Jersey Six(13)

Jersey stared at Max’s perfect Asian skin and dainty hands. She didn’t look like a Max. The car pulled away from the curb as she set her bag between herself and Chris and glanced at the tablet. It had been eight years since she’d held a fancy electronic device. Dena used to let Jersey use her phone to play games if Jersey finished her chores on time.

First name.

Last name.

Date of Birth.

That’s all she could fill out. No address, phone number, emergency contact, previous employment, list of references … nothing else.

Occasionally, Max glanced back, shooting them more toothpaste-commercial smiles. Jersey returned a tight grin, feigning confidence in her ability to fill out the employee information form.

“Here.” Chris grabbed the tablet from Jersey and filled in all the empty blanks with unfamiliar numbers, street names, reference names like Billy Bob and Heidi Ho. He typed in his name as her emergency contact, pausing at the last name spot.

Chris didn’t have a last name. His memories of some things were colorful and sharp, but simple details like his last name stayed hidden in the unreachable parts of his memory. Maybe they were gone forever.

He glanced at her, and a tiny, tight grin pulled at his lips as his eyes filled with wickedness.

Ten, he typed in the last name box.

Her narrow-eyed glare bounced between his eyes and the tablet.

“Ten?” she whispered.

He shrugged. “You’re a six, so I’m going to be a ten.”

She fisted her hand, leaving it in her lap, with her middle finger stretched long for him to see.

He chuckled, leaning closer so only she could hear him. “It’s perfect. Chris Ten … get it? Christian?”

Shane and Max cracked their windows an inch. Jersey waited for them to light up, but they didn’t. Shane glanced back at Jersey in the rearview mirror, answering her questioning expression with a slight smile and wrinkled nose.

“We stink,” she said under her breath to Chris.

“Of course we do.” He continued to fill out several other pages of her employee information, including a digital signature. Then he moved on to the next form for himself—Chris Ten.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in a car, but she definitely remembered the last time she’d crossed over into New York—never. Her mind raced with all the ways she could get back to Newark if Ian’s job offer didn’t work out. After all, she had the twenty dollars from him and maybe another five dollars’ worth of change in her bag.

“What did he say?” Chris muttered, staring out his own window after finishing the forms and returning the tablet to Max.

“Who?” Jersey shifted her attention to him.

“George. When you said we were leaving, I didn’t say goodbye. My money is on us being right back in that dump before the end of tomorrow.”

Max glanced over her shoulder again, and Jersey eyed her with caution until she turned back around.

“He didn’t say anything, of course, but he tried to hand me fifty dollars. I couldn’t take it. I really don’t know what’s going to happen to him after the gym closes. Somehow I doubt the guys will financially look after him the way they managed to pool their money together to keep Marley’s open.”

Chris hummed in agreement.

“And where did you get money to bet on how soon we’d return?”

He shook his head on a soft chuckle and returned his attention to the window and the skyscrapers welcoming them to Manhattan. “Oh, Jersey … I love you.”

She scowled at the back of his head, irritated at herself for letting him worm his way into her barely existent world—and even more irritated at herself for liking his place in it. Jersey loved how he’d read her books at night, even if she pretended to plug her ears, telling him to shut up. Sometimes he’d have a bad dream, nightmares about his disoriented past, and she’d comfort him. That made her feel needed.

Feeling needed meant more to her than she ever imagined it could. Maybe the only purpose to life was having a purpose.

“We’re going to stop for some essentials. You good with that?” Max asked.

Jersey and Chris stared at each other.

“Essentials?” Jersey repeated.

“Ian thought you might need some clothes and other everyday things. His treat.”

“He’s going to dress you up as his whore, Jers,” Chris whispered in her ear.

“For both of us?” Jersey asked.

Max nodded.

“Okay.”

Max faced forward again.

Jersey stuck her tongue out at Chris. “Looks like you’ll be his whore too,” she whispered back to him.





CHAPTER SEVEN





Chris ignored the second looks and not-so-subtle glances as they trekked through the posh hotel lobby carrying several bags of clothing and other essentials.

“Chris, we’ll find room for you on one of the buses over the next few days. Might have to do some shuffling. For now you’ll stay with us.” Max stepped into the elevator, chin tipped toward her phone as Jersey and Chris followed her.

“Buses? I’m getting shipped back already?”

Leaning against the back wall of the elevator, Max glanced up, penciled brows drawn tightly. “No. The tour buses. Can you lift heavy objects?”