Thirteen
Ayear ago, when my boss had to drop me at my place one night, I had invited him in.
He’d walked around my apartment, and in the minute and a half it took him, he had nodded several times.
When he was done, he’d faced me and asked when I wanted to move out.
I had frowned at him as he explained that he owned a place downtown near Rush Street, very small at five hundred square feet, in an old brick building with all original molding.
It was a tiny apartment, but clean and very tastefully furnished.
The windows could be opened wide, and without screens you could lean out into the sky and listen to the music from the jazz piano bar across the street.
In the summer there was only the moist breeze through the windows, and in the winter just one radiator in the whole place.
He’d told me to wear socks and I’d be fine.
The building had an outer door that a resident needed a key for, or a visitor could be buzzed through.
The inner door locked automatically, and you either stepped instantly to the apartment door to the right, turned to the left and got your mail, or took the flight of stairs in front of you to the second floor.
I would be on the fourth, and when I called my boss from the cab after gathering all my possessions from Sam’s place, I asked him if he still owned it.
He did. I then asked if anyone was living in it.
No one was. I asked if I could and he said yes, very fast. He told me he would send movers to my old place in Oak Park first thing the following morning to get my mattress and box spring.
I would have to sleep on the couch the first night.
He would meet me there in half an hour to give me the keys.
“Don’t you even want to know why I’m finally taking you up on your offer?”
“I don’t care. I just want you out of the hovel you currently live in.”
“You never said how much you hated it.”
“It wasn’t my place to let my sentiments be known…until now.”
I sighed. “Listen, I don’t want charity, boss. I can hire my own movers.”
“No, you can’t,” he assured me. “My movers will clean up your place so you can get your deposit back after they bring over your bed. Do you have anything else left over there at all?”
“Some cottage cheese that used to be milk in the fridge and a few granola bars.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I have a lava lamp.”
He ignored my comment. “You have your laptop and all your clothes?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’ll see you in a few minutes. Wait for me on the front stoop.”
He was in his Sunday afternoon clothes—cashmere trench coat and a charcoal suit with a navy polo underneath—and his boots clipped the pavement as he walked toward me.
“Sorry,” I called over to him.
I barely got a smile, just the curl of his lip at the corner. “You exhaust me,” he said softly, the voice husky and deep. “But I seem to enjoy it.”
I smiled as my phone rang and I saw Sam’s number flash on my display.
“Shall I?” he asked me, holding out his hand. I traded him my phone for the keys.
“Detective Kage,” he said politely. “This is Dane Harcourt, Jory’s boss.
Yes, very well, thank you. Uh-huh, yes…yes, he is.
No, I don’t think that will be necessary.
I have decided that I can’t, in good conscience, have Jory stay with you a moment longer.
It would be too great an imposition for you, as your lifestyles are nothing alike.
With that in mind, I’ve moved him into an apartment of mine that I can assure you is very secure and quite tucked away.
He’ll be safe there and safe at work, so you give us a call when you’re ready for him to show up at court.
” He listened a moment. “Sorry? Oh no, no, it’s no trouble at all.
I mean, let’s be blunt, once the trial concludes, you would have been sending him back home anyway.
This way he can move now and get settled into a new life, a new routine.
I mean, you didn’t really want to be saddled with him anyway, did you? ”
I waited, straining to hear.
“There, see, I didn’t think so,” he said nonchalantly.
“Please do call me, Detective, when you need him.” One perfectly shaped brow arched elegantly.
“Because, unlike you, I have a vested interest in his welfare. I can’t get along without him.
” He finished with a deep rumbling chuckle.
“Thank you, Detective, you too,” he said as he hung up, smiling at me.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he grunted. “Now listen to me. The corner store has all the staples you’ll need, to your right is a really good Cuban place, to your left is a fairly good Chinese restaurant, and finally, there is an exceptionally good record store that still sells vinyl five doors down.”
“Thanks, boss. I’m sure walking around at night in this neighborhood will be fun.”
“Indeed.”
“We haven’t even talked about the rent yet.”
“I’m not worried about it, Jory. I know where you work.”
I smiled at him, and he put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed tight. “Watch some TV, go get some Cuban food…relax. Sit in the window and freeze. Whatever you want.”
I nodded.
“We’ll get you all moved in the morning.”
“Yessir.”
“Get some rest. You’re going to be up late tomorrow,” he told me before he turned and left the apartment.
I locked the door behind him and found, after only moments, that I liked the feel of the place.
It was immaculately clean and didn’t have the cramped oppressiveness of my old apartment simply because of the layout, and when I opened the windows, the cool breeze blew through the room.
I liked the wooden floors, the overstuffed burlap couch, and the tiny kitchenette.
My dishes would arrive the following day, but in the meantime, I would use the circa 1972 set my boss had left me.
It sort of went along with everything else.
Outside there were the noises of the night: people on the street, cars going by, the sound of someone playing jazz trumpet, and my neighbors coming and going.
It was all very comforting as I sat there and cried over Sam Kage.
My heart was breaking, and the fact that he didn’t call back told me that my drama was too much for him, and by leaving I had made the decision easy for him.
Logically, it was for the best, but I would miss the presence of him, his strength and dominance.
After I closed the window and made sure the radiator was on, I went to lie down on the couch. I didn’t get back up.
In college I had to take a fitness class as one of my requirements, and one of the things we learned was that your body doesn’t know the difference between physical pain and emotional pain.
That’s why grief, if left unchecked, can eventually kill you.
People who are grieving complain that their whole bodies hurt.
I never second-guess them; I take that as the truth and do what I can to get them some food or help clean their house.
The way I dragged around for the entire week, Jill and Celia finally told me to have a funeral for my dead love life and move on.
I told them we could go out drinking instead.
They were game, so we took Piper and hit the Pink Cadillac after work on Friday.
After that I took everyone back to my new digs, and they oohed and aahed over how cute it was inside.
We were going to have dinner at the Cuban place and were having more drinks at home before we left.
All I had was vodka, so I mixed it with cranberry juice and Sprite.
“How was Dane’s dinner party on Monday?” Piper giggled around the lip of her glass.
“Oh screw you,” I groaned, sitting down between Jill and Celia, both of them instantly touching me, hands on my shoulders, hands on my thighs.
“I heard it was awesome,” Jill chimed in. “But you were there until, like, two in the morning, weren’t you?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, which sent them all into peals of laughter.
My boss had had fifteen people over for dinner, and I’d had it catered at the very last minute.
It went off flawlessly, but only because I stood in the kitchen and went in and out, checking, making sure the drinks were served, and the appetizers, then the meal, dessert, coffee, and finally nightcaps.
I hooked my MP3 player up to his stereo and played jazz all night and had the table decorated with roses from my favorite florist, who always came through for me.
The emails and thank-you notes gushed over an elegant, intimate evening that had been enjoyed by all.
I had received my usual “well done” in the manner of a brief nod.
Dane never said thank you, he just hired movers and made sure I had a safe place to live.
It was like, I never got a birthday present, but out of the blue, for no reason, he had given me my Nokia, and on another occasion, he’d told me to take the company card and buy new clothes. It was how he worked.
Dane had made my new rent five hundred and fifty a month, and even when I argued that such a number was insanity, he just gave me a look like I had passed annoying days ago.
Since I was being given a gift, I shut up and accepted his generosity.
I had ridden with him to the airport, and he’d promised to call when he returned on Sunday.
When he was ready to get out of the car, he did what he always did and put a hand on the back of my neck and squeezed tight.
“I’ll be back. Don’t fret.”
I had squinted at him, and the chuckle I got in return was deep.
“Jory, the music is awesome,” Celia said suddenly, bringing me back to the present. “Do you get serenaded like this every night?”
I smiled at her and nodded.
“Lucky.”
“Let’s go eat.” Jill yawned loudly. “I’m hungry, and I wanna play some pool after.”