow me to work off grid.” Like being a high school student. No one would ever believe he was anything else, because, well, he wasn't.
The woman pulled him aside and asked if they could arrange an appointment to discuss an issue she was having. He gave her his home number. Why not? If he could help people, it would keep him busy. That was enough of a reason, wasn't it?
“Oh, thank you. It may be nothing but...”
He nodded knowingly, though it was all fake. After all, people trusted confidence, even when they probably shouldn't. That meant that if he acted like he knew what he was doing, a lot of people would just go along with him on the idea, as ridiculous as it was.
By the time he broke away from Diane, Amy had disappeared. The bartender was still around, so at least there was that. He was distracted, which, in the crowded room meant he bumped into his mother before he saw her.
“Sorry.” He said, a bit distracted, then he grinned. “Oh, hi! Is Joanie here too?”
Mercy grimaced and pointed to the black bartender whose muscular arm was being felt up by Joanie at the very moment he looked.
“Yes... She loses her inhibitions a bit when she gets tipsy, and she doesn't have that many to begin with. If she keeps on at this pace you might wake up to find you have a new “uncle” named bartender in the morning...” She seemed a little jealous about the idea. Having seen Amy talking to the other guy without the touching, he could definitely get the reason why.
“You mean Uncle Barry?” Josh made his voice sound as innocent as possible then smiled at Mercy. “He's gay. As in; he's flirting for better tips, and has no interest in women at all. Nice enough guy though. Stripper by trade. We kind of had to take whoever we could get, setting this up last minute. Speaking of which I need to make the rounds again.”
He smiled at her and patted her arm, but he really did need to keep busy. If he didn't he was going to start thinking and if that happened Josh didn't think he'd make it through the night. They didn't have real music, just an mp3 player with classical and big band selections on it. That was the same mix used the year before and thankfully Laura had put it away in a drawer. No one had touched it for a year, so they got Bock alternating with Tommy Dorsey. Only a few people danced, and they were mainly very drunk and pretty old. The man on cars stood outside, waiting for people to come or go, content with the knowledge that he was being well paid to stand there.
For a moment Josh didn't have anything to do himself, so he walked around the side of the house, away from the garage, and looked at the river in the distance, moonlight reflecting off it. It was beautiful of course. Romantic, or would have been if he could have found someone to share it with. The whole thing was both magical and sad. Or, at least he was sad. Shaking his head a little he realized that maybe he shouldn't cast that idea over the whole world.
When he turned around Amy stood there, hair up and make-up perfect, looking lovely. She gasped when she saw him.
“Josh... I... I'm supposed to meet someone here.” Her voice was soft and scared. Like she wanted him to not be there at all. Of course.
He didn't say anything, because the good looking bartending stripper came around the corner then, smiling as he walked over. He had a bottle in his hands. It looked...
Romantic.
“I... see.” He said, sounding more stiff than he'd intended. Cold. Then he just walked away. It wasn't his business and he had work to do.
His heart didn't believe his head and he felt like crying. That or beating up the bar guy. But it wasn't about him. If he hadn't been there it would have just been someone else. As long as it wasn't Josh. That seemed to be the message here. He got it. It hurt, but what could he do? He'd been too forward with her and she didn't want him to be around at all now. He let his head nod at the idea gently as he left.
“Josh...” Her voice was soft but he thought that's what she said as he went around the corner. That didn't stop him, it couldn't. Not feeling like he was.
The rest of the night he just buried his head and worked nonstop. At midnight people gathered around the punchbowl and each got a drink of something or other and grabbed a partner to kiss, if they didn't have one already. He just stood, off to one side. If the party broke up right after that he'd need to go get cars. If on the other hand people lingered...
A hand touched his arm gently. When he turned he felt a jolt of surprise run through him.
At first he didn't recognize the girl at all, being all made up, a pretty brunet about four inches shorter than he was. Then it popped into focus.
Barb. The stranded Christmas girl. He smiled at her.
“There you are!” She was at least a bit drunk, if the way she slurred her words meant anything. That and the wobbling motion she made.
“I saw you earlier, but I couldn't catch you. You kept moving around too fast.” She put an arm around him and spoke softly as people started to count.
“You saved my life. Thank you.”
He was about to tell her it was nothing when the countdown got to one. She kissed him. It was a little sloppy and tasted of booze, but the expensive kind. He was a bit shocked, but managed to kiss her back enough to be polite. Then he stepped back, smiling. It wasn't like Barb wasn't good looking. Still, the room suddenly started to head toward the door, so he put his hand out, just a bit, which caused the drunk girl to jump toward him, take him in her arms and kiss him again.
“Hey!” Josh went for happy even if he felt pretty
down at the moment, it worked well enough he thought. “I have to get people their cars. It was nice seeing you, you have my number?”
“I do! We should get together and you can let me thank you properly for everything...” The girl leaned in again and kissed him gently on the cheek.
“That sounds like fun.” Josh said, not meaning it. Well, it should have seemed like it would be nice, so he decided to go with that. Someone turned the music back on and he begged off, needing to actually help with the vehicles he assured her.
She gave Josh a look that would have thrilled him at any other time, one that promised a lot more than he was used to getting from girls and went to talk to someone else, an older man that looked a bit like her around the eyes. He turned himself and noticed Amy, who was staring from the top of the stairs almost hidden from view. She looked... hurt. It didn't make sense though. Yes, he'd been kissed by a happy and drunken coed, but she was the one sneaking off to meet up with hunky strippers to do whatever it was she'd been doing out there with a grown man and a bottle of something that almost certainly had alcohol in it. She walked off, stalked off might have been closer to the truth, her movements a little rough and blocky.
He was half tempted to go after her, but would it make a difference? She didn't owe him anything after all. He loved her, but, well, that didn't mean he should bother her, did it? How he felt didn't obligate her to even notice him, much less return the feelings. That was a place where a lot of people messed up in life, Josh knew. Thinking their own sense of things meant anything at all to other people. He followed her anyway. If there was something to get out into the open, they might as well, right?
If he had bad breath or body odor, it wasn't going to get fixed without knowing about it. More likely he was too needy seeming. Yeah, even he could see that. Telling a girl that he wasn't even dating that he loved her? Brilliant plan. True, it had kind of worked, until he took it too far. Not her fault.
She was just about to close her bedroom door when he called out to her, expecting the door to be slammed in his face.
