46. Jansen
Chapter 46
Jansen
T he lights are still on in Clara’s parents’ house when I rumble past.
At least my car looks like it belongs in this neighborhood. I won’t have to hide it at the nearest shopping center and skulk in the bushes until the middle of the night, like I do when I lift cars in rich-people-ville. This is going to be a lot more pleasant. I even picked up fancy tea on my way over here.
Parking a few doors down, I watch the small two-story Clara grew up in, waiting for the house to go dark.
My leg jiggles as I flip through different playlists. Pop, bluegrass, LoFi hip-hop—nothing is hitting the right vibe. Ugh. Waiting is the absolute worst part of any theft. If the adrenaline spikes too soon, my hands shake when I pick the locks and it always takes twice as long. And that is just plain annoying .
An older lady hobbles toward me, dragged by a tiny floof on a leash that shouldn’t be able to tug anything heavier than a feather. Nosy neighbors are bad. But old ladies have a soft spot for me, so here’s hoping I can play the secret white knight for her.
I’m lucky Walker taught me some backstories last year when I started boosting cars again. This would be my first time using the gallant knight, and I’m almost hoping she’ll call me out so I can pretend to be someone’s hero.
She doesn’t. She gives me a long look, so I smile and lift my chin in greeting, switching the music to something without words, just in case she’s offended by lyrics. Who knows with old ladies? It’s not like I’ve spent a ton of time with them. They just love me on principle.
Bored after another song with strong beats but no words, I call Walker.
“Did you find it okay?” he asks, skipping any greeting.
“Yeah. Now I’m just waiting.”
“And you’re bored and debating just breaking in while her parents watch TV?”
I stare at the colors barely visible flashing through the front window. “It’s like you know me, man.”
Walker’s laugh sounds light, and after weeks of him being in a mood , it’s excellent to hear. I just want everyone to get on the “we’re all in this together, for the long haul, and it’s going to be fucking amazing,” train with me. Because the writing’s on the wall. And I’m doing all I can to keep from blurting it out in front of everyone else as they take their damn sweet time coming to the same conclusion .
Clara was the glue we didn’t know we were missing. She’s the last tumbler in a tricky lock. She’s the center we’re all drawn to. She’s all of ours. And we’re hers.
Holding my tongue is nearly impossible.
“Want to entertain me?” I ask instead.
“You’ve got me for maybe three minutes. Then I’m home.”
“I want to be home.”
“Really? Home over breaking and entering?”
“Okay. Fine. I’d rather be breaking and entering with Clara.”
A smile cuts across my face as he chuckles again. “At least you’re honest. Are you sure I can’t convince you to just knock on their door and ask for her winter gear? I’m not sure what she’s going to think about you breaking into her parents’ house, Jay.”
“You said her mom hit her, that she dug her nails in so deep Clara bled. They don’t deserve the courtesy. They don’t deserve to feel safe in their house. It’s not like Clara did.”
The pause on the other end lingers. “You’re not wrong. But your sense of justice is both perfect and terrifying.”
“Despite everyone’s pessimism, I’ve actually learned something from all my philosophy classes. An ability to defend my twisted morals isn’t a terrible skill in our line of work.”
“Since when did you care about your morals?”
Since a brown-eyed beauty skittered into our lives. We might be dragging her to the wrong side of the law, but for me? I’ve also had to reevaluate where I stand on things I just took for granted. Why do I steal? Because it’s fun. Because it feels right .
Because as a kid, I couldn’t see another way out of the hole we’d sunk into after my dad died. And I was so fucking hungry.
Shit. I don’t need to dwell. It’s never helped.
“Just practicing in case I get caught,” I joke.
“Don’t get caught and you won’t need to practice that shit.”
“You know that’s my plan.”
I can see him shaking his head at me in my mind. “Be safe. Don’t make things worse. I’m home, so I’m hanging up on you.”
“Give our girl a kiss from me.”
“I’ll be giving her a kiss from me. You can kiss her yourself tomorrow.”
“Good call. She’s still a bit too boogery for my tastes right now.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her that, man.” The line goes dead.
Hmm. What are the chances he’ll tell Clara I think she’s boogery? What have I stolen from him lately?
A knock on the window of my car pauses the dawning revelation that I haven’t stolen from anyone in the house in weeks. Maybe months. Maybe since Clara started weaving us all closer.
I roll down the window for the old lady from before, the fluff growling softly in her arms. My best smile in place, I force my jumpy brain to lock onto the story I spent hours rehearsing last spring. “Hello.”
Her lips press into a straight line as she takes me in, obviously memorizing me in case she needs to call the cops later. Not a good start, Jansen. “Can I help you, young man? You’ve been idling out here for quite a while.” She squints at me, suspicion as thick as the hum of her dog’s rattles. I hope the little thing doesn’t have pneumonia or something.
“I know, I’m so sorry. I’m waiting for a friend of mine.”
“And you can’t wait inside your friend’s house instead of out here on the street?”
I look over both shoulders, remembering to sell the secrecy. “Umm, well, no. I can’t. My friend, well, she’s in a bad relationship, you know? She said it’d be safe to wait here until her boyfriend falls asleep. Then she’ll sneak out, and we’ll get her the hell away from the guy. But if you need me to move, I can. I just don’t want to go too far from where I said I’d be. It’s not safe to send her a text at this point. Her ex is…well, it wouldn’t be good.”
It’s easy to imagine it’s Clara I’m rescuing, not some nameless girl from the script. Thank God she’s safe with us now.
Some of my genuine feelings must show on my face, because the old lady reaches through the window and pats my arm. “Good. You keep your friend safe. God only knows I’ve needed a rescuer a time or two in my life, but I never got one. You’re fine. Stay here as long as you need.”
“Thank you,” I say, something that feels suspiciously like guilt sinking into my gut. That’s unexpected.
“Do you need any snacks? Coffee?” she asks.
I hold up my tea. “That’s a kind offer, but I’m good for now.”
“Well, if you need anything, even just to use the restroom, I’m right over there. Number 1439B.”
“Got it.” I swallow down the unexpected feeling. “Thanks for keeping such a close eye on the neighborhood. I’m sure it’s appreciated. ”
“Somebody has to. This place gets worse by the week, I swear.”
I smile and nod, like I have an opinion about Clara’s childhood street. Honestly, all I’ve noticed is that it’d be a terrible place to lift cars. Not enough money in this part of town.
“Well, stay safe, and remember my offer.”
“I will. Have a nice night.”
Finally, the woman steps away from my window, and I power it back up, cranking on the heat to replace the chill that’s filled the car, the grumble of her dog barely audible as she drags it back to her townhouse. Whew. Made it.
My tea is long gone and my patience is nothing more than imagined smoke when the McElroy house finally turns dark. I force myself through a mantra meditation, chanting “quiet mind quiet feet” until my tremors ease, and I’m ready. It’s been long enough that there’s no way anyone in that house is still awake.
Unless one of Clara’s parents has insomnia.
Eh. She sleeps almost as hard as I do. I’m sure she gets that from her parents.
Picks in hand, I jog down the street, dashing behind the house to the back door.
The locks are simple, even if there are two of them, but the dogs next door are not happy to catch sight of my shadow. The cursing from that house is audible, but no lights turn on in any neighboring windows, so the dogs must be a normal disruption around here.
Once in, the door clicks shut behind me. I pause to listen.
Silence .
Envisioning the layout Walker drew for me, I inch through the kitchen and into the living room, creeping up the stairs, hugging the wall. There are fewer squeaks closer to the edges. At the top, I turn to the left, easing open the door to Clara’s room.
The half-moon casts her room in shadows, but I still snoop. I take the few steps from the door to her closet, before pausing at her stash of track and cross-country statues crowded on one side of her dresser. Covering the other side of the dresser are framed pictures of Clara and a few other girls, all of them in matching track uniforms, arms slung over each other’s shoulders as they grin. I pick one up where the girls are probably fourteen, one girl with long braids still sporting braces.
Clara looks so much younger. Carefree in a way I’ve only glimpsed in small, unguarded moments. Usually after I’ve helped her to a superb orgasm, if I don’t mind patting myself on the back. And I don’t. Not one bit.
“Yeah. That’s my favorite too.”
It’s only years of creeping through places I shouldn’t be that keeps me from jumping and running. You freak out in my line of work, you get hurt. Maybe dead. Best-case scenario is figuring out the problem, then talking my way out of it. Worst case, well, at least I’m closer to the window than the voice is.
I turn to find Clara’s dad hovering in the doorway, boxers and a t-shirt different shades of gray in the dark. He doesn’t seem angry to see me skulking in his daughter’s room. Or even very surprised. I glance down at the frame in my hand. “She looks, I don’t know, lighter than she is now,” I say .
He scratches the back of his calf with his foot. “She was. A pure light. Not perfect, but trusting, joyful. So full of life I felt more alive just by watching her.”
I set the frame back on the dresser. “And now?”
“Now she’s learned the lesson I’d hoped she’d never have to figure out. That not everyone deserves her trust.”
I tuck my hands into my pockets. Better to keep him at ease as I take a step closer to the window. “So I take it you’re calling the police?”
He runs his hands through his hair, glancing around the room. “I thought she’d come back herself. Maybe she’d apologize and things could go back to normal. Only, she’s not coming back, is she?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. And even if she wanted to, none of us would let her without a fight. Not that any of us could stop her. Not really.”
He sighs, his shoulders drooping with the weight of his loss. But he chose his side. He chose it year after year, because there’s no way what Walker saw was a one-time thing. He chose the wrong side, and he’ll have to bear that weight for the rest of his life. “Do you care about my Clara? You’ll keep her safe? Keep her away from another piece of shit like Bryce?”
I nod.
“Then I guess that’s all I can ask for.”
I want to tell him he can ask for a hell of a lot more. Twenty-plus years with Clara’s mom? There’s no way this man hasn’t taken some damage. Maybe not physical, but it’s there in the stoop of his shoulders, in his resignation to his lot in life. Because he could ask for some peace in his life, for a relationship with his daughter, for the kind of bravery Clara has in spades. But he doesn’t. And I don’t point it out. He’s a grown-ass man. He can figure out his own damn life.
We stand silent, bathed in moonlight. He clears his throat. “I take it you’re here for her stuff? I can go get some bags.”
“All she wants is her winter coat and boots. She forgot them when she ran out.”
“Then you’re in the wrong room.” He leaves Clara’s doorway and I follow him down the stairs, the both of us nearly matched for quiet feet.
He cracks open a closet by the front door, pulling out a worn puffer and boots with holes in the heels. “I was planning on getting her new boots for Christmas, but the pair I was watching didn’t go on sale,” he says, handing them to me.
I take the coat too, not sure what to say. I’m sorry your daughter isn’t going to be here for Christmas? Sorry the boots didn’t go on sale? Well, at least you didn’t waste the money? Yeah. None of those are great options.
“I guess I’ll head out now,” I say instead.
“Okay. I’ll lock up after you,” he says, following me to the back door. “Thanks for not breaking a window getting in.”
“I’m not an amateur,” I say, a second before I can stop my mouth from saying things it shouldn’t. Damn it. I was doing so well, too.
“No, I don’t suppose you are. None of your crew are, are they? Because I don’t want Clara caught up in some pointless police sweep.”
Air is tight in my chest as I look at the man across from me.
“Like sees like. I didn’t run these streets for as long as I did without picking up the signs of a well-run crew. I might be reformed, but I’m not blind. You’re all too careful with your words, with your glances, to not be on the wrong side of the law. This is just confirmation, son.”
But like I said, I’m not an amateur, so I keep my mouth shut. This time, at least.
“Keep her out of it, if you can. And if she’s just as stubborn with you all as she can be here, well, at least keep her clean. This isn’t what I wanted for my baby girl, and I’m not going to let a pack of pendejos take her future from her.”
His hand on the knob, he blocks me from leaving, his eyes black in the dark. “But no matter what, nurse her light. She’ll need it if she walks this path. She’s a smart girl with a good heart. You’ve got something to learn from her. So listen.”
“Yes, sir.” Nothing left to say, Clara’s dad swings the door open, leaving me to march into the bite of winter as he locks up behind me.
Well, that was weird.
Back in my car, I drive a few miles before parking under the glare of some parking lot floodlights. With a sigh, I look over the coat and boots that I got without a fight, but with way more conversation than I’d expected.
Yeah, the boots need to be replaced. And the coat is almost as bad.
A total bust.
Fuck.
The buzz I’d planned to ride for days from this trip skitters to a complete stop, and I could almost vomit from the sudden loss. Shaky, I rest my head against the steering wheel.
Forcing myself to breathe through the emptiness, I pray for some spark to start me up again. “You’re not going to drop. Things are good. You’re good, Jansen. You’re fine. You’re just fine.”
Swallowing down bile, I stare at the soft flakes of snow glittering under the lights, another storm rolling in.
And Clara’s still going to be cold in her cute little capelet.
It’d seemed like such a great idea to come and get her winter stuff as a surprise. Trips kept fever panicking over her lack of coat and boots, and it’d seemed like fate. I needed a buzz, and he’d brought me a job. “Boots, she needs boots,” he’d kept saying, fingers digging into my forearms as I’d tried to get him to drink some water so he doesn’t end up in the hospital.
I slam my fist down on the steering wheel. “Damn it.”
All that, and she still needs a coat and boots.
The edge of an idea catches my attention.
She still needs a coat. I can get her a coat. A nice new one. And some boots.
Digging through my wallet, I find a couple hundred bucks that I took as payment for dealing with feverish Trips. He won’t miss it. And if he does, well, I can pay him back.
A plan builds in my hazy, buzzless brain. Go “buy” Clara a nice new coat and a set of boots. Because who cares if it’s 2 a.m.?
It’s not like a store is ever closed to me.
Cranking up a fun bluegrass jam to hum along to, I head to the nearest mall. There’s still a mission to salvage. And of course, some fun to be had.
It’s going to be a great night after all.