‘So, you’re helping me out the goodness of your heart? Just like that?’ I said, wondering how long it’d been since anyone had done that. Esther was probably the last person, and I hadn’t seen her in ten months.
‘Let’s just say, I’ve got a little bit of experience in this area.’ Jimmy’s eyes darted downwards. ‘Of spending the night out in the city with no place to go. And trust me when I say you don’t wanna do that.’
I looked at him and thought about the cold weather that awaited above. Easily six inches of snow and more was falling this very minute. I’d already had more than my fill of the cold while hunting for the diner. Must’ve taken me damn near two hours to find the place from Penn Station. I spent the whole time shaking in my black leather jacket, glancing behind me at every street corner to be sure nobody was tracking me, hovering over the grills where warmth wafted up from the subway tunnels and, whenever I could handle it, pulling my hands, raw with the chill, out of my pockets to read the street map. The idea of facing that again in the early hours of the morning, alone, on no sleep, wasn’t a tempting proposition.
And then something else hit me. There was little point deliberating over these pretty insignificant decisions. Not right now. The horrible truth was, I probably wasn’t gonna last much longer anyway. If I really thought about it, if I was really honest with myself, it was only a matter of time before one of Frankie’s guys caught up with me, and when they did, that’d be that. Sure, I could fight off Jimmy if I had to – I probably outweighed him by at least ten pounds – but when it came to Frankie’s guys, well, they’d be experts. They’d be big and strong and the one or two moves I still remembered from the self-defence classes my old man paid for before I left Grosse Point for the East Coast wouldn’t be enough.
Though Jimmy was pretty much a total stranger, I was probably safer at his place than out on the streets.
At long last, I let out a meek ‘Alright, thank you.’ I didn’t really know what else to say to a guy who’d known me less than an hour of my life and in that time had shown me more kindness than my own family had in the last year.
Jimmy didn’t say any more either. He just nodded, picked up my luggage again, walked over to the turnstile and threw a couple of subway tokens into the machine for us.
I followed after him, trotting down the steps to the platform. Waiting for him to show me the way.
A woman was screaming.
No. Strike that.
I was screaming, and somebody had hold of my arms. Gripping tight. Shaking me.
‘Bonnie!’ a voice said, over and over. ‘Bonnie. Bonnie. Bonnie.’ I started to struggle against the grip of whoever held me. My eyes jolted open, looking first into a set of brown eyes before darting around the unfamiliar room.
To the right was a bulky TV set, standing in front of a long window hung with drapes in a sort of muted orange colour. To the left, a tall silver lamp stood in the corner, the bulb weak, leaving most of the room in shadow. On the wall up in front was a large framed map of New York State. Somewhere, far away, sirens sounded out, and a faint scent of damp hung in the air.
It was then I noticed a little grey terrier that was panting, whining and nudging to get closer and see what all the fuss was about. Its fur hung heavy around the eyebrows and snout, giving him the look of an old man with a big bushy moustache.
That was Jimmy’s dog, Louie.
Jimmy was the man I was struggling against.
Pushing out a long, slow breath, I steadied myself. My eyes flitted down to the strip of brown hair on his bare chest and back up again. He was only half-dressed, wearing a pair of Levis he’d no doubt yanked on after hearing me holler out in the middle of the night.
I’d been having a dream. Well, a nightmare.
Even in my sleep I wasn’t safe from those vacant eyes, the colour of copper. Once again, they had stared at me out of the darkness, all the memories and hopes sieved out of them. Drained out of the bullet hole punched through his right temple.
I whimpered and my body slackened in Jimmy’s grasp. My heart was still hammering at the thought of what I’d just relived.
What I’d witnessed four nights ago.
Even now, the gunshot still echoed in my ears.
‘I’m so sorry,’ was all I could think of to say to Jimmy, who was crouching in front of me, his hands still resting on my arms.
‘For what?’ he shook his head.
‘Just, everything,’ I croaked. ‘For waking you up. For being a wreck. God…’ I put a hand over my mouth to hold in the disturbing truth loitering on the tip of my tongue.
‘I’ve seen worse.’ A soft smile displaced the hard lines on Jimmy’s face. I took in a deep breath, and then another, realising there was a hint of mandarin in the atmosphere and that it was coming from Jimmy. He’d showered off all of that musty cologne before going to bed. Now he just smelled fruity. And soapy.
‘You gonna tell me what’s goin’ on here?’ Jimmy stared at me.
I swallowed hard. But didn’t say anything. If I did, it could mean his life.
‘Nowhere to go. Nightmares. A makeover from the beauty school of Cyndi Lauper. You’re clearly in some kinda trouble. Don’t need to be good at reading people to see that.’ Jimmy scratched his head. ‘Maybe I can help… Who’s Frankie?’
I started and looked back into his brown eyes. Neat. I couldn’t even keep my trap shut while I was asleep. He moved from his crouching position and sat on the arm of the sofa I’d been sleeping on. It was upholstered in fabric the shade of chewy caramel, but wasn’t nearly as soft as it promised to be. Still, it was better than the sidewalk or a park bench, which is right where I’d be without Jimmy.
I sat up properly, but kept my feet covered with the yellow sheets and stared up again at the map of New York State hanging on his wall.
Perhaps confiding in Jimmy would make me feel better. He was a reporter. He probably had connections. But what if he told me to go to the cops about my situation? I’d already tried that back in Atlantic City, and had nearly died doing it. If I didn’t go to the police myself, maybe Jimmy would and I didn’t know for sure how far Frankie’s influence stretched. It could be limited to Atlantic City, but I doubted it. He’d been around long enough. I had to assume he had informants on this side of the Hudson.
Peeling my eyes away from Jimmy’s wall art, I looked over at him.
‘Don’t take this the wrong way or nothing, but I can’t tell you what’s going on. There is somethin’, obviously, but I really can’t say what it is,’ I said, running my fingers through my hair and straightening out a knot I found in the back. Flattening it down as best I could.
‘You don’t trust me.’ Jimmy lowered his gaze down to the lime-green carpet, which seemed to line the floors of every room in the whole apartment, save the kitchen area behind the sofa where he’d had wood-effect lino fitted.
‘It’s not that. If I tell you, it could be dangerous. It’s better you don’t know.’
‘Maybe you oughta let me worry about myself,’ he said, staring back at me.
‘I can’t. If anything happened to someone else because of me, well, I just can’t risk it.’ I shook my head and looked down at my fingernails. They were painted with black nail polish that was chipped to hell from strumming my guitar.
For once Jimmy