Page 10 of The Lies of Bryn van Doren

She races back to the subway and manages to arrive just as her ride comes to a stop. Relieved, she boards the R train and then pulls out her phone and her earbuds. For the next fifteen minutes, she wills the music that flows through her ears to relax her muscles and quiet her mind. It feels like it’s been a long day, and yet she’s barely getting started. She needs a release—someplace to expel the worry and stress which seems to be wrapping itself around the muscles in her shoulders and neck before solidifying in such a way that makes it difficult for her to move with all the dexterity she requires to feelhuman.

Jessica rolls her neck and then her thoughts take her back a couple nights. A small smile plays at her lips as she remembers Stefano’s promise to get her into the city the next night she has free. Even though that’s days away, the hope of an escape looming in the distance—short lived as it might be—provides her with a jolt of determination she needs. When she arrives at the 9thStreet Station, even though she doesn’t stop her music, her mind shifts in a different direction as she hurries for the bus stop. By the time the B61 arrives, she’s already searching the internet for a job.

She doesn’t know when she’ll have time to sleep if she finds herself a second gig; but slumber seems like a small sacrifice to pay in return for a little peace of mind and a smaller measure of pressure on Beth. As unfair as it is, Jessica knows her mother’s worsening condition was a contributing factor to the loss of her job. The practical part of Jessica’s mind is frustrated that after more than twenty years of service, the plant could let Beth go, as if it were nothing—as if her loyalty and her dedication didn’t make her better than half their staff.

On the flip side, reason also has room to argue in Jessica’s mind. She can’t help but to feel relieved the workplace that brought about all this trouble in the first place is finally a matter with which they need not concern themselves. Except, the trouble still remains that Beth didn’t leave after her diagnosis for a reason. She doesn’t have experience doing anything else. With her lungs as damaged as they are, her options are limited. If it weren’t for her medication, showering alone would put her into a coughing fit with the power to render her useless. Even if Jessica does find a second job, it’s no secret between mother and daughter, it won’t replace the income which has been lost. Whatever job Beth might mange to find will likely still leave them scraping by.

During her twenty-minute bus ride, Jessica screenshots a couple leads to follow-up on as soon as she gets the chance. Upon arriving at Van Dyke Street, just a block away from her destination, she puts aside her job hunt and jogs the whole way to Moby’s Dive. There are small beads of sweat gathering along her hairline as she bursts through the back door not even two minutes later, but she ignores them. Shutting off her music, she tosses her phone and her earbuds in her purse. She tries to slow her breathing as she journeys down the dingy corridor leading to the bar.

She’s so focused on reaching the door, she doesn’t hear Griffin when he yells her name from his office as she passes. It isn’t until he all but growls at her from behind that she turns and acknowledges him.

“You think you can walk in here twenty fucking minutes late and then ignore me? You think you own this place, Chapman? You fuckin’ don’t.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m here now,” she murmurs, too exhausted to put up more of a fight before she turns toward the door once more.

“I’m not done with you,” Griffin retorts.

Jessica jolts to an abrupt halt when she feels his hand grab hold of her elbow. His grip alone speaks of his warning. She looks down at his fingers, digging into her flesh, and then into his dark green eyes, where she finds another warning.

“Get your shit together or you’re out. I mean it. I’m sick of your excuses.”

An unexpected ire rises up inside of Jessica, setting her chest on fire. As it burns, the thick, billows of smoke it produces clogs her throat and steals her words. All the while, her heart beats angrily inside of her chest, knowing he doesn’t know the half of it.

Without a word, she jerks her arm, intent on escaping his hold. To her surprise and relief, his grip loosens before his hand falls away. With still nothing to say to the man, she turns on her heel and pushes her way through the swinging door at the end of the hall. When she emerges into the bar, “It’s My Life” by Bon Jovi blares over the sound system, and she closes her eyes, wishing she could turn around and flip Griffin the finger. He knows nothing about her; nothing about her situation; nothing about herexcusesand the plaguing effect they play in every aspect of her life. He’s certainly the least of her worries and far from the center of her universe.

“Jess—you made it,” greets Cassy, beckoning Jessica to open her eyes.

She spots the spunky blonde as she leans against the bar. The crowd in the room is light at this early hour, making Jessica even more annoyed about the run-in she just had with Griffin.

“Hey, you okay?” Cassy asks. Her eyebrows pinch together in concern.

Convinced she doesn’t have the spare energy to feed the fire that burns inside of her, Jessica pulls in a deep breath. She then shakes her head and rolls her stiff shoulders before forcing on her best smile. Then she does the only thing she can think to do.

She lies.

“Yeah. I’m good. Totally ready to kick Saturday night ass.”

“Idid it.Fucking finally!” Stefano declares as he bursts through the front door. “I told that bastard of a boss I was done, and I walked my happy ass out of that god-awful, pretentious, bigoteddumpof bar. Jessica, my dove, I was a fuckingmantoday. God—it was heavenly. Now, I have no idea whether or not I’ll be eating crow’s shit tomorrow, but right now, I have not one shit to give,” he continues, his words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute.

His voice resounds through their apartment as he announces, “You see, I met this woman—no. She was more than a woman. I swear, the sophistication that ran off her shoulders was irrefutable. It was fuckingamazingis what it was. And she—”

Stefano jolts to a halt when he fills Jessica’s bedroom doorway. As she sits in the middle of the floor, half her wardrobe shoved haphazardly inside of her suitcase, she can barely hear her own thoughts over the panic that seems to be screaming relentlessly in her mind. The pitch of her fear is so ear-splittingly high, it slices straight through her—from her head all the way down to her belly.

Jessica’s unaware of the way her body is swaying from side to side as she presses one hand to her stomach while the other is clasped tightly around her mouth. Tears race down her cheeks, but she doesn’t notice them. She’s too busy trying to keep her jaw locked shut. She’s afraid if her mouth opens, her panic will manifest in a cry and spill through her lips in a perturbation so profound, she won’t be able to silence it.

“Jess?” Stefano breathes her name, and the sense of his presence as he eases into the room tickles the nape of her neck. She knows she should speak. Her subconscious is aware Stefano won’t know what to do with her in her crumbled state any more than she does. In the seven years they’ve known each other, she’s never felt so afraid. So unsure. So directionless.

“Jess?” he whispers, sinking to his knees.

His soft voice penetrates through the cacophony of her panic, and Jessica seals her eyes closed tighter as she lets go of her stomach and reaches for him. She catches hold of his shirt, but she doesn’t have to tug before he’s right there—folding her in his arms. The instant her head makes contact with his shoulder, she can feel it as Stefano holds her together. Her agitation begins to cower in his presence, and she blows out a huff as she frees her mouth from the prison of her own fingers. Reaching for his side, she shifts enough to grab onto her best friend. He squeezes her tighter, and she manages a deep breath.

“Jess? What happened? Fuck. Talk to me.”

Jessica pulls in a shuddered breath, lifting her head until her forehead is pressed to the smooth skin of Stefano’s neck. The warmth he emanates seeps into her pores and reminds her she cannot succumb to the cold threat of death—not so long as the people she loves more than anyone in the world still have breath flowing through their lungs.

“Damnit,” she curses, her fingers tightening into a fist around his shirt.

“Dove—come on. You’re freaking me out.”

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