This Guy Kills Me

by Anlyn Hansell

  “What?”

  “She stuck me in the driver’s seat and left me.”

  “WHAT?!”

  “Yeah, awesome, huh?” She grabbed the drink a downed a huge gulp.

  “Oh, Jane…” His eyes softened and his hand immediately reached for and grasped hers gently.

  “Yeah, so my folks freaked. I tried to tell them what really happened and then all this craziness started, you know with the mouth,” her other hand waved erratically in front of her lips. “They thought I was nuts, tried to have me committed, cut me off financially after a while. I walked away. The last time I saw them was at my sister’s funeral.”

  “How did she die?” he asked tentatively.

  “She OD’d. They were telling people she fell down the stairs and broke her neck. Like people were that dumb they couldn’t figure it out. I don’t know, maybe they believed that. Who cares, it’s over. She was a waste, my parents suck, my life seriously blows and I think I’m drunk.”

  His thumb was rubbing the top of her hand gently, the slow rhythm almost lulling her into a blissful state of relaxation as her eyes shifted to their joined hands.

  “You’re holding my hand,” she finally stated after a few moments.

  “Hmm?” he murmured as he stared at her face.

  “My hand. You’re holding it. Why do you do that? You do that and it’s like you don’t know you’re doing that but then when you realize it, you kind of pull away like you’re reminding yourself I’m a piece of crap and you look like you’re pissed at yourself or something. You do that a lot. Hey! You just did it. See?”

  She was right. His hand was now firmly attached to the side of his leg under the table top.

  She ignored the abrupt movement and pressed on. “So, now do you see why it would be impossible for me to knowingly deliver drugs for Rick? Why would I want to contribute to ruining someone’s life with that shit? Do you get it now? I’m just dumb, I’m not a criminal,” she admitted in a soft voice, looking around to ensure no one was close enough to hear the conversation between them. Her eyes landed on the bartender wandering toward their table, two large platters held in either of her hands.

  She dropped both plates on the table and slid them toward Jane and Joe.

  “Can I get you anything else?” she asked.

  Jane eyed up the mound on the plate. It appeared to be grilled chicken strips peppered throughout the other vegetables strewn on top of lettuce.

  “Yeah, can I get potato skins?” Jane stared at the plate with disgust.

  “You want potato skins? Sure,” she heard before Joe’s voice interrupted.

  “Salad’s fine. Thanks.”

  “Can I at least get ranch dressing?” She continued to stare at the plate.

  “You have vinaigrette. Its’ fine, she’s fine. Thanks,” Joe stated with a sense of finality.

  “I hate you,” Jane mumbled as the woman walked away. “I should have known you would do that. What’s with your obsession with food? What is that? Don’t you ever eat something like ice cream, or brownies…potato chips, anything?”

  “No. Eat,” he commanded.

  She ignored him and continued to stare at the plate. “You didn’t even get cheese. Cheese makes the salad. How can you have a salad without cheese?”

  “Jane? Eat the salad. Your body will thank me for it.”

  “My body is none of your business. My body likes cheese,” she stated as a fork entered her line of vision. She snagged it angrily and stabbed at a piece of chicken. Hunger won out, unfortunately, and she shoved a rather large chunk into her mouth and began to chew.

  “See? Isn’t that good?”

  “No,” she stated with a full mouth, refusing to look at him.

  They continued to eat in silence. The salad wasn’t great, it didn’t suck. It just…was.

  When half of the plate was gone, she sat back, pushing it away from her and regarding him seriously.

  “Your turn. I told you about me. Tell me about your brothe,” she stated before grabbing the other Jack and Coke for a sip.

  “I’m eating.”

  “How convenient. You promised.”

  He disregarded her and continued to chew with some sort of amused expression on his face.

  “Betty said he died.”

  “Betty has a big mouth,” he muttered before grabbing another forkful of salad.

  “Did he have anything to do with the situation with your Dad?” she asked quietly because for some reason she really wanted to know. He took his time chewing before he swallowed.

  “Why would you think that?” Just the expression on his face spoke to the fact that he must not have thought so. He immediately grabbed another forkful of food.

  “I don’t know. I just wondered. So how did he die?”

  He continued to chew. He didn’t seem annoyed by the question at all. She expected at least some sort of flare in his eyes or overall anger at her prying, but his expression didn’t change. He swallowed and regarded her with a serious expression on his face.

  “He OD’d, like your sister. That’s all.”

  “No way. Didn’t you say your Dad was in Narcotics?” The surprise in her voice was obvious.

  “Yep. Weird, huh?” He pushed his plate away from him and sat back.

  “I’ll say. So -”

  “Hey! Joe!” Jane’s eyes widened at the loud, booming male voice and watched as Joe looked toward the source. His brows immediately knit before he must have caught himself and a welcoming smile overtook his features a split second later.

  “Where ya been, man?” A pair of pants entered her line of vision. She looked up to see a rather skinny man; probably around the same age as Joe, she guessed, standing next to their booth.

  “Haven’t seen you in weeks. No Fantasy Football, no Poker Game. Where ya been, and who’s this?” His clear blue eyes were fastened directly on Jane. No visions, nothing weird, all was good.

  “This is Jane, Jane, this is Gary.”

  “Now I know what you’ve been up to…Hi Jane, nice to meet you,” he stated as he folded his frame and sat at the edge of Jane’s side of the booth. She immediately scooched over to make room for the lanky newcomer.

  “You’ve been holding out on me, buddy. I’m surprised to see you here, why didn’t you go to the reunion? It sucked by the way. It’s like fifteen years never passed. Tony and the gang are still high-fiving like they’re the shit even though half of ’em have beer guts and receding hairlines. What a bunch of peckerheads. We got out of there as soon as they started singing the fight song. Seriously, why didn’t you go? I’d love to see you beat the shit out Tony just for the hell of it.” He paused to finally take a breath.

  “Yeah well, fifteen years is a long time to hold a grudge, don’t you think? Besides they got theirs, if you recall.”

  “Yeah, no one mentioned that, go figure. So, are you two dating?” He smiled charmingly, revealing two dimples in his boyish face.

  “Ahh, no,” Joe replied after a moment’s hesitation.

  “No? Why not?” He was looking from Jane to Joe, a look of skepticism apparent on his face.

  “Because we’re just friends,” Joe supplied.

  “Oh…I get you. Anne and I were ‘just friends’ for two years before I finally made an honest woman out of her.”

  “Where is Anne?”

  “At the bar, she’ll be over. Hey, you know, everyone else is coming here, we’ll move some tables together, this should be fun, come on.” He started to push out of the booth. In a small space of time, she noticed, the bar had gone from somewhat empty to crowded. When did that happen? The majority of the patrons were dressed up in suits and cocktail dresses.

  “We were just leaving,” Joe shot a warning glance to Jane causing a small nod to occur before Gary’s voice boomed out over the crowd.

  “Uh, uh. I don’t get to hang out with you – especially now. Come on, Jane. Tell him.” Gary seemed quite resolved.

  “Umm, well -”

 
“See, there’s Tommy and Greenie, Tyler’s coming, Malcolm just walked in, stop being an ass and help me move some tables,” Gary huffed as he stood and walked over to a table, immediately pulling chairs away from it.

  Jane sat transfixed, her eyes wandering from Gary to Joe and back again.

  “You have friends? I mean…you have friends?”

  It didn’t make any sense. Poker Night? What did he do? Whack someone and then head on over for Poker Night?

  “Yeah, I have friends. Is that weird or something?” Obviously he was ascertaining that from her scrunched up features.

  “Yeah, that’s weird. Do they…know what you do?” Her eyes were now firmly attached to the group of people helping Gary move the tables together.

  “Of course not. Are you serious?”

  “Hey, Joe!” A male voice rose above the din of multiple conversations causing him to give a slight wave without taking his eyes off Jane.

  “Of all the bars, I had to pick this one,” he commented wryly to himself.

  “It is right down the street from the hall, what were you expecting?”

  “I was expecting people to stay at the hall, apparently. We’ll come up with some clever reason why we need to leave, just play along, OK?”

  “Sure thing. You have a lot of friends,” she muttered as she watched a rather decent sized group making their way towards the booth. Men and women wandered through the maze of tables to converge on them, most of them talking at once, all of them smiling. Joe was a popular guy, evidently.

  “Please don’t look at anybody and please try and keep your mouth shut, can you do that?” he asked under his breath. His lips barely moved other than to smile back at the group.

  “Ok. I’ll try,” she promised with a worried expression on her face.

  “Besides, we’ll only be here for a few more minutes,” he stated before pushing his body from the booth and standing to greet the group.

  *****

  As far as guilt trips go, Joe had to be the biggest sucker for them she may have ever met. Two hours later and they were still seated at what were now three tables pushed together in the middle of the bar. Everyone talking at once, making fun of each other, laughing, drinking. It was nice. Strange, but nice.

  It was also a welcome exception that not one person had one guilty thought except for Connie. Connie was seated next to her husband across the table from her, three people down, and as soon as their eyes met, she felt it. Then she saw it. It seemed that Connie was having some internal fantasies about Joe. Luckily, Jane’s blurted, “You want to sleep with Joe” was covered up by all of the voices surrounded them. Joe must have heard it though and promptly gave her a swift nudge with his foot under the table. She immediately looked down at the table, vowing not to make the mistake of looking at that particular woman again.

  From the conversations swirling around them, she gleaned a few important pieces of information. One: apparently this was the first time that Joe had ever brought a woman anywhere. Two: Joe was not only in the Army; he was in the Special Forces at some point in his military career. Three: he must have done something pretty rotten to Tony Silvano during Senior Year, but no one ever said what it was he did, exactly. She could always ask him, but then again this was Joe: Mr. Mysterious. Four: He was drinking. She never saw him take a sip of anything alcoholic during their brief acquaintance and here he was, relaxed, joking around; drinking a beer and responding jovially to the groups’ banter.

  As if he wasn’t puzzling enough. This new side of him was confusing to say the least. He was fun. Really fun and funny. She was actually having a good time seated next to him, still aware of her promise not to look anyone in the eye, making the mistake only a few times with only one bad result. In all, it was actually kind of…nice. And somewhat normal. And…did he just put his arm around the back of her chair? Yes, he did. Her body did that weird zinging thing it insisted on doing whenever he was close. He handled questions about their so-called relationship with the ease of a practiced liar. His responses to the amusing barbs thrown his way were quick and witty. He truly was a different person when he was with this group and she felt herself drawn even more to this enigmatic person seated next to her. This person with his arm around her chair.

  It was hellish holding herself back from snuggling into him. That was the alcohol talking…

  “So what do you do, Jane?” The question caused her to sit up straight, the blood rushing from her neck to her face.

  “Umm, well…a little of this, little of that…” she mumbled as all eyes seemed to turn to her at once.

  “Really?” The woman directly across from her asked with a confused, yet kind smile.

  Joe looked down at Jane’s widened eyes and suddenly pink cheeks.

  “Jane went to Nursing School,” he supplied for her.

  “Oh, that’s…Oh shit,” the woman spewed out as her eyes wandered from Jane’s to a spot somewhere beyond her shoulder. The front door opened ushering in a quick sweep of cooler air and loud voices heralded a large crowd of elegantly dressed people into the bar. The group immediately headed for the bar and the conversation at the table went from boisterous to hushed and murmured in a split second.

  “I cannot believe this,” she distinctly heard Joe state under his breath.

  “Here’s your chance, buddy.” That was from Gary who sat across from them, staring at the new group. His face was a mix of pure excitement with a bit of mischievousness thrown in for good measure.

  “Who are they, what’s going on?” Jane’s gaze shifted from the group to Joe.

  “We should have left. This isn’t going to end well,” he stated in a calm voice. Her head swiveled from the group back to Joe, then back again.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Hey! It’s the nerd herd!” a loud and slightly slurred male voice announced.

  “Jeeezus,” Joe stated in a low voice. A tall man had wandered to the head of the table. He was huge, actually. All eyes shifted toward the newcomer with a very distinctive tuft of hair protruding from the top of his forehead; the rest of it receding toward the top of his head. His eyes were glassy, his mouth somewhat slack and the telltale bump of a beer belly jutted out from between the two sides of his suit jacket.

  “Whassup?” He looked around the table, perusing each face, his gaze lingering directly on Jane for a brief moment as he licked his lips.

  “Yeah, right. No way,” she murmured as she looked away quickly.

  “Whoozat?” he stated as his eyes then shifted to examine Joe more closely.

  “That? That’s Joe Peters,” Gary announced with a marked amount of pride in his voice.

  “Pizza Face Peters? No shit!” His eyes were wide as he continued to stare at Joe.

  “Nice,” she heard Joe mutter softly next to her.

  “Hey! It’s Pizza Face Peters!” the newcomer bellowed out causing more of the group to wander and/or stagger over. A chorus of ‘no shit’ and ‘no way’ seemed to emanate from the group as they neared.

  “Oh, God,” Joe stated under his breath.

  “Where?” An elaborately coiffed woman walked up, her eyes scanning the group seated at the table.

  “Right there. Man, you got some nerve showin’ up here. Wait’ll Tony sees you,” he pointed directly at Joe.

  “Wow,” the woman breathed out. “I can’t believe it. You look so…different.”

  “GI Joe? Where’s Pizza Face, I gotta see this,” another male voice joined the commotion near their table. This had to be the most inconsiderate group of asswipes to ever grace the earth, Jane thought as her eyes darted from person to person now standing at their table. It was intimidating, all of them standing as the rest of the original group was still seated.

  “No waaaay,” the man stated with somewhat widened eyes. He too was quite large and while his hair wasn’t nearly as ridiculous as the man stationed near the head of the table; his was also making the journey toward the back of his head.

  “Wait’ll Tony
sees you,” was his only remark.

  Suddenly it felt as if they were back in High School. If Joe cared to look around the bar, he would probably notice all eyes on the table. Just like in school…the other kids thankful that it wasn’t their table converged upon. Would they pick up the end of the table and lift it up; dumping the drinks like they used to dump the trays of food and books on an almost daily basis? Joe looked at the faces that were all very clearly staring at him. Unbelievable that fifteen years did nothing to mature them…

  “Shots! Who wants shots!?” another male voice boomed out causing the small crowd to turn their heads, completely ignoring the table and wandering over to the bar like drunken lemmings.

  Except for one woman. She wandered over as the others were walking toward the bar. She was very pretty, Jane surmised, but quickly changed her mind as the woman neared. Her dress left nothing to the imagination, the tight black sheath dotted with silver studs caught and reflected the light, her bosoms practically ready to bust out of the low cut décolletage. Her face, her lips…Whoa, Ok – somebody had some work done…

  She was prowling over, seriously, that was the best way to describe the way she was sashaying her way to the table, her eyes never leaving Joe. Her face was heavily made up, her lips almost too large for her face. She was a cartoon character. This was crazy.

  “Joe Peters,” she stated in a sultry voice. He immediately stood up. Jane’s eyes snapped from Joe to her and back again.

  “Hey,” was his only reply.

  “Wow. Look at you. Fifteen years looks good on you, Joe. I can’t believe it.”

  Jane looked around to the other people seated at the table; their eyes were fixed on either the woman or Joe, she noticed. Distant voices surrounded the table but not a peep could be heard from any of the people seated around her.

  “Ahh, thanks?”

  Did Joe’s voice sound just a bit higher than normal? Like he was nervous? If she could look him in the eye, she would know right away…

  “So, what have you been up to?” She was touching the fabric of her dress near her breast in an unconscious gesture, or was it? Her long red fingernail was tracing a path over one…hey, that one was higher than the other one, and…bigger…yeah, definitely bigger. Jane watched her finger; her eyes glued to the woman’s breasts before she blinked quickly and cast her eyes downward.