Ben chuckled. “She’s got a point.”
“Later, Benny,” Jimmy said without taking his eyes off me.
“Right. Have fun, guys.” The big man ambled on out, not particularly bothering to hide his smile.
“I just … I got a bit moody last week.” He crossed his arms and said in a rush, “But it wasn’t nothing to do with you.”
“No, of course not. But I have to live with you. So when you get into these moods, it affects me. ”
Further scowling.
“Not that this is about us.” I shook my head. “I mean, there is no us. I don’t know why I even used the word. This decision is just about me. It’s time for me to move on.”
Jimmy’s jaw clenched. “I don’t like change.”
“We’ll make the handover as smooth as possible.”
“I’m used to you being around. We get on okay. Why the fuck should I have to go through all the trouble of breaking-in someone new just because you’ve got your panties in a twist over something that probably doesn’t even matter?”
My mouth opened, but nothing came out. I was officially stupefied. Over the breaking-in or panties comments I couldn’t quite say, though really, neither should have surprised me. This was Jimmy in all his glory, rude as fuck and not a single social nicety to him. At least I was willing to pretend to get along with people the bulk of the time.
“Well?” he barked. When I took too long to answer he tugged his red sweatshirt off over his head, using it to wipe down his face.
“My reasons, which are personal, do matter. Maybe not to you, but they matter to me.”
He looked off to the side, his lips drawn wide in a truly aggrieved expression. Had any man ever been quite so badly treated? No, I think not, according to that face.
“I’ve made up my mind,” I said.
“I’ll pay you twenty percent more.”
“Were you even listening? This is not about money.”
“Fuck’s sake. Fifty.”
I screwed up my nose. “Jimmy—”
His hand sliced through the air. “Enough. I’ll double it. You cut the shit and we don’t talk about it again, understood? Now I got stuff to do.”
“Stop!” I yelled.
He stared at me, unblinking. Hostility seemed to ooze from his very pores.
“I’m leaving.”
“Why?” he asked, through gritted teeth. “C’mon, you at least owe me an explanation, Lena.”
Outside, it started to rain, the heavy grey clouds finally giving it up. And still Jimmy waited. I squeezed my eyes shut against the sight of him. Oh god, I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. This wasn’t going at all like I had planned.
“I know we’re not best friends, but I thought we got along okay,” he said.
“We do, basically.”
“Well, then?”
“I’m not right for this job.”
“Look at me.”
I opened one eye, he actually looked reasonably calm. His big arms were crossed, sweaty shirt plastered to his buff chest, but otherwise, he didn’t seem too angry. So I opened the other eye, too. Brave of me, I know.
“Unlike the other sobriety companions, you don’t completely piss me off,” he said.
“I know. I’m mostly useful.” I laughed. Not that it was particularly funny. “Gah! Why are you fighting me so hard on this?”
“Because the record company and Adrian would still like someone around to keep an eye on things. I happen to agree it’s not a completely bad idea,” he said. “I don’t need you counseling me and messing with my head, giving me your version of whatever philosophical bullshit turns you on. I just need you to be here. How is that so hard?”
“It’s not. But it doesn’t explain why you’re so hell-bent on that person being me.”
“Look, you’re basically the best out of the bunch, okay? Someone else might be far worse. I’m not going to risk it. You have to stay.”
My nose wrinkled up, I could feel it.
“Hang on, is this about what happened before the funeral?” he asked.
My mouth opened but I had nothing. He didn’t mean when he clung to me, but thanks to my guilty conscience, it was all I could think of.
“It is.” His forehead furrowed. He shoved a hand into his hair and grabbed a fistful, tugging on it. “That was … there were extenuating circumstances. You were never in any physical danger from me, Lena. Not ever.”
“I know.”
“Do you? I get that I freaked you out,” he said. “I know I trashed that room, but I would never—”
“It’s not about that.”
“So what’s the problem?”
I turned away, mind scrambling for a plausible lie of an excuse. There must be something I could use, letting him think I was physically afraid of him wasn’t tenable. He had more than enough issues to contend with.
“It is the problem.” He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. “Fuck.”
“No. It’s really not. I get that you were in a bad place that day.”
“Then what? What do you need here, an apology?” Irritation filled his eyes. “Fuck’s sake. I’m sorry, okay?”
My jaw fell slack. “Wow. You are breathtakingly bad at apologizing, aren’t you?”
His cell buzzed on the counter. We both ignored it.
“Jimmy, for future reference, when you apologize to someone you might want to sound like you actually mean it. Consider not sneering or swearing at them, perhaps. Hmm?”