Best of Luck Elsewhere Page 17

  “What does it say?”

  “It says: Del, J.E.S., Tech, J, Liz. What a hit list I’ve got, eh?”

  “She also has a flight reservation number. And why am I on that list, by the way?”

  “I don’t have a flight,” there was a shuffling of papers, “but here is my Hotel Del Coronado reservation code, right on my desk. That’s basically the same thing as a flight reservation code. And that’s the first on my list, ‘Del,’ but they are crossed off because I already called them. Hence the reservation code. And that brings me to why I was going to call you. Good news! I am coming down to San Diego for three days next week. I’m staying at the Hotel Del Coronado. I made reservations and then I had to call my boss— J. E. S. are his initials— to make sure the government was going to cover it even though I was not staying at the Marriott downtown, where everyone else will be staying. I always make things difficult, don’t I? He said they’d work it out, and so he’s crossed off my list, too. I haven’t called the tech team yet, but I need to make sure they can secure my new laptop’s wireless Internet so that no messages can be intercepted. I was going to ask Jorge— he’s ‘J’ on my list— to come down to Coronado with me after I cleared the hotel with my boss, and I was going to see if you wanted to double date with Jorge and Adam. Am I a murderer, too? Just because I have a list and a reservation code? Please.”

  Okay, my mystery-solving skills are weak. Fine. But then I remembered the phone number. “She has a mysterious phone number on her desk, too.”

  “What makes it so mysterious?”

  “I don’t recognize it.”

  “Did you call it?”

  Cleo was better at everything. Fine. “Fine, I’ll call the damn number. I’d forgotten about it until now, to be honest.”

  “If it’s the number to Murderers Anonymous or something, then call me back and I’ll say you win and call in my government contacts to make the police department actually listen to your detective work. But otherwise, just calm down, sista. You’re safe.”

  “I don’t feel safe.”

  “I think you’re mistaking safe with satisfied. Of course you’re a little paranoid or uncomfortable. You need to move out, work more on your writing, and get a new job. At least you got the love life stuff covered. Or you did until you let Liam get in the way again.”

  “We talked it over. You were right. Everyone has some kind of baggage. Anyway, I’m seeing Adam tonight. Pizza and a movie to relax.”

  “Sounds nice.”

  “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it.” I relaxed, leaning back heavily against my chair.

  “So let’s double date when I come down.”

  “Sure. And thanks, Cleo. I called to save you, and like always, you kinda saved me.”

  “Except that you weren’t in danger.”

  “So we think.”

  * * *

  I didn’t call the toll-free number right away, since I no longer was entirely paranoid. Cleo had done an excellent job of reassuring me, and I was pulled between being grateful for her friendship and feeling sorry for myself for not having someone a little closer to make me feel safe on a regular basis. Ironically I was in the midst of feeling lonely when I was boarding a train to see someone just thirty minutes away who made me feel great. Adam might eventually be my safe house.

  When I was settled in my seat on the Coaster, I decided that I should just call the number that I had found in Sue’s desk now, before I forgot about it again. It was probably nothing, some contest for a getaway for two to Cabo or something. But this way I could get it off my mind once and for all. I pulled out my cell phone, punched in the number, and turned toward the window, watching the ocean speed by.

  “Hello,” a woman’s voice answered.

  What kind of 800 number is this? What business answers with a plain old “hello” these days! How unprofessional! “Hello,” I replied, not sure what else to say. The sun glared dramatically on the dark ocean.

  “May I ask who’s calling?”

  “My name is Jane.”

  Oops.

  “Jane, may I help you?”

  “I found this number.”

  “Do you need some help?”

  “Yes.”

  “A safe place to stay?”

  What?

  “Yes. Is that what this is?”

  “It is. How much do you know about us?”

  “Not much. I just found…my friend handed me this number and she said that I should call.”

  “It sounds like she’s a really good friend, Jane. She may have seen something in your life that you are not yet willing to face. Is your friend a former resident?”

  “Maybe.”

  “And do you agree that you are in danger?”

  My eyes refocused and I could no longer see the ocean clearly, just my own reflection in the window, openmouthed. “I used to think so, but I don’t think so anymore.”

  “Are you safe right now? Are you in a safe place where you can talk openly?”

  “I think so.”

  “Let me tell you a little about us. This is Bernadette House, a shelter for victims of domestic violence. I can’t tell you exactly where we are, for the safety of our residents, but if you need a safe place to go, we are completely donation based, so it is free to come here. We arrange to meet you at the airport of our nearest big city, and we’ll drive you to the home from there. Where are you living now?”

  “California. San Diego.”

  “I suggest flying into Phoenix as soon as it’s safe. You can call this number twenty-four hours a day and whenever you get here, we’ll send someone over to pick you up. Can I get your full name?”

  “I’ll call you back.” I suddenly hung up. I hated having led her on like that, but I justified my rude hang-up by the fact that she should be helping people in real trouble. Still, I could picture the matronly woman on the other end in a dimly lit room, shaking her head over a phone in her hand with a dead tone. She must be thinking that I was not accepting my situation and fearing that I might go home to my abuser tonight.

  A shelter for victims of domestic violence. Sue Talley. A victim. A bitter cocktail of anger and helplessness mixed in the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t ask Sue if I could help—she would know I was snooping. I couldn’t confront Donnie, because he’d think that Sue was telling me about it and Sue would be in even more danger. The main thing was to let Sue get out of town on Friday and make her way to safety, as quickly and quietly as possible.

  The Coaster train slowed as we closed in on my stop. I dialed Cleo and was glad that her answering machine picked up since I didn’t have a lot of time to chat. The passengers around me began gathering their things.

  “Cleo, this is Eliza. Just confirming that you’re right about Sue Talley, that intern. She isn’t a bad guy. That number was,” I dropped my voice very low, “a domestic violence shelter. Sue’s idiot boyfriend Donnie is abusing her. I feel really horrible about all this. Thank you for making me think it through a little more. My plan is to be quiet so Donnie doesn’t know Sue is leaving, and of course so that Donnie doesn’t know that I know that she’s leaving. I don’t want to be a target either. And I’m not going to say anything to her until she says something first. Okay, I’ll talk to you more later.”

  The train stopped and people filed out. I made my way off the train at the last moment, before it left again. Adam was waiting in an orange beam of streetlight, like a refuge.

  CHAPTER 14

  I sat on the pastel sofa in Adam’s apartment, listening to him rummaging about in the kitchen. He was gathering our drinks, plates, whatever. I couldn’t see him, but he was sure making a racket. I got up from the couch, taking the opportunity to check out his small studio apartment. We walked right into the living-room-plus-bedroom area when we had first entered. A short hall at the back of the room led to a bathroom on the left, and a small, enclosed kitchen on the right.

  He had used his space well in the main room. The rose sofa backed up against the front w
all, one of its arms at the edge of the front door so that if it was pushed a little to the side, it might block the door completely. Along the right wall, making an L with the couch was a black futon, currently closed. I pictured it opened up, meeting the couch in length and making for an extra-wide bed.

  I pictured him sleeping there.

  I pictured his long, tanned limbs exposed.

  His long, dark hair falling around those wide shoulders.

  I sucked in a quick breath to cool my suddenly hot throat. Just wait. No need to imagine something you might experience shortly.

  Behind the futon rose several bookcases full of books. The English major in me knew that what was on those shelves would tell me more about Adam than anything else in the apartment, more even than the awkwardly pink couch. I moved closer to the shelves and read a few titles on the spines.

  The Essential Rumi.

  The Promise of Light by Paul Watkins.

  A Coney Island of the Mind by Lawrence Ferlinghetti.

  In Dubious Battle by John Steinbeck.

  Gods Go Begging by Alfredo Véa.

  Meridian by Alice Walker.

  Delicious. I removed the Ferlinghetti book of poems and flipped through it, pleasantly surprised that he had underlined passages and written notes in the margins. Most of the books on his shelves earned him high marks. There were a few books that I had never heard of, and one or two that I didn’t like, but that was to be expected. Overall, he fared well on the bookshelf test.

  Next in importance was the issue of photographs. A guy can bring you flowers and take you out for fancy meals and win you a stuffed teddy bear at a carnival, but if he doesn’t have at least one photo of emotional importance in his apartment, he’s not worth your time.

  I found two mid-sized photo collages opposite the futon. They contained pictures of his family while he was growing up. Four different camping trips. A birthday party for someone other than himself. Two Halloweens.

  Then there were a few pictures from college, in a dorm with walls covered in movie posters. In one, he and three other guys were pointing to a doorknob with a sock on it. Hmm. Then there was a picture of a group of people in front of a store full of brightly colored beaded crafts.

  I leaned in closer. A snip of blue beyond the storefront hinted at the Mexican coast. Two of the guys were from the dorm room pictures. There was one other guy and three girls. Adam had his arm around the waist of a beautiful blonde woman.

  This was taken a long time ago. Don’t you dare be jealous.

  Adam was suddenly behind me, and I felt his warm breath on my neck. “We’re pointing to the sock because our fifth roommate was finally making a move on his girlfriend. We decided to solidify the memory, but were trying to keep quiet because we didn’t want to mess things up. We’d just come home and there was the signal sock on the knob. We took the picture for posterity.”

  He waited for my reply, but I was so wrapped up in feeling his presence close behind me that I said nothing. Adam placed a large hand gently, casually, on my hip, sending an electric shock through me.

  When I still didn’t reply, he continued, “I guess it seems kind of insensitive now, but it was funny at the time. Guess I need to make some new memories,” he concluded and moved toward the couch.

  I turned and followed. I didn’t care much about the picture in the dorm. Hell, I probably had a similar one somewhere in my box of photos, except that I was the one behind the door with Liam. I was probably trying to make the move, though, and may or may not have been successful. How could I have missed that he was gay? Suddenly, though, that wasn’t important anymore.

  I was still curious about the girl in Adam’s arms. The blonde. Why did she have to be a skinny blonde?

  “Were you guys in Baja in that other picture? Visiting your family?”

  Adam turned to the wall again and looked past me at the collage, as if trying to figure out which picture I was referencing.

  “I don’t think I have a Baja picture up there. Oh, I see which one you mean. That’s Zihuantaneo, past Baja, further down in Mexico. That was the summer after I graduated. I did a little road-trip-around-Mexico thing for a few months, if you can believe it. A couple of friends joined up for a couple weeks.”

  “So you took the trip alone?”

  “Yeah, it was quite the adventure.”

  “Sounds dangerous.”

  “Because it’s Mexico?” Adam raised an eyebrow.

  “No, but, I mean, people do get kidnapped all the time.” I was getting off track, and tightrope walking on the edge of insulting his heritage. “At least the newspapers show that. But you must speak Spanish, which probably helped you get around.”

  “Si.”

  “And these are just friends who joined in for a couple weeks?” I pretended to study the photograph as I asked, “Who are they?”

  He came up beside me again to take a closer look at the photo. “That’s Matt and Diego, roommates from college. Matt still lives close by. We hang out pretty often, watch movies and drink a little beer and goof off. He’s a lot of fun. I can’t wait for you to meet him. I already told him about you, and he’s looking forward to meeting you.”

  He’s been talking to his buddy about me! I blushed with pleasure.

  “Diego is next to his girlfriend-at-the-time, Kylie. Don’t hear from Diego much anymore, other than a Christmas card each year. Next to me is Crystal, my ex-girlfriend. Then there’s Brody and Barbara. They got married a few years ago. Living up in the Bay Area now, but Barbara was close to Crystal, so when we broke up that friendship kind of dissipated as well. Too bad, Brody was a good guy.”

  He made his way back to the couch and I ran over the name Crystal in my mind. A name to match the girl.

  “Sorry,” Adam interrupted my thoughts as we sat down, “about the pastelness and eightiesness of this couch. I bought it from Goodwill back in college to save money and I just never replaced it. It’s ugly, but comfy. And I like it until I have someone over and then it embarrasses me.”

  “Please.” I waved it off. “Not a problem.” I wanted more information about Crystal, not the couch.

  It’s not as though I’m jealous. I just want to know why you broke up with such a beauty? Is this where your baggage comes in? My own thoughts surprised me.

  Adam set the pizza box on a wooden TV tray and opened it, the spicy scent filling the air.

  He handed me a slice on a plate and I sank into the couch.

  “So,” I tried to nudge a little more info, “what happened with Crystal?”

  Adam took a bite of his pizza.

  “Oh, we just had different values. I’m usually all right with that to some degree. But it came to a head and there were some major lies and things that have stuck with me.” Adam stared off for a moment and then shook his head, as though he didn’t want to bring those things back to the surface. “Anyway, we dated for something like six months. One of the last months just happened to be when I first went to Mexico. She wanted to go along, but I was a little uncomfortable with the idea, since I knew things would likely be ending soon with us. She came along with my friends anyway to ‘surprise’ me.”

  “Uncomfortable.”

  “No kidding. I broke up with her in the airport the day she left. I didn’t want her to wait for me to return and then break up. Ending it with Crystal was a good move.” He finished off his pizza. And then, as if to steer the conversation quickly away from Crystal, he asked, “What happened with your last boyfriend?”

  “Oh,” I replied, trying to be casual about it, “he was gay.” I took the last bite of my four-cheese pizza and waited for his response. I pretended it was no big deal, which was getting easier because it was becoming less painful as I pulled away from Liam.

  Adam put another slice on each of our plates. He swallowed another bite before answering. “Dang, that must have been awkward, to say the least.”

  “What? Finding out he was gay, or telling you right now?”

  “Both!�
� Adam set down his pizza on his plate on the TV tray, and he moved closer. “I’m not surprised he was tempted by you. Imagine, even a gay man wanted to date you!”

  We laughed together. No one, including myself, had ever taken that slant, and it was a slant I liked. “You make me feel good about myself. About…things. About life.”

  “Life is good.” He wrapped one arm around me. “It should be good. It ought to be good for you because you’re amazing. Smart. Interesting. Fun. Beautiful.”

  There was a pause and I watched his face, which was turned toward mine, his eyes watching mine.

  “I’m glad you came over tonight, Eliza.”

  “So am I.” This was comfortable. This was spicy.

  “And you came over even though it was just pizza and nothing fancy.”

  “I didn’t come over for the pizza specifically. That was an added bonus.”

  “Then you came over for the movie? Should I just go ahead and start it up?” He playfully acted as though he was going to get up.

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” I grabbed his arm to pull him back to the couch, but he was too strong, and he pulled me up to him, my body pressing against his. “I came over to see you,” I whispered, my face close to his, my lips skimming his without intentionally touching them.

  “I was hoping that was the reason. I want you to feel good when you’re around me because I have a great time with you.”

  “I feel comfortable.”

  “Hmm, comfortable? I’m not sure if that’s good.”

  “Spicy comfortable. And that’s a good comfortable.”

  Adam reached down unexpectedly to pick up the pizza box. “Now that you’ve seen me, I suppose you’ll be wanting to leave,” he joked, and moved with the box into the kitchen.

  I trailed after him, grabbing his forearm as soon as the pizza box hit the counter. “I can hardly say I’ve seen you at all, what with all those clothes covering you up.”

  A flashing smile, straight white teeth, soft lips. He gave a throaty laugh and I could see the skin on his neck deepen to red.