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Donna hesitates. “He’s been distracted, and clumsy. Quiet. When I pressed, he said he’s fine, but then he dropped a stack of books on a customer’s foot, and she left in a rage.”
“Okay…” I rub at the crease between my brows. “Accidents happen, right?”
“Look, Joel. I’m not thrilled about sending home my one remaining employee, okay? But since that phone call he received he hasn’t been himself. He keeps rubbing at his temples as if he has a headache, and he looks pale, and uncoordinated. I don’t want him falling on his face, and I’m not only thinking about how the customers would react. He looks sick. He’s your friend. What will you do?”
Fuck. “Did he say who called him?”
“Nope.”
“He may be stressed because Candy isn’t there. He gets headaches from stress. If I could talk to her…”
“I can’t give you her number or address, Joel. I told you already.”
“Yeah, yeah, so you have.” I glance at the pile of work waiting for me on my desk, at the emails I need to answer and the letters I need to write, and sigh. “I’m on my way to pick him up.”
“Also, you should give me her cell phone. I’ll make sure she gets it back.”
Damn.
***
“Told you, I’m fine,” Jet grumbles for the tenth time, and I shake my head in frustration. He won’t tell me what the phone call was about, won’t admit to feeling unwell, and won’t come with me. “And I have work to do.”
“Jethry boy, your boss called me, all right? If she’s concerned about you, how the fuck do you think I feel, huh?”
He looks up from where he’s been stuffing old bookmarks into a recycling bag, his eyes wide and damn vulnerable. “How, then?”
Shit. I shouldn’t have said anything, express these wild thoughts spinning inside my head. “Concerned. If your cousin has trouble at home, why won’t you tell me? Is it a money problem? Is it something worse? Maybe I could help.”
His eyes shutter, and he looks back down at the bag. “You can’t help, mate. Told you that before.” He pauses, hands gripping the plastic bag so hard it’s a miracle he hasn’t torn it apart. “What about Candy? Any news?”
“Nope. Nada.”
“Jesus fuck. What if something happened to her? Her running away like that, and not showing up, not talking to us…”
“Listen, Jet.” I pry the bag from his white-knuckled grip, set it down. “She hasn’t left and moved to another city. She’ll be back to work tomorrow. We’ll see her.”
He gives a jerky nod. If there’s one thing I know about Jet it’s that he’s scared of people leaving. Since he won’t tell me anything about his past, I don’t know why that is, but it’s pretty clear that between Candy’s vanishing act and that damn phone call he received, he’s freaking out.
“We’ll get her back.” I pat his shoulder. It’s like patting a piece of rock, he’s so damn tense. “I’ll explain to her about Ellen, about the scandal. I’ll tell her everything, man, I swear. I don’t fucking care anymore. If nothing else, she’ll come back to you.”
Even if the thought sends a strange pain through my chest, I want this for him. To have someone who cares in his life. Even if the thought of admitting my issues, the paths of my twisted mind, the reason I was caught in the scandal in the first place is laid out bare.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Jet grabs the bag, tries to wrestle it from me. “That’s not what I want, you doofus. Goddammit, some days, I swear…”
I blink. “Then what…?”
But Jet tugs harder on the bag, and it splits down the middle, spilling old papers between us. Jet swears, and I huff in annoyance—not because of this mess, but because Jet is obviously determined not to talk to me today. Or maybe ever.
“I thought,” I mutter as I kneel down in my dark slacks and polished shoes, not caring that I’m getting everything dirty, “that you’d trust me by now, fucker. Enough to tell me what’s on your mind. Enough to come to me if there is a problem. I’m not a mind reader. Hell, I’m thick when it comes to reading clues and hints and piecing it all together, and I’m the first to admit it. Trust me, goddammit. Let me help you.”
He closes his hands around the scraps of paper, scrunching them up. “You’re not listening. You can’t help. So drop it, okay?”
“Jet…”
He abruptly gets up and presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. “Fuck.”
My stomach is a knot of worry. “Come on, Jet, let’s go home.”
