No Safe House

Thirty-two

“What’d you end up doing last night?” Bryce Withers asked as he walked naked from the bed into the bathroom.

Jane Scavullo mumbled something into her pillow.

“What’s that?” he said.

She forced herself to roll over, taking a tangle of covers with her, so he could hear her. “Just stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Yeah. Nothin’ much. How’d it go last night?”

“This is working into a good gig,” Bryce said. “So many bars these days, they don’t even want to pay the band. But they’re giving us five hundred a night, so that’s a hundred bucks apiece. And all the drinks we want.” He chuckled. “The other guys, I think they’d still do it just for the drinks, but we deserve to get paid. I told you about that other place? They got in touch, invited us to play on Friday and Saturday nights, and I said how much and they said two hundred. And I said, man, we can’t afford to play a gig for two hundred bucks, have to split that five ways, and the guy says no, no, he was going to charge us two hundred to play there. Said it would be good exposure for us, we’d end up getting other gigs through him. If he’d been standing in front of me, I’d’ve kicked his fucking teeth in, I swear to God. The whole world’s turning fucking upside down, thinks the talent should always work for nothing.”

“Hmm,” Jane said without enthusiasm.

“I got in around two and you were, like, totally comatose. So you did nothing? You weren’t here all night, were you?”

“No,” she said.

“What’d you do?”

“Saw Vince.” Soon as she said it, she regretted it.

“That son of a bitch?” Bryce said. “I thought you weren’t talking to him.”

“I don’t want to go over this again. And don’t talk about him like that. It’s okay for me to do it but not you.”

“I’m just saying. He wasn’t there for your mother when she was, you know, when all that shit was going down with her. And then you got screwed over on the house you thought she was leaving to you. He’s an asshole — that’s all I’m trying to say.”

He came back into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed on Jane’s side. He put a hand on her head, stroked her hair.

“I just want you to know I’m looking out for you. If he’s not going to give a shit, I am.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Jane said.

“So why’d you go and see him anyway?”

“He had a problem he wanted me to help him with.”

Bryce twitched. “What kind of problem?”

“Just... something to do with his work. And this girl, a friend of mine. She ran into some trouble and it’s sort of connected to Vince. So I ended up at his place.”

Bryce twitched again and said, “What girl?”

“It’s a long story, Bryce. I just need some sleep.”

“I’m just curious. Was it Melanie? That one who got in touch with you?”

“No, not Melanie. Her name was Grace. Grace Archer. Her dad used to be my teacher, long time ago.”

“Oh yeah,” Bryce said. “You’ve mentioned him. The one who was nice to you. Isn’t he the one whose wife had all that weird shit happen to her back when she was a kid or something?”

“Please stop talking.” Jane tried to fold the edges of the pillow over her ears.

“Why’d this Grace chick want to talk to you? What was her problem and what did it have to do with Vince?”

Jane opened her eyes wide, threw her arms down on the bed, and said, “How come you’re Mr. Twenty Questions this morning? Jesus.”

He pulled his hand away from stroking her hair. “You don’t have to bite my fucking head off. I’m just trying to be interested.”

“Since when?” Jane asked. “You hardly ever ask me anything, except when it has to do with Vince and how you think he’s fucked me over. Well, that’s my problem and not yours, so you can stop worrying about it.”

“I know he doesn’t like me,” Bryce said. “He got something against musicians? Is that it?”

“The whole world doesn’t revolve around you, you know,” she said.

He stood. “Fine. Let me know when you’re not all PMSing and maybe we can have a normal conversation.”

“Oh, good one,” she said. “Every time I get pissed with you it’s because of that and not because you’re being a total asshole.”

He went back into the bathroom and closed the door. Seconds later, she heard water running in the shower.

It was going so well for a while there, she thought. But ever since they’d moved in together, Bryce had started evolving into a total douche.

Always asking her about Vince. What he did, how he made his money, whether he’d ever actually killed anybody. Did what Vince did freak him out, or at some level did he think it was kind of cool?

She looked at the clock. Nearly eight. She was supposed to be at her job at nine thirty.

God. A lot to accomplish in the next hour and a half.

Maybe, if she lay here for just another five minutes, she wouldn’t feel so terrible. She hadn’t had much sleep. The events of the previous evening had left her unnerved.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a low-level buzz. She’d muted her phone, but it was still on vibrate, and sitting on her bedside table, it still made enough noise to be heard.

A text or an e-mail. Probably from work.

She reached over for the phone, looked at the screen.

Nothing.

She rolled over in bed, saw that Bryce had left his phone on the table on his side of the bed.

She wasn’t feeling particularly kindly toward him at this moment. Not kindly enough to let him know he had a message.

But then again, it might be something important, so she worked her way across to the other side of the king bed and reached for the phone.

It was a text message.

It had been sent by Bryce’s friend Hartley, one of the other members of the band, which was called Energy Drink.

If there was a worse name for a band, Jane couldn’t think what it might be. She worked in advertising now and had a feel for this kind of thing. But would Bryce listen?

She read the text.

It said: GIG WENT GOOD. SORRY U HAD TO BAIL. HOPE YOUR FEELING BETTER. LET US KNOW ASAP IF YOU CANT MAKE IT TONITE.