Page 113 of Jake Forever
Jake was still watching me, waiting, apparently, for some sort of response.
I wanted to say something smart, or at the very least something funny, something that would snap us out of whatever this was. But nothing smart came to mind, and my funny bone wilted under his cool, hard gaze.
Desperately, I looked toward the traffic light, and spotted my escape-hatch. "It's green," I told him. "You can go."
He turned to look. "Right." He hit the gas, and we lurched forward.
I forced out a laugh. "You're not trying to launch me out of the vehicle, are you?"
When Jake said nothing, I added. "You know, like Ronnie?" I summoned up another laugh. "That was pretty funny, huh?"
But Jake wasn't laughing. And my own laugh had sounded totally hollow, even to my own ears.
At the next intersection, Jake took a left and pulled his car off to the side. He cut the engine and turned to face me.
I looked around. "Why'd you stop?"
"Because I've gotta ask you something."
"Okay." Trying for a neutral tone, I said, "What?"
"Why will you work for them, but not for me?"
"Them?"
"Hotels, restaurants, whatever." His voice hardened. "Seems to me you're not too picky."
The words stung. "What do you mean by that?"
"I mean, you're a damn bartender."
I stared at him. God, did he have to be such a jerk about it? "There's nothing wrong with being a bartender."
"I know."
"No. You don't." I tried to mimic him. "You're a damn bartender."
"What? You think I look down on it?"
I gave a half-hearted shrug. He'd made his scorn apparent, hadn't he?
"For the record, I don't," Jake said. "With my life? A bartender's a step up."
"That is such a crock," I told him. "You're rich. You own your own company. You're famous, for God's sake. You don'thaveto work as a bartender."
"Yeah? And neither do you."
I wassonot in the mood for this. "God, what's your deal? Yeah, I work as a bartender. So what?"
His tone softened. "Baby, if it made you happy, that'd be one thing. But you're not happy. You're miserable."
"I am not," I insisted.
"Yeah? You ever listen to yourself?"
I gave another shrug. Okay, so I didn't always come home whistling a happy tune. But who did? "So?" I said. "Not everyone loves their job."
He made a scoffing sound. "So what is it? You love it? Or you don't love it? It seems to me, you want it both ways."
