Bearly Hanging On (The Jamesburg Shifters #6)(48)
Jamie was shaking her head in amazement. "What about Sara? She's got to have some thoughts on the matter."
Sara was the mate that Jenga had sewed together for Atlas when the big bear started pining after - and dangerously pawing - at pretty much everything in town with a pair of breasts or long hair. He wasn't picky.
"She was most pleased when he started reciting some of it to her. The two of them have become so amorous of late that I went and built them a little shed out back a' my place. It was just too wild, y'see, with them constantly—"
"Okay," Jamie said, putting a hand up. "That's fantastic. I don't really need to hear about the two of them—"
"Oh, you should'a heard 'em goin' at it." Jenga whistled between his front teeth, with a grin on his face, ignoring both Jamie, and common human decency. "Just a'gruntin' and a'groanin.' I'm pretty sure I even heard a moo or two at some point, thought I ain't sure what brought that on. Pretty certain I used a pig heart in the both of 'em..."
Jamie closed her eyes tight and pinched the bridge of her nose. She couldn't help but remember the way Gertrude, West's cow, reacted to her feeding. Those big, brown eyes rolling around, all that mooing and excited groaning. Jamie started to laugh and then caught herself, out of fear it might encourage Jenga to keep going with his Penthouse Letters for Zombies story.
"Good," she said, smiling. "I'm glad they have each other. That's very good. Listen, I came by to—"
"Don't think either of 'em ever oinked," Jenga said, still looking thoughtfully out the window, and tugging on the front of his beard. "I'd remember oinking. It was mostly just the gruntin' and the heavin'. I'll tell you, you ain't never seen anything like—"
"Yep! And I never, ever, will become any more intimately familiar with zombie lovin' time, if there is any good at all in the universe," Jamie shot back before Jenga could go any further with his graphic description of said zombie lovin' time.
"You asked," Jenga said with a shrug.
"Wait, no I didn't." Jamie couldn't help but laugh a little. Even at his most graphic and upsetting, Jenga was Jenga. Just like Jamesburg, you gotta love it. "Anyway, I feel kind of weird asking you about this, but I don't really have anywhere else to go."
Suddenly, Jenga went from jokey and smiley to serious in the space of a couple seconds. As ridiculous and outlandish as he was, he had long since been very protective of Jamie for reasons she didn't quite understand. "Sit," he said.
"I already am."
"Oh, right, then. Good. Is it anything serious? What's going on?"
Oh right, maybe it was because he'd been functioning as her therapist for about twenty years. That could do the trick.
"Yeah, or... maybe," she said. "I'm not really sure. I'm dating a jewel thief," she said with a deep exhale. "And I've never been happier in my entire life."
Jenga's clinical nod, and non-response spurred her on. "But he doesn't do anything to hurt anyone - directly I mean, I'm not naive - and he's taking care of a bunch of old shifters who live outside town. And on top of all that, I've started thinking about," she trailed off, already starting to swallow hard. "Shit, this is going to be a Kleenex day," she said, as Jenga handed the box to her without any prompting.
"Ryan Drake?" Jenga asked, producing a pen from out of his beard, and a notepad from the breast pocket of his wonderfully gaudy Hawaiian shirt. It was unbuttoned about halfway down his chest, which you could only see when his beard moved, and featured a bunch of pictures of Elvis with leis.
Jamie just stared. "How did—?"
"I just know things. It's easy to keep up with all the news when I don't have very much else to do. And anyway, people like Atlas, he knows everyone. Sara is more prickly."
"But he never comes into town, and only a handful of us knew about those people he’s protecting," Jamie sat up, tucking one of her feet underneath herself, and sat back down. "Just... how?"
Jenga shrugged with a smile. "Doctor-patient privilege. The same reason no one knows anything about you, except what you tell 'em."
She let that sink in for a moment. He'd let slip that Ryan saw him, or at least knew him, which was wild enough. But to think Jenga had kept completely silent about everything?
"Is he a secret billionaire?" Jamie asked, out of nowhere.
"Let me tell you a story," Jenga began. Jamie sighed, because these stories always went on for an extended time. But there was always something relevant about what he rambled out, so she always listened. Just like always, when he switched from zany witchdoctor mode to counselor mode, his grammar somehow became very good.
"There was a girl, once, who came to see me when this town was about... oh, half the size it is now. Long time ago, you see. Although it feels longer than it was. That must've been only twenty years or so back."
He laughed, rubbing at one of his shoulders. The stuff in his beard all jingled. "Twenty years is yesterday when you get as old as Jenga, you know. But there was something special about this girl. She had a tender heart, but was outwardly cold, you see? She pretended not to care about people, or persons, or however you want to pluralize that word, but she was the most loyal friend, fiercely, almost dangerously loyal friend, that I've ever seen a person have." His words were slow and carefully chosen. His eyes narrowed, and he was jabbing his palm with his index finger to emphasize each of his points. "And no matter what happened, nothing could get that little girl down. Except one thing."