The Dark Light of Day (13 page)

I opened the door. “You shouldn’t apologize. I’m just screwed
up and you’re probably thinking that you’ve bitten off more than you can chew, and I understand, I’m just gonna go and—”

“We’re all a little damaged, Bee. Some of us more than others.” It
was better he knew sooner rather than later how damaged I really
was. He smiled and gestured to the counter where there was more food
than any two people could consume in one lifetime. “Besides, you
can’t go anywhere. Who is going to eat all this? I got a little carried away.”

“No shit,” I agreed. “Are you feeding an army?”

“I do eat a lot,” he said, patting his stomach. I could see the lines of his abs under his shirt.

“Yeah, you should knock off all the eating. It’s really making you gross to look at.”

“I’m vain enough to know that isn’t true, so I’m just gonna let that little insult slide.”

We sat at the bar and ate our food. Jake had made some sort of sliced potatoes he fried in butter with baked chicken thighs. The crispy skin was my favorite part. He also prepared roasted corn and a simple salad with dressing he’d made himself.

I was going to be very spoiled by the time I turned eighteen.
And very, very fat.

“What do you like to do?” he asked. “Like, as a hobby?”

I had to think about whether or not smoking weed could be
considered a hobby. “Not much. I can take pictures—or, at least,
I
think
I can take pictures. In school they had loaner cameras for the photography class and I took to it pretty well. Even learned how to
use the dark room to develop them. I had a knack for it, but at the end of the semester we had to give the cameras back, so I never got to find out if I was any good.”

“My dad might have a camera around you can use,” he offered. “I’ll see if it’s in his office somewhere.” He popped a slice of potato into his mouth with his fingers.

“Really? I mean, I don’t want to take his camera.”

“It’s nothing. I know he’s never even used it. I think I saw it the other day in his office. I’ll grab it for you tomorrow. No big deal.”

No big deal? It was a huge deal. I wasn’t used to people just
handing over expensive possessions for me to use.

When we’d finished and I’d consumed more food than anyone my size should ever attempt to eat, I volunteered to clear our plates and do the dishes since I hadn’t contributed anything useful to the delicious meal I’d just devoured.

Jake didn’t argue with me. I had just started loading the dishwasher when a phone rang. He pulled a small black flip phone
out of his pocket and when he glanced at the screen, his mood changed and his face went hard. The soft Jake from dinner was gone and in his place was a much more serious-looking version of himself. “I gotta take
this. Be right back.” He stepped out of the back door that led to a small covered patio. From where I stood in the kitchen, I could hear him speaking to someone in hushed tones. He wasn’t the only one
who was curious. I tiptoed over to the door and pressed my ear against it.

“When?” I heard him ask in a loud whisper. “I can’t do it for a couple of weeks.
Why?
Because I’m in the middle of something right
now and because it means tracking him halfway across fucking Europe—
that’s
why. And as you know, that will take a lot of time
and money
.” There was a pause. “Expenses, plus three-hundred or I’m out. Yes, that’s three-hundred-thousand.” Another pause. “Fuck
you, then. I can’t do this forever, and I need an out. My prices have gone up.” Another pause. “Then, he can get someone else to do it. I don’t give a fuck. You need me more than I need you.” A longer pause, “I’ll text
you the address for the drop from a throwaway tomorrow. I won’t
contact you when it’s done. Same as always.”

The phone snapped shut.

I ran back to the kitchen and was putting another plate into the dishwasher when he came back inside. “Everything okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. Just some work shit.” He rubbed his hand over his eyes and shoved his phone back in his pocket.

“What kind of work shit?” I asked.

“Pass,” he said, not even turning to look at me before he
plopped down on the couch and put his feet on the coffee table. He grabbed
the remote and turned on the TV, raising the volume to a level where having any sort of conversation would’ve been impossible. It was like he was using another play out of the Abby Ford Avoidance Hand Book.

I finished the dishes, and by the time I was done wiping the counters, Jake was already asleep in the recliner. I took the throw
from the back of the couch and set it over him. I located the linen closet and found what I needed to set up the couch. I had no idea how to pull it out so I decided to make it up as it was. I tucked a fitted sheet around the cushions and used a top sheet and light blanket to lay over it. I took one of the two pillows from the bed and made sure it was there on the couch for him when he woke up in the recliner and realized what painful angle his neck was in. It was all turned down for him, just waiting for him to hop in.

I got myself ready for bed and was brushing my teeth when my
thoughts drifted to the conversation he had on the phone outside
earlier. Why had he been whispering? What was he hiding? Was he a private detective or a bounty hunter? A million scenarios ran
through my head, but not one I came up with seemed right.

The first night I met Jake, just a few days ago, he’d held a gun to my head. The bulge of his gun was always noticeable to me now that I knew that he kept it tucked into the back of his jeans.

There was a reason he wouldn’t tell me what he did for a living.

He wasn’t embarrassed by what he did. He was simply hiding it. After listening in on his conversation, all signs pointed to the reason for that secrecy being far darker than I originally thought.

THE NEXT DAY WAS MY FIRST DAY
working at the shop. When I woke up, I found a note Jake had left for me, telling me he was already working and that I should meet him over there when I was ready. I showered. I pulled my hair back into a simple braid and put on a pair of jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt. I pushed my feet into my boots, but decided against wearing my hoodie in an attempt to look somewhat professional. It was the best I could manage with what I had. I grabbed my hoodie and brought it with me anyway, just in case I felt the need to hide in it.

I reported to the office Reggie had told me was mine the day before. Since the shop didn’t officially open for another half an hour,
I took the opportunity to organize the clutter and dust off the
furniture. I felt like someone was staring at me as I worked, and when I turned
around, sure enough, I saw Jake through the blinds, wiping the grease off a wrench with a rag and smiling at me through the
window. I didn’t take my gaze from him until the phone rang and snapped me out of my fog.

“Good morning. Dunn’s Garage,” I answered the way Reggie had instructed.

***

The entire day flew by so quickly, I barely had time to finish the coffee and donut Jake brought me while I was on the phone making an appointment for a tune-up on Mrs. Grabel’s Chevy. Jake had checked in on me a few times, and each time I saw him he had more grease on his face and coveralls. I scheduled all the appointments, answered the phones, placed orders brought to me on tickets the guys scribbled on, and at noon, I ran across the street to get lunch for all four mechanics. They were grateful but ate while they worked. I had a feeling they were used to the craziness and may have eaten a little grease with their sandwiches.

Jake had taken the truck after lunch and didn’t come back for a couple of hours. I figured he was out getting parts or running shop-related errands. I reminded myself to tell him I would be more than happy to run his errands so he wouldn’t have to.

At the end of the day, Reggie came over and practically yelled at
me to leave. The filing I was in the middle of could wait until
tomorrow. I was sure it could, but I was enjoying my job. It gave me a small sense of purpose and kept my mind busy. It was like another way for me to stay numb.

Busy equals numb

I’d have to remember that.

I didn’t see Jake around the shop, so I headed back to the
apartment. I heard the shower running and assumed he’d beaten me home. My attention was captured by what was on the counter. A camera, a state of the art Canon, with three long lenses lined up next to it. Next to that was what looked to be a brand new camera bag.

There was no way this was his dad’s
old
camera.

Jake came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and nothing
else. Steam billowed out after him. He halted when he saw me standing in the kitchen. His carved abs were on full display, the
tattoos I’d only seen portions of before were now in full view, winding up around his shoulder in beautiful vine type lines connecting smaller pictures and letters I couldn’t quite make out. I followed them with my eyes up to where they ended at his neck. The stirring in me came back.

“Hey, sorry. I didn’t know you were home yet,” Jake said.

Home.

I tore my eyes from his bare chest and focused on the floor instead. “Oh, don’t worry about me I was just…looking at the camera.”

“Yeah, check it out while I put some damned clothes on. Don’t want you thinking this is one of those nakey houses.” He smirked. “Unless you’re into that kind of thing.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” I said. But I had an idea. Something told me it was him who didn’t know what a nakey house really was.

He gave me an exaggerated wink and disappeared into the
bedroom, emerging just a few seconds later in a pair of black draw string sweat pants and a gray wife-beater.

“He owns something with color in it!” I covered my open mouth in mock surprise.

“Is gray considered a color?”

“I think it is.”

“Then, I’m gonna burn it tomorrow!” he shouted. “I wouldn’t
want to ruin my rep.”

“No, you wouldn’t want that,” I agreed. I looked back at the counter and gestured to the camera and equipment. “What is all
this?”

“I told you. It’s my dad’s old camera. You can have it. He left it here years ago and hasn’t ever used it.”

“Really?” I asked him. “Your dad’s
old
camera?”

“Yeah, why?” he asked nervously.

“What do you mean
why
?” I picked up the camera bag and
showed him the price tag still stuck underneath it.

“So dad left the tag on. He does stuff like that.” He grabbed a bottle from the fridge and twisted off the cap. “Beer?”

“Yes, but don’t change the subject.” He grabbed another beer,
opened it and handed it to me. “Did your dad also go to Herman’s
Electronics at two this afternoon and spend two-thousand four-
hundred dollars on a brand new Canon, a camera bag, accessories, and two prepaid phones?”

“Shit,” he said. He knew he was caught, and his face told me
didn’t really care. He was smiling from ear to ear.

“Yeah, shit! You left the receipt in the box.” I lifted the little
white slip of paper up to him and waved it in the air. “You didn’t have to buy this for me, Jake. It’s too much. I can’t accept it.”

“Yes, you can. I make good money. I’ve never bought anything expensive other than my bike. I wanted to get this for you, and I’m not taking it back.” He might as well have said the sky is blue, it was that matter-of-fact.

“Yes, you are!” I argued. I’d never owned something that
valuable, and I never planned to. In my experience, bad things happened to people with nice things. Besides, Jake had already done too much for me, and I had no way of repaying him.

“Nope. Here’s how I see it.” He leaned his elbows on the counter
and played with the label on his beer. “You can either accept the
camera and say ‘thank you Jake for my new beautiful camera’ or…” He took a sip of his beer, amusement passing through his blue eyes. “…I will
throw it off the Matlacha Pass.” He took another sip. “Your call,
Bee.”

“You wouldn’t!” I shouted. Something told me he didn’t bluff,
and I wasn’t about to take that chance with equipment this
expensive.

“Oh yes, I would. You have no idea what I’m capable of.” I had a
feeling he was talking about more than his willingness to toss
camera gear from high places.

“Okay fine. But here’s how
I
see it.” I leaned onto the counter
and mimicked his stance. “I am going to use the brand new fancy camera and…I’m going to love it.”

“Now we’re talking. Case closed.”

“No no no—not so fast. I am going to use it and love it, but I am
going to pay you back for it. Every penny. As soon as I can save up enough.”

“Fuck no,” he said. “I’ll just burn the money.”

“I don’t care what you do with it. I’m still paying you.”

“Then, I’ll just use it to buy you something else.”

“Then, I’ll just pay you for that, too,” I said.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” Jake asked.

“Yes, I do know that.” I smiled. “Now, make me some food. I’m starving.”

“I believe we have some business to get out of the way first?”

“What
business
?”

He smiled back. “Secrets first, then dinner.”

“Oh yeah...secrets.” I was getting bolder around him, and I liked it. “Go!”

“Why don’t you like to be touched?”

“Pass,” I answered. “Why did you buy two throw-away cell
phones today?”

“Pass,” he answered. “What’s your middle name?”

“Marie.” I already knew his was Francis. I’d seen it on the papers Miss Thornton had showed me. So, I didn’t bother asking. “Why do you carry a gun?”