Jake and the Other Girl: A Tor.Com Original (3 page)

But she didn’t cry.

“We’ve just always been really close, me and my dad. I used to shave with him, in the morning, when I was like five. I used an old toothbrush. He’d lather up my face and we’d both stand there, towels around our hips, shaving.”

The one song ended and another came on.

Lindsay slid off the couch, scooting towards his backpack.

“Let’s see what else you brought me.”

*   *   *

After she brought her Dad some food (“Are you tied up, Daddy? Okay, here I come.”); and after he told her his story (“So they told me to come out and see what I could find. And of course, I thought about you. I’d been thinking about you the whole time, so I came here to see if I could find you.”); and after she told him her plan (“We have enough food to last at least ten days more. I heard somewhere by two weeks the chemicals will be gone so it should literally be any day now.”); Lindsay finally, finally, determined her dad was asleep for the night and climbed onto his lap.

*   *   *

No go.

*   *   *

Even with her taking her top off, straddling him and biting on his ear. Biting on his ear hard, because that’s what she was like, he couldn’t get it done.

*   *   *

“Do you have any cigarettes?” she asked him, after she rolled off and got dressed.

Jake shook his head.

He was fumbling with his pants, looking for the foilpacks of Obezine he had stashed there.

“No,” he said. “Oh, no!”

“Shhh!” Lindsay warned, putting her hand on his arm. “My dad can’t know you’re here.”

Jake brushed her hand off and then shook his pants out, knowing it was stupid, knowing already that they were gone.

He thought back and could almost see himself on the street, shedding his layers with such stupid elation.

Somewhere on the street lay three foilpacks, each with a ten-day supply of Obezine.

Jake kicked the love seat and Lindsay jumped.

“I gotta go,” he said.

“What?” Her eyes were big, surprised. “You just got here!”

“I lost something I need. On the street.”

“Jake, don’t go. Please.”

She was crying now. Perfect.

“At least stay the night,” she said, pointing to the clock on the wall. “Stay until morning. Please, Jake. I really, really like you and I really don’t want to be alone anymore. Please?”

It occurred to him suddenly that she had been playing it cool.

That kind of broke his heart. Maybe he’d come back.

Maybe he could find his meds and raid some food on his way back and he could stay with her here.

Barksly looked up from his dog bed and thumped his tail on the floor once, like he was reading Jake’s thoughts and approved.

Fine. Jake was tired.

He felt like he could sleep forever.

The foilpacks would be there in the morning.

And if they weren’t, he could go back to the store.

*   *   *

They slept on the couch together.

She cuddled into him and soon her breath came heavy and soft.

Jake lay there, holding a hot girl in his arms and he didn’t have sex with her and he couldn’t believe that this was how it was going to be.

*   *   *

She got up before him and made him breakfast. A plate of tuna with crackers on the side.

“Jeez,” he said, eying the dry tuna. “This what you’ve been eating?”

She looked away.

Jake felt dumb. Obviously this was the best she could do. Why didn’t he ever think before he shot off his mouth?

“Looks good,” he told Lindsay. “Thanks.”

In the corner, Barksly was licking the pouch the tuna had come from.

“Look,” Jake said in a quiet voice. “I lost something on the street. Something I need. So I gotta go out and get it.”

“You’ll never come back,” she said. She kept her head low, so her hair hung down and he couldn’t see her face.

“Don’t be like that,” Jake said.

“It’s okay. We’re doing okay. We don’t need you.”

She turned her back but it’s hard to hide you’re crying in a room with a mirrored wall.

“You’re a real piece of work, Jake,” she said.

She didn’t understand, about the pills. Without them, he wouldn’t make it. As simple as that. The despair would sit down on him again and he’d be done for.

But he didn’t expect her to understand. How could she? He hadn’t given her the information.

Didn’t want to.

Just wanted to get the hell out of there now.

Jake looked around, gathering up his things. He couldn’t let Lindsay have everything from the backpack. What if after he got the pills he decided to try for Denver? He left the chocolate, some gum, two energy bars. But he needed the rest.

“I don’t want your chocolate!” she yelled. “Just go. GET OUT OF HERE!”

“Who’s there? Lindsay, are you okay?” came her dad’s voice.

“It’s okay, Dad,” she called.

“It’s just me, Jake Simonsen, sir. I came to check on your daughter.”

“Who?!”

“Jake Simonsen, from the football team.”

The captain of the team, he didn’t need to add.

“I remember you! I remember you!” Lindsay’s father said with rising agitation.

“He’s leaving now,” she said. “So that’s that.”

Jake was waiting for Lindsay’s dad to freak out. Start threatening to kill him, beating the door with his pipe.

But no.

Mr. Morrow’s voice got earnest and low, “You’ve got to take Lindsay with you.”

Jake could tell he had his face pressed up against the door.

“She won’t leave me and she has got to leave me,” her father said.

“I don’t even know where I’m going,” Jake said.

“It doesn’t matter. Son, please, please, you’ve got to get her away from me.”

“I won’t leave you!” Lindsay protested. “Stop trying to make me leave you! The air will be safe any day now, and who’s going to take care of you?!”

Jake had his bag packed now. Only thing he couldn’t find was his head lamp.

“PLEASE, SON, TAKE HER FROM HERE,” Lindsay’s dad shouted. “I am begging you.”

Jake put his hand on the railing.

He didn’t like to get to know the dads of the girls he hooked up with. It was too weird. But he remembered what Lindsay’s dad looked like. He was tall and thin, like his daughter, and stood in a way that made you feel he was a good guy.

Did insurance, or mortgages, or something like that.

He sponsored a youth league football team and Jake had seen him out with them, once. Remembered him waving over to Lindsay as she talked to Jake while he warmed up. Tykes crashing helmets on the field.

“Look,” Jake said, turning to Lindsay. “Do you want me to take you with me back to the store? I can take you there. You’ll be safe. Astrid is there, which will be awkward, but.…” He shrugged.

He was willing to take the heat, to save a girl’s life. Of course he was.

“You think I should leave my dad?” came her voice, shaky and scared. Her brown eyes shining big in the dark basement.

Jake shrugged again.

“I can’t tell you what to do,” he said. “All I can say is that I probably can get you somewhere safe.”

Then BAM as her dad hit the door. “You have to go, sweetie!” The tone of her dad’s voice was rising, getting mad. “You have to GO! I’m your father and I demand that you go!”

Lindsay crossed to the metal door and put her hand on the center of it.

“But Daddy, I can’t leave you locked up, and if I let you out, you’ll go crazy when we leave.”

“You’ll leave me locked up. And that’ll be that.”

“Nooo!” Lindsay wailed. “Daddy, you’re asking me … you’re asking me to let you die!”

Lindsay slid down the door and sat, leaning onto it, on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said. “But I can’t leave you. I just can’t do it.”

There were sobs, now, from the other side of the door.

“We’ll be okay,” she said. “We just have to hold out for a few more days, now.”

“All right,” he snuffled. “All right, Lindsay. You and me, we’ll stick it out.”

The whole thing made Jake uncomfortable. There was something about this kind of love. Not sick. But maybe deeper than he knew about.

And Jake decided, right then, to make the hike to his house, after he found the pills.

Just to check, in case his dad was holed up there, waiting for him.

“I should go. So … are you sure you want to stay?” Jake asked.

He didn’t get an answer.

Jake hoisted the backpack up onto his shoulders.

“Okay, then,” he said. “You want to get ready? I need to open the door.”

“Wait!” Lindsay said. “I do need something from you, Jake.”

She looked up at him.

“You’re leaving me that gun.”

Copyright (C) 2013 by Emmy Laybourne

Art copyright (C) 2013 by Gregory Manchess