The Duet

by D'Angelo, Jennifer

  The Duet

  by

  Jennifer D’Angelo

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real.

  Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 by Jennifer D’Angelo

  Cover design by Yocla Designs

  All rights reserved.

  Other books by

  Jennifer D’Angelo

  Smoke In Your Eyes

  The Unfinished Mural

  Waking a Sleeping Bear

  The Long Growing Season

  For Jen

  For so many reasons

  Past, Present, and Future

  Prologue

  It was the end of the world. This week, life as I knew it would cease to exist, and I would surely shrivel up and die; on foreign soil, no less.

  I sighed with the dramatic flair I had perfected over time. Even at the tender young age of twelve I knew I was possibly overreacting; but really, what self-respecting California girl gets excited about moving to New Jersey, of all places?

  I hadn’t even had my first kiss yet which, by the way, was to be delivered by a nameless, faceless, tan and beautiful surfer boy, the summer after my thirteenth birthday. I had it all planned out in my head. We would meet at the beach bar, the one that served the best fish tacos this side of Mexico, and he would be instantly dazzled and impressed by my winning personality. He would laugh at himself for falling for someone two years younger, but he would nonetheless tug me underneath the boardwalk for a stolen kiss. Then he would look me in the eyes and kiss me again, telling me how I wasn’t like all the other girls; I was someone special.

  What kind of surfer boy would I find in New Jersey? They didn’t even have waves there.

  I plopped down in my seat at the dinner table, right next to Cooper, and stared down at my plate. This was likely the last time I would have dinner with my best friend and his family. In just a few days, I would be packed into our Honda hatchback with my mom and all of our belongings, heading east. Heading to the other end of the earth from everything I loved.

  Not the least of which were these loud, boisterous dinners.

  “Hey Izzy,” Mrs. O’Donnell said from the other end of the table, her voice barely audible above the din of Cooper’s three older siblings, who were all talking at once. “Don’t look so sad. You’re breaking my heart, sweetie.”

  I tried to smile, but it didn’t feel right on my face. How could I not be sad? I took the heaping platter of pot roast from Cooper and started scooping meat and carrots and potatoes on to my plate. I felt marginally better as the heavenly scent of garlic and herbs and whatever secret ingredients Mrs. O’Donnell used to make her legendary roast flowed into my nostrils. Her food had always had a healing effect on me.

  “So, the Garden State, huh?” Mr. O’Donnell said, winking at me. I smiled a real smile around a mouthful of beef. “That’s a whole different ocean over there.”

  I dropped my fork.

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Shane! What in the world is wrong with you? I’m trying to cheer the child up and you say something like that?” Mrs. O’Donnell smacked him on the head with heel of her hand. The two always bickered like this. It was just one more thing I would miss. The O’Donnell’s were the whole, happy family I had never had, and never would.

  I knew it was wrong to be angry with a dead man, but I blamed my father for this fact. He’d been gone for six years, but he still had a hold on my mother’s heart. She still sometimes sat at the window, waiting for him to come home, but he never did. Just like when he was still alive. He always disappointed her, and sometimes I hated him for it.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and concentrated on the food and the chatter around the table. I was determined to make this, my last supper, one of the most memorable nights of my life.

  And that it was, only not for the reasons I had planned.

  I was halfway through my first helping, just biting into a buttery dinner roll, when Cooper jumped out of his seat to answer the door. I couldn’t imagine who it could be, and why Mrs. O’Donnell didn’t smack her youngest son upside the head for leaving the table in the middle of sacred supper, but I had my answer soon enough.

  Apparently I wasn’t the only guest to this family affair.

  Mrs. O’Donnell stood up and started fluttering around the new arrival. I hadn’t noticed before, but she had set an extra place setting and was now ushering this stranger to the seat directly across from me.

  “Jay, I’m glad you could make it,” Mrs. O’Donnell said. “I’ll introduce you to everyone.” She gestured toward the head of the table. “That is my husband Shane over there. That big brute is Cooper’s oldest brother Shane, Jr. Beside him is Michelle. You’ll have to excuse her poor manners. She’s mad at me for not allowing her to go on a ski vacation over Christmas. And to your left is Tommy, who is surely going to take his elbows off the table immediately. You know Cooper, of course, and next to him is Izzy. Sadly, Izzy and her mom are moving east in a few days. She’s become a part of the family and we are certainly going to miss her to pieces.”

  She paused a moment, and I felt Cooper pat my shoulder. “Everyone, this is Jay Archer. He just moved in down the street.”

  I looked up, determined not to cry in front of the O’Donnell’s and ruin a nice dinner. My gaze was met with a pair of the most intense green eyes I’ve ever seen. Jay openly stared at me for several seconds past what was socially acceptable, and I have to admit, it was hard to look away.

  He was bigger than Cooper – not just tall, but broader in the shoulders - and looked a lot older, even though I had seen him at school and knew he was in eighth grade like Cooper. His hair was dark, but not quite black, and was slightly too long; the cut a bit on the crooked side. His coloring was the antithesis of Cooper’s Irish fair skin and light hair. His expression was so pained, I couldn’t help but wonder what had made him so sad. He didn’t smile, but just before the noise level picked up again, and his eyes drifted from mine, he raised one eyebrow and the side of his mouth twitched just slightly. I disliked him immediately. He made me uneasy, and I was mad that this unwanted stranger had made me feel anything less than comfortable in a house that had been my second home for years.

  I pushed back my plate, still half full of food. I was still hungry but didn’t think I could swallow another bite. For the rest of the meal I remained quiet, sort of wishing to be invisible, but also hoping someone – Cooper – would notice my melancholy and offer some sympathy. But Cooper was enjoying the company of his new friend and didn’t even look over at me once.

  I wanted to scream. This was supposed to be my special night. The O’Donnell’s were supposed to fawn all over me and go on and on about how much I would be missed.

  Life was so unfair.

  When dinner was done and the kitchen was all cleaned up, I waited patiently for Jay to hit the road. I wanted some quality time with Cooper and Jay was intruding. But then I heard Cooper ask Jay to hang out with him out back, and my heart sank down to my toes. I stood in the middle of the O’Donnell’s kitchen staring daggers at the back of Jay Archer. He didn’t appear to feel the daggers, because he simply followed Cooper out to the swings – my swings. The swings where Cooper and I ended just about every single day since we became friends. The swings where we told each other secrets and jokes and where we complained about school and made fun of teachers and Cooper’s older siblings. And now Cooper was inviting somebody else to share those swings with him.

  At the last minute, he turned around as if he’d just remembered I was there.

  “Ya coming, Iz?�
� he asked.

  I shook my head, not trusting my voice. Then I watched Cooper slap his new best friend on the back and laugh at something Jay said.

  I hadn’t even crossed the California state line, and I had already been replaced.

  Part One

  1

  “Nice hair, Izzy,” I heard from my perch outside the dreaded office of Human Resources. I raised my eyes just in time to catch two of the office drones as they rounded the corner, their heads bent together, and their loud whispered words penetrating my brain. “…such a freak…don’t know why they hired her in the first place…doesn’t fit in here at all.”

  I laughed out loud, though I knew they were too far to hear me. If Mindy/Mandy and Brittany/Courtney, or whatever their names were, thought that they were insulting me, they were even more delusional than I had originally pegged them.

  This nightmare on earth was the last place I wanted to “fit in”.

  “Isabel Delaney.” The voice addressing me was flat and bored sounding. I rolled my eyes. This should be good.

  “Uh, it’s Izzy actually.” I stood up to follow the woman with the pinched face and the ill-fitting dress that she maybe could have gotten away with twenty years ago, and reminded myself to keep my face blank and appear contrite.

  Obviously being summoned to this office was a very serious business.

  “Have a seat please, Isabel,” sour-puss said, gesturing to a modern-ish, uncomfortable looking chair that was clearly designed by someone who hadn’t gotten the memo about asses being more of a rounded shape.

  “It’s Izzy,” I repeated, sitting down gingerly.

  “Yes, of course. I’m sure your friends are accustomed to calling you by your nickname, but this is a professional organization, and we will remain on professional terms in this office.”

  Dear God. Was this woman for real?

  “Uh, yeah. If it was only my friends who called me Izzy, certainly I wouldn’t ask you to call me that.” I shifted to the other butt cheek, since the one had already fallen asleep. “But if you refer to your professional little file you have there, you’ll see that Izzy is my actual given name.”

  I crossed my legs and did my best to imitate the condescending look on Miss Goody Two-Shoes’ face, but I was really struggling with the whole charade. If I was getting in trouble for using the internet to look up hilarious wedding mishaps on YouTube, or shopping for shoes during the webinar on booking corporate travel, I wished she’d just reprimand me and let me get back to my desk. Cooper had emailed me a quiz on the mating habits of amphibians, and I was anxious to get back to it before he beat me to all the answers.

  I had been working at this investment firm for about six months. I knew it wasn’t something I would make a career out of, but I had always been curious about what it would be like to work for corporate America.

  I wasn’t impressed.

  For one thing, I could count on one hand the days when I actually had enough work to keep me occupied for more than two straight hours. I had to hand it to all the other admins in the company. They had learned to milk the system so well, the place was easily over-staffed by two hundred percent. But as long as there were folks content with drawing a paycheck by simply being a warm body in a rolly-chair, big business would continue to operate in this wasteful fashion.

  Also, working in a cube farm was much like participating in a sorority on crack; not that I’d ever had the displeasure of being in the sisterhood – or smoking crack, for that matter. These women were catty and spiteful, and downright cruel. I mean, my only sin was having blue hair. I shuddered at the recollection of what they’d done to the unfortunate woman who wasn’t a size two, the sweet mailroom kid with a facial tick, and the poor girl who accidentally left the sales tag on her dress, announcing to the whole office that she shopped in (gasp!) Walmart.

  No, this environment wasn’t for me. I’d play the game for another few months and then I’d move on to my next adventure. Hell, maybe I’d get the ball rolling and start searching for a new career as soon as this tight-ass permitted me to return to work.

  “Now Izzy,” she was back to patronizing me, and she placed her glasses on the end of her nose as she flipped through my file with a long-suffering sigh. “It has come to our attention that there have been far too many instances of insubordination where you are concerned.”

  And we’re off.

  “I must preface this by saying we really did take a chance on you, what with your higher education deficiency and all that. That being said, I am truly disappointed at the lack of gratitude you’ve shown in the months that you’ve been here.”

  I stared at her, mouth open. Lack of gratitude? “I’m sorry. Gwen, is it?” I nodded toward the brass name plate on the desk. “What exactly is it that I’m to gratify? Despite my ‘higher education deficiency’” (I went ahead and added air quotes here, because I knew Gwen would appreciate the gesture), “I tested higher than any other applicant in the last two decades. I believe that was what they told me when they offered me the job at my very first interview. It’s not like you did me a solid by hiring me. I have the skills required, and I’ve performed my job to perfection.”

  Gwen stared down her long, pointy nose at me. “Hmmmm.” She jotted something down in my file, and I felt my body temperature rise considerably.

  “You seem to have an aversion to authority, don’t you Izzy?”

  I rolled my eyes, not even trying to hide it. “An aversion to authority, a loathing for the ludicrous, and a distaste for dumbasses. Yes, I guess you could say that.” I knew I should’ve filtered my commentary, but I couldn’t seem to keep my mouth from acting of its own free will.

  “Well,” Gwen slammed my file shut with a sense of finality that really had an effect on me. “Blue hair and refusal to adhere to the dress code notwithstanding, I think it is beyond evident that…”

  “Wait a second. You brought me in here because of my hair?”

  “We have a strict dress code policy here at…”

  “Yes, I am aware of the policy. I read all one hundred and twenty-three pages of your employee manual. That was the most work I’ve had to do here in one day since I started. I believe it said no open toe shoes…” I kicked up my doc martins. “…no visible tattoos, no piercings other than the earlobe, no transparent clothing, and a neat and groomed appearance at all times. Nothing about hair color. I would’ve remembered that. And besides, I had purple hair for my interview!”

  “Yes, I recall.” Gwen pursed her lips even more, if that was possible. I wondered if she made that same exact face when sucking a lemon. Would her lips eventually stay like that if she didn’t stop it? “We assumed you would have it fixed before you reported for work.”

  “Have it fixed? But it wasn’t broken.”

  Another deeply affected sigh. “Listen, I understand how you young people feel the need to express yourself in bold, unorthodox ways sometimes, and that might’ve been more widely accepted in New York…”

  “New Jersey,” I said through clenched teeth. It had just become glaringly obvious to me that there was no way I was leaving here and going back to my desk. My illustrious career, along with my upcoming eligibility for the 401K, was over before it had begun.

  “Isabel, please do not interrupt me. This is the kind of insubordination that I’m talking about.”

  “It’s Izzy, you cow, and I lived in New Jersey, not New York. Did you even read this at all?” I leaned over the desk, knocking over all manner of knick-knacks and pencil cups, picked up my file, which was amazingly thick for an employee with such a slight tenure, and tossed it at Gwen’s self-righteous head. And for good measure, I may or may not have also tossed the remainder of Gwen’s morning coffee down the front of that hideous dress.

  Ten minutes later, after being quite literally tossed onto the sidewalk by security, with nothing in my hands except my car keys and a framed photo of me and Cooper that I had kept on my desk, my situation began to sink in. They hadn’t even let
me keep the massive collection of useless office supplies I had commandeered during my short stay. I was proud of that collection.

  I pulled up to my apartment, but didn’t get out of the car. Now it was really hitting home. I had no job, I had no money. My goal for moving out on my own had just gone up in smoke, and all because I couldn’t conform to polite society for just a few hours a day.

  This was my third job in the year since I’d moved back to California. My first weeks were spent receiving and cataloguing inventory at a pharmacy. Unfortunately, I mispronounced Alprazolam one too many times, and I accidentally put the Neosporin Original in the box with the Neosporin Maximum Strength. Then there was the unfortunate time I failed to bring to attention a gross overabundance of maxi pads. Clearly I should have known that an error was made in the ordering and that we only needed ten cases of pads, not one hundred. When the mistake was discovered, all one hundred cases were dragged out of the warehouse where I had neatly stacked them, and were placed on and around my work station; to remind me of my neglectful ways. I may have gotten to keep the job if I had been able to refrain from ‘wallpapering’ my boss’s cubicle with the overstock. It only took one case of pads to cover ninety square feet! They were super-longs! Plus, I’m pretty sure the heavy protection had the added benefit of sound-proofing that cubicle. If you ask me, I did her a favor.

  I then worked as a janitor in a middle school for a few months. The hard, physical work was therapeutic, and the fact that I rarely came in contact with other people was a bonus. But after one little “prank” in the boys’ bathroom that literally made me lose my lunch, I decided that I wasn’t cut out for that line of work. In fact, I ruled out anything in the medical field after that incident. I couldn’t risk ever coming into contact with bodily functions in such a bold way again, and God knew I’d seen enough Maxi Pads to last me a lifetime.