Reggie's Girl Ch. 03

Chapter 3

The place where Ted was holed up was, surprisingly, a vast improvement on his former lodgings. The apartment was in a cleaner, more spacious and better lit South Bronx building. Some generous relative must have decided to share their house.

They walked through a maze of stairs and airy corridors before Reggie stopped before a numbered door. Ignoring the doorbell, he rapped on the wood three times.

"Who is it?" a familiar voice called out in cautious tones.

"Open up," Reggie ordered.

That was all the identification that was needed apparently for the door swung open to reveal Ted, still in his well-worn red baseball cap. His tremendous relief was pathetic to behold, until his eyes lit on Jasmine. Then he turned an angry and confused glare on Reggie.

"You said you wouldn't bring her here!"

Reggie just shrugged. "She twisted my arm. You of all people should know how hard it is to say no to that face," he said lightly.

"Ted." Although it hurt to be received like this, she was still worried about Ted. Already, he had lost weight. "What is going on?"

"Nothing I can't handle," came the brusque reply. Ted's expression was shuttered and she had the uncomfortable feeling of facing a former friend, a hostile stranger.

"Do you know how scared your mother is right now? Your sister, your step-father, me? We're all worried sick about you, and you're fine?" Her arm swung in a gesture encompassing the pleasant building in general. "How did you get here anyway? Who's staying with you?"

"No one!"

"So you're alone? But who's paying for this place?"

"Nobody!"

"It's not you, that's for sure."

"Stay out of it, Jazz." It was just short of a warning.

Jasmine gave him an uncomprehending look. "I'm here," she said with soft deliberation, "because I needed to be with you. I thought you needed me, too."

Ted lifted both his hands and backed away from the door before turning and retreating into the living room. "I can't do this."

"Ted!"

"Not so loud, Jasmine," cautioned a quiet voice behind her. She ignored it and followed Ted into the apartment.

"Don't turn your back on me," Jasmine snarled, her anger sparked at last. "You have no idea what I've been through since you took off. And your poor mother- she fainted when the cops suggested checking the morgue yesterday-"

Ted stopped abruptly and swung round to face her. "You think I don't know she's going through hell right now?" he lashed out. His voice rising and his face contorted, he was unrecognizable in his anger. "You think you care about my goddamn mama more than me? And who the hell do you think you are anyway?!"

"I know who I am," Jasmine informed him coldly. "Can I say the same for you?"

His face was twisted in a mixture of pain and rage so potent he was speechless for a second. Then he looked over her shoulder and shouted, "You said she wouldn't come here! You said it! If you can't stick to that, who else you gonna bring over here? Huh? I'm not some goddamn animal in a zoo, man, I'm not here for your entertainmen!"

Ted was so done with her that he wouldn't even talk to her anymore. He was talking past her as if she did not exist. It was beyond bearing. Without another word, Jasmine turned around and headed to the door. She noticed Reggie, waiting and forgotten, just outside the threshhold. She swept past him without a word.

She managed to lose herself in the maze-like corridors and endless stairs. Her thoughts were so scattered, however, and her need to keep moving so great, she didn't stop to ask anyone around for directions. It was only when a calm commanding voice uttered her name from some distance behind her that she stopped.

Reggie caught up with her with unhurried strides. Jasmine turned to face him and waited.

"Where are you going?"

It was a simple enough question, spoken in neutral curiosity. Yet her mind was blank, unable to compute for a moment. "Where else?" she rasped. "Home."

A light frown touched his brow. "Why don't we go get your car first? It's been done for ages, in fact Trey's started souping it up for his boy in case you don't want it anymore."

"I don't." Her reply was laconic. Apathy dulled the jewel-brightness of her eyes.

Reggie watched her closely before he inclined his head and agreed, "Of course not. But in case you change your mind and my nephew winds up a convicted car thief, can we just go and get it now?"

"Some other time," Jasmine said blithely. She couldn't bring herself to feel anything for her car. Or much of anything else for that matter. She took one step forward then stopped and thrust a frustrated hand through her hair. "Is this the way out? I don't know if I'm going in the right direction."

"Mm hm," Reggie agreed with mild sarcasm. "Might as well keep going, we'll get there."

When they reached the curb where his black car stood waiting, he turned to her. "I don't suppose you're willing to give me your address and let me take you home?"

"That isn't necessary," Jasmine said quickly. The refusal brought back a brief flicker of animation to her face. "Just go without me, I'll be fine."

Reggie was already halfway into the car. "Take care of yourself Ms. Fleet," he said and without another glance at her swung the door shut. He had entertained Lucia as well as herself that same afternoon; he, of course, had no further need of her.

Tiny maneuvered the car away from where she stood. She watched with remote attention until it was a mere speck in the distance.

Jasmine had no idea what she was supposed to feel. They had said their final goodbye and she was as indifferent to the fact as Reggie. Perhaps more so. She felt absolutely nothing.

* * *

The best part of working from home was the relative silence of the building in midmorning. It was conducive to the kind of focus that got Jasmine on a roll.

Not today, however.

Try as she might, she just couldn't ignore the clamor right outside her door. She'd determined the sounds were innocuous almost immediately and not, say, prelude to a break-in. Nevertheless, the din shredded her concentration.

Abandoning her laptop on the coffee table, she went to open the door to see what was going on. The previously empty apartment across from hers had its door ajar, an overstuffed dark green couch wedged half in, obviously stuck.

A girl with lovely red hair was pushing with all her might, first using her hands then turning to apply her back to the task. The couch didn't budge, but the fight seemed to go out of her anyway when she saw Jasmine.

"Hi," she panted with a weary smile, sliding down to sit on the floor.

"Hi." Jasmine cast a dubious eye on the uncooperative sofa. "You're braver than I was. I asked for backup before trying to get mine in."

The new girl made a wry face. "My friends promised they'd help," she panted, "soon as they got off work, but..."

She gestured at her surroundings. "In this neighbourhood? Moving in at night probably isn't the best idea, know what I mean?"

"Actually," Jasmine drawled, keeping her tone super casual, "you'd probably have been alright; the shootouts all seemed to have happened earlier in the week, so these right now are the halcyon days."

"Super!" The redhead drew herself up with a grin, dusted her palms on her jeans and thrust out a hand. "Bailey."

"Jasmine." Smiling, they shook hands.

"So my pride is officially broken after, like, ten hours of trying to get this thing in," Bailey lamented, her large blue eyes going into puppy dog-mode. "Help me?"

"Right, sure," Jasmine agreed with a nod. "Let's try this from another angle."

Ten minutes later, they sat sharing marshmallows on the hallway floor, gabbing as they leaned on the couch still defiantly sticking half out of the door. Bailey, who seemed to favor frankness over pretension, spoke at length of the imprudent financial decisions she'd made and her parents' decision not to cushion her from the consequences this time.

She'd been able to roll with it so far, being of an adventurous spirit, but sometimes she missed being able to shop herself silly without worrying about things like bills or rent. The fact that she was actually paying for it out of her own pocket wasn't the only thing that disconcerted her about her new address.

"Seriously, though, you're the first white person I've seen all day," Bailey confided in a stage whisper. "How messed up is it that I'm relieved to find you?"

"I wish I was cool enough to judge you for that," Jasmine chuckled at her earnest but somewhat comical anxiety. "I really do. But the truth is, I'm kinda relieved too. Scratch that, I'm plenty relieved."

"Aww." Bailey reached out and clasped Jasmine's hand for a moment before adding, "Typical lousy cracker."

Jasmine burst out laughing. "You rely on us c-words for relief, so watch it!"

"You watch it, before you make me drop the real c-bomb!"

A bored voice sliced through their giggles, alerting them to a new presence. "Better stick to cowboys and Indians, ladies, at least in this neck of the woods."

Both girls turned their heads toward the stairs, their laughter fast drying up. "Oh my God, it wasn't even like that," Bailey wailed. "It was sooo innocent, I swear."

"Relax, baby. These things are never not innocent, everybody knows tha- Jasmine?"

Reggie McComb stopped at the top of the stairs, his crooked grin fading in his surprise.

"Oh, thank God," Jasmine groaned in relief. "It's you, I thought you were-"

"What? A black man?"

She rolled her eyes as she got up, lending a hand to help up Bailey. "A different black man," she snapped.

His grin returned to its full dazzling glory. "Oh, I get it, I don't count 'cause I'm a black man you're slee-"

"Sir, this is Bailey, my new friend and neighbor," Jasmine interrupted, hot-faced.

"Wait, you live here now? Huh." Reggie took this in with puzzling absorption, then he was back to formalities, flashing a roguish smile. "Hey Bailey, Reggie McComb."

He came over to shake her hand.

"Hi," Bailey chirped, displaying none of the terror Jasmine had experienced at that introduction three weeks ago.

"You girls need help with that sofa?"

At that moment, Jasmine noticed the two men shadowing him. They came forward and went to work getting the couch through the door. It took them all of six seconds to do it, leaving the two women gaping.

"There you go. Now why don't you pretty little things run along and grab lunch," Reggie suggested, pulling a leather wallet out of his pocket. "On me."

Jasmine stared at him as he flipped his wallet open and riffled out several crisp bills. "Matterfact, throw in some mani-pedis. Get your hair did. No need for facials, far as I can see," he added, directing a wink at a rapturous Bailey.

"Gosh, thank you! Really! That is so nice of you," she gushed. She turned to Jasmine, bumping her in the ribs with her elbow. "Well? Say thanks to your awesome friend here."

Reggie extended the money to Jasmine and waited. It was not that the idea did not appeal. But she had a job she really needed to be getting back to. A splashy outing with a girl she clicked with just wasn't in the cards, super rare though the opportunity was.

"Look, you go, I'll-"

"By myself?" Bailey looked so crestfallen she hadn't the heart to go on.

"No, with Jasmine; she shouldn't be by herself," Reggie said with a grave look at Bailey, giving her the money instead. "I'm counting on you. Make sure she has a little fun today. As for me, I'll take her to Miami this weekend. I'm throwing a pool party and she's invited. You come too, Bailey."

"Yeah?" Bailey's eyes popped in her enthusiasm.

"Of course. Now go on, get outta here, both of y'all."

"Okay, I've got a deadline I can't afford to blow off," Jasmine protested. "I should be working right now."

"Which is why you're here, in the middle of the day," Reggie commented drily, turning to face her.

"Yeah," she returned, crossing her arms. "You?"

His eyebrows jumped up as if the question had caught him off guard, but his reply was ready enough. "Me? Oh, I'm just paying a little visit to my boy Ernie upstairs."

"Mr. Hollis?" He was an old, mentally disturbed man in the apartment directly above hers. Jasmine had run into him a few times on her way to or from her apartment, found him deeply terrifying. "What do you have to do with him? He's supposed to be unstable."

"Make no mistake, he's lucid enough when he has to be. But c'mon, this is some boring old man business, y'all don't wanna hear that. Go do some fun, young girl stuff."

"Trust me, we will," Bailey promised, almost giddy at the prospect. "Come on, Jasmine, let's go, I'm begging you."

Jasmine ignored the impatient tugging on her arm and attempted to look through Reggie to his true intentions. He returned her gaze with an innocent smile. "Or we can all sit down to tea and polite conversation at Ernie's," he offered.

An immediate shudder ruined her feigned composure. "No, thanks," she said swiftly, relenting. "We'll just get going, let me grab my coat."

Jasmine turned to open her door, then paused to give Reggie a serious look. "And about Miami-"

"We'll discuss it tonight, when I come over," he said, lowering his voice along with her.

He just smiled at her doubtful expression. "Have a nice time, girls."

They were dismissed.

* * *

It was a little past eight when Jasmine and Bailey dragged their bone-tired selves home. Spending an afternoon indulging in hedonistic excesses on someone else's dime had loosened them up a little too well.

There hadn't been much loosening up to do in the first place. They shared tastes in all the important stuff: comedians, clothes, proto-feminist literature (the Brontës over Austen, but of course) and underrated bands.

They came back but lingered in the hallway, chatting for about a half hour. Finally, the curly fries and bacon burgers staging a coup in Bailey's stomach forced them to say goodnight, the redhead first seeking an antacid then her bed.

Jasmine stepped into her apartment, but she couldn't imagine going to sleep. And the giant butterflies fluttering in her stomach meant that she couldn't concentrate on her precious project. The cause was obvious.

It was him, of course. Inviting himself to her place, breezily announcing he was coming over as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She had been convinced, when they last parted, that she would never see him again. He was back now as if he had never intended anything else.

And she... she was excited, thrilling to the prospect of a visit from Reggie Cthulhu McComb, a man she should avoid like the plague!

She was being stupid, she told herself as she changed into the third dress in as many minutes. He wasn't her boyfriend.

But the intervening hours found her tidying up, reapplying her make-up, even making dinner. Two and a half hours later she sat arms folded on her couch telling herself she wasn't disappointed.

"Stupid stupid stupid," Jasmine heard herself mutter and right then in sudden vicious resolve, she sprung to her feet. She swept up her idle laptop and stormed off to her bedroom.

To hell with this! To hell with dinner, to hell with the world but most of all, to hell with-

An indistinct thump from above interrupted her angry crescendo. She stopped outside her bedroom door and glanced at the ceiling. A dragging noise followed, and possibly, a low moan?

Now, these were the kind of walls that amplified neighbors having loud sex. But Mr. Hollis? He was a gruff sort at best, with an unfortunate tendency to coprolalia sure to frighten off even the most hardened of prostitutes.

It couldn't have been a moan she'd heard... unless it was a moan of pain?

In a flash, Jasmine remembered Reggie's visit earlier today. He'd practically shooed she and Bailey out, pleading some boring business with the old man. Knowing Reggie McComb, that could only mean one thing.

She gasped when yet another thud emanated from upstairs. Should she go check on Mr. Hollis? The complete silence that dragged on for the next minute was eerie. What if he needed help? Lord, what if he needed an ambulance?

It was this last concern that broke through her immobility. Still, as she stood knocking on his door she castigated herself for being such a drama queen.

"What?" a brash voice yelled from inside.

"It's Jasmine, from 208." Crap, he sounded in robust health. Now how was she going to explain herself?

The door jerked open and Mr. Hollis appeared behind his pot belly, his short, stocky frame filling the doorway.

"Yeah?" His eyes were as distrusting as always, but they somehow seemed clearer today. And the invisible swirl of frenetic energy usually around his aura seemed diminished.

"I hate to bother you," Jasmine apologized, "but I thought I heard some noises-"

"You spying on me, girl?"

"No," she gasped. "God, no, I just wanted to see if you were alright."

"If I'm alright? If I'm alright?" The elder gave a hoot that was embarrassing in its loudness. "Looka here, girl. I been livin' in this here building for as long as yo' skinny ass been alive. And you think you can take care of me? You think I need you to fix me a meal or wipe my damn ass?"

"What's all this?"

Mr. Hollis stepped out to scowl down at the landing where Reggie stood. Of course he would show up now! He looked like he was lapping up every bit of this delicious exchange from the look of his Cheshire Cat grin. "Everything okay up here?"

"It won't be," Mr. Hollis blustered, "if someone don't get this sugar daddy-chasin', wannabe candy striper ho off my doorstep!"

Reggie could barely keep the laughter out of his voice as he beckoned to Jasmine. "Come on, Ernie, the girl thought she was doing good," he cajoled, putting an arm around her waist when she joined him, slim shoulders slumped in total defeat. "Now, how she supposed to know you're a grown man who can take care of himself."

His grin widened at the ungrateful glare she gave him, then he turned back to Mr. Hollis and grew serious. "Ay, don't forget to take those pills on time, old man. You know there's a night-time dose, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," Mr. Hollis grumped before disappearing into his apartment and slamming the door shut.

"He's on medication." Jasmine gave him a pointed look as they descended the stairs. "Since when?"

"Since I dropped them off this morning," Reggie replied, smiling as he squeezed her waist in greeting.

"That's why you came to see him? To pass on his meds?"

"We also played checkers while his new carpet was being put in. Not that he liked it, apparently it clashed with the mud and sludge color scheme he's got going in the living room."

They stopped outside her door and Jasmine slipped out of his hold to block her door. He cocked his head to the side. "Anything else you'd like to know?"

Well, she was curious why he'd seemed surprised to learn she lived here. As though he'd thought he knew where she lived then realized he'd been mistaken. Jasmine didn't suppose it would do much good to confront him with her suspicions, however.

"No," she murmured, squaring her shoulders. "We've nothing left to discuss, now that I'm not going to Miami with you. In fact, you can leave now."

"Whoa, hold up. Seriously?" Reggie's widened eyes protested his innocence. "What'd I do now?"

"Nothing, but I don't... You can't be coming over to see me again." She folded her arms. "You should stay away. It's what's best."

"For whom?" he asked, his eyes never leaving hers. "Me?"

Jasmine stared at him. "You are the last person I'd do anything for."

"So this is about Ted. You're still hoping he'll take you back?"

Her gaze darted to the floor. "Let's not discuss Ted, alright?" she requested, her voice cracking.