Spin (Songs of Corruption #1)(10)

“If you give the counselor one hundred percent, I’ll go.”

She leaned back in the bed. “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

“You smell like a puke factory.”

I kissed her head and put my arms around my crazy, delicate sister.

seven.

atrina was in the waiting room, sleeping on her binder and drooling on the breakdown script for the next day.

I sat by her head and put my hand on her shoulder. I felt guilty for calling her while she was in production, and I felt lonely for needing her so badly. “Come on, Directrix. I’m driving.”

“Five minutes, Mom,” she whispered.

By the time Katrina dropped me at Frontage, my little BMW was the only car in the lot, and condensation left a polka dot pattern on my windshield. It was a 1967 GT Cabrio with chrome detailing that wasn’t happy about water drying on it. I shouldn’t have bought it. The car was a death trap. But Daniel had gone to the automotive museum’s auction to show his face, and I’d walked out with what he called LBT, the Little Blue Tink. He’d been annoyed, but I’d fallen in love.

I wasn’t ready to end the night. Though the rising sun would end it for me, I wasn’t ready to process it. It was almost six in the morning, and my brother never slept, so I called him.

“Hey, Jon,” I said. “I saw your singer last night.”

“I heard.”

I could tell by his sotto voice and cryptic words that he wasn’t alone. “You want the good news or the bad news?”

“Bad.”

“Everything’s fine, before you panic.”

“Okay, I’m not panicked.”

“Deirdre again.”

“Ah,” he said.

“And I didn’t just pour her into bed. She had to be hospitalized. Nothing a few B vitamins couldn’t fix, but honestly, I think she has a real problem. I saw her have two drinks, but she had a flask and she went to the bathroom, I don’t know, fourteen times.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Not by much. So I’m coming with you tonight.”

“Fine.”

“Can I be honest?” I didn’t wait for his answer. “I think your perpetual availability isn’t helping draw Jessica back.”

“Very mature, Theresa. Very mature.”

“Take a real woman, Jon. Stop being a patsy.”

I never spoke like that to my brother or anyone. I rarely gave advice or told anyone to change, but I was tired, physically and emotionally. I hung up without saying good-bye. I had to get Katrina home and get ready for work.

eight.

got to my office, where Pam waited for me. My assistant had neon pink hair in a 1940’s style chignon, pierced nose and brow, and smart suit; a story of contradictions she called psychabilly. I hadn’t heard of it before or since, but when her boyfriend showed up looking like Buddy Holly with tattoos, I got the aesthetic.

“You look wrung out,” she said, as if wrung out was a compliment.

I’d cleaned up as much as I could, but make up could only achieve so much. “Thanks. I was sober for the whole thing. Did the late list come through?”

“It’s printing. Arnie wants to see you,” Pam said as she tapped on her keyboard. She chronically tapped out beats on the table and her knees.

“Did you get a new piercing?” I touched my forehead.

“Like it?” She waggled her brows and handed me a folder with the day’s check reports. “Bobby got one on his... you know.” She pointed downward.

I couldn’t imagine what kind of face I made. Something broadcasting distaste and empathy, probably.

“It’s hot,” she whispered. “And for my pleasure.”

“Grotesque, thank you.”

“The DA’s been calling you.” Pam had started calling Daniel “The DA,” since he was the district attorney, when we broke up. She said uttering his name made her sick, and though I told her I could fight my own battles, she’d never said his name again.

“What’s he want?” I said around the lump in my throat.

“Lunch. I said you were busy.”

“Set it up.”

She looked at me over her rhinestone frames.

“I can handle it. Get us into the commissary,” I said.

No one in the WDE commissary even bothered glancing at a mayoral candidate, or the mayor, or anyone for that matter. Everyone there worked in the business, so everyone had an important job. To approach someone in the commissary meant you didn’t have access to them elsewhere. No one would admit they weren’t cool enough to get a meeting with Brad Pitt. Too bad the food there tasted like cheap wedding fare.

“Your Monday three o’clock’s been cancelled,” Pam said.

“What? Frances?”

“Frances doesn’t have the clearance to cancel a meeting for you.” She pointed at a little double red flag on the time block. “Only Arnie’s girl does.”

I checked my watch. “I’m going to see him. Hold down the fort.”

“Held. I’ll set up the lunch.”

I left her wrinkling her nose while she dialed Daniel’s number.

***

In Los Angeles, windows separated the dogs from the bitches.