Chapter 27 Jamison
Jamison
We’ve been here for almost an hour and I’ve gotten to talk to Claire for basically none of it.
Besides the five minutes at the bar that ended way better than I could have planned, one of us has been talking to someone else the entire time.
Luckily, we were each able to get our hands on another drink, in between introductions with this one and schmoozing with that one, to at least make the small talk tolerable for me.
Watching Claire interact with people from all walks of life is fascinating.
For someone who has such a hard time socializing, it’s wild to see it come so effortlessly to her.
I was a witness to a few of her conversations and listening to her make small talk is like listening to Mozart play Symphony No.
Whatever. It’s fluid and easy and so damn detailed.
This girl can ask a different question for every person she talks to and it’s like each was handcrafted specifically for them.
On top of it, she seems so genuinely interested in their answers.
No other person in this world could sincerely ask Zeke what his favorite Chuck Berry song is and take an actual interest in his response.
After way too long without her, I finally catch a glimpse of Claire putting both of our bottles on the gift table, and for once, she’s alone.
I slip out of a useless conversation the guys from Monroe’s are having about last year’s WWE Wrestlemania and sneak up behind her.
Before I make my presence known, I take just a second to once again admire her open back.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” I tap her on the shoulder.
She turns, and before she responds, she looks me up and down. “Hmm, you know, I thought you might look like this guy I know, but he usually wears work boots.” She drops her eyes to my shoes. “And, he goes by the name Jay.” She smiles playfully. “Jamison was it?”
Hearing my full name spoken out loud feels so unfamiliar. Besides the few times that Zeke has said it just to annoy me, it’s been years since I’ve answered to it.
The last time a woman spoke my full name was Mel.
Despite aging out of the system, and no longer being a requirement, she and I have kept in touch.
Well, more like she has kept in touch with me being that I don’t reach out to anyone really.
As sad as it is, she's been a constant in my life for longer than my own mother was, so I was glad when she didn’t just disappear.
About three years ago Mel called me. This was strange in itself being that she mostly kept in contact through Christmas and birthday cards, but I always sent her my number and address if it ever changed.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Jay. It’s me.”
“What’s up Mel? How’ve you been?”
“I’m good,” she paused, “Hey, listen…” The way she took a deep breath, told me right away what was coming next.
“How?” I didn’t need to hear her say it.
“Car accident. Completely sober if you can believe it.”
I couldn’t.
My whole life my mother struggled with either alcohol or men who struggled with alcohol. Decades of abuse both forced and self-inflicted. Thousands of nights hitting the bottle, dozens of nights being hit by men, and the way she goes is one of the most common ways to die.
You would think I’d have a more devastating response to finding out my mother was dead, but the truth was, I had prepared myself for this since I was old enough to know what death was.
It’s not something I’m proud of, but it was crucial to my survival.
I realize it’s not normal for a kid to grow up expecting to walk into their house and see their mom on the floor.
It’s not healthy for a child to put headphones in at night so they don’t hear what could be their parent’s last words, arguing with a man who’s drunk and angry and twice her size.
No, what it is, is a defense mechanism that readies you for the inevitable — or at least what you assume.
None of this is to say I didn’t love my mom.
I loved her unconditionally, the way a parent loves a child, despite her flaws and mistakes.
Despite all of the times she let me down — but that’s the problem.
I wasn’t the parent. I was the child. And sometimes I think she forgot that the roles weren’t reversed.
All of this to say, now is not the time to drop this piece of me on Claire. But because I can’t just leave it completely, I offer something different.
“Yes. Jamison is my full name. I obviously had to fill out all of my paperwork for Zeke when he hired me, and he likes to throw it around every once in a while just to piss me off.” I take another step closer to her. “But Jay is just fine.”
Claire tilts her head to one side and puts her finger to her lips. “I don’t know,” she says, moving in one more step. “I kind of like Jamison.”
“Yeah…” I finish closing the gap between us. Thanks to her heels, we now stand face to face and chest to chest. “I really don’t.”
“Well,” she says looking to my lips, “What are you going to do about that…Jamison?”
With that, I press my mouth to hers. This kiss, unlike those at the bar, is deeper, harder, and heated.
Fueled by my attraction to her and the sting of my most recent memory.
I normally wouldn’t do something like this in public but A.
It’s dark as Hell in here and B. At this point, I don’t really give a shit.
I wrap one hand around her hip and the other around the back of her head, claiming all of her as mine.
She fists my shirt with both hands, a soft moan escaping from her throat.
All of the blood that’s been pumping through my chest rushes south.
I lean into her to increase the pressure between us, but she bumps into the table of presents instead.
We both smile beneath our kiss and she breaks away first, hiding her face in the crook of my neck. “So, not Jamison. Got it.”
I practically snort at the shift in climate, and she giggles into me before pulling back, wiping her bottom lip with her thumb.
I clear my throat dramatically and pull at my jeans. Have I mentioned I’m so glad it’s fucking dark in here? The opener of Wild Ones starts playing and Sia’s voice fills the club. Claire’s eyes tell me before her words do — she loves this goddamn song.
“No.”
Claire nods her head.
“No,” I persist.
She grabs my hand. “Yes!” and drags me through the VIP.
When we leave the private area it’s like a whole other world.
The DJ to the left is lifted on a mini stage spotlighted in changing colors.
The bar to the right runs the length of the building, wrapping even around the corner to the other side.
The dance floor in the middle is just a sea of people, bobbing and swaying to the beat of the music.
I stop abruptly, causing Claire, who is leading, to be pulled back to me. She can’t possibly want to go into the middle of this mob scene. I’m bumped twice by people trying to push their way through and even that is enough contact for me to know there is no way in Hell I’m stepping foot into that.
She must see the overwhelm on my face because just as Flo Rida’s voice bellows through the speakers, Claire starts to dance.
Right here, at the edge of the crowd, she throws her hands in the air and starts jumping to the beat.
She’s pumping her fists and spinning around, and the smile on her face makes this mayhem worthwhile.
I shove both hands in my pockets and let her do her thing.
Never in my life did I think I’d ever be here — in a packed club, with someone who despite all she seems to have going on, can just put it aside and be this carefree.
I could get lost in watching her twirl around, but suddenly Sia is back with the chorus, and she slows down her movements and glides over to me.
Mouthing the words, she throws her arms around my neck, and I’m lost in this feeling of just being a part of something right now.
It’s so damn corny, but Claire makes me feel a sense of belonging that's entirely new to me.
As the music picks back up, my arms, which I have around her lower back, start to bounce with her dancing again.
Then suddenly my shoulder jolts forward, but not because I’m feeling the beat.
I look at Claire who is covering her mouth hiding her laughter at whatever is behind me.
Turning, I see a very drunk Sean leaning on a very irritated Rick.
He smacks my shoulder one more time and puts a source to the movement.
Claire and I both drop our arms as Sean’s lips begin moving, but no sound can be heard over the bass of the speaker. I point to the private area, and we all cross back into the VIP section. The music softens just slightly this far removed from the main floor and Sean speaks again.
“She’s dancing, Jay.” His words come out slurred.
Claire and I look at each other confused. Rick holds up a finger telling us to wait.
“She’s dancing with some big tall guy like you.” He pokes my chest, then points to his own. “My girl.”
Understanding washes over me and I turn to Claire, mouthing “Maddie.” Her eyebrows shoot up and then settle in a crease as if she’s now both confused and surprised. I nod in agreement knowing exactly how she’s feeling.
I lean into her and whisper, “He’s stupid drunk. Do you mind if I walk him outside and figure this shit out?” She shakes her head no and grabs my hand. When I said that, I didn’t mean for her to come with me, but there she goes making me feel like I’m not alone again.
Rick throws Sean’s arm around my other side, and the three of us make our way to the VIP’s back exit to the outside of the club. I didn’t realize I needed fresh air until it hit me, but once we opened the doors, it was like my lungs filled fully for the first time all night.
I sit Sean on the curb, and Claire sits next to him. I stand in front of them both, reaching for my cigarettes. I notice Claire’s eyes on my movement as I glide one back, forth, back across my lips, and settle it off to the side, right as Sean whines again.
“What am I going to do, guys? I love her!”
Claire sticks out her bottom lip and rubs Sean’s back. This girl is a fucking angel.
And he is a pathetic mess.
“Have you ever even talked to her? I mean like, does she know you exist?” I’m not trying to be a dick, I’m just trying to see what we’re dealing with here.
Sean looks at me like I have six heads and then asks Claire, “Is he talking cursive to you too, or just me?”
Claire bursts out laughing and I pause mid-drag.
“Alright, you’re done here.” I put out a perfectly good cigarette for this clown and hoist him up under his arms like a goddamn baby.
“I can throw him in a cab.”
Claire, who’s now standing too, shakes her head. “No way, he’ll never make it. Where does he live?”
“Right by me.”
Her face drops just slightly enough that I notice. “Why don’t you take me first and then drop him off on your way home.”
“No,” I say but she’s already nodding her head. It’s like the dancing thing all over again only this time it’s way less cute.
“Claire.”
“Jamison.” We both smirk at the name.
“I’m not spending the rest of my night with this asshole instead of you.” Sean looks at me like now all of a sudden he knows what I’m saying. “No offense, buddy.” He leans his head against my arm.
Claire pouts again and pats him on the head like the sad little puppy that he is. “It’s fine Jay, seriously.”
It is so not fine, but what else am I supposed to do with him? If I leave him here, he’ll get kicked out, or worse, and I’m not having that on my conscience too.
I shrug Sean’s head off of my shoulder with a huff like a kid who didn’t get his way. Holding his face in my hands I look him in the eye. “Stay here,” I insist.
Claire steps next to him, taking over the babysitting while I pull the truck around. Looking back, I see Sean’s head now resting on her arm in the same way it was on mine.
This guy so fucking owes me.