Roman and Jewel

by Dana L. Davis

  “Nah, no way.” Judas is texting on his phone as we speak. “Without my phone, I’d die here. Roaming about Times Square aimlessly waiting for you to get done. Plus, I need to research who is gonna be at this party tonight. See how good I need to look.”

  “Use your laptop. Connect to the wifi at Starbucks.”

  Judas shakes his head. “You can’t have my phone, Jerzie. So stop askin’. You not gonna be invading my personal shit. Plus, Mom was very clear that you are not supposed to have unsupervised phone access. Sucks to be phoneless on your birthday, but I can’t help you out.”

  Fine. I’m tired of being nice. I grab Judas by the wrist and pull him to the side of the busy sidewalk. “Give me your phone or I’ll tell Mom you subscribe to a cam girl. A few actually.”

  Judas looks at me in disbelief.

  A slow, devious smile spreads across my face. “I believe one of the websites is discomboobulate.com?” I scratch my head. “Not sure what’s so sexy about watching a naked girl jump rope, but you’re the freak. Not me.”

  “H-how do you know about that?” Judas breathes.

  If I’m being honest, it was an accident. Trying to fix the Wi-Fi for Mom and Dad one day last year, and I stumbled upon the router logs. Judas’s late-night internet activities seemed pretty tame, but I still remember thinking it might come in handy for blackmail purposes. And here we are.

  “Judas.” I cross my arms. “If you knew what I know about what you do on the internet, you’d be handing me that phone right about—”

  “Take it.” He hands it to me.

  “Smart.” I tap him on the shoulder. “Now what’s the passcode?”

  He tells it to me. “Don’t invade my personal stuff, Jerzie.”

  “Judas Jhames, I’m so not interested in Nancy Drewing your boring life. I need your phone for a few hours. You’ll get it back after rehearsal. I promise.”

  I rush into the building, pushing aside my guilt for blackmailing Judas into giving me his phone. The end justifies the means. At least, I hope so. I spot Nigel chatting with the stage manager and Rashmi near the elevator.

  “Hey, you guys.” I manage a fake cough, and the two men take a tiny step away from me. Rashmi steps forward, concerned.

  “Are you okay, Jerzie?” she asks.

  “Actually, is there any chance I could lie down in one of the break rooms for a bit? I feel a little sick.”

  “Don’t throw up on me.” Nigel studies the screen on his buzzing cell phone. “You know the musical rehearsing upstairs? They moved to tech a few days ago, so all those rooms are empty.”

  “I can take her up there,” Rashmi offers.

  “Perfect,” Nigel replies. “I’ll come check on you in about an hour.”

  About an hour? Excellent. I put on my best sick face and smile weakly. “Thank you so much.”

  * * *

  There is something about an empty rehearsal room. The silence is so loud. It’s like the energy of so many people and performances lives on in the temporary stillness. I sent Rashmi searching for banana-flavored LaCroix waters. I swore they’re the only thing that can settle my tummy. They don’t actually exist, so her pointless search for them will give me the alone time I need. I set down my backpack and lean against the wall. I use Judas’s phone to Google Zeppelin’s family’s restaurant, Belle Torte. The number and address load onto the screen. I click the button to place the call. After a few rings, a girl answers.

  “Thank you for calling Belle Torte. How can I help you?”

  It’s Marta!

  “Marta? It’s me. Jerzie.”

  “I’m sorry?” she replies.

  “Uh, Patti LuPone? Zeppelin’s friend.”

  “Oh!” She laughs. “Patti. Now I remember. How are you? Did you want to place an order?”

  “No, no.” I stand and pace around the empty space, talking softly even though no one is here to listen. “I’m wondering if Zeppelin might be there, by any chance.”

  “Zeppelin? We haven’t seen him for days actually. Kinda weird.”

  “But doesn’t he come to the restaurant to help out?”

  “Normally. Yes. We’ve been short staffed lately, and he’s always trying to help us. Maybe he’s busy with the show.”

  The one he’s fired from?

  Marta goes on, “Because we can’t get ahold of him. I’m glad he’s busy though. It’s a sad time of year for him. For all of us really. Busy is good. Patti...” she laughs “...I mean, Jerzie, we’re pretty slammed today. I gotta jump off.”

  “Wait! Can I get his number? My, uh, phone...short... circuited and I lost all my contacts.”

  “Sure.” She gives me his number. Yes! She gives me his number!

  “Thank you so much, Marta!”

  I hang up and quickly type in the number before I forget, nervously waiting while the phone rings and rings. Finally, Zeppelin’s deep voice answers. My heart flutters in my chest.

  “Sorry I missed you. Leave a message. Maybe I’ll call you back.”

  The phone beeps and I take a deep breath. “Uh, Zeppelin? Hi. It’s Jerzie. Jerzie Jhames.” As if he knows another Jerzie?! Imbecile! “This isn’t my phone. It’s my brother’s. But I’ll have it for the next hour or so. Call me or text me back, all right? I hope you’re okay. Are you okay?”

  I hang up. Gosh that was the dumbest message. I didn’t even leave Judas’s number. I tap the text icon and construct a message:

  Hi. It’s me again. Jerzie. The one who just left you the really dumb message. Here is my brother’s number in case it didn’t come up on the caller id. I’m worried about you. I care about you. I want you to know that I do. Care about you I mean. I always will.

  I send the message and stare at the phone. Waiting. Hoping for that glorious ellipsis that shows up when people are texting right back. Please, Zeppelin. Be okay. Text me back. But there is no ellipsis. There is no reply. And thirty minutes later, there is still no message from Zeppelin.

  I jump back online. I type the name Francesca Ricci into the search bar. Her Wikipedia page pops up, and I study the face that is so similar to Zeppelin’s. It makes me want to cry. I click the link and scroll down to her death, noticing something I hadn’t before. The date. The same as today. The anniversary of Zeppelin’s mom’s death is today? On my birthday?! This is why Marta said it was a tough time for their family.

  I’m pacing again. Back and forth. Back and forth.

  What do I do? Marta thinks he’s busy at work. They must have no idea he was fired. I can hear the music from below now. In fact, I’m pacing in rhythm to it. I’m directly above one of the Roman and Jewel rehearsal rooms.

  I start a new Google search:

  how to check on someone who is far away if you think they’re in trouble

  That’s quite the run-on sentence, but Google doth provide. It’s called a welfare check. Okay. This sounds like what I need. Next, I search the Bay Ridge nonemergency police line and quickly dial the number.

  “Bay Ridge Police. How can I help you?” a woman answers.

  “Hi.” I pause in my pacing, finally feeling like I’m connected to someone or something that can help. “I have a friend who I think is in trouble. And I Googled it, and it says I can ask for a welfare check.” I’m breathing so hard I feel faint.

  “Okay. Can you tell me a bit about what you think is happening?”

  “My friend. His name is Zeppelin Reid. He’s not answering his phone.”

  “How long have you not been able to get ahold of him?”

  I look at the time. “A half hour.”

  The woman sighs. “Miss. How about you keep checking in with your friend and call us back when you’re—”

  “Miss.” I can hardly breathe. “I know you don’t know me, but I swear to you something is wrong. I can feel it in my gut. My friend. His mom killed herself seven
years ago to date. Like literally, his mom died on this day. My birthday. Which, that’s moot. But his family hasn’t heard from him in days. And that’s not like him. He checks in. And he wouldn’t not text me back or call me back because I know he just had his phone because he texted Cinny.”

  “Cinny?” she replies.

  “Yeah. Look, I know I sound crazy, but I’m not. Something is wrong!” I’m crying now. “And I can’t drive because I’m only seventeen. Besides, I don’t even know how to drive! Plus, I’m at work.” I’m sobbing. “Please. I’m begging you. Check on my friend.”

  “Honey.” The lady’s voice has turned soothing. “You’re gonna make yourself sick.” There is a moment of silence before she says, “Tell me his name again.”

  “Zeppelin Reid.” I wipe my eyes. Only a tiny bit of hope is restored, but I’ll take it.

  “And his address?”

  Shit. I don’t know his address. But wait. I know the name of his apartment building! “He lives at Belford Park Apartments in Bay Ridge. His apartment number is M-1202.”

  “M-1202. Belford Park Apartments. Okay. I’m getting it all down. What’s your number?”

  I give her Judas’s cell number.

  “It might take a while to get a unit over to the apartment. But when we do, I’ll give you a call back. If I don’t get back to you before my shift is over, I’ll make sure to contact you first thing in the morning. Okay?”

  “Thank you,” I sob.

  “Try to calm down, honey. Nine times outta ten, when we do these welfare checks, the person answers the door and all is well. I’m sure your friend is fine.”

  “Okay.” I hope she’s right. I hope we’re not the one out of ten scenario when no one answers and the police break down the door to find a nightmare waiting for them. “Thank you.”

  I end the call and slowly make my way to the piano pushed against the back wall. I plop down on the bench, logging out of Judas’s Instagram account so that I can log into mine. It’s the first time I’ve been on my account since the day I went viral.

  I have so many messages. Hundreds and hundreds of messages. I want to take the time to read each and every one of them, but I’m on a mission here. I need to get a message to Zeppelin. Somehow. Someway. And I know he’s not on social media. But maybe... I don’t know. Maybe somehow this will get to him. I set the camera on the piano so I’m in full view, pausing to run my fingers lightly through my twisted curls. I hit the button to go live.

  Within a few seconds, I have over a thousand people watching. So many messages are scrolling. My heart is pounding. People are listening. So what am I gonna say?

  Not sure how Ram_Butt’s lone message stands out among the masses, but I see it quite clearly as it scrolls by:

  Ram_Butt_Booty16: Why you crying beautiful? And where the hell have you been?!

  I laugh and wipe at my tears. “Today I’m gonna do something I’ve never done before on the Gram.” I slide my fingers across the dusty white keys. “I gotta lot of new followers, so I guess I should start by introducing myself. Hi.” I wave to the camera. “My name is Jerzie Jhames. Not like the state. That’s J-E-R-S-E-Y. I’m J-E-R-Z-I-E. A much cooler way to spell it, if you ask me.”

  PacMac_123756: I love your name! It’s so cool.

  I smile. “Thanks, PacMac. It’s growing on me.”

  Serendipity_DooDah: What are you gonna do Jerzie? That you’ve never done before on the Gram?

  “I’m gonna sing,” I reply.

  A few hundred clapping hands fill the screen.

  I lean forward and read another message.

  UnicornQueen821: Are you gonna sing I Think I Remember You? That’s my jam!

  “I was thinking about singing a song that sorta expresses how I’m feeling right now. Or...” I pause. “What I’d like to say to someone. If he was listening anyway.” I take a deep breath and play simple chords on the piano. Cinny said he said living was like an exercise in futility. What I wouldn’t give to prove him wrong. I sing.

  It’s a song about friendship. A song about love. A song about someone knowing they can always count on you. Took me growing up, a little bit anyway, to understand the meaning of these simple lyrics. The song is one my dad used to play when I was a kid. I understand it now. There is nothing more powerful than the love shared between friends. Zeppelin is my friend. I wipe my tears and look back at the phone. Over five thousand people are watching me sit here and cry. So many messages are scrolling by.

  Don’t cry Jerzie.

  Aww, I’ll be your friend.

  That’s what friends are for! That’s what’s uuuup!

  I love you Jerzie with a Z-I-E!

  Right! Keep smiling girl.

  Count on me! Count on me!

  I smile at the messages. Nothing else matters. Not my parents. Not this musical. Not even the tears that are streaming down my cheeks. The only thing that matters is that I genuinely care about someone. I feel. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. To make people feel. Who knew that started with me?

  I wipe my eyes, blow a kiss to the camera...and end the live feed.

  “Where Is My Romeo?”

  “Yo.” Judas extends his hand. “Gimme back my phone.”

  There’s been no reply from Zeppelin, and it’s been hours. No call from the Bay Ridge Police Department either. What do I do?

  “Fine,” I grumble. “Here.” The subway is slowing to a stop in front of us. As I move to return the phone to Judas, it vibrates in my hand. An unknown number is calling! I snatch the cell back and click the button to accept the call. “Hello? Hello?”

  “Hi, is this Jerzie Jhames?”

  Judas is glaring at me.

  I gesture dramatically and whisper, “What! It’s for me.”

  “This is Genie Haddock with the Bay Ridge Police Department.”

  “Hi!” I follow Judas as we pile into the packed subway car and grab onto the nearest metal bar, positioning myself for a standing ride. “Is he okay? Did you talk to him?”

  “Two officers dispatched were unable to do a welfare check with the information provided. No one resided at the unit M-1202.”

  The train lurches forward, and I stumble a bit, almost crashing into Judas. I wrap my arm around the bar to steady myself, the phone pressed so forcefully to my ear that it’s causing me physical pain. “So he wasn’t home?”

  “I’m afraid no one lives at the address you provided. That particular unit was empty.”

  “That’s impossible, miss. Unit M-1202. Twelfth floor? Are you sure? Belford Park Apartments in Bay Ridge?”

  “The officers were adamant. The apartment was empty. No one lives there. In fact, they said it looks as if someone may have recently moved out. I’m sorry we weren’t able to help you.”

  An empty apartment? “Is it possible to speak with the apartment manager maybe? Hello?” Shit. I look at the screen. Lost the call.

  Judas snatches the phone from my hand.

  “Finally.” His head swiftly slumps and his thumbs move into position.

  I tap him on the shoulder. “Judas. I might get a text. Or a call.”

  “Damn. Cut the cord.” He twists around so that the phone is out of my eye line.

  “Judas, please,” I whisper. “I’m waiting on a message from someone.”

  “Stop buggin’,” he whispers back. “Move on. It’s over. No service down here anyway. Now back off.”

  Like I even have a choice. We ride the rest of the way in silence.

  * * *

  I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I’m wearing makeup. Something I don’t normally attempt. My lips are tinted plum, my eyelids dusted with a glittery pink shadow, and I’m wearing my hair down, my twisted curls surrounding my face in perfect symmetry. And Aunt Karla dressed me before she headed off for work. A mini skirt, a Queen T-shirt that hangs off the shou
lder and black leather ankle boots. I certainly look like a girl headed to an industry party, even if I don’t necessarily feel like going to one.

  Living is an exercise in futility? How could he say such a thing?

  “Jerzie?” Judas taps lightly on the open door and steps inside the master bedroom. The scent of his cologne reaches me before he does.

  I cover my nose. “Judas. Did you take a bath in body spray?”

  “Smells good, huh?” He’s fixing the knot on his metallic silver tie, which looks supersparkly against the dark blue of his dress shirt. “It’s Tom Ford, Calvin Klein, Nautica, a few others I think. I got some of those cologne samples from a magazine of Aunt Karla’s and rubbed them all over me.”

  “That’s the dumbest and stinkiest idea you’ve ever had.”

  “Watch the ladies tonight. They gonna be all over me.” He nods in my direction. “Nice look, sis. If I didn’t know you, I’d never guess you were a drama nerd who listens to show tunes in her spare time.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Ride share should be here in a few minutes.”

  I slump down on the bed.

  “So come on. Let’s go wait outside.”

  “Judas.” I cover my face with my shaking hands and mumble. “Would you hate me if I didn’t go?”

  He moves quickly to sit beside me on the bed. “Talk to me, sis.”

  “I’m not in the mood. Go without me. Have fun.”

  “And let you spend your birthday alone?”

  “Judas.” I burst into shoulder-shaking sobs. “I’m worried about Zeppelin.”

  “Who?”

  “The guy Mom demanded I stay away from? The one who uploaded the videos of me and of Cinny?”

  “Ooooh, the pale-face white boy you like.”

  “Yes.” I roll my eyes, even as I’m sniffling and wiping away tears. “Him. Call me dramatic, but I think he’s gonna try to kill himself today. If he hasn’t already.”

  “That’s deep, Jerzie. Why you think that?”