Chapter 24 Chris #2
She tucked her leg under her on the seat. “Yeah. They want a picture of it after eleven. So in ten minutes.”
“Did Tony request this?”
“No, the billboard company.”
I put the car in park and unbuckled my seat belt.
“What do you think of him?” I asked, nodding at the billboard.
“Tony? He’s a cool guy. He tips really well when he comes into the diner,” she said. “I wish Mike would work for him more.”
I looked at her. “Why?”
“It just seems more stable than the training. He doesn’t always have clients.”
I looked back out at the billboard. “How does this work exactly? Like how do we know someone else isn’t going to show up to take the same picture?”
“You claim the job. Then you have a window of time to complete it.”
“What’s the window for this one?”
“Two hours. Nobody else can claim a job you’ve already signed up for until the time runs out.”
I narrowed my eyes at the billboard. “I wonder if they want to see if the light stays on.”
“Probably. Have you ever seen a Toilet King billboard that wasn’t lit up twenty-four seven?”
I bobbed my head. “True.”
We sat there in silence, looking at Tony in his Henry Tudor costume holding a toilet plunger over a poop-filled bowl.
“Want to listen to some music?” I asked.
“Sure. What’s in your playlist?”
“Nothing I’m going to play for you,” I said, turning on the radio.
She gasped. “Why?”
“You’re going to make fun of me.”
“Awwwww, come on. It can’t be more embarrassing than stabby sticks.”
I gave her an amused look. “Why are you laughing at my trauma?”
“Well, when you say it like that, I sound like a jerk. I’m not going to stop though.”
I chuckled.
“Is it show tunes?” she asked. “Electronic dance music? The soundtrack for Frozen—”
“Hey, the soundtrack for Frozen was excellent.”
“So it’s that.”
“What’s in your playlist?” I asked. “Show me your phone.”
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
“Fine,” I said.
“Fine.”
We both keyed in our passwords and then handed them over.
We went quiet studying each other’s list.
“It is show tunes,” she said.
“So?”
“I’m half inclined to believe you planted this here.”
“You think I listened to hundreds of hours of Hamilton just to confuse you?”
“Okay. Good point.”
I smiled. “What’s this one?” I asked. “‘Sliver’ by Lola Simone.”
“Play it. It’s really pretty. Part of her comeback album.”
We returned each other’s phones and I looked up the song on mine and played it over the Bluetooth.
A simple guitar intro, steady, ethereal voice. I loved it.
We listened to it, watching the moths flutter in the light of the billboard. Neither of us said a word, just enjoyed the song.
I wondered offhandedly if this would have happened that night after the concert if I’d been the one to drive her home. Would we have talked about music and ended up exchanging phones and picking a song to play?
I found myself thinking a lot about that night lately. I wished I didn’t.
There was no point dwelling on what-ifs. I did it with Mom and it only filled me with guilt and regret.
I think that’s just the way the human brain works though. Circling back over the mistakes we’ve made. Trying to learn so we do it better next time.
I wouldn’t get a next time. Not for either scenario.
The song ended right as the clock hit 11:00. Larissa lifted her phone to take a picture. “Easiest fifteen dollars I’ve ever made,” she said, sending the image to the company that asked for it.
“How much did you make today toward the hundred?”
She twisted her lips thinking about it. “I did a delivery order before the party, got a ten-dollar tip. So twenty-five?”
“Are there other requests? For billboard pictures?”
“Oh yeah. Lots. They’re not on the way home though, they’re kind of all over.”
“And they all want pictures after eleven? That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
I put my seat belt on. “Let’s do them.”
She blinked at me. “What?”
“Let’s go do them. Unless you need to get home,” I said.
She shook her head. “No, I don’t. But… are you sure? You want to drive me around taking pictures of billboards? Don’t you have to sleep?”
“I’m not tired.”
She gave me a look like she didn’t believe me.
“I’m really not,” I said. But I would have done it anyway, even if I were. I wanted to help her.
She studied me in the faint glow of the billboard like she was trying to decide if I meant it.
By the way she always balked at help, I wondered if it got offered enough.
It didn’t seem natural for her to take it.
She didn’t want the ride to the hospital, I’d had to coax her to breakfast, force myself into her apartment to get her luggage.
Anytime she took anything from anyone, she was apologetic and it felt like a last resort.
I think she’d been on her own a long time. Used to doing everything herself. Maybe because people let her down? Her dad. Her mom wasn’t always dependable.
Mike wasn’t always dependable either. I hated to say it, but he wasn’t.
I would not let her down. Ever.
In fact, I think this was the moment that cemented that for me.
Where I knew I would do things for her without asking.
Without her knowing, even. Because even the act of accepting help took a toll on her.
And her life deserved to be a little easier.
Even if she didn’t know who was making it that way.
Or why.