“I heard that you had been to see her this morning,” she said.
“Yeah. I’m glad I had that chance.”
“Okay, then. You take care.”
It was a short conversation.
By the time I returned to the kitchen, the mood had changed.
“Why not?” Tyler said.
“I just think it’d be better if you stayed in tonight,” Jayne said.
“Why?”
“Well, for one thing, it’s a school night.”
Tyler’s eyes rolled. “Hello? Can you remember all the way back to last night? How I went upstairs and did homework and shit? And you made a crack about whether I’d been taken over by a pod or something?”
“I never said that.”
“You made a crack. You said something.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“I’m a prisoner,” Tyler said. “She’s treating me like I’m five.”
“He wants to go out,” Jayne said.
“Out where?” I asked.
“Just out,” Tyler said. “Would you like me to prepare an itinerary? Where I’ll be all night. Like, from eight to eight-fifteen, the 7-Eleven, and from—”
“Stop it,” Jayne said.
“Maybe,” I said, dipping my toe in, “if Tyler promised to be back by ten, because like you said, it is a school night.”
Jayne shot me a look. “This is between me and him.”
“Whoa,” Tyler said. “Better be careful what you say, sis, or he might kill you.”
The room went quiet. Jayne looked as though she’d been slapped across the face. It’s possible I looked the same. Even Tyler appeared surprised by what he’d said, realizing he’d crossed a line.
“Get out,” Jayne said. “Get out of my sight.”
He was happy to oblige. Tyler left the kitchen. Seconds later, the front door slammed.
I didn’t know what to say.
It was Jayne who broke the silence. “So he knows.”
“He was listening in, yesterday. To Hardy, and then us.”
She closed her eyes and slowly lowered her forehead to the table. I rested a hand on her shoulder. She raised her head and asked, “Who called?”
“Brie’s mother’s been in the hospital. One of the family called to tell me she passed away today.”
“Oh,” Jayne said. “Did she think the worst of you, too?”
“She came around to my side at the end.”
“Well, that’s something, I guess.”
There was nothing more to be said about it.
We’d just gone upstairs to our bedroom, a few minutes before ten, when we heard someone enter the house. Tyler was back. Jayne and I glanced at one another, decided it was good news that he had returned at a reasonable hour, and there was no need to make a big deal out of it.
I was starting to unbutton my shirt when the sound of an incoming text came from my phone. It was Greg.
Out front. Got a sec?
“What is it?” Jayne asked, and I told her.
I tapped back: 2 mins.
“What’s he want?” she asked.
“Why don’t you join me and we’ll find out.”
We came out the front door together and found not just Greg waiting for us, but his turquoise-coiffed girlfriend, Julie. In fact, she was standing ahead of him, Greg half hidden behind her, as though using her as a shield.
Greg, out of respect, stepped out when he saw Jayne. “Hey,” he said.
“Hi, Greg,” she said.
He introduced Julie, who shook Jayne’s hand. “I’ve heard lots about you,” Julie said.
Jayne only smiled, not sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.
“What’s up?” I asked them.
Julie turned to Greg, priming him. “Go on. Ask him.”
Greg took half a step forward, eyes on his own feet. “We shouldn’t have come. It’s late. This can wait until tomorrow.”
“You’re here now,” I said.
Julie sighed. “He’s too proud to ask,” she said to me. Then, to him, “Spit it out.”
Greg seemed unable to make eye contact. If he owned a brimmed hat, this was where he’d have it in his hands, moving it in a slow circle with his fingers.
“The thing is,” he said slowly, “ever since we stopped working together, things haven’t, well, they could be—”
“He’s lost without you, that’s what he’s wants to say,” Julie said.
“Yeah,” Greg said sheepishly. “In an nutshell, yeah. On my own, I’m always scrambling, you know? Have had some pretty long stretches between jobs. When we were a team, we did pretty good.”
“Except toward the end there,” I reminded him.
“I know, I know, we hit a bad stretch. But the economy was kind of stalled, too, at the time. It was one of those things.”
That wasn’t quite how I remembered it, but I let that go. I said, “I’d have to give it some thought.”
“That’s all we’re asking,” Julie said. “Right, Greg? We can’t ask for any more than that.”
Greg nodded. “Sorry to have disturbed you so late, man. Jayne, nice to see you. Apologies for the interruption.” He turned and headed for the street. Julie’s little Audi, not Greg’s truck, was parked there.
But Julie didn’t follow, and instead closed the distance between us. She kept her voice low.
“He thinks the world of you,” she said. “He really wants to give it another go.”
“Like I said—”
“I know I’m new here, and sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong, but I can see how worn down he is. He tells me you guys, you had a good thing going at one time.”
“We did,” I conceded.
“And it’s not just about him,” Julie said. “He’s worried about you, and all the stuff—”
She looked at Jayne, wondering whether she was about to say too much.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Jayne’s up to speed on things. Guess you are, too.”
“Yeah. He knows you’ve got this cloud hanging over you, and he wants to, I don’t know, make a statement by going back into business with you. That he believes in you even if there are some out there who still don’t.”
Greg, who had gotten behind the wheel of Julie’s car, lightly tapped the horn.
“Have to go,” she said, and ran to the car.
“That was interesting,” Jayne said.
We watched them drive off, then went back into the house.
“What do you think?” Jayne asked as we were getting under the covers.
“I don’t know.”
“You know what I think? You should consider it. With all the shit that’s been happening, maybe it’s a good sign. An opportunity.”
I wasn’t convinced that was how Jayne really felt, but maybe after a long and unsettling weekend she wanted to grab on to anything that might allow us some reason for optimism.
So it was just as well I kept my thoughts to myself. I wasn’t looking forward to Monday morning. I couldn’t think of a single reason to believe we were heading into a good week.
Thirty-Six
The woman behind the wheel of the black Volvo station wagon was driving a circuitous route. A left here, a right there. She could not be sure, but she believed she was being followed. She’d seen enough TV shows to know that when you think someone is following you, you start driving randomly. See whether the vehicle you fear is trailing you makes the same moves.
When she first set out, after the sun had set, she hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. She glanced into the rearview mirror occasionally, the way any careful driver would, and around the second or third time she noticed that the car behind her had a couple of amber fog lamps mounted below the bumper, giving it a distinctive look.