Page 69 of Up In Smoke
They love me, and because Jesse is important to me, that makes him important to them.
I just hope that when the time comes, our teeny, tiny federal crime won’t fuck everything up that we’re so carefully building now. But with my found family by my side, I’m just that bit more confident that we can still pull this off.
Maybe.
CHAPTER 21
Jesse
When Rico’sdoorbell goes off, I don’t really think much of it. I assume it’s probably Katerina popping by for a cup of tea and a gossip. I could do with it after the meeting I went to this morning. That guy Emerson was there again, and I wasn’t quick enough off the bat to get a seat away from him, so I could feel his gaze boring into the side of my head the entire session and I wasn’t comfortable enough to share anything.
That left me feeling unsettled enough, but then he followed me out to the parking lot. He was talking non-stop about some real crime podcast that I have no interest in listening to. In the end, the only way I could shake him was by closing the car door, and even then, he was still trying to talk at me through the window.
I appreciate he’s probably lonely and just wants a friend. However, the last thing I need is someone stopping me from feeling safe in meeting, so I really hope it’s Katrina and not some salesperson at the door. I could do with hearing some of her crazy stories to distract me.
Normally, I go over to her place as I like looking at all her memorabilia from when she toured in Paris and London on her way to New York and then finally LA. Also, I’m not sure whichcollection is more impressive. Her vinyl records or her various mediums of erotic artwork.
So. Many. Penises.
Furthermore, last time she cracked a joke about Joe McCarthy suspecting her of being a KGB spy that I’m not entirely sure was a joke. So I’m definitely going to need closure on that.
She’ll hate that I’m slouching around in sweats and one of Rico’s old fire department T-shirts, as she’s always so glamorous. But she’ll really enjoy bullying me about it. Therefore, we’ll both win. So I jog over and open the door without really giving it a second thought.
It’s not Katarina Petrova.
“Hello?” I say uncertainly to the petite woman standing before me. She’s wearing an enormous frilly blouse with a tight pencil skirt and skyscraper pumps. Her dark hair tumbles over her shoulders and she looks at me through enormous, square glasses.
“Oh, hi!” she smiles, her lips coral and shiny. “Enrico Flores?”
“No, that’s my husband,” I tell her.
“Ah,” she nods and wags her finger at me. “So that must make you Jesse Silverman. I’m Angelica Carson from Navigator Insurance. Pleased to meet you.”
She sticks her hand out, but I can only stare at it for a second. I’ve been so wrapped up in how Rico told everyone at his work the whole story about us (or at least, the public version of the story) that I’d honestly forgotten about the insurance company and their inspection.
I snap back to my senses and shake her hand with probably a little too much vigor, but I’m immediately panicking. “Oh! Uh, hi. Rico’s not here, he’s at the gym. He’ll be back soon, though.Come in! Sorry. Please come in. I can make coffee. Do you want coffee?”
I take a breath, and she seizes the opportunity to step past me into the apartment. “Don’t worry, Mr. Silverman. I don’t bite. I will take a coffee, though. Cream and two sugars. Oh! And who’s this handsome fellow?”
Klaus has trotted up to greet her as I’ve closed the door. He wags his tail and sits in front of her, tongue lolling from his mouth as he smiles.
“This is Klaus,” I say, feeling like someone else is speaking from my mouth and moving my body around as I drift uneasily to the kitchen. I can’t fight the feeling that I’ve already failed this test. “We’re fostering him for…for a while.”
Every time I think about giving him up to another family, I want to cry, so I’m just trying not to. But he’s kind of too big for a fourth floor apartment, and we have to do what’s best for him.
“Klaus,” I say, pushing through that particular emotion. “This is Ms. Carson. She’s here to talk to your daddies and have a look around.”
Klaus offers her his paw and my heart just about melts. “What a polite young man,” Angelica coos, shaking with him before petting his head. Then she looks around and beams. “Well, isn’t this a lovely little home you have?”
“Thank you,” I mumble, remembering I was supposed to be making coffee. I get the machine going and try not to fiddle with the hem of my shirt.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to blurt out that this is Rico’s home, not mine. I’m just a lowly stripper junkie with trash credit who barely qualifies as an adult. Even just inside my head, the harsh language catches me off guard. Wow, that’s unkind. I guess old habits really do die screaming.
“How long have you lived here?” Angelica asks casually, but terror flies through me. I feel like saying that I can’t answer anyquestions without my lawyer present. She might be smiling, but this is still an interrogation.
Rico and I have gone over and over our responses, though, and this is a pretty simple one. If I don’t reply, she might mark us down on whatever score she’s keeping.
“Um, a little over five months.” I know exactly how long it is because it’s only a day less than I’ve been sober. “But I was at the Sequoia Heights treatment center for three of them, so I feel like I’m still settling in. Because, um, when I was living in LA, I’d come for visits, you know? But it’s different when it becomes your home.”