Jon silently considered me before responding, “Are you dating him?”
I thought about his question and answered honestly, “No.”
His eyes moved between mine, “Did you call it off or did he?”
I huffed impatiently, “Does he know? Does Quinn know about you and Jem?”
Jon shook his head slowly, “No. Not that I know of anyway.”
“Then why did you leave that night? What did he say to you?”
If possible Jon looked even more uncomfortable, “I- I can’t talk about it yet. I just told you-” he pulled his hand through his hair, “Can’t we get through this one thing? You haven’t answered me yet, can you forgive me?”
I pressed my lips together in a firm line before asking him again, “What did you and Quinn discuss last Saturday? Why did you leave?”
Jon shook his head, seemingly unwilling to meet my gaze.
But I knew. I was suddenly certain.
“It was about my job, wasn’t it? The one you had your dad fire me from.”
Jon closed his eyes and leaned back in the booth. His head hit the back of the leather cushion and I thought I heard an expletive whisper from his mouth. He looked wretched.
I tried to swallow but confusion layered with viscous emotion made my throat feel thick. “How-” my throat worked again to swallow, “how did he know? How did Quinn know that your dad had me fired?”
Jon shook his head, his eyes still closed, his voice very soft, “I don’t know. He just knew.”
CHAPTER 16
“Quinn recruited you, didn’t he?”
I blinked at Olivia a few times, confused by her abrupt question but then recovered quickly, “Yeah, you could say that.”
It was Friday afternoon. The Friday before the big business trip to Las Vegas. The big business trip to Las Vegas that I was now dreading. The Friday of what was turning out to be the strangest week ever and I was trying to function on two hours of restless sleep.
I wasn’t tired when I arrived back to the apartment earlier that morning even though it was past 2AM. Elizabeth was asleep, I could hear her soft snoring so I stealthily removed my boots and closed her door so as not to disturb her slumber or incur additional wrath.
My mind was active, I felt unsettled but strangely numb. I checked my email, suddenly curious about Jem, wondering if she’d replied to the message I sent last Saturday, wondering whether she’d been in town this whole time, wondering why she slept with Jon.
I navigated to Gmail; there were no new messages.
I thought about emailing her again but everything I wanted to ask, despite my mostly ambivalence towards Jon and the end of our relationship, would likely come across as crazy-town jealous ex-girlfriend. My life was coming dangerously close to resembling a Jerry Springer episode; all that was missing was a question of someone’s paternity.
I started typing: Hi Jem, I was just emailing to ask you if you are in town. Jon mentioned something about seeing you a few weeks back. In your last email you said you wanted to see me. Do you still want to meet up? -Janie
I hit send then stared unseeingly at the screen until it began to blur.
Jon was right, about so many things. I avoided emotional intimacy. I hated relying on others. I wasn’t good at it and I turtled any time I encountered a difficulty. Because of this I bent on things that mattered to me or, using Jon as a case study, abruptly broke off relationships. I also entered our relationship with extremely low expectations and, as long as I kept my expectations at a minimum, I was able to justify marginal personal investment in him. It hadn’t been fair to Jon.
Regardless, he cheated on me with my sister then, when I broke up with him, asked his father to pull some strings so I would be fired. His motivation, his desperation did not justify his actions. I could not and would not forgive Jon.
And then there was Quinn…
“How did you meet him? It seems like you two know each other pretty well.” She raised her eyebrows at me expectantly.
Olivia and I were meeting to tie up loose ends before our departure on Monday for Las Vegas. She had, thus far, been somewhat unhelpful- but not unhelpful in a specific enough way for me to have a valid complaint. We were finished with our meeting but she hadn’t left yet; I wanted to scowl at her and tell her to get back to work; instead I said:
“Why do you say that?”
Olivia shrugged, her pale blue eyes watching me a little too closely, “Keira said he’s called for you, like, three times today and you haven’t taken any of his calls. Anyone else would be fired.”
When I got home early this morning I turned off my cell phone without looking at it. I tried not to obsess about how oblivious I’d been or about how obvious my obliviousness must have been to him. I didn’t want to think about it, so I didn’t.