Chapter 13
Jesse
I think I’m going to be sick. I grip my hands together between my knees and try and stop my right leg from bouncing. The girl at reception keeps peering at me suspiciously.
I don’t blame her.
There’s no way that I’m qualified for this job, but when I got the email for the interview, I couldn’t possibly turn it down. I’ve only been on the hunt for a few days, but I’m already exhausted from the futility of it all. If there’s any hint of getting hired, I’m going to jump for it.
Even if it is at some fancy legal firm on the outskirts of town.
I’m not sure that Ross & Associates is really the kind of place for me, judging by the fancy clothes I’ve seen everyone wearing.
But at least I don’t look terrible in my smart pants and new button-down.
I just have to fake it till I make it. I’m still an actor at heart, after all.
I can bullshit my way through this and pretend like I belong.
Anything to make Rico proud of me.
Thinking about his smile is what eventually gets me to relax my leg and take a long, slow breath.
No matter what happens, I can’t wait to tell him that I actually got an interview when I pick him up from work tomorrow morning.
The firm asked me to come in at such short notice, so I didn’t even get to tell him beforehand.
I’m waiting to text him until I know how it goes.
But the idea I might be able to at least say that I got my foot in the door for the first time gives me courage.
I want him to know I’m really trying so hard.
The fact he’s allowing me free use of his car is still kind of insane to me. That he trusts me not to run back to LA with it and implode my life once again. And dropping him off at the station, saying ‘see you later!’ gives me all kinds of feels. Domestic ones.
Like we’re an actual couple, building a life together.
I know that’s not real, but I’m inspired all the same. If Rico can believe in me, I can borrow a little of that confidence to get me through this interview without totally screwing up.
Maybe.
“Jesse Silverman?”
I try not to jump, but I certainly stand up from my seat a little faster that is probably necessary. “Yep! That’s me. Hi. You must be Winston Saunders.”
The guy peers at me through his round glasses.
I’d guess he’d probably be in his forties, which I assume would be old enough to become a senior attorney here.
I had just enough time to do a little bit of research before getting here today so I’m not going in totally blind.
His bio on the website wasn’t long, but at least it had a headshot so I could recognize him.
He assesses me like a creature in a zoo, a smile slowly spreading across his face. I’m not sure if that’s a good look or bad.
“Come on in. Nice to meet you.” He extends his arm toward the main corridor that leads away from the reception area, so that’s where I start walking. Just be cool, I beg myself. It’s not long until we’re in a fancy corner office and I’m positioned in front of his desk.
“Thank you for this opportunity,” I say as he takes a seat opposite me. My chair feels too small. I clasp my hands together again and pray I don’t start fidgeting without noticing.
“Of course,” he says with a smile that doesn’t reassure me so much as send a chill down my spine. He smooths his tie along his chest and tilts his head as he looks at me. “As soon as I saw your resume, I had to get you in here. Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself, Jesse?”
Damn, my palms are sweating. I try and subtly run them along my thighs.
“Oh, well. I’ll be honest, I’m not really used to an office environment like this.
But I’m a fast learner and I’m willing to work hard to improve and get the job done.
I’m good in a team, so I think this assistant’s role would be a great fit for me. ”
Winston steeples his fingers together. “And past employment?”
“Oh, um…” I knew this would happen and I try not to let my cheeks pink up.
“I’ve done a lot of work in entertainment and hospitality.
But that’s not really a healthy environment for me anymore, so I’m looking for a chance to switch into something more nine-to-five.
That’s why I’m happy to start at the bottom and climb my way up.
Even if that’s just making coffees or taking messages on the phones. ”
He waves his hand, and his smile slips as he rolls his eyes. My stomach drops. That obviously wasn’t the right thing to say.
“Oh, come on, man,” he says with a laugh. “You know what I’m talking about. Do the thing.”
I really don’t know what he’s talking about. Does he want me to…dance for him? The idea that this lawyer knows I used to be a stripper sends ice down my spine and a wave of nausea rolls through me.
But Winston carries on with a grin. “You know?” He snaps his fingers on both hands in quick succession, a motion that’s agonizingly familiar to me, having done it about a million, billion times in my former life.
“What was that thing you always said? ‘It’s not rocket science!’ Right?
” He chortles to himself. “You are Leroy Puck, Boy Detective, aren’t you?
Not some other Jesse Silverman. I search for your picture online and figured it had to be you! ”
My stomach hasn’t just dropped. It’s gone all the way through the Earth’s crust and is about to hit mantle. “Yeah, that’s me,” I say flatly.
My tone doesn’t dampen Winston’s enthusiasm, unfortunately. He snaps his fingers again and grins. “I knew it! My sister was obsessed with that stupid show. She was always hogging the good TV, watching her DVDs. Hey, can we take a selfie? I want to rub it in her face that I met you.”
“Uhh, I’d rather not…”
But he’s not listening. He’s already jumped up and rounded the desk, phone in hand. I barely get a chance to look at the camera lens before he pops off a couple of shots.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” he says smugly, zooming in on one of the images as he goes and sits back down. “I knew it was you. Hilarious.”
My throat is thick, and I try not to squirm in my chair. “It’s always nice meeting a fan,” I say automatically, like I was trained to do all those years ago. It doesn’t matter that he clearly thinks pretty poorly of both me and my old show, but it’s always best to keep the public happy.
That’s what we were there for, after all. To amuse them. Like gladiators in ancient Rome.
“So, um, like I said,” I begin, trying to salvage this train wreck of an interview. “I’ve mostly worked in entertainment before now, but I’m hoping to—”
“Didn’t you also do that show where they make you eat bugs for money and shit?” he interrupts absently, his eyes still glued to his phone. Presumably, he’s sending a gloating text to his sister.
I blow my cheeks out and try and hold onto my center of calm. “Yeah, that as well,” I grit through my teeth.
“I can’t believe anyone would do that,” Winston says, shaking his head before finally looking back up at me. “But I guess desperate times call for desperate measures, huh?”
My eyes are stinging, but I absolutely refuse to let this man see me get upset. So I just hum and nod once, holding his gaze.
That seems to shake him out of his mirth, at least. He drops his phone on his desk and presses his hands together, giving me a serious look.
“Okay. The job. Well, I’d like to thank you for taking the time to come in today, Jesse.
But I’m afraid I don’t think it’s going to be a good fit.
We’re hoping for someone with more experience.
But if you’re looking for temp work to flesh out your resume, you can always speak to Miriam on the front desk.
She might be able to help you get some experience. ”
The ‘for free’ is implied but left unsaid.
I blink, not quite able to believe the balls on this guy. So he’s not even going to pretend this interview was real? He could have thanked me for my time and sent me on my way without another word like I’ve read most companies do. Instead, he’s gloating to my face.
He just brought me in here to laugh at me. To use me to needle his sister. I bet he’s going to have a fabulous time later telling all his friends how he met a washed-up kid actor as they all cackle over their top-shelf whiskey.
My skin is hot and my hands are shaking as I manage to rise to my feet. “Thank you for your time,” I mumble with what little dignity I have left.
Winston waves me off, his attention already directed at his computer screen. “You can find your own way out, can’t you? I’ve got a meeting I need to prepare for.”
I’m not sure how I make it out of the air-conditioned office back out into the sunshine, blinking tears back as I struggle to take a breath.
That’s all I am. That’s all I’ll ever be. A joke. A bad punchline that people will giggle over then forget about completely five minutes later.
Why am I even trying?
My feet are moving without me truly registering it. I stumble back to Rico’s car and start it up, only just remembering to buckle up before pulling off. It’s kind of a miracle I don’t get into an accident because the whole drive is a blur until I see what I’m looking for.
The strip mall back in town isn’t nearly as nice as the fancy parade of stores and businesses I just left by Ross & Associates, but that’s kind of the point.
There’s a parking slot waiting for me, so I don’t pause to think as I stop the car and hop out.
I’m not even certain I lock it. I’m so determined to get through the door in front of me, storming into the cool air and heading straight for the section I want, like I’m being drawn by a homing beacon.
It’s not until the bottle of vodka’s in my hands do I take a breath, the oxygen hitting my brain as if it’s pulling me out of a trance.
What am I doing?
I’d love to say that I put the bottle straight back down, but I keep staring at it, the weight of it comforting in my hands.
It would be so easy. I could just forget everything.
Put on some loud music and get fucked up.
Or maybe go down to the beach and watch the sun set as my cares slowly fade away.
Or not so slowly depending on how quickly I get this down my throat.
And then what? Wake up tomorrow and…?
Hate myself. Be back at square one. All that time and trust and money Rico put into me would be for nothing. All that progress I’ve made would go down the drain. Everything we risked by getting married to put me in rehab would be gone.
Rico would be so incredibly disappointed. But so would I. And for the first time in my life, that actually seems to matter.
I don’t care what that douchebag Winston thinks of me. I’m just a joke to him? Well, he’s nothing to me. Not like Rico. If I do this, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look him in the eye again, and that would kill me.
I wouldn’t be able to look at myself, either.
No. Enough. I can’t let one bad moment unravel it all. Even if I still feel like I want to crawl out of my skin after the way that asshole treated me. Tomorrow will be a fresh start.
I just have to make it until then.
“One day at a time,” I mutter, my throat and eyes still burning. It feels like I’m moving in slow motion, but I gradually, ever so slowly, put the vodka bottle back on the shelf. My hands are trembling and the part of me that wants to take it and run hasn’t actually gone away.
I reach out again.
Then it hits me. If I get fucked up, who will pick Rico up from work in the morning?
Because if I buy this liquor now (with the money he and my brother have so very kindly given me) will I stop there?
Will I be on the hunt for a second bottle and a hit of coke before I even realize what’s happening?
I know the answer to that.
“You okay there, son?” the elderly man behind the register calls out to me.
I drop my arm again and take a shaky step backward. “I think I am okay,” I say, my eyes still on the bottle.
But I’m moving away.
“Th-thank you, though,” I stutter.
It’s like a jolt of electricity shoots through me. I spin on my heels and rush to the door, not looking back.
From now on, the only direction I’m heading is forward.
My hands might still be trembling as I sit in the car and use my phone for an internet search, my thumbs moving clumsily. But I still find what I’m looking for.
What I need.
This drive is still kind of a blur. I just go slowly until I make it to the church parking lot.
I take my time parking because I’m probably at a high risk of getting into a fender bender in this state.
But eventually, I manage. Another few minutes go by where I simply sit there, ignition off, hands gripping the wheel.
“Just breathe,” I soothe myself. “You’re okay. You didn’t do something dumb. Really dumb. You haven’t done anything you can’t walk back from.”
I check the time on my watch, knowing that if I’m going to do this, I need to get out of this car. I’m worried if I don’t do it now, I never will.
“Go,” I urge myself.
The keys are in my hand. Gravel crunches under my feet. I step inside the white-washed building and once my eyes adjust to the gloom, I see a door to my left, away from the congregation hall. A handwritten sign taped to the glass simply says ‘meeting.’
Before I can change my mind, I push through it, finding myself looking at a circle of people. They turn and face me with tentative but welcoming smiles. There’s a vacant seat for me, almost as if they knew I was coming. Someone asks me to introduce myself.
Time focuses again, and I come out of the blur. I glance toward the door, and the thought crosses my mind that I could still leave. There’s nothing or no one stopping me from walking back out again.
Except for me.
I’m done running.
“Hi,” I say as I sit, my voice shaky and my eyes damp.
I clasp my hands together between my knees and don’t worry about my leg jangling this time. As long as it’s not moving me toward the door, it can do what it likes.
I take a deep breath and try again. “Hi. My name’s Jesse. And…I’m an alcoholic.”
“Hi, Jesse,” the room says back to me.
They make me feel like I’m where I belong.
And they’re right.