Page 16 of Full Tilt
Harry promised not to fire Jonah and barked that he wanted the limo back, ASAP. Then he hung up.
Jonah glared at me. “Well?”
“You’re not fired. But Harry wants the limo back. Like, now.”
He nodded. “Okay, fine. Let’s go. I’ll take you back to your band’s house on the way.”
“Um…” I plucked at a stray thread on the afghan.
“What?” Jonah snapped. “You heard my boss. I gotta return the damn car.” He cocked his head at me. “Don’t you need to get back?”
No,I thought.I really don’t.I just wasn’t up to facing it. None of it. Not yet.
I offered Jonah a weak smile. “The aspirin hasn’t made a dent in this headache. Would it be okay with you if I took a nap while you take the limo back? I’ll call a cab later and be out of your hair, I promise.”
Jonah’s dark eyes widened. “You want me to leave you alone in my home while I return the limo—a limo you puked in, by the way—so you can take a nap?”
“I promise I’ll just nap and go,” I said, then felt my stomach drop. “Wait. I puked in your limo?”
Jonah looked like he had a smart-ass retort ready to go, but he must’ve felt sorry for me because he said in a gentler tone, “Don’t you have a show tonight?”
“I have some time before I have to be back.”
Jonah rubbed his chin, looking torn. “After I return the limo, I was planning on going to work. Myotherwork,” he added. “I have a tight schedule, a really tight schedule and I need to keep to it.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to interfere.” I looked up at him and offered a smile. “What do you do for your other work?”
Jonah waved a hand at the glass on the coffee table.
“You’re a collector?”
“No, I make these.”
My eyes widened as I looked at the glass art with new eyes. There were two sphere-shaped paperweights, one that looked like it was filled with sea life from a coral reef, and the other holding an incredibly intricate swirl of color. Beside the paperweights was a bottle striped with gold dust soaked in ribbons of red.
I picked up the paperweight with the sea life in it: anemones with white and yellow tentacles, ruffled ribbons of color, and—somehow—the speckled colorations of tropical fish.
“A piece of the ocean in my hand,” I murmured. I glanced up at him. “Youmadethis?”
“Yeah. It’s what I do. I’m not a limo driver. That’s my night job. By day I’m an industrial artist. Lighting, metal, glass. Mostly glass.”
“You’re really good,” I said. “More than good. This is astonishing.”
“Yeah, thanks.” He rubbed the back of his neck, watching me hold the glass.
He probably thinks I’m going to break it.I carefully set the paperweight back down.
“So, I gotta get to the hot shop,” Jonah said. “That’s where I make them, the glass. I’ll be there until about two this afternoon.” He pressed his lips together, thinking. Finally, he said, “I guess… Well, I guess you’re welcome to stay here until then.”
“Really? You don’t mind?”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Jonah said with dry smile. “There’s some food here in the fridge, if or when you’re up to eating. Help yourself to the bottled water, too. If you really need to smoke, there’s a little courtyard in the middle of the complex. You’ll see the sidewalk just to the right as you go out. It has benches and an ashtray.”
“Okay, sure. Got it,” I said, relief flooding me that I had a few hours before I had to face the music. So to speak.
At the kitchen counter, Jonah scribbled something on a piece of paper and brought it back to me. “This is my cell number. If you need anything, just call. Phone’s in the kitchen”
I took the paper and met his gaze. Up close, his eyes were warmer. A deep, rich brown.
