No Place Like Somewhere Else

by Caesar J. M. Kauftheil

  "Vodka cranberry." The bartender asked for her I.D., scrutinized it, and handed it back. As Josie began to pull out her debit card, Jay put a hand on her wallet and told her not to worry about it, though she didn't see him making any moves to pay. The bartender filled two tumblers with ice, and Josie watched as she poured a generous shot in each from separate bottles of clear liquor, leaving only enough room for a small splash of juice in her drink.

  "Thanks, Fifi," Jay said as she placed the glasses before them and walked away to pick up her phone.

  "Is her name really Fifi?" Josie asked with a tone of disdain, eyeing the aquiline bartender tapping at her phone screen.

  "Felicia," Jay said, squeezing a lime wedge into his cocktail. He removed the pair of thin black straws and sucked the liquid off before placing them to the side of his napkin. "Cheers."

  She raised her glass to clink with his, took a sip, and smacked her lips at the potency. "What're you drinking?" she asked, and Jay slid his glass over to her. Josie took a small sip and screwed up her face. "Oh god, what is that, liquefied Christmas tree?"

  "Gin," Jay told her, taking his drink back.

  "Disgusting is what it is," Josie corrected, rinsing her mouth out with vodka, which didn’t help much. "So, what do you do?"

  "A lot of things," Jay said. "I sleep, I eat, I ride buses, I take girls with magic shoes out for drinks…"

  Josie rolled her eyes. "For work."

  "I'm an editor for a company that produces copy for businesses. Press releases and stuff like that. Nothing exciting. And you," he said, pausing to take a sip, "are a manager at a drugstore."

  "Now I'm starting the think you're the one stalking me," she said, glaring at him with narrowed eyes. Jay shot her a grin.

  "I'm psychic."

  "Bullshit."

  "If you can have enchanted sneakers, why can't I have ESP?" Josie arched an eyebrow at him, and he responded with a parody of the gesture. "I saw your nametag on the bus."

  "I thought you were staring at my tits," Josie said.

  Jay shrugged. "I can multitask."

  They drained their drinks over small talk, interspersed with silences when the rap and mariachi over the jukebox played too loud for the half-empty bar. They switched to beer for the next round. Josie noticed their bodies growing slowly closer until their shoulders brushed, but Jay didn't make a move. Josie wasn't sure what would happen if he did.

  A couple of women walked into the bar, noticeably less seedy-looking than most of the other patrons, and Josie followed them with her eyes as they walked over to them, hovering behind Jay. The shorter blonde one put her elbow on Jay's shoulder.

  "Hey, loser," she said, and Jay spun around.

  "Hey, ugly," Jay immediately responded, and received a kiss on the cheek from the other woman: a gorgeous, tan-skinned creature. "This is Josie," he said, indicating to her with a nod. "These are my friends, Pip Pop and Ro Mo."

  "Poppy," the blonde one said flatly, brushing off Jay's introduction with a bored disdain as she extended a hand.

  "Rochelle," the other said, looking slightly more amused. Jay's friends ordered their drinks—a bright yellow mixed drink in a martini glass for Poppy and a shot of bourbon off the shelf in a tumbler for Rochelle—and Jay insisted they all move to a table.

  "You didn't tell me you were expecting friends," Josie said to Jay once they settled, Poppy and Rochelle sitting across from her and Jay, their shoulders touching.

  "I wasn't," Jay said, narrowing his eyes at Poppy. "Were you guys stalking me, too? Creeps."

  "As if," Poppy said, rolling her eyes. "I sent you a text—thanks for ignoring me, by the way. And we found you at Blue Brook. Big surprise." Poppy and Jay gave each other intense stares until they broke out in grins.

  "Do you live in the city?" Josie asked. Rochelle told her she worked there, but they lived about an hour south of the city.

  "I came up so we could have dinner together," Poppy said, "and I wanted to hang out with my so-called best friend, but he didn't feel like responding to my texts."

  "Sorry," Jay sneered, "sometimes I have better things to do than check my phone to see if some needy freak is nagging for my attention."

  "Like what?" Poppy asked. "Getting coffee? I forgot: you're such a busy man."

  Jay glared at her for a moment. "Hold thy peace, thou knave."

  "All right, Feste," Rochelle chimed in.

  "Now Mercury endue thee with leasing," Jay responded, casually speaking a dead version of English, "for thou speakest well of fools." He and Rochelle clinked their glasses, laughing.

  Poppy looked over to Josie, who had been watching their back-and-forth with bemused amusement. "I feel like they speak their own language sometimes," Poppy said to her.

  "Yeah," Jay interjected. "It's called Eng-lish. Maybe you'd know it better if you cracked open a book sometime. At least one that's not about horses. Have you seen her collection, Rochelle? I think she still has the entire A Horse and Her Girl series."

  "Yeah, I've seen it," Rochelle said, chuckling. Poppy looked at her with an exaggerated frown. "You know I love your horse obsession," Rochelle said, kissing Poppy. Jay fake-vomited at this.

  "Don't be mad just because you ain't gettin' any," Poppy sassed.

  "I'll get the next round," Rochelle said, noting that their drinks were all nearly finished, and grabbing her and Poppy's empty glasses.

  "I'll help you carry them," Josie volunteered, gathering her and Jay's tumblers and carrying them with Rochelle to the bar.

  "So, how did you find yourself in Jay's company?" Rochelle asked, making eye contact with the bartender, and making a circling gesture over the glasses.

  "We sort of just ran into each other…"

  "Known each other for a while?"

  "Not really," Josie said, watching Felicia's heavy-handed pouring and realizing that she was drinking on an empty stomach. "Interesting guy, though."

  "Quite the character. This is the first time I've seen him with a girl; he's on his best behavior."

  "That's good behavior?" Josie asked, looking back as Jay seemed to be poking Poppy's stomach for no reason other than to antagonize her.

  "Slightly better than normal," Rochelle said airily. Josie hazarded a glance at her, noting something enigmatically magnetic about her beauty and charm.

  "So, where are you from?"

  "Originally, Québec. More recently, Paris," Rochelle said, adding to Felicia as she put the drinks before them, "Put them on my tab."

  "Paris. I've always wanted to visit."

  "Who hasn't?" Rochelle said, grabbing two of the drinks and heading back to the table, Josie in tow.

  *~*~*

  Josie wobbled a little by the time they walked out of the bar, the sky dark but nearly starless with the city's light pollution. They had bid adieu to Rochelle and Poppy at least forty-five minutes prior, and Josie had lost count of the drinks, none of which she had paid for. Jay offered an arm, and she took it to steady herself.

  "What time is it?" Josie asked, her words slightly slurred.

  "I'd say not too late, but then again, I'm a night owl," Jay said.

  "You sure are a hoot," Josie said, laughing a bit too much at her own joke. "Fuck, I'm drunk."

  "Should I call you a taxi, or…?"

  "Fucking hate taxis!" Josie spat.

  "I live pretty close to here, if you'd like a place to, you know, crash."

  "There's something I need to tell you," she said, becoming immediately solemn. "I have a girlfriend. Marjorie. And she's been a cunt lately, but I don't want to cheat on her."

  "Offer still stands," Jay said, unflinching. "As a friend."

  Josie considered this for a moment, knowing she was supposed to say 'no,' that the platonic invitations were always poorly-disguised traps. "Okay, friend," Josie said, starting to stumble forward, tripping, and spared the cement by Jay's steady grip. "My savior! You really are Jesus!"

  "You're going the wrong way," Jay said, patiently.

 
; "Guide me to the path of righteousness!"

  *~*~*

  Josie woke up with throbbing temples, bleary eyes, and an ache along her back. She realized she had been sleeping on the floor, and as she sat up and the thin blanket that had been covering her fell away from her chest, she noticed that she was naked. She moved her legs and felt the rubber sole of her shoe rub against her thigh. Well, almost naked. She covered her body and scanned the foreign room. On the couch, someone stirred, and she glared in their direction.

  "Morning," said Jay, pushing sleep-mussed hair from his face.

  "What happened?" Josie asked severely.

  "You found half a bottle of vodka in my kitchen, is what happened," Jay said, pointing to an empty bottle on a coffee table.

  "Please tell me you helped with that," Josie said.

  "Hardly."

  "Fuck, fuck, fuck," Josie muttered to herself, gripping the blanket tighter to her body. This hadn't happened in years. She looked up to Jay. "Did we fuck?"

  "Nope."

  "Then why am I naked?"

  "No fucking clue," Jay said, rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "You went to the bathroom to puke at some point, and then you came out dressed like that—well, undressed like that—and insisted we go on a run across the bay." Josie flushed and let out a heavy sigh, and Jay added, "Because I'm Jesus, apparently, and so you wanted to walk on water together. With your magic shoes. I'm not sure why you wanted to be naked for that."

  "Sounds like me." She glanced around for her clothes. "Are you sure we didn't have sex?"

  "Do you feel fucked?" Jay asked.

  Josie considered this for a moment. "No." Mentally, she added, not that I would remember what that feels like at this point. "Where are my clothes?"

  "I'd assume in the bathroom," Jay said, settling back into his nest on the couch, turning his back to her. "Go ahead, I won't look."

  "What does it matter?" Josie asked with a sigh. "You've already seen it, haven't you?"

  Jay turned around with a half-grin. "Sure have. I just figured I'd allow you to hold onto some shred of your dignity."

  "I'm fresh out of that, bucko," Josie said, standing up, feeling less awkward than she knew she should have, wearing nothing but a pair of tennis shoes in a stranger's apartment.

  "If that's the case, then might I just say—" he winked and clicked his tongue, giving an 'OK' sign with his one hand.

  "I should slap you."

  "What's stopping you?"

  "You'd probably like it," Josie said, glancing around for the bathroom. She added in her head, and because no one's complimented my body in ages.

  "I probably would."

  Josie gave him an insincere sneer. "I'm using your shower."

  *~*~*

  "I see you found my clean towels," Jay said when Josie walked out, rubbing her hair with a blue cloth with one hand, holding a hairbrush with another. Her outfit was the inverse of earlier: dressed in everything but her shoes. Jay was dressed in a t-shirt and boxers, his hair a mess.

  "Yeah, thanks for telling me about them."

  "Gimme that," Jay said, reaching for the brush. He ran it through his hair and walked to the apartment's kitchen area. "I made coffee, if you'd like some."

  "Yeah, sure," Josie said. She had checked her phone in the bathroom—Marjorie hadn't so much as texted asking where she was. "I got nowhere to be." She took a mug from Jay, and looked down into the layer of oils cracking with the rising steam. "Where's the cream and sugar?"

  "For the princess," Jay said, placing a few packets of raw sugar and a carton in front of her.

  "Soy?" She asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

  "Soy," he confirmed.

  "Fine," she said, pouring a dollop in her mug. "I just like watching it, anyway." She leaned over her mug, watching the swirling milky turbulence for several moments. She ripped open a sugar packet and poured the sweetener on her tongue, washing it down with coffee. She noticed Jay giving her a look, and she glared back. "What?"

  "Nothing."

  "So, seriously, nothing happened last night?"

  "Nothing," he said, raising a stiff hand with his thumb tucked in. "Scout's honor."

  "Now I really don't believe you," she said. "Scouts use a three-finger salute."

  "Like this?" Jay asked, lowering his ring finger to meet his thumb. "And why do you know so much about the Scouts?"

  "I don't want to talk about it."

  "Were you a Girl Scout?"

  "I don't want to talk about it," she said more firmly. "For fuck's sake, I can't even commit adultery."

  "Whatever you say, Shortbread. You did try, if that's any consolation," he said. Josie gave him a look that insisted it wasn't. "Then again, I don't think you're much better in a faithful homosexual relationship—Biblically speaking, that is."

  "You would know."

  "Were you hoping for an excuse to get out of the relationship?"

  "No."

  "Because you haven't gotten laid in ages, and at this point, you're just waiting for the relationship end?" Jay said nonchalantly. Josie leered at him, but didn't answer. "And you're just waiting for the other shoe to drop, so you can have an excuse to break up, which is hard because it's been so long, and you're more than a little afraid of being alone?"

  "What are you, a fucking psychiatrist?"

  "An amateur one," Jay said, sipping his coffee. "Also, you're quite the talkative drunk."

  "Did I really say all that?"

  "Most of it. Some of it was inference—but I'm right, am I not?"

  "I dunno. Maybe."

  "Say it. Say I'm right."

  "Okay, you're right: I'm a princess because I like shit in my coffee."

  "No, the other thing."

  "Okay. You were right when you said I'm a talkative drunk."

  "Say my diagnosis was correct."

  "I just did! You correctly diagnosed me as a mouthy, alcoholic princess." She could see the wheels turning in Jay's mind. "You're not going to win. I'm much more stubborn than you are."

  "Doesn't change the fact that I'm correct."

  "Whatever you say," Josie said, draining her cup. "I gotta get home."

  "To break up with your girlfriend?"

  "No, to be a human being. You can't keep me locked up in this apartment like a little pet."

  "You sure? I have a spare closet. Real cozy."

  "Maybe you can show me next time."

  "Next time, huh?"

  "Well, now that I know where you live and where you drink, you'll be much easier to stalk." She pounced into a hug, which Jay returned tightly after he placed his partially-spilled coffee cup of the counter. "Thank you for not molesting me in the night and the drinks and whatever."

  "My pleasure," he said, his chest pressing against her cheek as he took a deep breath.

  "And I guess I never apologized, so I'm sorry that you got in my way while I was running last night."

  "I'm not," Jay said. Looking up at him, she had the mounting urge to press her lips to his.

  Instead, she lightly smacked his cheek, broke from the embrace, pocketed a few more packets of sugar, and hopped to her shoes. She called out a "Bye" as she made for the door, and barely heard his 'See ya' as she ran into the hallway.

  *~*~*

  Josie walked into the apartment quietly, shucking her shoes at the door and hoping she could make it to the bedroom without discussion. The turning of the bathroom door made her cringe, and when they made eye contact, Marjorie immediately looked away. They had become adept at not communicating in the small living space, and it was a small relief when they treated each other like ghosts when they crossed paths as Josie grabbed some aspirin from the medicine cabinet and water from the kitchen before heading to bed. Josie got the feeling that Marjorie was being colder than usual, though it was hard to tell. She figured that if she ignored it long enough, Marjorie would get over it—it had never worked before, but a girl could hope, couldn't she?

  Josie got less than f
ive minutes of sleepless solitude under the blanket before she felt Marjorie's presence in the room. She pretended to be unconscious, though she was never too good at faking that for some reason. Apparently, she was such a bad liar that she couldn't even lie still and breathe without coming across as suspicious.

  "Who was she?"

  Josie sighed and turned over, looking up at a cross-armed Marjorie. "What are you talking about?"

  "You were gone all night. I know you weren't working," Marjorie said, her tone cold and clipped. "Who were you with?"

  "I was with a lot of people. I went to a bar. I hung out with friends! You're being a psycho-bitch."

  "What friends?"

  "Work friends."

  "Bars close at two. Who did you spend the night with?"

  "Nobody."

  "You didn't spend it here. Quit lying to me, Josie—Jesus fucking Christ!"

  "Ya caught me. I spent the night with Jesus Fucking Christ himself."

  "If you're going to cheat on me, at least do it with a woman."

  "I didn't cheat on you!" Josie almost shouted, but Marjorie was already walking out of the room. "Wanna check my twat? Dry as a bone!"

  Marjorie's response was the slamming of the front door.

  "Not that that's anything new!" Josie shouted to the empty apartment.

  *~*~*

  A silence persisted throughout the apartment for the next few days. Josie knew Marjorie was waiting for her to start the conversation, but Marjorie should have known by that point that it was a lost cause: being the bigger person was not Josie's style. The whole situation wasn't entirely intolerable, but the social isolation was starting to get to Josie. She had reached out to a few friends back home, but the conversations dwindled after the initial 'I miss you's—in the Central Valley, things hardly ever changed, and the people followed suit. That was the tedious consistency that she had run away from.

  Scrolling through her phone's contacts, she noticed an unfamiliar one, simply labeled "J" with a San Francisco area code. She didn't remember entering it, but there were a lot of things she didn't remember lately. She looked over to Marjorie, who happened to be sitting in the same room on her laptop. From the profile of her face, Josie could see the distaste and suspicion for her unprecedented amount of texting.