I'll Say Anything Read online

  Jasper stared down at me, body going still.

  “I know, right? I told him I felt like a hooker, and I kind of did, but all I had to do was endure the laughter and stares of the guests, and that other ass, and I got paid twenty-four hundred bucks!” Now that it was over, I felt pretty full of myself. I would have had to work a thousand shifts at the souvenir shop to make anywhere near that kind of money. A niggle of unease lingered that I tried to forget.

  “What the—are you serious? Fin, are you pulling my leg?” Jasper narrowed his eyes.

  “Yes. Go look in my purse—hey!” Jasper lifted my shoulders enough to slide out from beneath me, then let me drop to the cushion. What a gentleman.

  He snagged my purse off the table, opened it, and cursed when he saw the wad of hundred dollar bills. “Holy crap, Fin. You're telling the truth.”

  “I told you.” Propping up on my elbows, I smiled while I watched Jasper count the money. He found the five hundred dollar casino chips and slid both into his front pocket. “What are you doing?”

  Jasper closed the clutch, folding the wad of cash in half. “I'll get the chips changed for you tomorrow. The cash I'm gonna put in the jar in the bedroom.”

  “Is that what you did with the other four hundred?” I asked. Jasper hoarded money like some women hoarded shoes.

  “What do you think? You might go buy more outfits like that if you keep the cash on you.” He flashed a broad grin, indicating the hideous white and red dress.

  Grabbing a pillow, I threw it at his head.

  Laughing, Jasper ducked into the bedroom.

  Scrambling off the couch, I followed him into what was nothing more than a postage stamp sized room that passed for sleeping quarters. There wasn't even a window to let the moonlight in. A double bed took up the majority of the walking space, leaving a narrow passage to the smallest closet in the history of mankind. A single lamp on the only nightstand threw a yellow glow over the beige colored walls.

  Several of Jasper's shirts took up space on the floor, which I picked up and tossed at him where he stood by the closet. Somewhere in the dank confines, he'd hidden a 'shop' jar, full of the money we were saving.

  Sitting on the end of the creaky bed, I peeled off the ankle socks and threw those, one by one, at Jasper's head.

  “My God. You have got the stinkiest feet in the universe, woman,” Jasper complained. He twitched the socks to the floor, where his shirts had landed.

  “Then pick up your clothes and maybe I'll stop throwing my socks at you.” I did it every time we came to bed and I found his clothes scattered as if a tornado had blown through.

  “There's no room in the closet, Fin. Where am I supposed to put them?” Jasper rolled the lid onto the jar, then set the jar back into the closet.

  “In the nightstand.” I struggled to undo the zipper on the dress, then peeled out of the concoction. No woman in her right mind would want to buy it, so I relegated it to the corner of the bedroom to be tossed out come morning. Snapping the band of my underwear to straighten them, leaving the bra on for now, I rounded the bed and pulled open a nightstand drawer. Yanking out a worn pair of men's pajama bottoms, Jasper's to be exact, I slid them over my hips.

  “There's no room in the nightstand—hey. Those are the only clean pair I've got,” he complained when he saw me in his pajama pants.

  “Snooze you lose.” I stole one of his clean white tee shirts, too, and tugged it over my head. After, I finagled the bra off beneath and stuffed it into the drawer.

  He made a point of exhaling, loudly, before stripping his jeans off, leaving him in a pair of midnight blue boxers.

  Paying no attention to him, like every other night, I left the bedroom for the bathroom. Some tenant before us had painted the walls hunter green; all these years later, the paint had started to crack and peel, exposing a dirty beige beneath. A single pedestal sink sat directly next to the toilet, which of course had the lid and seat up. No matter how many times I told Jasper to close it, he never did. A shower barely big enough to fit one person took up the left side, the lavender curtain clashing with the walls. I hardly noticed any longer. The apartment, such as it was, came cheap, and it was the only one attached to the garage Jasper and I so desperately needed.

  Using a clean cloth, I washed my face, staring at my reflection in the aged mirror above the sink. Mascara, eyeliner, and power created half-moon circles under my eyes. Using a make up cloth next, I swiped the residue away. Then I attacked my cheeks, rubbing the rouge off. Now I looked more like my usual, make-upless self. While I cleansed my skin, I thought about the evening.

  Twenty-four hundred dollars for three hours 'work'. As much as we needed the money, and as much as I wanted to contribute more to the kitty, I still felt conflicted about how I earned it. Obviously, Ramsey had money to spare, or he wouldn't have made the offer. Why should I be worried, if he wasn't?

  I brushed my teeth—twice, because old habits were hard to break—and snapped off the light before returning to the bedroom. Stretched out on the bed, encapsulated in the jaundiced glow of the lamplight, Jasper had one arm propped up behind his head, the other laying over the cut muscles of his stomach. He only had the boxers on, legs bare and crossed at the ankle.

  “That's my last clean shirt for the week,” he said, pointedly staring at the tee.

  “Then I guess it's time to hit up the laundromat.” It was a job we both loathed. With a passion.

  Jasper scowled. “I don't have time to go to the laundromat.”

  “You were sleeping when I came home. You could have dropped me off earlier tonight, then hit up the washers and dryers. Come on now.” Snapping off the lamp, I flopped onto the bed and rolled onto my side. Facing him. All the better to torture him until we went to sleep.

  “I'll take you tomorrow.”

  “You'll stay with me, too, because I'm not carrying that whole load three blocks back here.”

  “I have work.”

  “So do I. We'll have to do it the day after.”

  “That's your birthday.” He watched me with a contemplative expression.

  “So?”

  He arched a brow, a loose shank of hair falling across his temple. “Your twenty-first birthday. We're not spending it in a laundromat. Sorry Fins, I know you'd rip my nuts off if I took you there instead of out somewhere cool.”

  Shaking with laughter, I said, “So, where are you taking me, then? Remember, I have an interview at Olympus that day, too.”

  “I'm not telling you. That kind of takes the surprise out of 'surprise',” he retorted in a droll tone.

  “A real surprise involves not telling me you're doing anything at all, then taking me somewhere 'cool'.”

  He exhaled. Long and slow. “We're not going anywhere for your birthday. Make whatever plans you want to.”

  I could always count on Jasper to entertain me before bedtime. My smile was slow to fade. Despite the banter, there was something more serious I wanted to ask him. “Hey.”

  “What?”

  “Do you think it's right that I accepted the money tonight? For doing a whole lot of nothing?” Our voices always lowered when we talked about serious things, a timbre just above a whisper.

  “If he hadn't wanted to do it, or wasn't swimming in cash, he wouldn't have offered. I wouldn't worry about it if I were you.”

  “I feel strange about it though. I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm excited to have it. That's a huge spike in our savings.”

  “Yeah, it is. Even on my best nights with tips, I only bring home a few hundred. Most of the time, it's eighty or whatever.”

  “Except that one time, when you got that high roller who gave you five hundred.”

  “If only every night could be like that, huh Fins?”

  “If only.” I felt better. Not as worried on the inside that I'd made a mistake accepting the money.

  “Don't oversleep the alarm,” he added, closing his eyes.

  “I won't.” I watched Jasper in the darkness, which
was almost complete thanks to the lack of a window. My eyes had adjusted enough to make out the shape of his profile and the long line of his body. Ten minutes later, it was his breathing that told me he'd fallen asleep. There was something reassuring about hearing the steady, rhythmic respirations. I hadn't ever told him so, hadn't admitted it to myself until he'd worked through the night several months ago and I had trouble going to sleep. Maybe it was simply knowing there was another person close by, someone to get all tangled up with that never demanded anything of me but platonic companionship. Jasper knew me better than anyone, knew my secrets, my desires, my fears. He made being roommates easy as pie.

  In the dark, I admitted that maybe I was a little spoiled by our comfort level with one another, and thanked God that I had him in my life.

  Chapter Four

  I knew the second I opened my eyes that today, everything would change. I'd reached that important pinnacle, the age to get into casinos and gamble, the legal age to drink. Even if I wasn't a heavy drinker, it was nice to know I could without the fear of being carded and tossed out on my butt. Twenty-one felt like an important age, as if this was when I truly entered adulthood.

  Kicking the sheets off my legs, I lifted my head from Jasper's chest and assessed whether he was asleep or faking it. Sometimes he pretended to be out like a light, then tackled me when my back was turned. Or threw a pillow, or tugged my hair. One arm thrown across his forehead, half covering his closed eyes, he looked to be soundly asleep. For once I had mercy and didn't do something rude, like stick Q-tips up his nose or tie his ankles together.

  Getting to my feet, I stretched, then scratched a spot over my shoulder. I'd stolen Jasper's pajamas again after the laundry run the day before, the material hanging loose from my smaller, thinner frame. Padding to the bathroom, experiencing no surprise attack from Jasper, I took care of business and headed to the kitchen.

  A glut of red and white balloons—suspiciously reminiscent of the ugly dress—filled the entire kitchen. Stuck to the ceiling, the balloons trailed curling ribbon from the tied ends that dangled halfway to the floor. A handful of different sized gifts covered the table, wrapped crookedly in mismatched paper. Jasper hadn't even bothered to find tags. He'd scrawled my name inelegantly in Sharpie marker, bold and impossible to miss.

  “Happy twenty-first¸ Finley.”

  A cupcake with skewed blue frosting and a single lit candle appeared around the edge of my shoulder. I craned a look up and back at Jasper, still in his boxer shorts and no shirt. His hair stuck up in all directions and wrinkle marks from the sheets decorated his skin. So much for him being sound asleep.

  “You weren't supposed to get me anything. We're saving money, remember?”

  “I'm not letting this birthday go by with just peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. We splurge on the important things, and this is important. Now blow the candle out before wax drips all over the frosting. Oh, and don't forget the wish.” He smiled, a dimple creasing his cheek.

  I couldn't argue, not when he looked so...Jasperish. My wish was easy: I wanted to have enough money by the end of the current year to sign the lease on our new mechanic shop. A quick gust of breath vanquished the flame. Without waiting for him to peel back the cupcake paper, I snatched a bite, smearing blue frosting all over my lips and chin. Immediately, I made a face. Something tasted off with the chocolate cake.

  “Wait, pull the—never mind.” Jasper snorted, plucked the spent candle out, then handed the cupcake over.

  “What's in the packages? Nice wrapping job, by the way,” I said. Cupcake in hand, I peeled down the wrapper and examined the cake, looking for the culprit of the bad taste. The cake part was a little gummy, as if it hadn't been cooked all the way through the middle.

  “You'll have to open them to find out. And stop looking at the cupcake like that. I was in a hurry last night.” Jasper tossed out the candle then sprawled in one of the kitchen chairs, brushing away dangling curly ribbon from the balloons.

  “It's gooey,” I said of the cupcake, not afraid to tell him what was wrong with it.

  “Just eat it.”

  “I'm trying.” I set the cupcake on the table and reached for the first present. Opening it with impatient rips and tears, I came to a box with a lid that I pried open. There inside was a bus pass good for an entire month. Sometimes our schedules clashed and Jasper couldn't drop me off or pick me up from work.

  “It's not as good as a new car, but at least you won't have to walk the six miles home when you work a late shift,” Jasper said.

  “Thanks. This will definitely come in handy.” I closed the lid, set the box on the table, and grabbed the next gift. Something inside rattled when I shook it.

  “That might be breakable, you know,” Jasper complained.

  Ripping off the paper, I tossed it on the floor and pried at the box. Jasper had put extra tape, duct tape at that, making it impossible to get into. “This is ridiculous. I can't find an end.”

  Jasper didn't lift a finger to help. He sat there, looking smug and amused.

  Exhaling in feigned frustration, I found a box cutter in one of the small kitchenette drawers and sliced through the tape. Finally, after much struggling, I worked the end open. Four boxes of Boston Baked Beans fell into my palm.

  “Beans!”

  “Yes, your beloved damned beans. I won't have to make a stop at the store to get more for at least another forty-eight hours.” He snorted.

  “I love them! Thank you.” Setting the damaged box and the Baked Beans on the table, I swatted curled ribbon out of the way and attacked Jasper with a flurry of kisses to his cheeks and forehead. I knew he hated it, and laughed when he grunted, then pushed me away by a hip.

  “What the—get off me. There's one more.”

  “I know.” The last box was much easier to open. Paper with out-of-season Santas joined the other on the floor.

  “Do you really have to make such a mess?”

  “Yes. Because part of my birthday gift is the fun of watching you have to clean it all up.” Opening the box, I suddenly laughed. Pulling a pair of men's pajama bottoms from wrinkled layers of tissue, I shook them out and examined the blue and black checked pattern.

  “There. Now you can quit stealing mine.” Jasper clapped his palms together and rubbed them as if he'd just given me the most cunning gift of all.

  “But I like yours. They're all worn in and comfortable.” I folded the pajama pants and laid them over the back of a loveseat.

  “Mine are now off limits. So,” he said, lurching out of the chair. “Pick you up tonight after your shift?”

  “You got it. Eight o'clock, don't for--”

  “I know when you get off, dorkus.” Jasper reached over to tug a length of my hair.

  I batted at his hand and watched him cross to the bathroom. Just before he entered, he winked over his shoulder. The door closed with a solid bang.

  “You didn't wish me luck on my interview!” I shouted.

  “Good luck on the interview! Jeez.” The shower turned on.

  For all the harassing banter, I was touched by Jasper's thoughtfulness. He'd worked last evening, late into the night, and still found time to surprise me with balloons, an almost edible cupcake, and gifts. While he showered for work, I ate another few bites of the cupcake, then snagged and ate a banana. That was all I had time for.

  In the bedroom again, I changed into an old pair of faded jeans, a blue tee shirt riddled with stains, and my favorite pair of Doc Martens. There was a car in the garage that needed the spark plugs changed before noon. My interview wasn't until two, which gave me plenty of time to complete the job and turn the vehicle back over to the owner.

  Exiting the bedroom, I glanced at the left over party paraphernalia, smiled to myself, then stepped through the door from the living room into the garage proper. A Chevy sat in one stall, hood open and waiting.

  Breaking into a sweat thanks to the already rising temperature, I opened the garage door for air circulation. Cr
ossing to the wooden bench lining one wall, I found the tools I needed and prepared to get to work. At least the task would keep my mind off the upcoming interview.

  Twenty minutes after I started, I heard Jasper's Camaro roar to life in the alley. The engine rumbled and growled for another sixty seconds before the sound died away. Jasper left the property, off to work for the evening.

  An hour later, I closed the hood of the Chevy and smeared my greasy hands on a shop towel. Sweat dripped from my brow and dampened the armpits and neckline of my tee shirt. What a lady. I couldn't think of a better way to spend a birthday, though, so I had no complaints. The job would put another forty bucks in the New Shop jar.

  The purr of an engine drew my attention to the alley outside. Guessing it was the owner of the Chevy arriving early to check on the progress, I walked toward the open garage door and the sleek black sedan idling just outside.

  Two men exited the back of the car, dressed in dark suits and darker sunglasses. Both had dark hair styled in short layers combed away from their face. Right away I decided they were lost.

  “Can I help you?” I asked, still rubbing my hands on the shop towel.

  The man on the right, heftier than his counterpart, smiled. The glint of a gold tooth further back in his mouth became prominent before the smile toned down to a more reasonable curl of lips. He had mild craters in his skin, as if he'd suffered a terrible bout of either chicken pocks or acne in his youth.

  “We'd like to speak to Jasper Lowe, please.” The gold toothed man caught his hands together in front of him, a sedate, relaxed pose that somehow didn't put me at ease.

  I looked from one man to the other and back again. The second gentleman said nothing, just stood near his companion, taking up the same sort of posture. I said, “Jasper's not here right now. Can I take a message?”

  The hefty man craned a look past me into the garage. Without sunglasses to hide behind, I couldn't disguise the slight widening of my eyes. Didn't the man believe me? For a second, I thought the stranger might step past me and take a look around for himself. Little did the men know, I would body check them if they got too pushy.