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I laugh. “I don’t know; I don’t have a great stage name like you, Ms. Valentine.”
“I’ve told you before, we just need to get married so you can be my Valentine forever,” she replies, making me chortle, like I always do when she makes the same joke.
“Seriously, though. What have you got to lose?”
“Well, my apartment, but I suppose a job is the thing to fix that,” I reply wryly. Sarah chuckles.
“I vote you go check it out. What's the worst that could happen?”
* * *
My hand twirlsaround my hair, the slightly soggy bit I was recently chewing on.
“Don’t chew on your hair, it's a disgusting habit!”
My mother’s shrill voice echoes through my mind, but I can’t quite bring myself to stop as I sit by the window, watching people as they pass. The street is busy with the usual morning traffic, but it's the alley across and down the street I’m keeping my eyes on. I haven’t seen Jay in the last few days, but since talking to Sarah yesterday, the encouragement has spurred me to talk to him. I went by yesterday, but he wasn’t there.
I spent the entire evening researching strippers, escorts, and strip clubs. Though, some of the things I stumbled across were horrifying, I was surprised to see how much professionalism a lot of these clubs have. Pictures of well-lit stages and girls with scant, but still-existent clothes dispelled some of my fears of dingy and dark basements. It seemed that the image I had of rowdy, disgusting men pinching at my naked body isn’t entirely accurate, though I’m sure it would be in some places.
In one article, it talked about vetting places you are interested in working and asking people you know for referrals and recommendations.
Hence, I’m sitting across the street watching the turned over garbage can in hopes that Jay will come back soon. He’s disappeared for days on end before, usually when he gets his monthly check from wherever, and lives it up for a few days.
Maybe he came back in the night, and I missed it?I wonder. Putting my tepid cup of tea down, I grab my bag and hurry out the door.
It’s only a few minutes before I’m at the garbage can, listening closely for any sound of Jay. A siren comes whirling down the street and I feel my heart pound in my chest like it always does at the sound. I suppose people are supposed to feel comforted by the sound of them, knowing it means help is on the way, but all they induce in me is sadness. They mean someone is hurt or needs help.
I wait a moment for my heart to slow and send a silent prayer up to whoever needs it before I lean forward, rapping on the metal siding.
“Knock, knock,” I say, turning my ear. No reply.
Frowning, I knock on the side one more time, a bit harder.
A loud bang rings out from inside, followed by cursing, but no one emerges.
“Jay?” I ask hesitantly, though I take a small step back.
“Whositfucking what….” Jay’s voice trails off to nonsense and I clear my throat.
“Jay, it’s Kinsey. I was hoping to talk to you; can you come out?”
More mumbles, more crashing, before a body pulls itself out. I take another step back, my eyes wide, as I take in Jay’s appearance. I’ve seen him after going on benders before, but he’s never looked this bad. His eyes are completely red and bloodshot and the smell coming off him has me wrinkling my nose.
I thrust the thermos in my hand toward him, the peace offering of caffeine. With only one eye open, he critically looks at the container before grabbing it, opening it and chugging it down. I wonder how he isn’t burning his throat from the temperature and if he’s still high or something.
“You doing okay?” I ask tentatively, less sure about asking him for anything, much less a job referral.
He exhales heavily as he brings down the now almost empty thermos, clearing his throat before spitting loudly to his left.
“Long couple days,” he mutters, grabbing the two buckets and flipping them for seats, slower than usual. Taking his seat, he awkwardly pats the one next to him before bringing his head to his hands, groaning.
“Sorry for waking you.”
“Whatdya need?” he asks. I hesitate a moment, but he turns and looks at me with one eye. “Well, come on, girl, you woke me up for somethin’!”
“I was hoping you could call that cousin you told me about,” I spit out before I can reconsider. He raises an eyebrow at me, not saying anything for so long, I wonder if he reallyishigh and didn’t hear me or something.
Facing forward, he finally replies, “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”
