Chapter 14
Sadie
James is lying on his back on Des’s bed, hands stretched over his head, damp patches under his arms as he snores softly.
Part of me wants to take a picture, to remind myself that the guy I had a total crush on wasn’t so shiny, but maybe that’s unkind.
Mr. Karen jumps onto the comforter next to him and comes to an abrupt halt, watching him with one paw raised.
“He ain’t moving, buddy. He’s dead to the world,” I say.
He sniffs James’s shirt as I stare down at my phone. A message flashes across the screen:
Where’s the money?
Fuck. Too much to hope for that he’d managed to sort that out for himself.
I told Mom, I can’t get a paycheck I haven’t earned. It would jeopardize my job, okay?
And I’ve got other problems that are more important than you, I don’t say.
I look down at James again. My best idea is to let him sleep it off.
Should I tell Des about this? He is one of James’s closest friends, and I’m sure he’d want to know what’s going on.
Des isn’t going to be anything other than supportive, is he?
He was often going out on total benders before he and Alex got together. I type in a text:
James met up with Jane at lunchtime and got drunk afterward. I babysat him all afternoon. I thought you ought to know. He did call me to come and chaperone him, though.
It’s better than thinking about jumping off the roof of a building, isn’t it? And if Des is aware of that, perhaps he’ll see this as progress.
Shit. Did he tell you anything?
He said you were right; she is completely oblivious.
Yeah. Wild! She kept going on to me about how she and James were best friends. Like after she dumped him? Who does that?
He said something about the best friends thing.
Thanks for looking after him.
It’s no problem. He’s a cute drunk.
I was worried something like this might happen, though I hoped it wouldn’t. I’m sorry I dumped this on you.
It’s all good, Des.
I’d be lying if I said that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind that this might earn me some goodwill for when the shit hits the fan over my degree.
But that isn’t really why I’m doing this.
I’m here because I like James, and not even in the I’m-attracted-to-him way.
I like James as a person. He’s kind and decent and deserves my help and support.
He’s right: Even in the short time we’ve been living together, we’ve become friends.
It’s no problem. I got him home safely and put him to bed. Well, more like helped him collapse on his bed. Your bed, in fact. I’m standing looking at him now. Fully clothed. Snoring, too.
Apparently, I don’t say much face-to-face, but I ramble like a grandma with no filter given the chance to text.
Christ.
Jane told him she misses him and wants him to move back in.
My phone buzzes suddenly in my hand, and I press answer as I shift out of James’s room, softly closing the door.
“Hey, Des.”
“Over my dead body,” he says in my ear. “Seriously, Sadie, he can’t go back to that apartment. He was in a bad way. Depressed as hell.”
The suicide note drifts through my mind. “He did say he would never go back.”
“Thank Christ for that. He practically begged me to move him out of there. I’m sorry, Sadie. This is way beyond what you signed up for when you joined Williams Security, but you’ve got to promise me you won’t let him get back together with Jane.”
Whaaatttt? How am I supposed to do that? And why am I suddenly becoming everyone’s go-to for emergency-related incidents? I’m the quiet girl in the corner.
“Well, I’ll do what I can, but …”
“You need to promise me.”
Goddammit, Des is my boss. You don’t want to lose this job! All my dreams would go straight down the toilet. Don’t mess this up, Sadie. This could be the only shot you ever get.
“Whatever it takes,” Des mutters.
“You mean like flights to the Caribbean, a Lamborghini, and an excessive expense account?”
He laughs. “Sorry, I know I’m coming on a bit strong, but you didn’t see him.”
I saw the aftermath, though. The injuries. “He tried to do something to himself, didn’t he?”
A sharp intake of breath reaches me from the other end of the line. “Did he tell you that?”
“No. I guessed.”
I’m not telling Des about the note. That would be a real invasion of James’s privacy.
Des is silent for a beat. “I’m not 100 percent sure, but I think he might have attempted something.
When he had those stitches in his leg and his face, I found him passed out on the roof of his building.
He was a mess, Sadie.” He hums. “We’ve been friends for a long time, and it was awful seeing him like that.
It’s not like him. Not like him at all.”
I’ve seen glimpses of a fun, quirky-sense-of-humor James Royce over the last few days, and that’s an entirely different person. In some twisted way, I like them both.
“I understand, Des. I promise, okay?”
He lets out a long breath. “It’s great he’s talking to you, Sadie,” he says. “Keep up the good work!” And then he hangs up on me.
How come every time I talk to Des, I end up promising him something I can’t deliver? And now goddamn Jake is texting me. I groan as I turn toward my bedroom. This calls for a hot chocolate and some Brandon Sanderson.