A/N: Well, I finally got another chapter done. It's funny how the urge to write comes in waves, and then can disappear completely for ages. This ended up being a long one, and a big glimpse of Jess' life in Philly, so I hope you like it. Reviews, good or bad, are always happily received.
Disclaimer: As always, I don't own GG or any of the recurring characters.
Chapter 12 – He's An Island
Jess' fist pounded heavily on the old, wooden door.
"Chris! Get up you lazy bastard!"
He paused to listen for signs of life and lifted his hand once more. The door swung open before he had a chance to knock again, leaving his arm hanging in mid-air. Chris appeared in the darkened doorway, hair flattened on one side and lines from his pillow streaking across his right cheek. And he clearly wasn't happy to see anyone.
"What!?"
Jess chuckled. "Time to rise and shine, princess. Matt's on his way with coffee and donuts."
"You called me before the caffeine arrived? Have you no decency?!"
His business partner turned and retreated back into the darkened apartment, and Jess followed closely.
"Geez, you stay here two days and it already smells like feet and onions. What did you eat up here last night, anyway?"
Jess held his nose dramatically against the stench, but Chris wasn't impressed. He flipped his middle finger in Jess' general direction before slamming the bathroom door behind himself in protest.
When he heard the shower come on, Jess laughed again and flopped down on the old couch they had left in the upstairs apartment. With a sigh, he checked his phone for at least the fifteenth time that morning - still no text messages.
Not that he was waiting for one, or anything.
He'd left Rory a voicemail the night before, a little concerned after hearing that she'd received another letter from her stalker. But she hadn't called back. He told himself it wasn't a big deal, and it wasn't, really. She was a busy person with an important job, and he had no reason to expect a call back right away. But he had hoped…
Shaking his head, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and surveyed the apartment. Chris' stuff was everywhere. He was only in town for a couple of days, but had managed to spread his mess onto every surface. It had been like this when they lived together, too. He claimed it was a part of his artistic personality, whatever the hell that meant. Jess just called it being a slob.
This morning the coffee table seemed to be ground zero. There were books and newspapers, half-read manuscripts and drafts covered in his green editing pen, and what Jess suspected was a dirty plate wedged into the precarious pile.
Gross.
Right on top, however, was something of interest. Chris' spiral notebook, the one he always carried with him, was just sitting there. Unprotected. Chris never let anyone see his notebook, ever. No one got to read his poems until he was completely happy with them. And considering he was a bit of a perfectionist, there were probably lots that were never seen by eyes other than his. He knew he shouldn't, but Jess couldn't help but take a peek. It wasn't snooping if it was just sitting there, right? The book was open already, so he didn't even have to touch it.
Chris' messy handwriting and doodles filled the page, and he had to squint to make anything out in the dim room. He leaned closer to the page, and shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn't be tempted to pull it towards him.
Like a cool summer night, she breezes in;
And my lungs strain when there is no air;
My charm makes no dent because
Her steel will is unbreakable.
Like a fawn, I stand awkward and shy;
And she is everything I am not.
..
Twinkling, she circles the room;
A shooting star too fast to catch and hold.
She will leave, spark out again,
And I will be empty without her smile.
But wait, her eyes beckon me;
Is something of me worthy of her light?
Her hand is there, but I know it is not real;
..
Mortals cannot touch Gods, not without burning.
She holds me firmly, my stomach in freefall,
And then we are flying, higher and still
I cannot believe it.
For a brief second, she is mine
And I am hers, too brief;
So high the light scorches me,
Cleanses me until I am whole.
..
It hurts, but she is there,
Not caring that I am broken;
So unworthy of all she is.
The darkness takes me,
Her voice tamping down my fear;
The breeze is there to carry me,
Away from all I know.
I can breathe again.
Jess' blood pounded in his ears, his skin dimpling with goosebumps. Against his better judgement, he reached out and lifted the notebook closer to his face. He was well aware that his partner was a good poet, but this was incredible, even for him. The words were so raw, but elegant too. Jess knew the agony and wonder Chris was describing, had felt it before.
The first time Rory kissed him.
He was still holding the book, staring at the lines that were so much like his own life, when Chris emerged from the back bedroom.
"What the hell, man?" He rushed over and tore the paper from Jess' hand, giving his friend a shove back towards the couch.
"It was sitting out, I swear."
Chris quickly hid the book away in his back pocket and crossed his arms over his chest. "You know I don't let people see my stuff until it's ready. Not even you."
"I get it. I do. But that poem is amazing. It's ready, even if you don't think so."
His friend looked skeptical behind his angry frown.
"You know I don't exaggerate when it comes to writing. It's damn good. And I don't generally like poetry." When Chris didn't budge Jess stepped forward, challenging the other man with his closeness even if the guy was too tall for him to stare down.
"Seriously. It's about her, right? Charlotte?
At the mention of her name Chris' face cracked, and he looked almost embarrassed.
"Of course it is. You think those feelings just normally exist in my head?" He tapped his skull for emphasis and laughed quietly at his own joke.
Jess wasn't about to be redirected, though. "Have you written a lot lately?"
"Yeah, more than usual I guess."
"Good, that's good. I know you said you were feeling stifled in Boston."
Chris scratched the back of his head and took a step away. "Well, now I can't get the words to stop."
"I know. It's like that sometimes. But that's usually when the best stuff comes out."
They both turned at the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
"Look, let's just keep this between us, ok? You know how Matt gets when he thinks there's something to publish."
Jess nodded in agreement. "Deal, as long as you keep writing."
The third owner of Truncheon burst into the room, balancing a trio of coffee cups and a grease-stained paper bag. Chris reached to grab one of the cups as it appeared to be leaning enough that it might fall.
"Why don't you ever get one of those cardboard trays?"
"Because then you wouldn't be able to nag me about it."
"And you crave the abuse, we know."
Chris and Jess shared a look over Matt's head. Jess would have kept Chris' confidence regardless, a promise between artists who understood each other. Matt, while a genius editor, didn't think the way they did. Jess approached editing as a way to help writers be the best they could be, but Matt saw it from the other side. He worked to bring pieces to publication, helping a writer produce so that the result could be shared with the world. Not everyone could discern the difference, but he and Chris had always shared a deeper bond because they were together on the opposite side of the equation from Matt.
Matt watched his partners dig into the bag of pastries. "So, another day of Not-So-Celebrity Apprentice, hmm? Can't we just play eenie, meenie, minie, mo and call it a day?"
Jess wanted to voice his contrary opinion, loudly, but his mouth was full of powdered sugar donut. Instead, he settled for a glare.
"Calm down, Kerouac. I'll have you know I enjoyed yesterday, more than I thought I would."
Jess gulped down his mouthful, unable to let that comment go. "Only because you hit on every female we interviewed!"
"Except for that one lady," Chris chuckled. "Of course, she was nearly 60 and offered to bring cookies to the store every week."
Matt spun back to the poet and grinned. "If her cookies were any good, I could probably adjust my target demographic. I'm telling you, we should seriously consider her. Baked goods can make up for a lot of deficiencies!"
Jess rolled his eyes, and headed down the stairs. The other two followed, continuing their discussion about how good the woman's baking would have to be to forget that she had no experience in publishing, and whether Matt would go on a date with her if she brought him a pecan pie.
They had rearranged their office space the day before, pushing two of the desks together to form a sort of conference table. Jess and Chris sat together on the long side, with Matt at the end. It wasn't ideal, they were limited by the tiny space. Their papers from yesterday were still scattered around as they were all too tired after seeing 7 applicants to deal with any cleanup.
"Who's on the chopping block today?" Chris' words were muffled by a cherry danish, but Jess got the general idea.
"Everyone today is local. Couple of recent grads, one finance person, and two with real world experience but little else."
Matt took a sip from his cup and grimaced. He traded drinks with Chris and then let out a satisfied moan as his soy mocha replaced Chris' long espresso. "I don't know how you can drink that battery acid."
"Hey, it's a dark drink to match my dark soul."
Jess chuckled and handed out the stacks of resumes for the day's interviews. The leftovers from the previous day were swept into the shredding bin, their choice for Boston having already been phoned in to the agency.
"Ok, let's see here. First up is… oh COME ON!" Matt spluttered. "You guys really need to come up with better fake names!"
After a quick glance at the top of the pile, Jess shook his head. "Nope, his name really is Henry James."
"So, you're not screwing with me?" He still looked skeptical, and Chris grinned back at him.
"What do you think?"
They eyed each other for a long moment, Matt weighing the possibilities. "Fuck you, you're totally screwing with me."
"Nope. Although that's a really good idea, about the fake names. Next time we have to hire someone, I'm absolutely going to get creative." Chris leaned back and took a long drink of his coffee, a satisfied smile curving his lips.
Matt just rolled his eyes. "Fine. Be a dick. Let's get this over with, shall we?"
Jess happily volunteered to go and see if their first appointment had arrived. When the other two got going, they were Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau; hilarious, but insufferable.
At the front, Stephen was unloading a courier box with unnecessary force, smacking the new books onto a display table. Why was everyone so pissy today? Jess shook his head and pulled his phone out to check for messages, again.
Still nothing.
His mood soured a little further, made worse by the passive aggressive sighs Stephen insisted on making. Even though he didn't have the leftover patience for it, Jess decided to tug the tiger's tail.
"Why so violent, Iago?"
The lanky employee uncoiled from his crouch to glower at the question, clearly not getting the reference. "I thought it was just for the Boston store, but rumour has it you're hiring a boss for us here too, and they might just fire and hire to suit whatever corporate plan you've got going on."
"Oh, for god sake…" Jess pinched the bridge of his nose and tried not to yell at the kid. "Yes, we're hiring a manager, so that things will run BETTER for all of you. Someone who will do the scheduling, and HR paperwork, and make sure we have important things like change in the till and toilet paper for the bathroom."
Stephen looked down at the floor, deflated. "Oh. Well, that sounds ok, then."
"You think? We have your permission to improve your working conditions?" He knew his level of sarcasm was uncalled for, but so was Stephen's ridiculous accusation.
"Uh, well…"
"Oh look, I'll bet this is interview number one." Jess gestured towards the door as a young man in a bow tie rounded the corner. "Try not to scare him or the other applicants away by being yourself, ok?"
"I'm just saying, some better communication would be a good start..."
He forced himself to ignore the kid's muttering and focus on the work in front of him, in this case a prospective employee that he could only liken to Carleton from The Fresh Prince. The guy was carrying a monogrammed, soft sided, leather briefcase for christ sake.
Ah hell, he thought to himself, Matt and Chris are going to tear him to ribbons.
Normally Jess would have been happy to join in the mockery, but they really needed to wrap this up in a bow today. He was headed out on a plane in about 19 hours, and he certainly couldn't count on his partners to hire someone useful.
"Hi, I'm Jess. Jess Mariano." He stuck out his hand and was met with a limp-wristed shake.
"Mr. Mariano, I'm Henry James III."
Jess tried to keep his eye roll internal. "Great to meet you. Matt and Chris are just through here."
He led them through the maze of bookcases and art toward the side of the shop. As they approached the office door, Jess could hear the other two still bickering like old ladies.
"Keaton was a WAY better Bruce Wayne, but Adam West will always be the MAN."
"Get your head out of your ass. West was too fat to fit in the costume!"
Jess cleared his throat. "Uh, guys..."
"And now I suppose you're going to say that Christian Bale was better?"
"Of course he's better. Any halfwit can see that he's the only one to do the role justice."
"Guys?!"
"And don't even get me started on the Joker. Heath Ledger is the shit. Period."
"Oh come ON! You can't get better than Nicholson. Without him, the Joker would just be an afterthought villain."
"But Ledger gave him grit, a real psycho quality."
"Overacting and melodrama!"
"Hey JACKASSES!" Jess felt stupid yelling at his partners in front of the candidate in a sweater vest, but it didn't get the slightest reaction from Matt and Chris. They didn't even look his way as their DC war of words escalated.
"Melodrama?! The guy won an OSCAR for that role. AFTER he died, by the way."
"Yeah yeah, smearing paint on your face doesn't make you a better actor. Just makes you look crazy."
Matt was steaming mad, like a volcano ready to erupt and Chris leaned back and stacked his hands behind his head. He knew just how to push his friend's buttons, and it never failed to produce explosive results.
Jess turned to the man beside him and gave an apologetic shrug. "What can I say? They take superhero interpretations very seriously."
Henry James III was unimpressed, looking down his very long nose at the childish behaviour in front of him. He held up his wrist, checking the time none-too-subtly on what was a very shiny, and probably very expensive watch.
Nice graduation present, Jess scoffed to himself. I hope the guy doesn't expect to make a mint here. Even though he didn't like his attitude, Jess wasn't comfortable with the unprofessional impression Truncheon was making right now.
"You can't be SERIOUS. Anything done before the Dark Knight series is laughable. Do we need to discuss the Val Kilmer and George Clooney years?"
"Oh, don't throw that in my face. Just because Chris Nolan's movies followed a complete dog's breakfast doesn't make them masterpieces! Just better in comparison."
"WHAT?!"
Right. Time to end this with the only thing that works.
Jess took a deep breath to try to control his temper, and quietly muttered the 7 words guaranteed to shut this argument down.
"Ben Affleck will be the best Batman."
Instantly, both Chris and Matt shut their traps and swung their heads in unison to look at Jess like he was bat-shit crazy.
"Right. And now that that's over, how about you both say hello to our first interview of the day? This is Henry James."
Jess gestured to the room's odd man out, and the guy cleared his throat haughtily.
"Henry James III."
The stress he placed on his generational title was painfully droll, and more than one of the partners had to bite their cheeks to keep from laughing out loud. Chris was the first to recover, but only just barely.
"Hey man, nice to meet you." He reached out to fist bump the man, but was left with his hand hanging comically in the air.
Matt just cut his losses and nodded in the guy's direction before taking his seat.
Once everyone was settled, Jess shuffled the resumes in front of him and started a new page on his pad of paper.
"Sorry about that. Usually we just settle arguments with whiskey and a game of pool, but it's pre-noon, and some of us have 'rules' about that." Matt aimed his air quotes at Chris, who made a ridiculous face back at his friend.
Jess just shook his head. They were both morons.
He glanced back at the subject of their interview, trying to gauge how badly things were going and found him picking lint off his pants with a holier-than-thou expression on his face. Clearly he was past the point of attempting to be eager about the position.
"Henry, look, before we start, I just have to ask – was someone in the family a literary fan, or...?"
The Third, as he would forever be known in stories from that day forward, pulled a crisp file folder out of his briefcase and adjusted his round glasses.
"Whatever do you mean?"
Chris and Jess shared a sideways glance. "Your name. I guess you get asked about it a lot. I mean, it would be fitting if you ended up working here."
The man just continued to stare at them, unblinking, without a flicker of understanding. Matt finally couldn't take it any longer and sat forward in his chair.
"Please tell me you've read something of his. It would just be too weird if you haven't."
He flicked his eyes between Chris and Matt suspiciously. "Is this some kind of initiation prank? Who are you talking about, exactly?"
"HENRY JAMES!" the three partners exclaimed together.
"Yes, that is my name, although your obsession with it is making me distinctly uncomfortable. Now, if we could get on with the interview, I have an 11:00 meeting for brunch at my father's club."
His disdain was so obvious, it felt like a bad smell in the room. He looked down to pull his resume out of a folder, providing the partners an opportunity to communicate silently. Jess gave Matt his patented 'Is this guy for real?' eyebrow while Chris discreetly muffled his own chuckles.
They went through the motions, but everyone in the room knew that the interview wasn't going anywhere. After 20 minutes, they had learned that The Third generally read only non-fiction, and had only been on his college hockey team's roster because his father made a ridiculously large donation and he got horrible hay fever so couldn't play polo as was the long-standing family tradition. After that last revelation neither Matt nor Jess could keep a straight face, so Chris volunteered to walk The Third back to the front door. He rolled his eyes at his partners while ushering the man out.
After the door closed, and after what he hoped was an appropriate amount of time, Jess let out a cackle.
"Well, that was interesting."
Matt just nodded and let his head hang back in defeat. "I don't even know what to say. I mean, how do people like that make it to adulthood?"
"Lots of daddy's money to catch him when he falls, I presume."
They were both still grumbling when Chris reappeared. He snatched up the three copies of Henry James' resume and tipped them into the shredder with a flourish.
"Buh bye."
"Amen to that!"
"Who's next?"
Jess groaned and rubbed at his eyes. After their recent experience, he didn't even want to look.
"Uh, Ashley Meerk." He scanned the paper in front of him, zeroing in on the last page. "Oh no, it's the cheerleader," he moaned to himself.
That caught Matt's attention and he sat up quickly. "Cheerleader? Is she blonde?"
"What does it matter if she's blonde?"
"Well, I might want to get up and escort her in. You know, if she's blonde…"
Chris cuffed his friend on the back of the head as he took his seat. "Hands off the employees anyway, jackass."
"Well, then we just won't hire her. If she's not an employee, it's no problem for me to take her out on a date." Matt stood and tried to brush the wrinkles out of his shirt.
"This isn't your personal dating service, asshole." Jess was seriously losing his temper. No one seemed to understand how essential it was to pick someone – today! "Need I remind you that we're trying to hire someone to take care of our business, YOUR business? You care about this place, remember?"
Matt rolled his eyes. "Geez, lighten up. I promise to listen to her very carefully." He skillfully dodged the crumpled up ball of paper that came flying at him when he waggled his eyebrows, and ducked out to meet their next appointment.
Chris leaned over while they were alone, lowering his voice. "Hey, you ok?"
"Fresh as a daisy and just as sweet."
His friend's eyes narrowed, assessing Jess' expression. It's not that his standard sarcastic answer wasn't expected. Chris probably would have been more suspicious if he had brushed it off with I'm fine. But the man wasn't an idiot. He could tell there was something more going on than Jess' usual dark humour.
In honesty, Jess' mood was tanking. He just wanted to get this done and run home to pack and take care of a million other things before his flight in the morning.
That, and not wonder why he hadn't heard from Rory. He had almost convinced himself that it didn't matter. Almost.
"Look, I know this has been a lot of work, putting all this together. We do appreciate it, no matter how much we're coming off like idiots this morning."
"Ah fuck, it's not that. I'm used to the sideshow that's constantly running around here." Jess sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring how his cell phone dug into his hip.
"Then what flew up your ass and died today?"
Chris was teasing him to get an answer. He could tell by the way his eyes bunched up at the corners, trying not to laugh. But he wasn't going to give up what was bothering him, because he didn't really want to admit it to himself.
"I'm just slammed with work, you know." He shrugged and avoided Chris' eyes. "And I'm leaving tomorrow for this stupid trip at the worst possible time for Truncheon."
"You sure that's it? Usually you're like The Flash when things are busy. Jess over here, editing. Jess over there, copying and doing layout. Jess over there writing cheques and placing orders." Chris' arms swung back and forth, mimicking a running Jess handling everything the business threw his way.
"Yeah, that's it. Just want to get some good, reliable people in these jobs so I can stop worrying about stuff that I'm not good at and never wanted to do in the first place."
Chris nodded thoughtfully. "There's a winner in this pile, I'm sure of it."
Then he tapped the resumes with his knuckles, offering what was probably supposed to be a confident, encouraging smile. The gesture just made Jess' stomach tighten up, however. What if they didn't like anyone from the candidates they'd chosen for interviews? Then what would he do? He certainly couldn't trust Matt with things when Chris headed back to Boston.
When the door opened again, Jess straightened up in his chair. He was more determined than ever to get this done - quickly.
"You've never seen the Liberty Bell? Really? Well, I'd be happy to show it you sometime."
Matt and their newest applicant, who was indeed blonde (although apparently not naturally), came strolling through the door. She was giggling, and he had his hand on her lower back. And Jess saw red. He was up out of his chair before he could stop the impulse.
Chris rose to his feet as well. "What are you doing?" he whispered while trying to keep the polite smile on his face.
Jess grimaced and forced himself to take a breath. "Apparently, I'm saving the cheerleader."
If he had any hope of keeping this interview on track, he needed to convince Matt to get his mitts off the potential employees, especially considering this one looked much younger than their thirtyish years. Luckily clearing his throat was enough to catch Matt's attention, and he didn't have to resort to slapping.
"Hi, I'm Jess, and this is Chris. You must be Ashley. Thanks for coming in today." His plan worked when she walked forward to shake his hand, and Jess just grinned at the murderous glare Matt shot his way.
"This is quite the shop you've got! I don't get downtown too often, but it wasn't hard to find." Her face was animated as she looked around the room, taking in the piles of books and drafts on the floor.
They all took their seats and Jess fought the urge to punch Matt in the kidney. He was openly leering at the poor girl, as if she didn't have a head or a brain in it. He was practically his best friend, but sometimes he was a little much to take, even for Jess.
"Well, we're glad you made it. Let's just jump in, yeah?" Chris flipped her resume over, looking at the education section. "It looks like you graduated from Philly Community College last year with a diploma in Business Admin?"
Ashley nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, that's right. My focus was Public Relations, but there were limited courses available in that area, so I'm looking at other online courses now to supplement my diploma."
Jess let himself relax a tiny bit, happy that she was at least more suited than Henry James III. "And you're currently working for Brownstone Construction?"
She nodded again, her blonde ponytail bobbing up and down. "My Dad's company. It's small and old fashioned but he's doing really well, so he agreed to a little refresh to keep up with the times; new website, new branding, business cards etc. and better, targeted advertising."
"I'll bet you're doing a great job." Matt's voice sounded dreamlike, and Jess gave his shin a discreet kick under the desk, much to Chris' delight.
"That's your focus, then? Advertising and branding?" Jess was genuinely interested, because she sounded passionate about the topic.
"I think that's where I'll end up. A company's image encompasses all of those things, and I'm fascinated by how the customer's impression can affect the business' bottom line."
Chris leaned forward, obviously engaged as well. "Like, how you might alienate customers without knowing it, just by the business name you choose or the way your store looks?"
She grinned and licked her lips. "Exactly. One of the projects I did in school was about a local pizza chain. Through focus groups, our class got the idea that their radio ad was driving customers away because the voiceover sounded a lot like Donald Duck. So they agreed to change the actor but leave everything else the same. Within a month, their business was up 15%."
"Wow. 15%! That's amazing. Great work!" Matt sounded so excited by the news, it was embarrassing, and everyone turned to look at him like he was insane.
A weird silence fell over the room for several, uncomfortable seconds afterwards. Jess wanted to bang his head on the desk in frustration. She could very well be the best fit for the position, but she would probably turn down an employment offer because of the creepy owners.
And then, by some miracle, Ashley laughed. "Um, thanks. It was actually pretty cool to see our ideas work in the real world."
Matt's cheeks flamed, like even he realized how ridiculous he was acting. About time, Jess thought. The first step is admitting it. Time to get back on track.
"At your previous jobs, have you ever done any bookkeeping? Payroll, taxes, that kind of thing?"
She shifted awkwardly in her chair, looking down at her nails for a time. "No, math has never been my strong suit. But I'm good with a computer, and I'm sure you do everything through Quickbooks or some other accounting program, right? Shouldn't be too hard to catch on."
Jess' stomach sank. Finance was the biggest part of the position they were trying to fill, and he was absolutely sure someone couldn't fake it till they made it in the job.
Apparently sensing that things were heading downhill, Chris asked a lightweight question, probably hoping to go out on a positive note. "Do you read much? Classics? Poetry? Have a favourite author?"
Ashley smiled her lovely smile again. "I love L.M. Montgomery. I think I've read Anne of Green Gables a hundred times. The whole series is wonderful, really. I'm just as captured by it as an adult as I was when I was 12."
Her wistful voice made even Jess grin wryly. "It's funny how we get something different from great books at different stages in our lives."
"I couldn't agree more."
Everyone again turned to look at Matt. Jess was starting to worry that he'd hit his head or something. The guy never had any game. He and Chris had both witnessed their friend crashing and burning while trying to flirt with girls, but this was a new kind of pathetic.
Chris shook his head, raising his eyebrows as if to say Sorry, I don't know what's going on with him. "So, what's your availability like? Full time, flexible for weekends, or…?"
The girl swung her gaze to Chris, studiously avoiding Matt in the centre of the group. "Um, flexible-ish, I guess? If weekends are part of a regular schedule, I don't mind. But I like to know my days off in advance so I can plan things."
"Ok, good to know." He nodded, scratching his ear and flipping her resume over again. "Jess, anything else you want to ask?"
Jess cleared his throat, leaning back in his chair. "Any questions for us, Ashley? Anything you want to know about the business?"
He knew that someone who genuinely wanted to work there, who would care about the business like he and his partners did, would have questions: What was their target market? How did they decide what books to stock? Where did they find their authors? How many books a year did they publish? How many employees? How did it work with the other locations? Jess wanted to know that they would be invested in the job, in the company. But so far, no one had asked anything like that.
She fidgeted some more, clearly uncomfortable with the way Matt had been staring at her. "No, I don't think so. You have my cell number and email address if you need to contact me."
"We do." Damn, Jess grumbled to himself, another one bites the dust. "Thanks for coming in. I'll see you out, if that's ok."
Ashley looked relieved and gave the other two a little wave before putting her purse back on her shoulder. He let her go first, closing the office door behind him so she wouldn't hear the tongue lashing Matt was certainly about to get from Chris for his behaviour.
As they wove their way back to the front door, Jess made an attempt at small talk.
"So, you said you don't get downtown much. You live out in the suburbs?"
She blushed and pulled her purse strap up a little higher. "Yes, I'm staying with my parents for a bit while my girlfriend and I look for a place in the city."
Jess felt his eyebrows raise in surprise, but he tried to downplay his reaction. That certainly wasn't what he had expected to hear. And she wasn't giving the impression that they were buddies from their cheerleading days.
"Uh, yeah. Finding a place in the city can be hard."
She turned suddenly, and he nearly ran into her.
"It really is! Even more so because Linda has a dog. He's an adorable, sweet puppy, but landlords hear the word rottweiler and immediately tear up our application!"
He blinked in the face of her outburst and Ashley quickly looked down at her feet, embarrassed.
"Sorry. I just… It's looking like we'll never get to move in together. I love her, so I can't really ask her not to bring her dog."
"Yeah, that's rough." Jess sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, one of the guys who used to work here had a big dog...mastiff or something. He found a pet friendly building through this rental agency that specialized in that sort of thing–First Start Properties, I think it's called. First Choice? First Pick? I don't really remember. Maybe see if you can find them?"
Her face lit up, and she started bouncing on her toes, that blonde ponytail swinging around again.
"Thank you! I'll definitely try that!"
Her excitement carried her right out the front door and Jess raised his hand in a wave, but she was already gone.
"Cheerleaders," he muttered under his breath, with an appropriate eye roll.
Everything in the office was quiet as he returned, which was a bad sign under the circumstances. Sure enough, when Jess swung the door open, his two partners were facing away from each other, arms crossed over their chests and sour expressions on their faces. God, they were such children sometimes. Jess had worked hard over the years to repress his snark, the attitude and sharp verbal rebukes that were always bubbling just under the surface. But today, he wasn't even going to try.
"Oh no. Did someone steal someone else's My Little Pony?"
When they both turned their glares on him, his smirk kicked up at the side.
"Don't make me put you in time outs. Just hug and make out, ok? Sorry!" He threw his hands up in the air when Chris made to lunge out of his chair. "Make UP. I meant make up."
Matt just huffed and adjusted his slouch. When his chair squeaked, Chris rolled his eyes like it was the most annoying sound in the world.
"Look, quit acting like fucking babies, alright? Our next appointment is here in less than 10 minutes. Could we maybe just ACT like we're business owners that have our shit together?"
It took another moment of glaring, but Chris finally relented. "Fine. I never thought I'd be happy to get back to Boston, but JESUS."
"Yeah, well, with you gone, maybe people will actually NOTICE that I exist."
Jess' eyes popped at Matt's harsh tone. "I'm sorry, what?!"
The shorter man leaned up out of his chair and started pacing the room, giving the metal garbage can a good kick with his toe on the way by.
"What the hell are you on about, Matty?" The nickname earned Chris another dirty look from his partner.
"You know what I mean! With you, Mr. Tall, Dark and Poetic, and brooding James Dean Hemingway Jr. over here," Matt jabbed a stern finger in Jess' direction, "no one of the fairer sex even gives me a second glance!"
There was a beat of silence where both Chris and Jess stared at their friend like he'd lost his mind, or grown a second head. Jess honestly didn't think his own eyebrows could go up any further on his forehead. And then he remembered his conversation with Ashley and started to laugh at how absurd the situation was. He laughed until his stomach hurt and he had to bend over and support himself with his hands on his knees.
"What the fuck is so funny?"
Jess couldn't answer, could barely take a breath doubled over as he was. Matt's anger and disbelief just made him laugh all the more. His eyes started to water, and he cheerily wiped at the tears streaking down towards his chin. Soon, Chris started to giggle because laughter is strangely contagious in a group, and also just because the sight of Jess laughing was so unusual.
Finally, the mirth in the room died down to a level where Jess could suck some air into his lungs.
"Oh man, you are such a jackass!" He sniffed and wiped at his cheeks some more, trying to get himself back under control.
"Oh really?! And why would that be, chuckles?" Matt had his hands on his hips, but his face was a classic child's pout, complete with protruding bottom lip.
Jess hugged his arm around his middle, muscles aching from the laughing fit. "Trust me, the cheerleader isn't your type."
"And you just know this because you're such a god damn expert on women, huh?"
"Yeah," he fired back, getting annoyed. "It's a frikkin' miracle, really. Like how I expertly just listened to her instead of staring at her chest, and expertly heard her talking about how she and her girlfriend are having a hard time finding an apartment downtown."
There was a beat of silence before Chris exhaled sharply through his lips, such that if he had been drinking his coffee, they all would have been sprayed.
Matt, bless his heart, still looked confused. "But I don't… How is that…?"
Jess just rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in the air. He loved his friend, but god DAMN he was an idiot sometimes.
Then the words clicked and he fell strongly on the side of denial.
"Nah… That's not possible. I mean, you saw her, right?! And she was interested in me, I could tell."
Chris snorted again, and raised his voice. "Get a clue, man. She doesn't dig the dudes. And trust me, there was nothing even resembling flirting going on in here."
When Matt looked both incredulous and furious, Chris gleefully ticked off the other choices on his fingers.
"Potential sexual harassment? Yes. Prelude to creepy stalking? Yes. Makings of a good SNL skit? Yes. Something that I'm going to be laughing about for years to come? HELL yes. But flirting? Nope. Not even close."
Jess smirked as he lined up the resume for the next candidate on the chopping block. The pile was getting very short. They needed to find someone, ANYone.
He slipped his cell phone out of his pocket while the other two continued to bicker. Still nothing.
Damn. He just couldn't catch a break today.
...
After another horribly fruitless interview with a chronic stoner that supervised the night shift at a convenience store, there was a cancellation, so the guys decided to take a lunch break at the burger place two streets over. As a peace offering they treated Matt to his favourite order of poutine, the mushy gravy-ness something Jess wished never to experience again. And then, under the cloud of a carb-coma, they slowly made their way back to Truncheon.
Only 3 more people to see, Jess thought to himself despondently. On the one hand, he wished there was an endless supply of people to choose from. But, on the other, that would mean spending more time on interviews, and possibly changing his reading tour schedule.
Neither of those were options, as far as he was concerned.
He tried to push his brain back into the conversation, but the good-natured argument Matt and Chris were continuing didn't really need his input. Chris had just called Matt a low-budget lothario when Stephen knocked softly on the closed office door with his knuckles.
Matt glanced quickly at Jess, wondering why the kid was interrupting their very important, post-lunch, bullshit session. Jess just shrugged.
"Yeah?" he yelled out, both confused and a little annoyed.
The former military man cracked the door open and sheepishly stuck his head in.
"Uh, your next appointment is here."
Matt huffed and checked his phone. "They're 20 minutes early! Tell them to take a seat."
The three partners turned away, intent on restarting their discussion, which had swung onto Chris' pathetic attempts to woo the lovely Charlotte. But before they got back to it, Stephen was hovering in the doorway again. And his attempt at discreetly clearing his throat raised Jess' temperature.
"Was my man not clear?!" Chris' voice betrayed that his patience for the day was at an end.
"Uh, no. No, I heard what you said. I just don't think you understand the situation."
Jess slammed his pen down on the desk. "For fuck's sake, there's a situation?! Why can't the guy just sit and spin until we're ready for him?"
Stephen raised his hands, trying to make peace. "Hey, I hear you. But when someone like that threatens my personal safety, I take them seriously."
"The guy threatened you?!" Chris leaned forward, elbows on the tabletop, skeptical of the employee's claim.
Stephen shuffled his feet and looked at the ground.
"Well shit," Matt started with a laugh. "If this guy put the fear of God into G.I. Joe here, I'm not sure if we should tell him to get lost, or hire him on the spot!"
They all laughed, and Stephen rolled his eyes at their teasing, but he still wouldn't look at them. Jess quirked his eyebrow at that. Something was going on that the kid was purposely avoiding. He watched him a little more closely and noticed a faint blush rise on his cheeks when Matt made another comment about the scary guy waiting out in the store. Yeah, something was definitely amiss here.
"How big is this guy, anyway?" Jess asked seriously. "Can we take him or should we call in Tony from Scarmucci's?"
Tony was the pastry chef at the fancy Italian restaurant on the corner. The 350 pound, 6'4" former defensive tackle from Alabama State made the best cheesecake in town, and had a voracious appetite for books of all sorts. The three partners had known him for years now, and always got pastries for their events from Tony.
Stephen rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in the air. "It's a girl, ok?!"
Matt and Chris both stopped dead at that, but Jess recovered quickly and laughed, surprising everyone including himself.
"I'm sorry, what?"
Stephen blushed again and jammed his hands onto his hips, probably trying to appear tough – at least to himself.
"Your next appointment is a female person, and when I tried to get her to wait, she said something about removing a limb and inserting it someplace even surgery couldn't repair."
He grimaced and Jess saw Chris wince. "And something about her made me believe she would do it."
Jess couldn't help himself. The mental imagery of the kid cowering in front of anyone was just too satisfying. He laughed until his cheeks hurt. Considering his giggle-fit earlier, this was quite possibly the most he'd laughed in years. Matt and Chris joined in as well, albeit with less enthusiasm.
Chris finally took pity on their sad looking employee.
"Ok, Wimpy. I'll go face the big, scary girl. You can duck and cover in the stock room."
He gave Stephen a whack on his shoulder on the way by, leaving Jess and Matt to try to catch their breath before the next interview.
"So, you figure she's an Amazon, or…?"
Jess chuckled again. "Why does your mind automatically go there? Maybe she's a two-toothed, 80-year-old gorgon that would literally eat you for breakfast."
Matt shuddered. "I really need to lay off the Lucky Charms, huh? Stop fattening myself up?"
"Wouldn't be a horrible idea."
Jess shuffled through the last couple of resumes. Their two o'clock was… the boastful reader. Interesting. She liked books and had terrified the so-earnest-he-was-annoying thorn in Jess' side. Maybe the afternoon was looking up.
It was a few minutes before Chris reappeared with their latest candidate. Matt's jaw hit the ground, and even Jess, as jaded as he was, did a double take. She certainly wasn't an old hag, or an Amazon, he though with a wry grin.
No, she was nothing like that. The petite girl (woman?) was no more than five feet tall, but even before she spoke, her presence was larger than life.
She had a sort of post-modern, punk look to her, with the faded band t-shirt, nerd-chic black glasses and suspenders holding up her pinstriped pants. But the comparison to sloppy 80's revival ended there. With long, cherry-red hair, intricate tattoos peeking out all over and sky high heels to contrast her quirky outfit, she was a bombshell.
Jess could almost hear the horn-dog commentary he assumed was going on in Matt's head. And he wasn't far off the mark. The girl was hot – even Jess couldn't deny it.
And she was clearly used to the attention. When Jess and Matt had gaped at her a second too long, she cocked her hip and stuck out her hand confidently.
"Hello, boys. I'm Willow."
She said it like they should already know, like they had been waiting all day for a glimpse, like fans waiting for an autograph at Comic Con.
It was amusing, watching Matt practically trip over himself to shake her hand. She smiled a little too sweetly at him, and it was obvious she had his number already. Luckily, Jess' own life experience allowed him to stay cooler. Beauty alone didn't have that effect on him anymore. He met her gaze and took her small hand in his.
"Hi, I'm Jess Mar—"
"I know who you are," she interrupted, looking annoyed that he had tried to introduce himself.
When curious eyebrows raised around the room, she had the audacity to roll her green eyes at them all.
"You write books. I read books," she bit out as if it was so obvious it was causing her physical pain to explain it.
The lessons Jess' agent had given him on interacting with the public kicked in automatically.
"Oh. Uh, thanks. It's always nice to meet a fan."
"I didn't say I was a fan," she challenged back. "Your books aren't exactly Booker material."
Chris coughed nervously to cover his laughter and Jess recoiled in surprise. He couldn't retreat too far, though, because she still hadn't let go of his hand. And damn him if he didn't start to feel a spark of respect, or admiration, or something.
He smirked at her tone. "Well, then at least we agree on something."
He shook her hand again once and then let it drop.
"Let's all sit down, shall we?"
Even seated, she gave off a confident, powerful vibe; like if Lara Croft was an alternative fashion model. She immediately took control of the interview, as if she was already running the show.
"So. I'm sure you want to know about my experience."
Chris shuffled through the resumes in front of him, clearly flustered by Willow's directness. Matt looked like he couldn't even meet her eyes, instead focusing somewhere over her left shoulder. Jess found it all highly amusing, until her gaze swung his way. He felt like she was looking right into him, learning what made him tick just by studying his face.
He cleared his throat, attempting to break the spell she'd woven over the room.
"You're managing a record store right now?"
"Yes."
His finger clenched briefly around his pen, annoyed by the one-word answer. "But you want to leave there?"
"Obviously."
He gave her a pointed look but she simply sighed and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "I think I've done about as much as I can with it."
"You have?"
"Yes."
He bit down his frustration, trying not to let her see that she was winning this contest of wills.
"Care to elaborate?"
"Well, it's turning a sizeable profit now, whereas when they hired me it was circling the toilet bowl. So yeah, I'd say I've done my best."
"And your duties were…?"
"Managing." She tacked on a "duh" with her tone, that they all heard loud and clear.
"Humour me." He raised an eyebrow at her cheeky eye roll.
"Managing: hiring, firing, scheduling, bookkeeping, advertising, ordering..."
Her head tilted with each item, like she was singing a children's song to a room of simpletons.
"Office equipment, building maintenance, talking to the landlord, janitorial services…"
And with every word, Jess became more impressed and even more annoyed than he was before.
"Meeting bigwigs, artist appearances, public relations, event coordination," she paused to take a dramatic breath in, like the list had exhausted her oxygen.
"Your basic handholding and keeping the place running, in a nutshell."
A quick glance down the table showed his partners were completely enamoured with her. Chris had a stupid grin on his face, and Matt looked like he was having a very inappropriate day dream about the redhead. Jess couldn't figure out if she was arrogant, or just incredibly self-assured. Either way, at least it seemed like she might be able to do the job.
"I see. And you worked as a personal assistant, right?"
Her lips quirked. "Yes, to Judith Emory."
Matt coughed suddenly, like he'd forgotten how to swallow. "THE Judith Emory?!" he croaked.
"Of course." Her voice was whiskey smooth, and she was clearly pleased at his reaction.
Jess let his mind chew on her revelation quietly, but Chris drew a blank on the name.
"Emory? Should I know who that is?"
Matt rolled his eyes. "She's an editor. Scratch that – she's THE editor. She's worked for all the big firms, been around for what – 40 years?"
He looked to Jess for confirmation, and he just nodded in agreement at his friend, feeling more impressed by the second.
"She's had a hand in two National Book Awards, 3 Bookers, a couple of Pulitzers and a finalist for the Nobel-effing-Prize for Literature." Matt's voice rose steadily as he listed off the woman's accomplishments.
Jess sat forward, interested. "And just how did you come to work for someone like that?"
"She gave a guest lecture at La Salle, and we got to talking afterwards." Willow shrugged, like the connection was no big deal. "She had some business in the city, but needed someone to organize things for when she would visit. It was a lot of paperwork and scheduling, really."
The three couldn't help but be gobsmacked, but Jess was the best at hiding it.
"It's not like you were helping her with the actual editing though, right?"
Those green eyes flashed at him again and he felt their hot irritation warming his face. "She asked my opinion about a couple of things, yeah. I read a lot of new, urban authors; the angrier the better. She was looking at piecing together an anthology with a 'Classics of the next 100 years' theme for Penguin. We kicked around some things I'd read lately that didn't suck."
She shrugged once more, and Jess felt his fingers clench again. "Ultimately, the project got scrapped before it ever got off the ground."
"So, why do you want to work here?" Chris nearly whispered. His meaning seemed to suggest she'd be lowering herself to take the job, but Jess let the question stand. He really wanted to know the answer, even if he didn't agree that their business was so unworthy.
"I've read your online stuff. It wasn't horrible, but there was lots of room for improvement." She caught Jess' eyes and shrugged, like she knew it annoyed him. "I know the business, more or less, and my skills are something you seem to desperately need."
Willow fixed each of them with a look that reeked of confidence. "In short, I can whip this place into shape."
As he watched his friends stupidly blink at her statement, Jess felt himself getting hot under the collar. Who did she think she was? There was no way he would hire someone with that kind of attitude. She may think she could do them some sort of favour by deigning to work for them, but he was very sure she wasn't going to get the chance.
"Well, thank you for coming in, Ms. Hart. I think we've heard enough to make a decision."
Jess stood to escort the girl out, with Matt and Chris stumbling to their feet mere seconds later. Neither had anything intelligent to add, beyond gaping mouths and raised eyebrows.
Willow, however, had other ideas.
"Hold on. I have some questions of my own, if you don't mind."
He grinned humourlessly, leaning back against the desk. If she thought he was going to take more disparaging questions about Truncheon lying down, she was sorely mistaken.
"And what would those be?"
"Well, for starters, who's your demographic here? Is it true bibliophiles? Readers of top ten, popular fiction? College kids who need the classics but also some deeper cuts for the literature majors? Your website doesn't really seem to cater to anyone. And the news page hasn't been updated in forever."
Jess felt his frozen smile start to fade.
"And how do you market to your audience? Word of mouth? Do you advertise? Mainstream media or the arts papers and college flyers route? Because honestly, I read a lot, but I'd never heard of you before yesterday. What about publishing? Do you have continuing contracts with one printer, or do you shop around for the best deal depending on the project?"
As she rattled off a dozen more questions that showed she not only knew the industry, but had done her research about Truncheon before arriving for her interview, Jess mentally kicked himself.
Be careful what you wish for in the future, Mariano.
He had said he wanted someone that would care about the business, that would be passionate about their little shop and help it grow in ways the three of them didn't have time for anymore. Well, here she was, and she was already a giant pain in his ass.
Dammit.
...
After the last applicant was shown the door more than 3 hours later, Jess felt his energy leave right along with them.
"Come on, let's get out of here and have a drink to celebrate having someone to delegate shit to!"
As the constantly restless part of the trio, Chris jumped up to lead the way. "Yes! I need a burger and a beer."
Jess hung back, gathering the scatter of resumes and pushing the desks back to their original position.
"Stop, man. You're letting your latent OCD show. We can do that later. We've been cooped up in here all day."
"Fuck you, too. If I don't clean up, it will still look like this when I get back from my trip."
Matt laughed, leaning back against the door frame. "No it won't! We'll have a manager to do that stuff from now on!"
"I don't know. Are you sure we're making the right choice?" Jess stuffed a draft and some notes in his bag, fiddling with the clasp while he thought out loud. "I mean, I know she seems like the best fit for the position, but there's something about her that just doesn't sit right."
Matt snorted. "No shit. She's moody, she's outspoken, doesn't need approval from anyone, and seems to have a dark, twisted soul. She's the female equivalent of you."
Chris' laughter barked from behind the front desk and Matt ducked as a heavy paperback came winging through the office door at his head.
The bar up the street, that was still not called Cedar Bar Redux, was moderately busy as they walked in. The after-work crowd was just starting to emerge from their cubicles, mostly sitting close to the large screen on the far wall that was showing the Eagles pre-game.
Andrew, the regular weeknight bartender, waved the three over to their regular table, which was decidedly NOT close to the aforementioned screen. Their regular pitcher of local draft and a scotch and water for Jess would no doubt arrive shortly.
Jess pulled out his phone and thumbed the screen again as everyone sat down, no longer surprised at the lack of communication. He was starting to wonder if this 'date', or whatever the hell it was, was such a good idea. The fact that the lack of a call or text could distract him so much wasn't a good sign.
When his drink was placed in front of him, he downed it in two swallows, the smooth burn feeling symbolic in his throat. Around him the room buzzed, Chris and Matt throwing good-natured insults back and forth across the table like hot potatoes. Jess felt curiously detached from the whole scene. As was often the case, he was all up in his head, and there wasn't much that could break him of the pattern.
His partners worked their way through the first pitcher, and the scotch kept showing up at his elbow, so he kept drinking it. Through watery eyes, he checked his phone time and again, losing whatever hope he'd been holding onto that she would call him.
He wasn't mad at Rory. She was under no obligation to call or text him at any particular time. Hell, he'd been incommunicado himself for long stretches when they first dated a million years ago. He understood better than anyone how life and stupidity made it difficult to find the right words, even when you had something to say.
No, what bothered him most was how affected he was by it; by her. He'd been on an even keel for several years, with no particular highs or lows to send him into a tailspin. But within weeks of her appearing back in his life (in his real life), he'd been both on cloud nine, and in some outer ring of hell.
With that thought in mind, he took his empty glass up to the bar, rather than wait for Janine to come by on her next round. Andrew raised his eyebrow at Jess' reappearance in front of him.
"So eager for another one of my drinks that you just couldn't wait?
Jess just shook his head, feeling like a brooding character from one of his novels.
"Uh huh," the older man grunted. "Celebrating or commiserating?"
"Ever known that someone was both your Garden of Hesperides and your Achilles heel at the same time?" Jess felt foolish the minute the words left his brain and came out his mouth.
The bartender stopped wiping the glass in his hands. "Garden of Hesper-what?"
"Never mind." Jess chuckled dryly, making the guess that Greek epics weren't on the guy's bedtime reading list.
"Well, I may not know exactly what you're talking about, but I can tell from that look what's eating you."
"Oh yeah?" Jess took his refilled glass, which he noted was mostly water with just a little scotch this time, and threw it back.
"Can't say I've ever seen you moody about a woman before, though."
He watched the ring of condensation bleed out onto the wooden bar top, but stayed quiet. He could feel Andrew's eyes on the top of his head but refused to let him see that he'd guessed just right.
"She's not just anyone, hmm?"
Jess shook his head slightly, sliding the glass forward for another round. It came back again, mostly water, with just a tint of amber liquor.
"Did she break your heart, or the other way around?"
He held the glass up to his lips, hiding his self-deprecating smirk. Oh, if only there was an easy answer to that question.
"Take it from someone who knows. The booze doesn't make you forget. It just makes you beat yourself up a little more violently."
Jess was annoyed at the unsolicited advice. The barman was a good guy, as far as he knew, but Jess didn't talk about his love life, such as it was, to anyone. He smacked his glass down on the bar again, pushing it deliberately back into the glow cast by the illuminated taps.
"I'll have one more."
Andrew was slow to fill it up, and Jess glared when he heard a tinkling from behind the bar.
"I know that's not ice you're putting in my drink."
"You're lucky I'm giving you another at all."
He raised his glare to the older man's face and was confronted with a stubby finger leveled at him. "I ain't mopping you up again at the end of the night. You and me, we're not doing that anymore."
"That was years ago, Andrew." And what do you know? Andrew had seen him moody about a woman before. Same woman as tonight. Same woman as always, Jess mused.
"Doesn't matter. I'm a goddamn elephant when it comes to remembering smart guys that make stupid choices. Now take your soda back to your table like a good boy, and I won't have to tell your friends to take you home early."
Jess silently fumed as the bartender continued to wipe down his glasses, dismissing him by pretending he wasn't there anymore. Screw him, Jess yelled internally. The old man didn't have the right to judge him and the way he dealt with shit. He didn't know Jess' history, didn't know that he had fought, tooth and nail, for every little success he'd had. And he certainly didn't know the long and tragic history of Rory and all that they had done with and to each other.
He turned on his heel to go back to his table, but stopped when he thought he felt his phone buzz. The screen showed he was imagining things, or perhaps hoping a little too hard. All that greeted him was his face reflected in the shiny black surface, mocking him for all his eager excitement.
Pathetic.
He glanced over his shoulder and caught Andrew watching him at that exact moment, reminding him a little too much of Luke. He wasn't accustomed to being treated like a surly teenager anymore, but realized that was exactly how he was acting.
He shoved the phone back into his jeans and took a sip of his drink, feeling the ice tap against his lips. Man, he was such a jackass.
Andrew didn't seem too surprised to see his sheepish return.
"Come for another refill, Paris Alexander?"
His comment brought Jess' head up sharply. The barman was still polishing his glasses, but there was a shrewd intelligence in his eyes that Jess hadn't noticed before.
"What? Someone who pours beer and shakes martinis can't read a little Homer every now and then?"
Jess smirked, admitting that he'd definitely got the man all wrong. "I'm sure it comes in handy when dispensing life advice."
Andrew nodded, his eyes betraying his humour. "Especially when suggesting temperance and logic."
"Listen... I'm, uh, I'm sorry. For how I acted. I'm just... not thinking clearly, you know?"
"Only too well." The man kept wiping, hands never pausing in his task. "Is she your Helen?"
He let Jess stew with the question a minute, then asked again. "Is she worth it?"
Jess rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, pretty sure she is."
"Well, then. That's nice." He slowed, switching one glass for another and meeting Jess' eyes. "Make sure you don't get lost."
He slid another glass across the bar and strolled into the storeroom without looking back. Jess noticed that it was another weak scotch and mostly water and he swirled the liquid around before saluting the open doorway and tipping it down his throat.
He really needed to get a hold of himself. They hadn't even seen each other in person yet and he was already a mess. Man, he was such a chick when it came to his feelings about Rory.
Chris and Matt were still nattering at each other when Jess reclaimed his seat. He tried to throw himself back into their conversation, calling Matt a less-educated Howard Wolowitz for all his weak attempts at flirting with their potential employees. As a method of self-distraction, it wasn't bad. But the internal questions and the feeling of kicking himself never really went away.
"Screw you! I haven't lived with my mother for 10 years."
Chris slammed his glass down and hooted with laughter. "Doesn't she still do your laundry when she visits at Christmas?"
Matt glared and poured himself another beer, refusing to answer.
The glass in Jess' hand was empty again, but he amused himself with rolling it around on its wide edge, tilting it almost to the point of tipping over. "Haven't you ever had a girl, Matty?"
"Of course I have. There was Maureen last summer, and Bronwyn two years before that. Hell, I was dating Kristen when we first met."
"Kristen? You mean the dog walker?!" Chris chuckled. "I had forgotten about her. Although I wouldn't call what you were doing 'dating'."
Matt huffed and pushed his glass away. "We went places together and made out. What the fuck would you call it?"
Jess waved his hands, trying to get everyone to calm down. "No, no. I'm not talking about hooking up or going to a movie on a Tuesday night. I mean haven't you ever been in love? Haven't you felt like up was down and your skin was flipped inside out? Like she was everything good AND evil in the universe?"
Chris and Matt both turned to fully face their partner, eyes wide in surprise.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?"
Jess blushed under Chris' scrutiny. "You know what I mean." He looked over his shoulder for the waitress in vain, hoping to ward off their now-inevitable questions. Damn his loose lips when he'd had a few too many.
"Uh uh, no way. You need to explain yourself; because for someone who doesn't like poetry, you're spouting some seriously lyrical shit right now."
Jess just rolled his eyes, trying to downplay his comments. "Ah fuck, I'm half drunk. Don't listen to me. I'm just suffering from reading too many bad authors try to explain love."
Chris shook his head and laughed, seemingly ready to take the decoy words at face value. But Matt wasn't so easily deterred.
"No, I think there's more we need to know here. You've been peculiar for a couple of weeks. Ok, well," he grimaced, "weird, even for you. And now all that crap about love? What the hell is going on with you?"
"Peculiar? Matty, are you using that word-of-the-day toilet paper I got you for your birthday?"
Chris laughed, so Jess got half the reaction he was hoping for. But Matt was seemingly like a bloodhound, now that he had detected a whiff of Jess' weak spot. Even his hated nickname couldn't throw him off the scent.
"Level with us. You're all messed up about a girl, aren't you?"
His partners watched him intently, and Jess worried that his silence was damning, but he really had nothing to say on the matter.
"You ARE!" Chris pointed at Jess' chest, laughing even louder and drawing looks from several nearby tables. "Who is she?"
With nothing else to do but squirm, Jess folded and refolded the paper napkin in front of him. It was nicely mangled when Matt finally put two and two together.
"Fuck me, it's her, isn't it?"
Jess just winced, hearing the accusation in his friend's voice.
"Her, who?" Chris was always a step behind, which Jess adored about him in that moment.
"Are you kidding me right now?" Matt's voice got dangerously quiet. "After all the shit storm last time you saw her? Are you seriously thinking about jumping off that bridge again?"
Chris' eyes flew back and forth, trying to fill in the blanks. "Will someone please tell me who we're talking about?"
Matt shook his head, locking eyes with Jess. "You're a damn fool. You know that, right?"
His partner had a point, Jess considered. After their history, a smart man would run and pretend he never saw her face on the news, never heard her voice or read her words. But when it came to Rory, Jess had proven himself to be a Class A moron time and again. So why stop now?
"Yeah, I know. But I have to know, you know?"
Jess watched as his friend's lips curled into a sad smile, the likes of which he'd never seen on Matt before. "I do, actually. I really do."
...
The trio ordered dinner, burgers of course, and began discussing how it would work with their new employees. They needed contact and payroll information; someone had to show them how to use the register and enter receipts in the system. There were a million to-dos, the irony of which did not escape them, considering they had hired these two to lessen their load as business owners. Soon enough they settled on a plan for Jerome, the new Boston manager, to come to Philly for a week and stay in the upstairs apartment while Chris held down the fort. Matt could then train both of the newbies at the same time. He wasn't thrilled about it, but the thought of spending time with Willow seemed to win him over.
Eventually, despite trying to forget it had ever come up, the conversation turned back to Jess' planned meeting with Rory. Matt had some choice words, but nothing as venomous as what Jess expected. Chris, in the early throes of infatuation and love himself, had of course been all for the date. He remembered the mess Jess had been after their last encounter, but the poet in him believed that true love could actually mend such things.
Jess wasn't foolish enough to think of their past in such terms. She had never used the word love, for instance; he steadfastly refused to consider that 'I might have loved you once' phone conversation. And he had only said it the one time, panicking when faced with her literally running away from him.
Using the excuse of his next-day flight, Jess escaped his friends into the cold, evening streets. The climb up his stairs was almost strenuous, considering how much alcohol he had managed to ingest, no thanks to Andrew's attempt to water things down. He still had to pack the rest of his suitcase, but it didn't seem likely that would happen before he fell face first onto his bed for the night.
He was horizontal in just that position when his phone finally, FINALLY, signaled he had a waiting text message.
Rory_: Just taking a quick coffee break–been swamped all day. Hope your interviews went well
The relief in his chest was instantaneous. She wasn't avoiding him or unintentionally leaving him off her list of priorities. She was just Rory: busy, overworked, but thinking of him nonetheless.
He flopped onto his back and looked at the ceiling, wondering when he'd abandoned his standard operating procedure of never letting anyone get close. There was too much potential for disappointment, as far as he was concerned. He wasn't just an island, as the saying went. He was self-reliant, self-sufficient; hell, he was self-contained. Andrew and Matt's words were still rolling around his brain, along with too much scotch and the tiniest bit of fear and long-forgotten hurt. Of course, he would never admit that last part – not even to himself.
Jess decided he needed to remain just slightly aloof, hold a bit of himself back. It was ridiculous to think that would somehow save him from heartbreak and destruction if everything went south, as it surely would. But it made him feel better to know that he hadn't changed so much. Teenaged Jess was impervious to the dangers that came of needing and wanting others. It was only after he let Rory (and to some extent Luke) into his heart, that he started to get hurt.
-Hey, sorry you're so busy. Yeah, interviews were ok.. I think we picked someone.
Rory_: Yay for having a manager! Can I call you later, or will you be sleeping?
Jess sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, but it was already a mess. God, he wanted to talk to her… probably too much.
Play it cool, Mariano. How easily his resolve crumbled when she was offering her sweet voice after a night of whiskey and thinking about her.
-My flight is pretty early, but I'll wake up if you call. Sleep is overrated anyway.
He smacked his own forehead in disgust. Dammit. If he wanted to kick the habit of wanting to talk to Rory, he was going to have to keep his guard up.
Rory_: Only people who get enough sleep say that. TTYL
Jess fell asleep in that same position, staring at the ceiling, with his phone resting on his chest, just waiting for her to call him back.