by Noah Harris
“Relax,” Lucy said, rolling over on the bed and kicking her feet in the air. “What do you think we’ve been doing, darling?” Jack merely rolled his eyes, probably thinking about Lucy’s irresponsible takeout ordering, and settled heavily into the armchair he’d slept in last night. Ronnie tried not to think about last night, and he’d been succeeding up until now. He was wearing a hoodie that would have been enormous on Ronnie. On Jack, though, it was tight across his chest and broad shoulders. Ronnie looked away, back at Lucy’s airborne feet. Her toenails were red. Jack was resting his cheek in his hand and looking around the room, his eyes occasionally landing on Ronnie and then averting when Ronnie caught him. Ronnie felt his heart jumping out of his chest, his palms getting moist.
“I need to use the restroom,” Ronnie said quickly, and Lucy flopped over to look at him as he retreated. He shut the door behind him and locked it.
The lights in the bathroom were fluorescent, and he squinted at himself in the mirror. He looked peaky, washed-out by the light. Or maybe it wasn’t the light.
He’d known it the moment he met Jack, with that strange spark he’d felt in his fingertips when they’d shaken hands. The spark hadn’t been from static electricity, it was something between them, maybe even in his own head. Everything about Jack was powerful, alluring, and incredibly arousing. He couldn’t even control himself, last night had been a testament to that. He felt like he was losing his mind. He couldn’t even think straight around the man. It made him feel stupid and weak, like a lovesick, naïve child.
Ronnie washed his hands, feeling sweaty, and then smoothed his hair back. Deep breaths, Ronnie. He sat down on the toilet and rubbed his face frustratedly. Work through it.
Jack had been standoffish when they’d first met, distant, cold and guarded. But as they’d spent more time together, they’d gotten, not closer, but maybe more comfortable? More familiar? And now, with the unexpected chaos, Jack had been worried about him, right? That was why he’d been so relieved when he got to the motel last night. Maybe it was mostly to do with his family, but he’d slipped up, he had! Ronnie suddenly remembered it.
“You don’t need to apologize. I’m just glad you’re…I’m just glad everyone is okay.”
Perhaps it wasn’t just Ronnie feeling these strange, unexplainable things. He could think of more than one occasion, just like out in the other room, where he’d caught Jack looking at him, sliding his eyes up and down his body, averting them once Ronnie noticed. The times he’d touched him, a comforting hand on the shoulder that he pulled away the moment someone commented on it as if he hadn’t realized what he was doing. Leaving the door open last night.
Ronnie nibbled the inside of his cheek, staring at the cracks in the tiled floor. Yes, it wasn’t just him. Jack was more subtle, but he could feel their mutual attraction, could see it in Jack’s little movements and the things he said. The more he pondered it, the more he realized it was undeniable, really. And unavoidable. It had been there the moment they’d met, and it was getting stronger by the second. He let that little voice, the one that had teased him on the first day, come inching back into his head. Jack and Ronnie. Ronnie and Jack. But he still didn’t dare believe it completely; they barely knew one another. Right now, Jack was a fantasy. He was a veteran, he was a father. What else did he know about Jack, besides those two things?
“Ronnie, I need to pee,” Lucy called through the door, and he stood up like he’d been electrocuted. He wrung his hands for a moment, staring at the door, and then flushed the toilet.
“One second,” he yelled, dawdling and counting in his head how long it might have taken him to wash his hands. He took a deep breath and opened the door, and Lucy groaned and pushed by him.
“You’ve been in here for, like, forever,” she said, pushing her panties down around her thighs and squatting on the toilet. She sighed in relief.
“Jesus, Luce,” Ronnie laughed in disbelief, and then looked out into the main room. Was she really doing this with Jack sitting right outside? But when he looked out, Jack was gone.
“Frankie called him,” Lucy answered before he could ask. He nodded and stepped back out, shutting the door behind him. The bed Lucy had been lounging on was disheveled, and he counted the mini-candy wrappers as he climbed onto his own. Then Jack walked back inside, and he sat up straight, clearing his throat.
“Where’s Lucy?” he asked worriedly, and Ronnie frowned.
“Bathroom.”
“Right,” he said nodding. “Frankie’s telling me that if you guys want to, I don’t know, go get something to eat, get some fresh air…that it’s clear. We’ll be keeping an eye on you, of course, but,” he trailed off. Ronnie nodded quietly. Just him and Lucy? Maybe he was wrong. Jack seemed to want some time away from them, from him.
“Yeah, we can get out of your hair,” Ronnie said, trying not to sound bitter. He wasn’t sure why he felt bitter, though. Whatever was between them was physical, it’s not like they were deep in conversation when they were together. But the thought of Jack sending him away made him feel rejected.
Jack shook his head quickly, walking over between the beds and sitting on Lucy’s. The maintained distance made Ronnie’s chest feel like it was being compressed. Lucy’s bed, not next to him. And hadn’t Jack been sitting next to Lucy when Ronnie had arrived last night? His legs bounced on the carpeted floor, and Jack leaned forward.
“I’m not trying to get rid of you,” he said, like it was obvious. “I just thought you guys might want some time out of the room. Get a drink, be social. There’s a little dive-bar across the street.”
“I don’t need time out of the room. I’m content sitting right here,” he said. Jack opened his mouth to reply, but Lucy came out of the bathroom with her hair tied up loosely on top of her head.
“Well, I am not content sitting right here,” she said, searching in her bag for something. She pulled out a tube of lipstick and applied it perfectly, staring expectantly at them. “Jack, you’re a treasure. Why don’t you come with us?” she asked, cocking her head and her hip.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, glancing at Ronnie. Ronnie looked down. Why not?
“Oh, boo. Why not? Don’t be such a drag, Jackie.” Jack chuckled and shook his head at her.
“I don’t think so, Lucy. You go, have fun. You two need it.” Ronnie gritted his teeth, then stood up and walked to the door. He wasn’t sure how they’d gotten so friendly, but it was rubbing him the wrong way. Maybe that dive-bar was a good idea, after all.
“Yeah, Lucy, you know what? Let’s just go. We can catch up and do a few Tomahawks.” Lucy clapped her hands.
“Excellent! Let me change!” she squealed, grabbing her bag and disappearing back into the bathroom.
“Tomahawks, huh?” Jack asked, turning on the bed to face him. He leaned back, and his sweatshirt bunched up to reveal his hairy, chiseled stomach. Ronnie stared at it for a second before realizing what he was doing, then looked back up at Jack’s amused face. Neither of them moved. “Never heard of that one.”
“It’s, uh, amaretto and cinnamon schnapps.”
“Maybe next time, I’ll come, and you can introduce me,” Jack said easily, and Ronnie flushed.
“Yeah, maybe. Next time,” he said, looking toward the bathroom door. He didn’t understand these mixed signals. His memories of the past few days insisted Jack was attracted to him, but his ease with Lucy made him doubt himself. And he’d been with Frankie, in the past…maybe Jack wasn’t interested in him, at all. Maybe Ronnie was making things up, imagining the signs he was so desperate to see. Jealousy was making him sick to his stomach. Shots would either make it much better or much, much worse.
Lucy emerged seconds later, dressed in a long, knit dress that hugged her semi-curved body, heeled boots and wearing big fringed earrings.
“I am ready. Let’s go get fucked up!”
“With supervision,” Jack reminded her, looking at Ronnie with a smirk. Ronnie returned it un
certainly and then smiled at Lucy.
“Shall we?”
“One, two…Lucy!” Ronnie laughed, watching her take her fourth shot before he finished the countdown. He slammed his own back, the sweet burn making his eyes water. The bar was low-lit and half-full, loud enough that they wouldn’t be overheard but quiet enough that they could talk at normal volume. A dive-bar, but a convenient one.
“Oh, Ronnie, I missed you,” Lucy said, leaning forward and clutching his arm tightly. He smiled at her, genuinely.
“I’ve missed you, too, Luce. That’s one good thing about this stalker, he brought us back together.”
“Cheers to that,” Lucy giggled, raising her empty bottle of cider, and then lowering it in disappointment. The bartender rushed over and replaced it, eyeing her hungrily. Lucy swayed and turned to him with a grateful smile, and he grinned back at her. His canines were long, strangely long. They looked like Jack’s. Were his really that long? Was he remembering it correctly? Ronnie’s brain was fuzzy. “Cheers to that,” she said, taking a gulp. He sipped slowly from his cocktail, promising himself he wouldn’t do any more shots.
“Do you remember, Lucy,” he began, covering his laughing mouth with the back of his hand. “Do you remember when we turned twenty-one, and you threw that big party?”
“And everyone left because Taylor Swift was at the bar down the street! Fuckers,” she said, only half-bitterly. “But we had so much fun, Ronnie, I didn’t even care. Did I ever tell you that? I didn’t even care, because I had you.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek sloppily, holding her chin, and she ruffled his hair when he moved away. “You wouldn’t leave me for Taylor Swift.”
“Never,” he said grinning. “Now, you. A memory.” She rested her chin on her fist and sipped her cider. Then she beamed at him.
“Our first wrap party. For Beach House.”
“Holy shit,” Ronnie said, squeezing his eyes shut. He was reeling, the memories coming back in waves. Very underage, sneaking glasses of champagne off the server’s platters, avoiding their chaperones.
“That was the first time you smoked pot with me,” Lucy said with a gasp, and he shook his head.
“No way. I do not remember doing that. Not at that party, anyway,” he said, and she shrieked with laughter and smacked him on the shoulder.
“Okay, maybe, but it was when you had your first kiss. You know, the guy that worked for the event caterer?”
“Oh, God, don’t remind me,” he grumbled, laughing in embarrassment. He took another sip and put his drink down. “He was so ugly.”
“So ugly,” Lucy agreed, her face pink from the alcohol and her laughter. The bartender walked back over, leaning over the bar and looking between them. Ronnie noticed he was mostly watching Lucy.
“Can I get you two anything else? On the house,” he said greasily, and Ronnie cleared his throat.
“We can pay for our drinks, thanks,” he said, and the bartender shrugged.
“Just tryin’ to be polite to the pretty lady,” he said, and Ronnie smiled brightly at him. The guy looked unsettled by it and backed up.
“Well, we appreciate it. Here,” he said, sliding his card across the sticky bar-top. The bartender nodded, smiling more widely, and somehow more predatorily, at them. His teeth were quite yellow, and his hair was slicked back. Then he walked away.
“What a creep,” Lucy giggled, and then inched toward him, scooting her chair across the linoleum floor. “I have to ask.”
“Ask away,” Ronnie said, patting her hand which was outstretched.
“Jack.” She looked at him expectantly, eyes wide and waiting, lips slightly parted. Ronnie’s high crashed abruptly, and he felt himself draw away from her. “He’s handsome, he’s huge, probably in more than one way,” she winked and giggled, and he laughed uncomfortably, feeling like he was retreating into his own body. “He’s that tall, dark, silent type.”
“I don’t think he’s available if that’s what you’re asking,” he said coolly, and she gasped dramatically, throwing her head back.
“Oh my God, Ronnie. I’m not talking about for me. I’m not interested, I pinky-promise,” she said, reaching out waveringly for his hand and linking their pinkies. Ronnie relaxed slightly, chuckling nervously. “Plus, I have a boyfriend now.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him, and he sighed.
“Sorry, I just…uh, I don’t know what his relationship with Frankie is like,” he lied, and Lucy eyed him.
“Yes, you do.”
“What?”
“You’re such a bad liar. Or maybe I just know you too well,” she said, tapping his nose. He batted her hand away. “Well, even if you don’t want to tell me the truth, I know they aren’t together.”
“And how exactly do you know that?” Ronnie asked sardonically, raising his cup to his lips, and she grinned smartly, wiggling in her seat.
“Well, because he’s got quite a thing for you.” Mid-swallow, Ronnie choked on his drink. Lucy patted him on the back until his airway cleared, and he wiped the tears from his watering eyes.
“Wh-What?” he said coughing. “No. He does not.”
“Yes, he does, Ronnie! Ugh, you’re always like this. I like him, maybe he likes me, no, he doesn’t like me, wait, maybe he does. I’m telling you, Ronnie, he does.”
“Jack is working for us. I’m sure all he wants to do is finish the job and get back to his family life. Frankie and Portia. Portia hasn’t been to school in two days.”
“Oh, so his flirting is just part of the job?”
“He’s not flirting. He’s being friendly,” Ronnie insisted, feeling foolish about his hoping just a few hours ago. Saying it out loud like Lucy had made it sound ridiculous and far-fetched.
“He asked me about you on the ride here. He mentioned that Perry stopped by. He said he would’ve killed him if you hadn’t kicked him out first.”
“Well, that would’ve been in his job description,” Ronnie said bluntly, and she sighed, pursing her ruby-red lips at him. “I don’t want to talk about this, Lucy.”
“Fine, be like that. Are you going to tell me what happened with Perry, now? He was here?”
“Still is, probably,” Ronnie said, grateful she was finally moving on from Jack. She visibly shuddered and pushed her drink farther away.
“Makes me nauseous just thinking about him.”
“Yeah. Me, too.” They sat in silence for a few moments, Ronnie’s mind too consumed by thoughts about Jack to think too much about Perry. What if Lucy was right. It was the first time Perry hadn’t completely taken over his train of thought. “He said he’s been selling our information to get some industry heavies off his back. I think it’s probably those directors he fucked over. Remember?”
“The guys that did Lilian Drive?”
“Yeah, them. But Jack and Frankie don’t think he’s the one sending the letters,” he weighed his words for a moment, that feeling of uncertainty more intense in the dark bar without Jack there, reassuring him that Perry was a threat, but not the main one. “If I’m being honest…I still think it’s him.” Lucy nodded thoughtfully, reaching out absently for her drink. “I thought you were nauseous,” Ronnie joked, and she nodded slowly.
“I was. Now I’m thinking.”
“That can’t be good.”
“Shut up, Ronnie,” she murmured, giving him a half-smile. “I think I know how to get this fucker, finally.”
“What do you mean?” The bartender returned, taking Ronnie’s empty glass.
“Another?”
“No, thanks,” Ronnie said, still watching Lucy with interest. The guy shrugged and took the glass away, and Lucy nodded suddenly.
“I have a plan,” she said, and leaned forward, so close their faces were only a few inches apart. She leaned on the counter. “Remember when we were young, and Perry had all those hideouts he’d take us to? I’m sorry,” she said, and he swallowed, nodding his head. He knew why she was sorry. Those hideouts were where he’d take them when he wanted to threaten the
m, or when he wanted to abuse Ronnie. “If he’s still using those, we can track him down that way. Frankie can. He’ll go back to one of them eventually, right?”
“I mean, yeah. Especially if he’s trying to avoid these guys,” Ronnie agreed, seeing where she was going. Blackmail.
“We’ll get in touch with the people after him, and send him a little message about his abuse. Once this is all over, and we know whether it’s him or not, we can ruin him regardless.”
“That’s evil. I love it,” Ronnie said, feeling more and more excited. “We’re going to get that asshole, once and for all.”
“Hell yeah, we are,” Lucy said, dancing in her chair. “This is going to be so satisfying.” She hugged Ronnie, and as he returned the embrace, he noticed someone at the back of the bar. Small, thin, and hooded, their eyes unseen, they were sitting alone without a drink. They were also facing him and Lucy, not moving, like they were listening. The shadowed figure resembled, Ronnie thought with a terrifying thrill, Perry. He leaned back and looked directly at Lucy, hiding his face with her head.
“Lucy, don’t freak out, I think someone in here is watching us.”
“Shit! Ronnie, shit,” she whispered, lined eyes wide.
“Bathroom, now.” She stood up, shakily, on her heeled feet and followed him to the bathroom. It was unisex and a single-stall, and so they walked in together and locked the door behind them. The handle was sticky.
“Yuck,” he grumbled, wiping his hand on his pants after noticing the paper towel dispenser was completely empty.
“I have Jack’s phone number. Fiona gave it to me, when she called me,” Lucy said, pulling her bedazzled phone out of her purse with quivering hands. “Shit.” Ronnie felt a twinge of jealousy, he didn’t have Jack’s phone number, but he put it out of his mind. There were bigger issues to deal with right now.
“Jack, it’s Lucy,” she whispered urgently into the phone after it had rung a mere two times. Ronnie could here Jack yelling over the phone.
