9. Jaime
Chapter 9
Jaime
M aeve examines an eggplant, rubbing her thumb over its glossy, purple skin before tossing it into her shopping cart. We’re at Berkeley Bowl, which is busy to the point of chaotic. But it’s not bad. It’s just very Berkeley , with its quirky mix of customers and eclectic world music drifting from the speakers. I’m half expecting to turn a corner and run into Florian with his flowing pants and headband.
I follow Maeve down another aisle, where she grabs an enormous avocado and lifts it for me to see. “Not on my list, but I can’t pass this up.”
I give her avocado a thumbs up, pausing when a familiar-looking fruit catches my eye. Shit, I haven’t seen guanábana in years. I grab a couple and drop them in the cart, my mouth already watering at memories of their sweetness.
“What’s that?” Maeve asks, curious.
“Guanábana,” I say. “We used to eat them all the time when I visited my grandparents in Puerto Rico.”
“What does it taste like?”
“Creamy and sweet, a little tart. Hard to describe.”
“I want to try it,” she says, running her fingers over their spiky, green skin .
“That’s why I got two.”
Her mouth curves into a smile. Even in sweats, she’s beautiful.
I need to be careful, getting chummy like this. There is absolutely no reason for me to get close to her, to let things get personal. She’s just a job. And she’s not even the main job—her boyfriend is.
But no matter how much I tell myself that, it’s obvious that it’s bullshit. Maeve is more than just a drug dealer’s girlfriend. She’s solid, authentic. She’s the kind of person I’d be friends with in another life, the kind of girl I’d go out with. I didn’t like making her feel bad earlier, even though her questions really were none of her business. I mean, what the fuck? Why did she need to know about what I did on my time off, especially when it came to women?
Unless she’s catching feelings. I know she likes me more than she lets on. It doesn’t matter that she’s taken by the boss, that they’ve been together so long she might as well be his wife. I see it in the way she looks at me sometimes, and I know because I feel it, too.
My phone vibrates, and seeing Cal’s name is like a cold splash of water. I need to get my head on right. Playing games could put Maeve’s life, and mine, in jeopardy if her boyfriend ever found out.
Not that he makes any of this easy—now he wants me to keep Maeve out a little longer because they’re meeting a potential client at the house. Sounds like I need to keep an eye on the video feed.
“Do you like salmon?” asks Maeve.
I look up, glancing at the seafood counter just ahead. “It’s all right.”
“I bet I can make you love it,” she says, arching an eyebrow in challenge.
“Go for it,” I say, smirking. “You won’t catch me turning down a free meal.”
Scoffing, she marches over to the counter and orders enough fish for a small village. Which is usually necessary for Callum and whoever he has at the house on any given night. It’s no mystery why this poor girl’s tired of living there. She’s a good cook, though. I’ll give her that. Their housekeeper used to handle dinner most of the time, but Maeve’s taken over, either because she was bored, or Callum didn’t like Yelena hanging around so late in the day.
We check out, loading the groceries into the trunk. Maeve returns the cart while I start the car and check my phone. Callum hasn’t sent any follow-up messages yet, but there’s plenty for me to see on the video feeds I installed at the house. There’s a dark SUV in the driveway beside Mac’s ride, a Lexus maybe. I pinch my fingers on the screen, looking for identifying factors like a license plate or cosmetic upgrade, but none are visible from this angle.
I glance up. Maeve’s on her way back, so I quickly navigate to the living room. Cal knows about the cameras near the front and French doors, but he doesn’t know about the tiny one I installed into one of his gaming consoles or the invisible ones built into the sockets.
Cal, Griffin, and Mac are in the living room, talking around the coffee table with four guys I don’t recognize. Two Black, two white. All dressed well, in button-downs and slacks. I screenshot a closeup of their faces so I can look into them later. My car door opens, letting in a rush of fresh air. I exit the surveillance app and open Spotify, scrolling to a mix of old hip-hop songs I grew up listening to.
“You want to go over the Golden Gate Bridge?”
Maeve frowns in confusion. “Right now?”
“Yeah.” I reverse out of our parking spot, keeping my eye on the backup cam. “You ever been?”
“A couple times,” she says, frowning. “Haven’t you?”
I nod, pulling onto the road. “It’s one of the few touristy places that’s worth the hype.”
“Yes,” she says slowly, glancing down at her phone. “It is. But why do you want to go now, all of a sudden?”
I might as well be honest. Maeve’s not dumb, and I hate playing games. I have to lie about enough shit on a daily basis. “Cal’s got some stuff going on at home. He asked if we could stay gone awhile.”
“Of course, he did.” She makes a derisive sound. “Sometimes I wonder why I ever moved out here.”
“We can do something else if you’d prefer.”
“It doesn’t matter. Golden Gate sounds good,” she says, settling back in her seat.
We drive in silence for a few moments, the hum of the engine and the soft beats of the hip-hop mix filling the space between us. Maeve scrolls through her phone, pausing to type every now and then.
“What’s with all the sighing?” I half-tease.
“I miss my friends,” she says. “I miss home.” It’s so honest, so normal. Reminds me that before Maeve got sucked into all of this, she was just a girl living her life.
“So go home and see everybody.”
“I might,” she says. “For Christmas.”
“Why wait?” I ask, but I know before she answers what she’s going to say.
“I think you know by now how Callum is,” she says softly, gazing out the window. “He hates when I leave. It always leads to bickering. He thinks I might just not come back one day.”
“Is he right?”
She shrugs silently.
“Why do you stay?”
Maeve looks away, her fingers slipping off her phone screen as if the answer is too heavy to type, too delicate to articulate. I let her ignore my question for the rest of the A Tribe Called Quest song. But when it ends, I turn down the volume. “You ignoring me?”
“Why would you ask me something like that?” she asks, bitterness lacing her quiet words as she frowns at the passing scenery. “Talk about inappropriate.”
“Come on,” I say, although I guess I should’ve known she’d get prickly about it. “I?—”
“You work for him, Jaime,” she says with a humorless chuckle. “Anything I say can be used against me, right?”
And that’s when I realize that we’re of like minds when it comes to Callum Barry. I’d suspected, but now I know. We have different motivations, different relationships with him, but all this circling we’ve been doing around each other just proves that we don’t trust each other because we don’t trust him .
“Nah. It’s not like that,” I say, letting the seriousness of my tone strengthen my message. “I get why you think it is, but it’s not. I don’t repeat the shit people tell me in confidence.”
“Why not?” she asks, shaking her head. “You’re part of his crew. How can I trust you if your position depends on his favor?”
There’s truth to what she’s saying, though not for the reasons she thinks. “There’s a lot about me that you don’t know. I might work with Callum, but it doesn’t mean I approve of everything he does, okay? ”
Now she looks at me, her seaglass eyes flickering with a tumult of emotion. She wants to believe me. I can see it.
“I promise,” I say, pushing. I don’t know why it matters to me so much. Maybe because I’ve started caring about her and I just want to help ease the burden.
“You’ll think it’s weak,” she admits, gnawing on her lower lip.
“Try me.”
“Have you ever been in love?”
I snort. “I’m probably not the best person to ask.”
She turns toward me, tucking her leg up. She’s wearing black and white high top Jordans today. Her sneaker game is always on point. Is that her thing, or Cal’s? “Why not?”
“Because I’ve seen a lot of shit, okay?” I laugh a little. “You could say I’m a little on the cynical side.”
“But you’ve dated?”
“Of course.”
“Oh, okay. I get it,” she says knowingly. “Nothing too heavy because that means being vulnerable, and you don’t like that.”
She’s pretty damn perceptive, though I wouldn’t have put it the way she did. “We’re talking about your love life, Dr. Maeve, not mine.”
“Fine, but if we’re going to be all up in each other’s business, we’re definitely coming back to this topic,” she says, poking my arm. “I can’t believe you’ve never been in love! You have to at least once before you die. It can be glorious .”
“Can’t wait,” I say wryly. I’m not sure how her train wreck of a relationship is supposed to encourage me to embark on one of my own, but whatever.
Tupac’s “I Get Around” comes on, amusingly appropriate given this conversation. I drum my fingers against the steering wheel, matching the rhythm of the track. “Look, if you feel like deflecting, just say that.”
“Ugh, fine. Being with Callum is familiar, right? For better or for worse, I know what to expect.” She rubs her face. “Usually. I think I’ve just gotten used to this life. To him.”
“You guys have been together a long time.”
“Over ten years, which is crazy,” she says. “You know how the person I was when you met me isn’t really who I am? Like, we met during a shitty time of my life?”
I nod, glancing at her.
“That’s kinda like me and Callum. We were so in love, so into each other all through high school and college. I knew he was the one from pretty early on. But then we graduated, and long distance was hard, and even though he’s always been supportive of my dancing, he hated that it took me away from him. It got to the point where I was always traveling, always on planes, squeezing visits in between touring with my company. I was so exhausted, tired of arguing. So, I figured I’d come out here. We’d always wanted to live together, and it seemed like a good time to try.”
I wonder if Maeve realizes how typical this kind of situation is with guys like Callum. He could’ve followed her around while she lived her dreams, but instead he guilted her into coming here and living his. But I keep my commentary to myself because she’s not ready to hear that shit.
“And is it what you expected?” I prod.
“Not really,” she says. “But it’s easier to stay.”
“Easier than what?”
“Than acknowledging that maybe I was wrong and my family was right. That I invested all of this love and devotion and time into a relationship that isn’t what I thought it was.” Her voice wobbles, and she turns away, wiping her cheek. “I can’t believe I just word-vomited all of that. You might’ve missed your calling as a therapist, Jaime.”
“Maybe I’ll switch professions,” I joke. “It’s never too late.”
Just ahead, I-80 transitions into the Bay Bridge. I jerk my chin, motioning toward it. “Wanna see who can hold their breath the longest?”
The cityscape transitions to the iconic expanse of the Golden Gate Bridge, its orange-red cables stark against the blue sky. This bridge is a little too long for breath-holding games, so we just enjoy it, flying across with all of the other cars headed toward the Marin Headlands. The windows are down, and Maeve’s hair flies around in the cool, salty air.
She looks over, catching me staring. It wouldn’t be the first time. But instead of looking away like she usually does, she gives me this soft, sweet smile. Yeah, there’s a connection between us for sure, no matter how much I try to fight it.
“Where to now?” I ask as we exit.
“Let’s just drive,” she says, tucking her curls into a bun at the base of her neck. “See where we end up.”
“How about we drive up there?” I point to Battery Spencer, a popular spot for viewing the bridge. “And then loop back. Cal should be wrapping up soon.”
It’s been about an hour since he texted. I don’t know what’s going on, because I’ve been driving and unable to view the camera feeds, but I’m itching to find out. I figure I can grab a quick peek if we stop at the lookout point.
Sure enough, though, Cal texts moments after we start the short trek to the summit.
Damn, u all the way in SF again?
U leaving the state?
Just killing time, bro
Yeah thanks
All good here
U can come back
I send a thumbs up then pocket my phone. Leave it to him to finally get back to me when we just got here.
Maeve charges ahead, her bun sliding free as she jogs. “Hurry up,” she calls back with a grin, her arms held out wide. “This is amazing!”
Cal can wait. I’ll just say there was traffic.
It’s late afternoon by the time we return to the Berkeley Hills and Maeve’s dozing, her head lolling to the side as we navigate the twists and turns of the neighborhood.
I round the corner and pull up to their gate, the hair on my arms prickling when I see that it’s wide open. Slowing to a stop, I peer up the driveway. There’s no reason for it to be like this, not unless it’s broken. Glancing at Maeve, I grab my phone and check to see if I missed any texts, but the last one Cal sent was the one telling us we could come back.
Looking around, I quickly pull up the surveillance app and scroll through the various feeds. Everything is quiet until I get to the patio. Cal and the guys are out there with the same four men I saw earlier, which is strange because why would Cal tell us to come home if they still had business? They should be long gone by now.
My pulse quickens as things begin to devolve on screen, tense words obviously being spoken. Suddenly Cal steps to one of the men. Shit. I might need to get Maeve out of here .
They begin arguing, moving out of the frame. I shuffle through the feeds, trying to keep up, watching as they move to the front door.
I put the car in reverse right as the unmistakable pop pop of gunfire shatters the quiet afternoon. A flock of birds explodes from trees surrounding the property, followed by the squeal of tires. Maeve jerks awake as I fly back down the hill and around the corner, my eyes glued to the backup camera.
“What’s happening?” she screams, bracing her hand against the window.
The neighbor’s mailbox appears. Yanking the steering wheel around, I whip into the top of their driveway seconds before the black SUV speeds by. I wait a moment, heart pounding, watching the road to make sure no one comes back up the hill.
“Jaime?” whispers Maeve.
Ignoring her, I reach for my phone.
You still want me to bring her home?
It takes a minute, but he finally responds.
Yes
I don’t feel great about bringing Maeve to the scene of a fucking shootout, but we can’t kick it in the neighbor’s driveway all day. Switching into drive, I edge onto the road and proceed back to Callum’s gate, which is still wide open.
As usual, I help Maeve carry her groceries inside. The house is quiet, which isn’t what I’d expect after the scene I just witnessed. Maeve’s quiet, too, withdrawn into herself. Reminds me of the way she used to be. It’s hard to watch. I’m about to ask if she’s okay when I catch myself. This isn’t why you’re here. You’re not her fucking friend or her therapist, no matter what you told her.
Walking through the living room, I peek through the French doors where I see Callum, Mac, and Griffin smoking by the pool like everything’s cool. I open the door slowly, looking over the three of them. No one seems to be injured.
“You good?” I ask.
“Had to set some folks straight, you know how it is,” Callum says, eyes on his lap where he’s rolling a baseball bat of a joint. His gun’s on the table, next to the bag of weed he’s pulling from. “No one’s pulling up to my house making demands, know what I mean?”
“Mm.” I don’t, not specifically, but I will once I go over the video footage later.
“Maeve okay?” he asks, glancing up at me with what looks like a hint of remorse.
“I guess. She doesn’t really know what’s going on,” I say. “I wouldn’t have brought her back if I’d known you were having trouble up here.”
“They were supposed to be long gone, man,” he says with a sigh, sitting back. “Everything was copacetic, and then the next thing I know they’re knocking at the door again.”
“Is that who messed up the gate?” I ask.
“The gate’s messed up?” Cursing, Callum grabs his phone and jabs at it until he’s pulled up the gate’s camera feed. “Well, fuck.”