"Hey, you seen Jay?" he called out his car window at a tall black woman dressed in flashy gold clothing and big hair. The stereotypical prostitute, smacking gum and wagging her ass as she walked to the door of the car.
"Ooh, baby, forget her, I'll do you for free." She smiled at him, showing off her yellowed teeth with a gap between the two in the middle.
"Flattered," he remarked flatly. "You seen her or not?"
"Boy, why you always lookin' for Jay? There are others of us, you know. She don't need to be getting all of the business!"
"Listen, Amaya, I need to find her, ok? Where is she?"
Amaya rolled her eyes. "Don't think this ain't gonna cost you."
He sighed. "Here." He handed her a bill.
"She's on a call 20th and Park. She left about 20 minutes ago. Should be back in another 20. Wait around for her, but get away from my corner or people will think I'm already taken."
He forced a half-hearted smile. "Thanks, Amaya."
"Yeah, no problem," she replied, her lips pursed.
He put the BMW into drive and pulled forward half a block, getting out of the car after he'd parked it to wait for Jay.
It was times like this that he wished he smoked. At least that would give him something to do while he stood there. He could only imagine what he looked like leaning against the car, hands in his pockets, his curly brown hair flying out from his head like a Cabbage Patch Doll. He must be making quite an impression on the hookers and drug dealers hanging around in the area.
His baby blue eyes lifted from the cracks in the pavement to the corner he knew she always worked. He tapped his foot almost impatiently, anticipating Jackie's arrival.
His thoughts wandered to his girlfriend Calisto. He loved her name, and he always had. The problem was, he didn't love her. She was just someone who was there. Someone he could show off and use as a cover for the rest of what he did. Like this.
Like leaning against a BMW in the middle of the worst part of town at two in the morning awaiting a prostitute's arrival.
He shook his head, dismissing his thoughts. Calisto was not what this was about. Nothing he did had anything to do with her. She was a completely different and almost nonexistent part of his life. Calisto was a formality he had to deal with. And he did.
He kicked at the pavement with the toe of his shoe, his lips pouting slightly as his chin dropped to his chest. He sighed. What was taking her so long?
"Hey."
His head lifted to the sound of the voice. She smiled. "Hey, Jay," he said quietly.
"Hey."
He didn't move a muscle. He just stared at her for a moment.
"Are we going somewhere tonight or are we just gonna hang out here?" she asked with a smile, her hazel eyes sparkling behind her curly strawberry blonde hair.
He cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips. "What do you want to do?" he asked. His voice rarely rose to above a low murmur, causing whoever he was talking to to lean forward in order to hear him.
It was a form of a power-trip, making others do things out of their way for him. It made him feel good when people leaned in like that. Jackie had never leaned in.
"I think we should go somewhere," she said, shaking her hair out softly.
He nodded. He finally moved from his position on the car and removed a hand from his pocket to open the car door for her. She flashed her perfect white teeth at him quickly as she slipped into the passenger seat. He sighed and shut the door behind her.
"So how was your night?" he asked, his eyes not leaving the road.
She laughed. "Do you really want to know?"
He didn't look at her. "Of course I do."
She studied his profile, a thoughtful expression resting on her features. She lifted her hand and gave his cheek an affectionate brush before pulling her hand back into her lap and looking away when he didn’t respond to her touch.
"It was the same as it always is. I got paid."
He nodded, his eyes never leaving the yellow lines in the middle of the road. "That's good to hear," he said quietly.
They rode in silence to the usual hotel, him parking the car and walking around to escort her out. They walked up to the door of the usual room and he opened it with the usual key. Sometimes she wondered if he ever checked out of this room. It was always the same room. And it was always set up the same, candles on the windowsills and dresser, stretching across the tables and chairs, surrounding the bed. And every time she entered the room, they were always lit. Even if he had waited for her for an hour, when she walked into the room, the candles were already lit and barely burned down. She didn't know how he did it. She'd never asked.
She dropped her jacket and bag near the door and moved to sit on the bed. He shrugged his jean jacket off and tossed it over the back of a chair, narrowly missing the orange flame of a candle.
The first time the two had met, they had had sex as a formality, even though that hadn't been why he picked her up. After that first time, they never did it again, and there wasn't any need to. He didn't pay her to have sex with him. He paid her to keep him company.
He had an empty life. He had an empty life and he came to her so that he would have someone who would listen to him and ask him questions. So that he would have someone to ask questions of. It wasn't a sexual thing between the two, although they often spent their time together naked.
He looked up from staring into a flame, his face expressionless.
"I thought we'd take a bubble bath," he said, his body remaining still. His eyes looked at her expectantly, awaiting an answer. He always wanted an answer.
She shrugged. "That's fine, you know that."
He looked away, his shoulders rising and dropping carelessly. "I always ask."
She nodded and began to take off her shirt. He didn't look at her, he just turned towards the bathroom and went into the candlelit room, intending to draw the bath water.
He shook his head. "I've told you about Italy five times."
"I want you to tell it again," she whispered. Jackie had always had dreams of travelling the world. Unfortunately, those dreams had never been and would never be realized. Foreign countries had always amazed her, and at one point in her life, she had planned to travel through Europe for years, studying all the people and all the places. Unfortunately, her life had taken a wrong turn, and here she was, doing what she was paid to do.
"The people there are wonderful," he started. "They all have these funny accents when they speak in English, just like the stereotypical Italians on TV. There are open-air markets in the middle of the cities where you can buy anything and everything you can imagine. The women are all beautiful, no matter what age they are. Their skin is perfect, clear of any blemish and the most beautiful olive color you would ever see in your entire life. The buildings are all old and made of stone. They have ivy crawling up the walls, straight to the roof. Some of the buildings don't have any glass in the windows, and they're just open spaces. When the people speak the language, you are mesmerized by the way their mouths move, even though you don't understand the sounds that are coming out of them. They have the most beautiful language . . ."
He had always told her tales of the places he'd been to. She had always been one to want to know. They both knew that his words were the closest she would ever get to the places he spoke of, but they never discussed that. Some things were better left unsaid.
He ran a hand up her arm as he spoke, his eyes not leaving his fingertips.
She closed her eyes as she listened to him talk, lying between his legs in the tub. She felt his hand running up and down her arm, and she just enjoyed the feeling she got being with him. He made her feel so at peace because he was so at peace.
They could be at peace when they were with each other.
". . . And they'd always say, 'come, come eat in my house', and you'd have to go because they wouldn't let you not. They'd have you sit at their dinner table with their entire family and have you eat. You'd eat until you were full, and then they'd push more onto your plate and you'd finish that, too, because it was so good, you'd hate to leave it sitting there. It would be the best food you'd ever tasted."
Jackie smiled happily, imagining what it must be like. He had been to so many different places. He could tell her so many different stories and paint pictures in her mind that she'd never thought were possible. He meant a lot to her, and she was sure he knew it.
She lay there, the both of them in silence, just feeling his chest rise and fall.
She appreciated him beyond any comprehension he could possibly have, and he appreciated her beyond any comprehension he could imagine he had.
She turned her face to look at him and his eyes widened, startled that she had moved so quickly. His hand stopped moving on her arm and he turned his face to hers.
They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment. Her eyes dropped to his lips and she began to lean in.
"Don't," he whispered, his eyes closing briefly and opening again to look at her.
"Why won't you ever let me kiss you?" she asked quietly, running her hand over his cheek.
He shook his head. "Because that's all it would be. You would kiss me and I wouldn't kiss you back."
"Why?" she whispered.
He bit his lip softly. "I've never kissed anyone back," he told her. "And I won't until the day someone kisses me and I find myself kissing them back unconsciously. That's when I'll know."
"You'll know what?" She stroked his cheek softly, lying comfortably in his arms.
"That she's the one." He looked into her eyes.
She returned his gaze, a slight smile invading her lips. She nodded.
The Next Chapter
The Justin Files Chapter Directory
Jones' Main Page
Home
Email the Author: Jones