“Jeri! Yo… Jeri!”
Jeri suddenly realized Owen was standing next to her.
“Hey,” he said quietly, placing a worried hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” Jeri replied, forcing her gaze away from the crowd. “Sorry, I’ll get those drinks for you. Rum and cokes and a jäger, right?”
“Already taken care of,” Owen replied, watching her closely. “Look, I’m sorry. I thought you knew today’s little boom in business was because of that lame article.” He glanced up at the crowd. “By the way, the little fucker who wrote the article is here… do you want me to throw him out for you?”
“No, it’s fine,” Jeri said, waving her hand dismissively. “I’ve already been introduced. Besides, I can only imagine what his next story would be if I had you give him the rough treatment.”
“Okay. Well, hey look, do you want to get out of here?” he asked, patting her back. “Seriously, I’ve got this covered. You should just go home.”
Jeri looked at her colleague. While she was not one for finding excuses to avoid working, at the moment every bone in her body was aching to slip away from the stares of the bar and crawl onto the warm privacy of her apartment. Besides, the more she considered the substantial profits Joe was making on the attention surrounding her letters– which really meant the substantial profit he was making on her – the more her guilt of walking out on the busiest afternoon in recent history began to fade.
“Are you sure?” she asked, a genuine smile of appreciation lighting her face.
“Go.”
Jeri quickly grabbed her bag and jacket before noticing Chip sitting sullenly in the corner, his blue eyes following her with curiosity. She sighed and walked over to him.
“I’m out, Chip,” Jeri said, tossing the copy of The Lumberjack in front of him before ducking under the counter and popping up next to him on the other side. “I can’t seem to get any privacy around here tonight.” She watched the older man’s eyes widen in surprise as he read the headline.
“My my,” Chip said under his breath. He scanned the article for a moment before glancing at the crowd over his shoulder, his eyes deep in thought. “So that explains it, huh?” he asked quietly. He muttered something else to himself before taking a sip of his beer, but the words were lost to the noise of the room. Jeri leaned in close to him.
“Do me a favor,” she said, putting her arm around his broad shoulders. “If you see Joe, my close friend and self-appointed press agent before I do, please inform him that I would like his resignation immediately. In the meantime, I’m going home to my paparazzi-free apartment.”
“This is why you need a real job, Jeri,” Chip replied, looking at her with a solemn expression. He tapped the paper slowly with his finger and leaned towards her. Jeri felt the soft scratch of his gray stubble against her cheek as he whispered in her ear. “This is the only thing this place will ever give you – grief and disappointment.”
Jeri nodded quietly as she pulled on her jacket and threw her bag over her shoulder. She looked somberly into Chip’s blue eyes for a moment before tousling his salt-and-pepper hair. “Don’t worry about me, old man. We both know this is just a stepping stone until that gig at the strip club opens up in Vegas, right?”
Chip smiled back at Jeri, seeing once again the dark ember that smoldered and gave light to her beautiful eyes. He knew the source of that fire all too well, and like any fire he knew to regard it with caution. “You’re right,” he replied, giving her a thin smile as he went along with the joke. “But only if it’s a day job. You’ll want to keep your nights free for prostituting. That’s where the real money is.”
Jeri’s eyes softened as her smile stretched wide. She hugged Chip tightly and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for understanding me.”
Chip shrugged. “Oh I don’t ever pretend to understand you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying to persuade you otherwise. Now go home.” He smiled as Jeri gave him a final squeeze, then turned and watched as she slipped quietly through the crowd, a wake of curious stares following behind her. His eyes lingered briefly on the crowd before he turned back and took a long sip of his beer. He then grabbed the newspaper lying on the counter in front of him and began slowly reading the article.
∞
Tom Coleman looked up at his surroundings in surprise.
Nearly an hour after leaving the Homeland Security offices to clear his mind, he now found himself walking along historic Route 66 at the edge of the old downtown. He glanced up at the sky. The fading rays of late-afternoon light were smothered behind a low, dirty-gray blanket of clouds as small, cotton-white flakes of snow fell in a meandering dance before dissolving on the brick-lined sidewalk. Suddenly noticing the chill in the air, Tom raised his collar and considered what to do next. He didn’t want to go home. It was too quiet at home. Too alone. A fleeting image of his ex-wife abruptly came to mind, forcing him to shrug. No, he wasn’t ready to go home. And besides, he still had more thinking to do.