Dead End Job (4 page)

“Here. You can read all about them on the front page,” he said.

I looked in the bag. It was a book. One of those big $80 coffee-table books on the history of art. I tried to give it back but he wouldn't let me. When he left, I opened it to the front page.

He'd written: “To Frances—and the beginning of our own long and beautiful history of art. With love always, Devin.”

I felt sick. The poor guy. What could I do? I just hoped he'd get over it soon.

I hid the book under my bed. I called Kyla and patched things up with her. I went out with Leo that night and fished for herring off the wharf. We didn't catch anything. We never do. I didn't care. We had fun. And I was just so glad to have my life back to normal.

For a while anyway.

I went to school early the next morning to get ready for a test. Thank God I got there when I did. That picture Devin took of us in
the store was taped to my locker. He'd blown it up to 8 × 10 and written across the top: “Thanks for some beautiful times together. XOXO Devin.”

I tore it down and threw it into the bottom of my locker. All I needed was for Leo to see that. I didn't want him getting jealous again and I didn't want him getting mad at Devin either. The guy's life seemed bad enough as it was.

The whole morning I was totally freaked out by the picture. We barely knew each other. Why was Devin making such a big deal of this? And how did he find my locker?

But then as the day went on, I relaxed about it a bit. He gave me a picture. So what? It's not like he wrote “I love you madly” on it. He just said we had a nice time together. How terrible was that? I thought it might even have been Devin's way of saying goodbye. You know, “Thanks for the memories…”

Finding my locker wouldn't have been that hard either. He didn't have to do anything underhanded. He just had to ask around. Somebody would have known where it was.

Once I got my head around that, the whole thing didn't seem so creepy anymore. It just seemed kind of sad. He was obviously lonely. Why else would our little “relationship” have meant so much to him? It made me wonder if he'd ever gotten up the courage to call his father.

I bumped into Devin later that day when I took a shortcut home across the baseball field. He seemed fine. He smiled when he saw me and complimented me on my sweater, but he wasn't all over me or anything. It was just like friends talking.

Well, more like acquaintances talking.

I thanked him for the picture. He said he thought I might like it. We both nodded and wondered what to say next.

There was this awkward pause. I almost said goodbye, but I didn't want to look too anxious to get out of there. I didn't want to act like I hated him.

So I said, “Have you called your dad yet?”

“My dad?” he said. “Oh, yeah. I did.”

“Great! How'd it go?”

“Tom's an amazing guy,” he said and smiled.

I smiled too. Maybe this was all he needed to get back on track.

“Amazing? What do you mean?” I asked.

“He's so honest!” Devin sort of laughed. “You know, he came right out and said he never wanted to see me again! What a guy, eh?”

He smiled and shook his head like it was the best joke ever.

“I'm really sorry,” I said, and I meant it. Devin brushed it off.

“Hey, don't worry about it,” he said. “I'm getting used to it. That's two people in one week who say they don't want to see me.”

Ask me how terrible I felt then.

I felt trapped.

I
was
trapped. What could I do? I kept thinking “poor Devin.” There was no way I was going to act like I was interested in him. I wasn't that stupid. But I couldn't kick him when he was down, either. I had to be nice to him. He didn't have anyone else.

All that week I kept running into him. He was at the library when I went to drop off my books. I saw him at the Dairy Maid when I
stopped for an ice cream. He was down by the bridge when I went for a bike ride. Each time I had to walk this really fine line between being nice and too nice. It was so hard. Part of me would just curl up and die when I saw him coming, but I'd put a smile on my face anyway and try to do my best. It was really beginning to get to me.

That Friday I was at A Stitch In Time, picking up some material for an art project, when Devin walked in. It seemed strange. What was he doing in a dusty old fabric store?

“Oh, just browsing. You know,” he said. “What else is there to do around here?”

How many times had I heard him say that? It was true, but it still kind of bugged me. I had to bite my tongue.

“You're lucky,” I said in the nicest voice I could come up with. “At least you'll be leaving soon.”

“What do you mean?” he said.

I didn't want to bring up anything about Tom telling him to get lost, but that's what I was thinking. So I said, “Don't you have to get back for that recording contract?”

“Oh, yeah. I meant to tell you,” he said. “I've had second thoughts. I'm not sure music is really what I want to do with my life. I've kind of gotten into photography. I thought I'd hang around here for a while and work on it.”

“You're not taking the contract?”

He shook his head.

I felt the blood run out of my face. This was the worst thing that could possibly happen. For me, because Devin would be staying here. But also for him. This sounded like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. He'd be crazy to pass it up.

I told him so.

“I've got other once-in-a-lifetime opportunities that are more important to me right now,” he said.

I didn't ask what they were. I didn't even want to consider them. I just begged him not to turn down the recording deal.

He wouldn't listen.

He said his mind was made up. He was going to call the company that day and say thanks but no thanks.

I couldn't let that happen! The guy would be ruining his life—and mine, for that matter.

I looked at my watch. It was after 5:30. I had to go to work. I said, “Please, Devin. Don't do anything until we can talk about this. Okay?”

He smiled. He shrugged. He said, “Sure. I'd love to talk to you about it.”

Now I just had to figure out what to say.

I was late. I'd forgotten some homework at school, but I didn't have time to pick it up. I had to run all the way to the store.

That was okay. I was so wound up from talking to Devin, it felt good to burn off some energy.

Mrs. Abdul was there when I arrived. She looked all puffy and gray. This pregnancy was really hard on her. I told her not to worry about tidying stuff up. She should just go. I'd take care of things.

I called and asked Leo to get my homework from my locker. Then I braced myself for the suppertime rush.

An hour later all the Hamburger Helper was gone and I was on my own again. I started to restock the shelves and I thought about Devin.

I didn't have a clue how to make him change his mind. He was such a weird guy. I couldn't figure him out. He twisted everything I said. He just believed what he wanted to believe. It dawned on me that I could end up saying something that would actually make things worse. For a second there, I considered introducing him to my mother. Maybe she could talk some sense into him. Somebody had to.

I heard a customer walk in the door. I got up and went to the counter.

I couldn't believe it.

I was so surprised that I just kind of yelled “Tom!” I'd never even called him Mr. Orser before. He looked at me like I was nuts.

“Well, hello to you too,” he said and put a package of diapers on the counter.

I rang them in. I had to say something to him but I didn't know how. Or what.

“Will there be anything else?” I said. I was just stalling for time.

“No,” he said. “That's all.”

He handed me the money. He was going to leave.

I blurted out, “Actually, there is one other thing.”

“I have to buy something else?” He looked confused.

“No. No. Um. Sorry. Look.” I gulped. “Well…”

“Yes?” he said. I couldn't tell if he found this amusing or irritating.

“Okay. I guess there's no easy way around this. I'm just going to come right out and say it,” I said. “You have to talk to your son.” I wiped my hands on my shirt. They were all sweaty.

“My son?” he said. “You must be mistaking me for someone else.”

“You're Tom Orser.”

“That's me. But I don't have a son.” I nodded.

“Devin told me you'd say that.”

“Who's Devin?”

I nodded again.

“He told me you'd say that too.”

Tom rolled his eyes. I pushed my hair off my face and just kept going. I was too far in to stop now.

“I'm sure you have your reasons for not wanting to see him. That's none of my business. I promise I won't tell anybody else about this. But you really need to talk to him now before he does something stupid. Maybe he'll listen to you.”

Tom scratched his chin and looked at me.

“Please. I'm really worried about him.”

“I can see you are,” he said. “I appreciate your concern but, honestly, I don't have a son. Four daughters, two wives, no son. Someone's pulling your leg.”

I got this sick feeling. I went, “But…but…um …”

“Go ahead. Ask anyone,” he said. “You'll see.”

He picked up the diapers.

“And if you do find out I have a son,
please call me. I like to know about these things.”

He smiled and left.

I spent the rest of my shift in a daze. Tom didn't look like he was lying. And Tom didn't look like Devin's father either. He was dark and round. Devin was pale and skinny. They weren't related. I was sure of it.

Or was I?

I don't look like my parents. I look like my father's mother. It's one of those skip-a-generation things. Maybe it was the same with Devin and Tom.

And there was another thing that didn't sit right with me. I just couldn't believe that Devin was able to pull off that big a lie. I lie and my ears turn red. Leo lies and he starts rubbing his neck. Kyla lies and she bites her lip. You always know when someone is lying. Devin looked me right in the eye and told me Tom was his father. He didn't blink.

Was he a good liar?

Or was Tom?

Or was I just stupid?

I had no idea.

Midnight came. Mr. Abdul arrived for the nightshift, but there was no sign of Leo. I was just starting to worry when Chris Cooper, the guy from Diamond Taxi, showed up.

“Leo sent me,” he said. “I'll take you home.”

I figured Leo must have been having problems with his transmission again. But then I got in the cab and Chris handed me a package. It was the homework I asked Leo to get from my locker.

That picture of Devin and me was on top. Leo had stuck a stickie on it.

It said, “From now on, find your own way home.”

I couldn't sleep that night. I didn't even try. I was sad. I was mad. I was totally confused. I couldn't believe that I'd got myself into such a mess. I was only trying to be nice.

I turned on my computer. I was going to get to the bottom of this Tom and Devin thing.

I Googled Tom. There were tons of entries and they all said the same thing. Tom Orser married Marlene Nowlan, 1970. Two daughters, Jessica (born 1972) and Vivienne (born
1974). Marlene died of breast cancer, 1992. Tom married Cindy Schultz, 1995. They had the two little girls I knew.

I stared at the screen. I couldn't believe what an idiot I was. I fell for everything Devin told me.

There was no way I could find out for sure, but I knew right then that Devin was lying about the recording contract too. I bet he even made up all that stuff he told me in the library about architecture. I bet he didn't know a thing about building or music or art, for that matter.

I was so pissed off. I was so mad about the way he used me, played on my emotions, made me feel sorry for him. I felt like such a sucker.

I wanted to talk to Leo. Say I was sorry. Tell him what Devin did. I knew if I could just explain it to him, Leo would forgive me.

I couldn't phone him right then, but I could write him.

I clicked on the e-mail icon. It took forever to open. Something was downloading. I hoped it was from Leo.

It wasn't.

It was from Devin. He sent me some of the photographs he'd been taking lately.

They were all of me. Me walking to school. Me raking the yard. Me sketching at the beach. Me goofing around with the dog. Me buying a new toothbrush.

He'd written these stupid captions under them. “Your beauty inspires me.” “Pretty in Pink.” “Let me be your pet.”

I wanted to throw up. How did he get my e-mail address? How did he know where my house was? How did he get a picture of me at the drugstore?

I knew. The guy
had
been following me. It was no coincidence I kept bumping into him. And it was no coincidence that Leo was never around when I did.

I was suddenly totally creeped out. My mind raced through everything I'd done in the last couple of weeks. What had Devin seen? Had he been listening in on my conversations? Was he looking in my window when I changed? Did he watch what Leo and I did in the car? Was he watching me right then?

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I yanked the curtains closed. I looked around the room. He could be in the house right now. I wanted to run down the hall to my parents' room, like a little kid having a nightmare. But I was too scared to do even that.

I sat there, shaking.

I knew I was being stupid. Devin couldn't have been there. My dad had been home sick all day. No one would have got into the house without him seeing. I was safe.

I kept telling myself that. I had to relax. Everything seems scary at four o'clock in the morning. I finally pulled myself together enough to e-mail Leo. Just a short note. I was too upset to write any more. I said, “I know this looks bad. It's not what you're thinking. Let me explain. Call me. Love, Frank.”