Page 30 of Blackmail
There’s a strange flutter in my sternum over the easy banter between them. Over the realization that Simon felt comfortable enough to waltz down the hall to spend time with the kid next door.
One of the characters on the screen, a large knight wearing dented armor, falls to one knee. I assume that’s Simon’s character. Jacob, playing a regal-looking queen, looks down her sword at her defeated opponent.
“Kicked my ass. That was some fancy technique you had there.”
Jacob looks away in profile, and his cheeks turn red. Poor kid. Something tells me he doesn’t get a lot of praise.
Jacob lifts his controller. “You wanna go again?”
“Fuck yeah. Set it up.”
“Maybe lay off the f-bombs, Simon. He’s sixteen.”
They both jump. Jacob especially. “Oh, it’s okay, Mr. Pierce. I hear it a lot in high school. Plus, I’m seventeen now. Birthday last week.”
Oops. I didn’t notice signs of a party or anything. Then again, I’ve been practically living at the office.
I nod my head at the large flat-screen. “Who’s winning?”
“Jacob’s kicking my ass big-time. Which is only fair since I hardly ever get to play video games.”
“He said he doesn’t even have a gaming console.” Jacob looks scandalized by the idea.
Simon shrugs. “It would be a waste of money. I don’t have a lot of free time. Two jobs. And I’m almost done studying for my nursing certification. Too busy for games.”
The way Simon seems to have made himself at home in my world shouldn’t feel this right. This is all supposed to be impersonal and temporary.
“You’re gonna be a nurse? That’s awesome. I’ve been in the hospital a bunch, and they’ve always been so great. Like, some of the doctors are dicks, but the nurses take care of business, you know?”
Suddenly, Jacob looks at Simon as if he were wearing a superhero cape. And I’m looking at him like… Well, like he’s the kind of guy who works two jobs but still takes time to play video games with my neighbor’s kid. The kid whose mother passed away, and whose stepfather is never home. The kid who always seems a little bit lonely.
However, the way Simon looks at Jacob is more concerning. His eyes narrow and his forehead creases. “That sucks. What’d you have to get hospitalized for?”
“Oh, nothing big.” Jacob rolls his eyes. “You know how when you get sick, and you don’t feel like eating or drinking anything, then you get dehydrated and dizzy and stuff? I’ve had some awful bouts of the flu or whatever.”
There’s a new awareness as I take in Jacob’s thin wrists and knobby knees. I figured some kids are just skinny, but Simon’s expression makes me wonder if I’ve missed something more important.
I want to ask Simon why he’s looking at Jacob with so much concern, but there’s no way to do it subtly. Then, as quickly as Simon’s worried expression is there, it’s gone again, replaced with a friendly smile.
“Hey, Sebastian. The kid and I got hungry, so I ordered too much pizza. Come eat with us.”
“Not just pizza. Simon said he was starving, so he got salads, some baked pasta, these fancy flatbread focaccia things, and a dessert pizza with fruit. I’ve never heard of this place, but the food is real good.” Jacob is stuffing some sort of flatbread covered with roasted veggies into his mouth as he speaks. “Oh, and there’s lemonade too. A whole gallon. I’ll go get you some.” Jacob’s heading for the kitchen before I can politely decline.
While the kid skips out of the room, I sit beside Simon on the sofa and snag a piece of the flatbread. Jacob’s right, it’s delicious.
“I’m realizing I’ve been so preoccupied with certain things that I never did feed you. That was rude and inconsiderate. I apologize. And I’ll pay you back for the pizza.”
Simon laughs. “But you threw that can of sausages at me this morning.”
“I threw it at your friend’s piece-of-shit boyfriend.”
“My way was funnier. Don’t worry, I can handle paying for a few pizzas.” He glances toward the kitchen and leans closer. He smells freshly showered and like my bodywash. Again. For a moment I indulge the way his smell, my smell, makes me feel possessive.
“Honestly,” Simon continues, “I wasn’t lying about hunger. Especially after all those calories we burned. But I’m also a little worried about Jacob. He’s skinny, which isn’t necessarily a bad sign all by itself, especially in a building that probably costs more than a year of my rent, but still. Seemed like the kid could use a good meal. And teenagers burn, like, a billion calories a day.”
“I’ve done the same thing myself a few times.” I glance around. “It seems to be just him and his stepfather. I think the guy works a lot. But I never got the impression that he’s neglected, exactly. Should’ve paid better attention.”
While I’ve been busy trying to save these missing kids, I haven’t truly seen the one who lives right next door.
