The End Is Her

by H. Claire Taylor

  At least he was gone. Any moment where Jimmy fucking Dean was leaving was a better moment than the one before it.

  She shut the door, making sure to listen for the click of the lock engaging.

  An alibi? Something was going down. But he had a point: what harm could a good alibi do her?

  And yet … did she trust him? Nine times out of ten not trusting Jimmy was the way to go.

  As she trudged back up the stairs, her eyes landed on the drink machine.

  God, I could go for a coke.

  The machine rumbled, and a bottle fell into the dispenser. She pulled it out. Dr. Pepper.

  She twisted off the cap, took a sip, then raised a toast to the ceiling.

  As she reached her doorstep, Jeremy stepped out from across the hall. “All done with the assassination attempt?” He sounded out of breath and looked slightly more disheveled than usual, but at least he appeared to have given up on the hockey mask and thermal blanket cape. Maybe 5G signals weren’t harmful after all.

  “What’s up?”

  He looked around, scanning for others who might overhear, but she was pretty sure he was the only one who controlled any recording devices in the vicinity. He moved close, setting a hand on her arm, and she wondered if she’d ever made physical contact with him before. She couldn’t think of a reason on God’s green earth why they would have. “Have you gained your tax-exempt status for the church yet?”

  “Yeah, we got that a while ago.”

  His knees buckled slightly, and he threw his head back and fist pumped the air. “Great. Yes, okay. Would you like some money?”

  The physical contact ceased, which she was grateful for immediately. “Yeah, sure. But what’s going on, Jeremy?”

  He leaned forward conspiratorially, which was the norm for him, and she worried he was going to touch her again. “I just got the yearly projections in. My company has too much money. Far too much money. I need to funnel some off over the next few years, and a church would be the perfect place for it.”

  “If I take your money, that doesn’t mean you have any influence over the way things run. Now or ever. Understood?”

  His upper lip curled, and he jerked his head back, conjuring a double chin out of thin air. “Of course. You think I want to get mixed up in a church? No, no, no. And besides, I already make enough big decisions every day.”

  “Oh yeah? You moved up from three?”

  “No. Moved down to two. Three was too many. I’m not as young as I used to be. So, can I count on you to take the contributions?”

  She sighed. “How much are we talking about here?”

  “Five hundred million spread over five years.”

  She sighed again. “Yeah, I guess that’s fine.”

  “Excellent. Thank you, Jessica. I knew I could count on you. Jesus wasn’t sure you’d accept, but I never doubted you.”

  She opened her mouth to ask why Jesus would assume she wouldn’t take five hundred million dollars, but then shut it. It was probably better if she didn’t question it.

  Jeremy retreated back into his lair, and she stared dazedly at his front door.

  After all the scrounging and agonizing over not having enough money to start a business, after failure upon failure that led her to signing a deal with the Devil, now this. She couldn’t keep money away if she tried. It just found her now.

  She took a sip of her stolen Dr. Pepper.

  Money, it seemed, wasn’t that hard to come by after all. You just had to start a church.

  Jessica finished her coke and dialed the first number that came to mind. If Jimmy told her she needed an alibi, she might as well listen. No harm in it.

  Jameson Fractal answered on the second ring. “Hey, Jess! How’s it going?”

  “Good, good.” I was just gifted five hundred million dollars and it felt like nothing. “You?”

  “Oh, just breaking for lunch on set.”

  Damn. “Oh yeah? I didn’t realize you were working right now.”

  Voices on the other line piped up and Jameson chuckled and said, “Yeah, back at you, Dwayne! You take care!” Then, “We’re filming another Dark & Dirty movie. Turns out, it’s been long enough since the first one came out that a whole new generation of viewers is discovering it and it’s getting popular all over again.”

  “That’s great.” She couldn’t have cared less.

  “So, what’s up?”

  “Well, I just called to see what you were doing Thursday, but I think I already have my answer.”

  “Aw, yeah, sorry. We’re shooting in LA and I’ll be here for the next couple of weeks. Why? What’s happening Thursday?”

  “No idea. I was, um, told I should have an alibi. And you know how much attention you draw.”

  He chuckled. “I do. Well, sorry I can’t help. I could hook you up with someone else high-profile who’s not working right now, if you want. How strong of an alibi do you need? I can send a married one your way, really get some cameras on you.”

  Jessica cringed and tried not to make a noise to accompany it. “Alibi, not scandal. But thanks, I appreciate the sentiment. I’m not in the mood to be murdered by Wendy, though.”

  “Good point. Well, hey, what about Chris? The Eagles got eliminated in the wildcard game, right? He should be free.”

  Her stomach clenched. “Yeah, good point.” She’d already thought of him, of course, but just as quickly dismissed him. “I’ll give him a call. Good luck with the filming.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t need it. My stunt double is on screen more than I am, honestly.”

  They finished the call with Jameson promising to give her a ring next time he was in town.

  She squinted at the phone. What were her options? She needed to be out in public with all eyes on her. She was certainly a pro at causing a scene all on her own. But she also didn’t want months of fallout from it.

  “Hey, hey! What’s up?” The familiarity of Chris’s voice felt warm in her chest.

  “Hey. I know it’s a little bit last-minute, but Jimmy just stopped by.”

  “Fucking Jimmy. What’d he want?”

  “He was dressed as a Muslim woman and he told me I needed an alibi for this Thursday.”

  There was a pause, then, “The fuck?”

  “Who knows. Would you by any chance have the evening free and want to go grab a bite with me somewhere public?”

  “Do I want an excuse to get the hell out of Philly in January after I threw an interception that cost us the wildcard game? Big, fat yes to that. You want us to pretend we’re getting back together?”

  An invisible fist grabbed her stomach and twisted. “Well, I mean, the paparazzi can make of it whatever they want. I just need it to be obvious that I’m in a specific place.”

  “Right, right. What do you think he’s got planned?”

  “You mean beside the end of the world?”

  “Besides that, yeah.”

  “No clue. And I don’t really understand why he would warn me about it, either. Since when is he my friend? Sure, we have a truce right now, but I hardly consider him an actual ally.”

  “Jess, I think you could drive yourself crazy trying to guess what Jimmy will do on any given Thursday. What time should I pick you up?”

  They made plans, and it all fell into place a little too easily. It felt more like he was going to give her a ride from practice over to Gordon’s burgers, not fly a thousand miles across the country to take her to an undoubtedly fancy restaurant where they’d put on a show for the cameras.

  “It’s a date,” he concluded. “I’ll get some rumors going that I’m flying back home to win the heart of my first love, and that should bring the paparazzi flocking.”

  “You don’t have to say all that.”

  “You want an alibi, right?”

  “I do. It’s just that you don’t have to make up some big, romantic drama on my account.”

  “Don’t be mad, but it’s more for me. I need to win some hearts here, Jess. Anythin
g to keep these fucking fans from eating me alive.”

  She grimaced. “Got it. See you Thursday.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  184:05:57:01 until Doomsday

  Jessica felt her ears perk up before she consciously registered the sound of the F-350’s engine. She peeked out the window down at the street and spotted it pull up to the curb. It wasn’t his old one, but she’d known that instantly by sound. This was a much newer version. Probably a rental, considering he’d flown rather than driven from Philadelphia.

  She grabbed her favorite purse, noted how weird it was to own more than one functional purse at a time, grabbed a light sweater, after all, it was winter and the sun had already set, and then met Chris downstairs.

  He held the door open for her to get into the cab, and cameras seemed to appear out of nowhere.

  Offering her a goofy sideways grin that lacked even an iota of smoothness, he said, “You look beautiful.” She wasn’t sure why she’d expected his NFL stardom to make him suddenly a different person, more like Jameson in the way he commanded the crowd with a symmetrical smile and a wink than the reckless boy who’d punched Greg Burns in the jaw at prom, but she was glad it was still the same old Christopher Riley, albeit a more muscular version than the one she’d known as a child.

  “Where we going?” she asked as he pulled away from the curb. He’d promised that he would handle all the plans and she just needed to be ready to leave by six.

  “Somewhere fancy.”

  “Oh no. Please don’t tell me it’s full of cats.”

  He took his eyes off the road. “Uh, what?”

  “Cats. We’re not going to cat sushi, right?”

  He winced. “Jess, I don’t think you’re allowed to eat cats in this country.”

  “No, you don’t eat them. They just crawl all over while you eat regular sushi.”

  He was silent, staring contemplatively at the road ahead. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “No.” She laughed, feeling relieved. “No, it doesn’t.”

  When he pulled onto a side street heading east, she became confused. If they were going to be conspicuous, wouldn’t they want to be downtown? That was the other way.

  They turned a corner, and she saw a sudden burst of light down an otherwise quiet, run-down road of tiny, ancient houses on cramped lots that were probably selling for a half million apiece. LED light seared into her eyeballs and she blinked away tracers and squinted at the source. It was some sort of a restaurant, mostly outdoor seating. A long line stretched out the door, and underneath large green arches were rows and rows of packed picnic tables. The interior of the restaurant, which she could see through the glass windows that stretched the entire length of it, was also packed.

  “There it is,” Chris said.

  Yep, they could cause a great scene in a place like this. Multi-angle cell phone footage, lots of timestamps. They didn’t even need the professionals to harass them.

  “What kind of food is— Oh my god.” Her eyes finally found the sign. The logo had been jazzed up a bit, but she knew from the smiling burger man that it was the same one. “Gordon’s? Are you serious?”

  Chris’s grin was untamable. “You didn’t know he opened a location in Austin?”

  “No! How did I not know?” She paused. “Oh wait. I don’t get out much and I stay away from the internet. Is it as good as the one in Mooretown?”

  He shrugged. “Dunno. Haven’t been to it yet.”

  She felt a strange sense of pride staring at the little burger joint that could. But more than pride, she felt something else, something deeper, smoother, warmer …

  She looked at Chris, who was still grinning even as someone ran a stop sign and caused him to slam on his brakes. They found parking a block down from the restaurant, and he hurried around and opened the door for her, helping her down from the high seat.

  Holding out his arm for her: “Shall we?”

  She couldn’t not take his arm in hers, really. The contact felt as natural as it ever had.

  They came from around the side of the building where the line stretched out from the door, and Chris slowed down.

  So he did know how to play this game.

  She heard the first gasp, saw the first young woman’s eyes go wide before she whipped around to her friend to not-so-subtly point out that an NFL quarterback and the self-proclaimed daughter of God were walking past.

  Chris laughed and leaned close. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

  “And yet we’re still going to Gordon’s for dinner.”

  “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  Finally, someone got the balls to step out of the line. “Chris Riley, can I have your autograph?”

  “Absolutely, man.”

  While she paused for Chris to chum around with his fan, someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned to find herself staring into a round face of a beautiful round woman about her age.

  “Sorry,” the woman said.

  Ah yes, that old feminine greeting.

  “Don’t be sorry. What’s up?”

  “You’re Jessica Christ, right?”

  That name had never had much of a ring to it. But it was hers. She’d claimed it with the rest of her inconvenient divinity. “Yep, that’s me.”

  “I just want to say …”

  With horror, Jessica noticed the girl’s eyes filling with tears. “Hey, hey …” She placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” Emphatic nod. “I donated to your church.”

  “Really?” For some reason it’d never occurred to her that those throwing so much money at her were living, breathing people she could run into. “I mean, thanks so much.”

  “I think you’re great. My girlfriend is a Nu Alpha Omega at UT. I didn’t go to college, so I couldn’t join, but if I had, I would’ve pledged.”

  Jessica chuckled on an exhale. “That doesn’t matter much. People can be NAOs if they want, but it doesn’t mean anything one way or another.”

  That seemed to cheer her. “Can I have a hug?”

  “Of course. Of course.”

  She hardly even noticed the phones out around her, recording it all.

  Once the first brave souls had come forward, more followed, and it was another ten minutes before Jessica and Chris even made it to the back of the line.

  “You changed my life,” said one girl who looked too young to have needed a life change.

  And another said, “I can’t wait to tell your story to my daughter.”

  “That’s sweet. How old is she?”

  The woman had looked down at her stomach. “Negative five months.”

  Jessica had felt emotion clench her throat at that point, and she nodded, gave the woman a hug, and then hurried to meet up with Chris.

  Her head was swimming as she stood there, plastering on a dazed smile while he chatted with the couple in front of them. The two men held hands and spouted more football knowledge than anyone should possess, which was clearly a holy gift to Chris. He met them stat for stat.

  Jessica looked around at the outdoor tables. She estimated that one out of every three sets of eyes was aimed in her direction.

  Was this smart, or was she leaving herself too exposed?

  OH, HONEY. YOU NEED TO CALM DOWN.

  Do I? It seems like we’re awfully vulnerable here.

  THAT’S THE POINT, ISN’T IT?

  Yeah, but what if some crazy asshole decides they’ve had enough of the daughter of God? And let us not forget we’re in Cowboys country. Chris is an Eagle.

  WHAT DO YOU THINK MIGHT HAPPEN?

  Anything! Someone could just shoot us.

  YOU REALLY THINK I’M GOING TO LET SOME NUTJOB SHOOT YOU RIGHT NOW? HAVE YOU DIE IN CHRIS’S ARMS?

  She considered it. No, I guess that wouldn’t make any narrative sense.

  EXACTLY. JUST ENJOY IT WHILE YOU CAN.

  Just once I wish you could not be so damn ominous.
<
br />   LOOK. SEE THAT GUY OVER IN THE SHADOWS TO YOUR LEFT?

  Jessica peered around Christopher and her eyes found the dark silhouette. Creepy.

  Yeah, I see him.

  HE WANTS TO MURDER YOU. IT WOULD BE A CRIME OF OPPORTUNITY. DON’T WORRY, HE HASN’T BEEN FOLLOWING YOU OR ANYTHING.

  That wasn’t what I was immediately worried about. Go back to the part about him wanting to murder me.

  HE JUST GOT HIS GUN FROM THE CAR. BUT DON’T FREAK OUT. DO YOU TRUST IN THE LORD?

  Hell no.

  THEN WATCH THIS.

  The man’s arm was straight by his side, and Jessica guessed that was because of what it was holding. His eyes locked onto hers, and he stepped away from his car and into the street. She readied herself to smite if it came to that, which it looked like it might. She could see the hatred in his eyes but didn’t have time to wonder why it was there before the Jeep Grand Cherokee mowed him down.

  A screech of brakes too late, a nauseating crunch, and the handgun went spiraling across the street to land only a few yards away from where Jessica stood.

  Her mouth fell open, but she couldn’t speak. Thankfully, there were plenty of other people around to call the cops.

  The unlucky driver jumped out of the Jeep, and her hand flew up to her mouth immediately when she saw the crumpled body in the road.

  “Chris,” Jessica said, pulling him out of his own state of shock. “You take the driver. Calm her down. Let her know she’s not responsible for hitting him. He just stepped out of nowhere.” She looked around until she saw the familiar faces of women she’d spoken with in line. “You, you, and you. There’s a gun on the ground. Don’t touch it, but don’t let anyone else touch it until the cops come.”

  YOU’RE DOING GREAT, BABY.

  There were enough phone recordings of us, you asshole! You didn’t need to do this!

  DO WHAT, SAVE YOUR LIFE? SO RUDE.

  She hated what she was about to do. Hated it more than anything. Would it convert him? Would it make him despise her any less? She doubted it. Resurrecting this murderous piece of shit would probably only piss him off more.

  But it sure as hell created a solid alibi.