Chapter 18 #2
“Um, well, I guess I’m…” He scratched the back of his neck, grimaced. “…an auditor now?”
“Auditor of what?”
“A factory,” Jack whispered. She was definitely going to kill him. There was no other reason for the intensity in her gaze, the strange tilt of her shapely brows. His hands clenched around his satchel. If he hit her hard enough, it might slow her down.
Or he could just punch her, but he hated to actually hurt her, even if she wouldn’t hesitate to do the same. Better to catch her off guard with the satchel and run.
She frowned. “Why are you whispering?”
“Um…”
“Why do you look like you’re about to shit yourself?” she demanded, slamming her hands on the desk with such force that the legal pad bounced.
“I, uh, I just…”
“Am I frightening you?”
“Yes,” Jack admitted weakly.
“Listen.” Claudia leaned forward, palms splayed flat across the desktop. A silver ring glittered on her finger. “If you need a diaper, I’m sure I can find you one. But I’m not scary, I promise.”
“Wow. Rude,” said Jack, more than a little offended. “I don’t trust you, and no, I don’t need a diaper.” What the actual fuck?
“Good enough,” said Claudia with a shrug. “Listen, I—” Then she broke off, words replaced by a scowl. She rubbed a hand across her forehead and sighed. “I need a drink. Do you want a drink?”
“Uhh,” said Jack, confused. Was this standard? Should he be concerned? “A drink?”
“Yes, idiot,” she said. “I’m pretty sure we’ve got whisky in here.” She opened a drawer and rummaged around without taking her eyes off Jack. “Ah-ha!” Her hand reappeared, grasping a massive, beveled decanter. Then she produced two crystal glasses, setting them on the desk with twin thunks.
Jack had never seen anything like this outside of the movies. Was he in a movie? Was that the fucking problem?
“Here,” she said, dumping whisky haphazardly into a glass until it was half-full. She thrust it at Jack, didn’t even flinch when amber liquid sloshed over the sides and onto the desk. “Drink that and calm down. I didn’t bring you here to hurt you.”
“Then why did you bring me here?” asked Jack. He gave the glass a suspicious sniff.
Claudia raised her glass to her nose and gave an exasperated sigh. “Apologies. This is actually bourbon.”
Then she downed half in one go without even flinching.
“That’s good, too,” said Jack weakly. He took a hesitant sip, relished the smoky burn. “Shit. This is good.”
“Yeah, Ronnie’s always got the good stuff,” said Claudia.
“Who’s that?”
“He’s, uh, the owner of this place”
“Who are you, then?”
“It doesn’t matter. What are you, a snitch?”
Jack shook his head, grip tightening on the glass. “Nope. I take secrets to my grave.”
“Huh.” Claudia looked him up and down, sneered, “You’re totally a snitch.”
“Trust me, I was never here,” said Jack. His hand started to shake. The glass rattled against the desk.
“If you came in last night, then you don’t know shit about this place, anyway,” said Claudia, still scrutinizing him.
Just put me under a microscope already, thought Jack. He took a sip of bourbon, let the heat ground him. “Feels like it’s been forever,” he said, feigning nonchalance, clutching the glass like a weapon.
She wasn’t fooled. “Yeah, I’ll bet.” She took another swig of bourbon. The bangles around her wrists clinked together like chimes. “You don’t want to know why I’d ask you here after one night in town?”
Her questions made his insides squirm like a nest of vipers. Jack gripped the glass, ready to throw its contents in her face if he needed to. “The, um, audit?”
“Quit whispering about your fucking job,” Claudia snapped, tipping the rest of her drink down her throat. “You watch too much TV. That’s not why I asked you here.”
“Oh,” said Jack, genuinely surprised. “It’s not?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had to repeat myself so much in my life.” Claudia rolled her eyes. “No. Don’t be stupid. I don’t know shit about you, why would I know about your job?”
“Because you’re in the, um, you know…” Jack gestured helplessly.
Claudia laughed, head thrown back, blond curls bouncing. Under other circumstances, Jack might’ve found her alluring. “I’m not in anything,” she said, still cackling. “Calm down. I’m not a rabid dog. I don’t bite.”
Jack very much doubted this but nodded along because she seemed like the kind of person who might bite him, anyway.
“Listen,” said Claudia, refilling her glass, then Jack’s. “You ever feel like the days are just… sort of endless? Like nothing changes, and you’re just sort of stuck repeating the same bullshit day after day?”
Jack stared at her. Disbelief itched beneath his skin. “You mean like the dog days of summer?”
Claudia scowled. “Yeah, sort of. Listen, it’s complicated. I just—Tell me if you know what I mean, or not.”
Eyes locked on his bourbon, Jack said, “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“Like, for real.”
“Yeah,” said Jack, meeting her eye. “For real. I promise.”
Claudia sagged against the back of the chair. “Oh, thank fuck. I thought I was the only one.”
Jack’s heart stuttered in his chest. “The only one who what?”
“Was living the same day again and again,” she snapped.
“I thought I was going crazy. Then I saw you, wandering all over town like a lost puppy. I tried to find you the next day, but you weren’t there anymore.
At first, I thought you were a hallucination, but then I realized that you just weren’t following a set routine like everyone else.
I was hoping you were sentient, you know? Not oblivious like the others.”
“Sentient,” Jack repeated, too astonished to add anything to value. “Like everyone else is a potted plant? Have you talked to them?”
Claudia snorted. “Yeah. Endlessly. Trust me, nobody else has any idea what’s going on.”
“I know,” said Jack. “But they’re still people.”
“I didn’t say they weren’t,” Claudia groaned, covering her face with manicured hands. “But I’ve been trapped in this hell with nobody to talk to, and I’m going crazy!”
Jack felt the depth of that statement. “Yeah,” he admitted, swirling the liquid in his glass. “Me, too.”
“It was already tedious!” Claudia burst out, palms slapping against the desk.
Hair swinging, brown eyes wide, she looked feral, half-mad, like a creature scurrying between garbage cans, shrieking as the moon rose higher into the sky.
“Every damn day, the same fucking thing! ‘Babe, where are my eggs?’ ‘Is my suit pressed?’ ‘I’ll be back late!’” She threw her head back and groaned.
“And now it’s even worse! Every day is the same, no matter what I do! ”
“Yeah,” said Jack. “Yeah. I know exactly what you’re talking about.” He was in too much shock to really process what she was saying, but her despair echoed in him. “I want to go home. And I can’t.”
“Neither can I.” Claudia downed another gulp of bourbon, paused to examine the liquid in the decanter. “This stuff is good. I wonder what it is.”
“I can’t say I’m much of an expert,” Jack admitted.
“I’ll ask,” she said. “Someone’ll tell me.”
They sat in silence for a long moment. Jack tapped a rhythm on the arm of the chair. “So, this isn’t home?”
Claudia laughed, loud and airy. “No. It’s a vacation house. It’s my, uh, soon to be ex-boyfriend’s vacation house.”
“Oh,” said Jack. Worry slithered in his gut like a worm writhing through muck. Her boyfriend was mobster. A wealthy mobster, which meant that he was pretty high in the ranks. Which meant that Jack was probably in danger even if her boyfriend wasn’t the jealous type.
He held his satchel close, as if it might protect him from being shot full of holes.
“Don’t worry about him. He leaves every morning at ten, and doesn’t come back until after three a.m. You won’t even see him.”
“Uh, great,” said Jack. “What about his, uh, associates?”
She winked. “The associates leave when I tell them to. Besides, I’ll just tell them you’re here to the check the wiring or something. Trust me, no one cares.” She flipped her hair behind her shoulders and grinned.
Like the rest of her, Claudia’s teeth were perfect.
“That, um, sounds good,” said Jack. “I hope you’re right.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you,” said Claudia. Her fingers tightened on the glass as her lips thinned into a line of disapproval.
“Yeah, no, I… I’m a little out of my depth here,” said Jack hurriedly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to insinuate anything. Hey, what is it you do around here? Are you just a guest, or what?”
Claudia rolled her eyes. “I’m the owner’s girlfriend. I come here to relax and cook fucking eggs and do whatever else my boyfriend asks me to.” The space between her eyebrows wrinkled.
“I get the feeling that isn’t exactly relaxing.”
Claudia snorted. “Nothing is relaxing. Ever. Everything is business.” She shrugged, resigned. “That’s the life.”
“So, do you have a job or anything? Where do you live?”
“About twenty miles from here, in the city. And no, I don’t. I get a generous little stipend, and I hang on my boyfriend’s arm. Pays better than anything else I’ve tried.”
With a shrug, Jack said, “I’m not judging. I barely make ends meet.”
“I could hook you up,” said Claudia, a little too earnestly. “If you want a similar gig. I don’t exactly recommend it, but I’ve been there. I won’t judge.”
“Maybe if we ever get out of here,” said Jack lightly. Even if he’d never accept such a role, he could see the appeal of it. Must be nice to have someone to take care of you in exchange for just showing up and looking pretty.
And he was pretty, for a guy. Sure, he was a bit of a beanpole, but his face made up for it.
Full mouth, long lashes, nice features. But he was also nervous and had a habit of slipping into dark spirals where every single decision must be analyzed, weighed, judged, excused or condemned.
There was a strong chance that he’d have a mental breakdown after the first week.
Not exactly sexy.
“On that note…” Claudia forced the cork into the decanter and shoved it back into the drawer. “I need to ask you something. I want out of this mess. I’m guessing you do, too. So, I think we should work together.”
“Yeah,” said Jack, heart sailing. “Yeah, that would be great.”
Finally, someone else in the same situation. Someone who understood. Someone to bounce ideas off of, and more importantly, who would remember them the next day.
“Good,” said Claudia. Relief fell across her face like a shadow. She leaned back in the chair and said, “So what about tomorrow? Can you come over? Maybe around lunch?”
“Um, sure,” said Jack, downing the rest of his bourbon. “I could do that.”
“Great,” she said, beaming. For the first time, he realized how young she was. Probably no older than himself. “I’ll see you then.”
“One more thing,” interjected Jack. “What’s the best way to get out of here?”