Chapter 21
Jesse
When Rico’s doorbell goes off, I don’t really think much of it.
I assume it’s probably Katerina popping by for a cup of tea and a gossip.
I could do with it after the meeting I went to this morning.
That guy Emerson was there again, and I wasn’t quick enough off the bat to get a seat away from him, so I could feel his gaze boring into the side of my head the entire session and I wasn’t comfortable enough to share anything.
That left me feeling unsettled enough, but then he followed me out to the parking lot.
He was talking non-stop about some real crime podcast that I have no interest in listening to.
In the end, the only way I could shake him was by closing the car door, and even then, he was still trying to talk at me through the window.
I appreciate he’s probably lonely and just wants a friend. However, the last thing I need is someone stopping me from feeling safe in meeting, so I really hope it’s Katrina and not some salesperson at the door. I could do with hearing some of her crazy stories to distract me.
Normally, I go over to her place as I like looking at all her memorabilia from when she toured in Paris and London on her way to New York and then finally LA. Also, I’m not sure which collection is more impressive. Her vinyl records or her various mediums of erotic artwork.
So. Many. Penises.
Furthermore, last time she cracked a joke about Joe McCarthy suspecting her of being a KGB spy that I’m not entirely sure was a joke. So I’m definitely going to need closure on that.
She’ll hate that I’m slouching around in sweats and one of Rico’s old fire department T-shirts, as she’s always so glamorous. But she’ll really enjoy bullying me about it. Therefore, we’ll both win. So I jog over and open the door without really giving it a second thought.
It’s not Katarina Petrova.
“Hello?” I say uncertainly to the petite woman standing before me. She’s wearing an enormous frilly blouse with a tight pencil skirt and skyscraper pumps. Her dark hair tumbles over her shoulders and she looks at me through enormous, square glasses.
“Oh, hi!” she smiles, her lips coral and shiny. “Enrico Flores?”
“No, that’s my husband,” I tell her.
“Ah,” she nods and wags her finger at me. “So that must make you Jesse Silverman. I’m Angelica Carson from Navigator Insurance. Pleased to meet you.”
She sticks her hand out, but I can only stare at it for a second. I’ve been so wrapped up in how Rico told everyone at his work the whole story about us (or at least, the public version of the story) that I’d honestly forgotten about the insurance company and their inspection.
I snap back to my senses and shake her hand with probably a little too much vigor, but I’m immediately panicking. “Oh! Uh, hi. Rico’s not here, he’s at the gym. He’ll be back soon, though. Come in! Sorry. Please come in. I can make coffee. Do you want coffee?”
I take a breath, and she seizes the opportunity to step past me into the apartment. “Don’t worry, Mr. Silverman. I don’t bite. I will take a coffee, though. Cream and two sugars. Oh! And who’s this handsome fellow?”
Klaus has trotted up to greet her as I’ve closed the door. He wags his tail and sits in front of her, tongue lolling from his mouth as he smiles.
“This is Klaus,” I say, feeling like someone else is speaking from my mouth and moving my body around as I drift uneasily to the kitchen. I can’t fight the feeling that I’ve already failed this test. “We’re fostering him for…for a while.”
Every time I think about giving him up to another family, I want to cry, so I’m just trying not to. But he’s kind of too big for a fourth floor apartment, and we have to do what’s best for him.
“Klaus,” I say, pushing through that particular emotion. “This is Ms. Carson. She’s here to talk to your daddies and have a look around.”
Klaus offers her his paw and my heart just about melts. “What a polite young man,” Angelica coos, shaking with him before petting his head. Then she looks around and beams. “Well, isn’t this a lovely little home you have?”
“Thank you,” I mumble, remembering I was supposed to be making coffee. I get the machine going and try not to fiddle with the hem of my shirt.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to blurt out that this is Rico’s home, not mine. I’m just a lowly stripper junkie with trash credit who barely qualifies as an adult. Even just inside my head, the harsh language catches me off guard. Wow, that’s unkind. I guess old habits really do die screaming.
“How long have you lived here?” Angelica asks casually, but terror flies through me. I feel like saying that I can’t answer any questions without my lawyer present. She might be smiling, but this is still an interrogation.
Rico and I have gone over and over our responses, though, and this is a pretty simple one. If I don’t reply, she might mark us down on whatever score she’s keeping.
“Um, a little over five months.” I know exactly how long it is because it’s only a day less than I’ve been sober.
“But I was at the Sequoia Heights treatment center for three of them, so I feel like I’m still settling in.
Because, um, when I was living in LA, I’d come for visits, you know?
But it’s different when it becomes your home. ”
I’m rambling and I worry that she can see right through me. All she does is smile and nod, though, as she slowly starts wandering around the living room, looking at our wedding photos.
They make me feel a bit weird. They’re not real…but maybe they could be? I don’t know. Part of me worries that I’m tempting fate by thinking like that. I just can’t help it.
People know about us now. People Rico cares about.
It’s easy enough to tell that he thinks of the One-Thirteen as family, even if he has kept them at arm’s length for a lot of the time.
The idea that they want to meet me is exciting but also daunting.
I wouldn’t want to mess it up and embarrass him.
If they ask what I do for a living, will he be ashamed if I give an honest answer?
These are all conversations I was really hoping to have before the big inspection came along. Too late for that, now. We’re just going to have to fumble our way through as best we can, I suppose.
I’m just finishing adding cream and sugar to Angelica’s coffee when the sound of keys in the front door makes my heart leap.
“Daddy’s home!” I cry at Klaus automatically, so relieved that I don’t consider how silly that probably sounds before it escaped my mouth.
My cheeks burn as I scuttle out of the kitchen to meet him.
“Hey,” I say, trying to convey my urgency without sounding too panicked.
I’m not sure if I succeed. “We have company. This is Ms. Carton.”
“Angelica, please,” she says warmly, approaching Rico with an outstretched hand that he shakes. “So nice to finally meet you. Are you okay to have a little chat now?”
Rico’s mouth is hanging open slightly as he looks from her down to his sweaty gym clothes. “Uhh, you cool if I take a shower first?”
“By all means,” Angelica says, sounding like she means it. “Is that my coffee, Mr. Silverman?”
“Oh, shit, yes.” I dart over and retrieve her mug to hand it over. Thankfully, it’s still hot. “I might, um, get changed as well if you don’t mind?”
She wraps her hands around the mug and smiles at me. “No problem at all. Klaus here can keep me company, can’t he?”
She gets a happy bark in response.
My feet aren’t quite working, but Rico’s hand against the small of my back helps guide me into our bedroom and he closes the door behind us.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, my knees giving way as I stumble to sit on the edge of the bed. My eyes are hot, and my hands are shaking. “I fucked it up, Rico. I wasn’t ready! I’m so sorry. This is a disaster. I—”
“Hey, hey, shh.” He crouches in front of me and holds my hands, looking into my eyes. “It’s all fine, I promise. Just breathe, okay? Like this. In…and out…” I follow his lead and get some oxygen back into my brain. “Right,” he says after a minute. “What did you say?”
I blink and try to think back. “Uhh, she asked how long I lived her for. I said five or six months, but I only got back from rehab recently. And that, um, I visited when we were dating while I was still in LA.”
He beams at me and cups one of his hands against the side of my face.
“That sounds absolutely perfect, Jesse. Well done. Anything else?” I shake my head, figuring the coffee and Klaus chat probably doesn’t need repeating.
“Okay, that sounds like you did great. I’m going to have the world’s fastest shower.
Did you want to put on some jeans and maybe that nice blue sweater that makes your eyes sparkle? ”
His words make me finally relax, and I give him a wobbly smile. Having him suggest something for me to wear is exactly what I need because even such a simple task seems too daunting for me right now. Especially knowing how many times he’s told me that he thinks I’m gorgeous in that sweater.
“Great idea,” I say weakly.
He leans in and kisses my lips, turning me into a puddle. I’m not sure when I’m going to get used to him doing that so casually, but I doubt it’ll be any time soon.
“Just pretend you’re on stage at the Tavern,” he suggests, his voice warm like honey. “You were born to shine, Jesse. Don’t forget that.”
I nod mutely, watching as he stands again, quickly gathers some things, then heads into the bathroom.
If Enrico Flores says I was born to shine, it must be true.
By the time he returns, I’ve managed to change my clothes and even put a little product in my hair. “You’ve got this,” he murmurs, taking my hand.
“We’ve got this,” I say, trying to project the confidence I want to feel. He beams and gives me a squeeze before leading me back into the living room.
“Sorry about that,” he says cheerily to Angelica Carson. “But I suppose the point is to catch us off guard.”