Resist (Songs of Submission #6)(16)
Author: C.D. Reiss

“Shit.”

“Yeah, except… It should be right there. Just back of the battery and down, past these wires that serve the electricity. But there’s bolt holes. No starter.”

“What do you mean?”

He looked more closely then got under the car. I leaned down, amazed at how he would just crawl under a chassis out of curiosity.

“Do you want a proper flashlight?” I asked. “I think I have one in the trunk.”

“Nope. I’m telling you. There’s no f**king starter on this car. It got jacked.”

“My starter? Are they expensive?”

“Three hundred. Two? Look, I know it’s weird but…” He shrugged.

“Oh my God,” I said, realizing who would do the surgery required to remove a starter from a twelve-year-old Japanese car. “Fucking Jonathan. Son of a goddamn bitch.”

He’d stranded me. I couldn’t get out to Venice without a car. A cab would cost a fortune, and if a bus that far out of town even existed, it would take hours one way. I couldn’t get the car fixed in time for a meeting in Culver City in the morning. That was why he’d left so easily. He walked away accepting that I had no intention of keeping any promise I made while my legs were spread. I should have known better.

“I gotta get to work,” said Robert. “You wanna call a tow?”

“Nope. I’ll figure it out.”

“How you getting home?”

“I’m not. I’m going to go upstairs and get a whiskey. Then I’m going out. If I can’t drive, I can drink.”

“Debbie’s gonna make you pay for it.”

“Fine. I’m not too broke for a little alcohol.” I took out my phone when we got to the back hall and scrolled to Jessica’s last text. I didn’t want to talk to her. The ice in her voice put me on edge. I had no idea how I would handle our conversation tomorrow.

“You can get some guy at the bar to buy you a few,” Robert said, stopping by the lockers.

“No way.”

—Sorry. Can’t make it out to Venice tomorrow. Maybe somewhere more east?—

“Why not? It’s just a drink.”

“It’s cheating.”

“Girls are crazy. I’m tellin’ you, if I were a girl and I had a nice pair, I’d never pay for a drink.”

—My studio in Culver City, then?—

I loved how she managed to keep it on her turf. If I asked her for an Echo Park location, she’d probably manage to find a place she rented, owned, or regularly patronized.

“If you were a girl with a nice pair,” I said, “you’d be the one all the guys wanted to f**k but hated. You’d have a string of one-night or one-week stands until the guy saw you letting someone else buy you drinks. Then you’d only attract the guys looking to spend a little money and put their dicks somewhere comfortable. You’d wake up one morning at fifty years old with a pair that wasn’t so nice any more, and you’d wish you’d bought your own.”

—Great. Thanks for the change. See you at ten?—

Robert and I walked up together. “You don’t know nothing about men. Sure, we might get a drink for a girl like you to get laid. But being seen with you? That’s what gets other girls. See what I’m sayin’?”

“No. I’m still buying my own drinks.”

“Whatever.”

I sat in the corner in the same spot Jonathan had been known to occupy and tried to arrange a car for the next morning. Darren had work the next day, but once he found out what I was doing, he refused to let me drop him off in the morning and borrow his car, texting me like he was my f**king therapist:

—You have a way of sabotaging your own happiness. I’m opting out—

A guy with glittering dark brown eyes, messy black hair, and a mouth like a movie star leaned on the bar next to me. “What are you drinking?”

“Piss and vinegar.” I was busy answering Darren’s accusation in a flurry.

“That a new thing?” he asked. “What’s in it?”

I pulled my eyes away from my phone for a second. “Piss. Also, vinegar.”

He laughed. Ignoring my bludgeon of a hint, he leaned toward me. “Let me get you your next one. I’ll piss in it myself.”

I slugged the dregs of my whiskey, letting the ice cube linger on my lips. I parted them to touch my tongue to it, reminding me of Jonathan, the master of melting ice. I slid the glass to Mister Eyes and said, “Piss your little heart out.”

He looked at the empty glass then back at me. I turned to my phone. I should have known better than to be a total bitch, because in L.A. you never knew who you were speaking to, but I missed Jonathan. I was angry at him and I was trying to avoid lashing out.

—Nice try with the car. I’m not Kevin. You can’t orchestrate my demise—

—Lil can take you anywhere you want to go—

“Someone break your heart today?” Mister Eyes asked.

“No, but really,” I said, “it’s not personal. I’m sure you’re awesome. But there are a hundred girls in here right now who are available. Okay?”

—Except where I want—

—Please wait until I get back. We can talk—

—I am officially done talking—

I slipped my phone into my pocket. When I looked up, Debbie was watching me. That alone was not abnormal, but I felt as if they were Jonathan’s eyes watching me talk to a handsome man, and I was suddenly uncomfortable.

I texted around and got some responses. A party in Koreatown. A show in Silver Lake. Nothing appealed. Fuck going out. I walked out to catch one of the cabs that usually waited outside the hotel. If I was seeing Jessica, I’d need a good night’s sleep.

Chapter 18.

JONATHAN

The machines beeped and sighed, blinking like the dashboard on a 747. The room smelled of rubbing alcohol and dying flesh, and in the darkness laid a once beautiful, intelligent woman who had been reduced, by me, to a pile of idly reproducing cells. I’d been driving that night. Drunk. Stoned. Stupid. Then I passively let my family cover it up while I sat in a padded room feeling sorry for myself.

Sixteen years, a dark room, and maybe she would finally get what she’d always wanted. She’d wanted to be free of her family, and by the time Jessica and I had found her, they were dead or missing. She’d wanted to be free of hunger and pain, and she’d gotten just that. But I didn’t think this was what she’d had in mind.