Helen Cox - Sunrise in New York

‘What…what did you do?’ I asked, wondering if whatever he’d done to Esther was as bad as what I’d done.

‘Buy me dinner sometime, maybe I’ll tell you the story,’ he replied, his voice sharp.

Looking at his hardened face, the lines of bitterness etched deep around his eyes, I really didn’t know what to think of Jimmy. But Mona must’ve been mad at him for a reason and she was the one I needed on side. Right then, she was my only link to Esther.

‘Is this guy for real?’ I asked Mona.

‘Haven’t really figured that out yet,’ she replied.

‘Oh, I see. Go right ahead. Blame Jimmy. That’s convenient. The fact that Esther’s boyfriend beat me to a pulp. That don’t figure in this, right? I mean, that’s just an alright thing to do to a guy?’

‘And I suppose you were the innocent party?’ Mona folded her arms. ‘You did absolutely nothing to provoke him?’

‘I didn’t hit first. That I can say.’

Mona rolled her eyes. Arguing with Jimmy did seem like a dead-end pursuit. He turned then, fixing his stare back on me.

‘Are you a waitress like Esther? Because frankly, in my experience, waitresses are a whole lot more trouble than they’re worth.’

‘Keep it up, Boyle. That’s strike two. One more and you’re out that door,’ Mona hissed. Jimmy raised his hands in mock surrender.

‘You know many waitresses that carry a guitar around with them?’ I said. ‘I’m a musician.’

‘Is that code for unemployed?’ said Jimmy, and gave a short, breathy laugh.

‘Well, up until recently I sang lead vocals in a band. But now I’m solo.’

Yep, so-low alright.

‘What band, will I have heard of ’em?’ asked Mona.

‘Oh, no. It was just a tribute act in a casino. The Sexties,’ I said.

Jimmy, who was taking a drink, spat out his soda at this.

‘The what? The Sexties?’ he said, looking me up and down. Oh great. This fella was obviously what me and the other band members used to call a ‘suggestible’ – a guy who heard the word ‘sex’ in our band name and then couldn’t think about nothing else.

‘Yeah.’ The back of my neck felt all hot again, but it always did when people asked what I did. It wasn’t the sex thing. You can’t sing in a band like the Sexties and be coy. But being a member of a Sixties tribute act in Atlantic City wasn’t exactly the New York Philharmonic, and most people weren’t quick to let you forget that. ‘It was dumb really. You know casino events managers. Not exactly known for their sense of subtlety. But the tourists loved us. The Sexties sang the sexiest songs of the Sixties.’

‘Bet you wore cute little outfits too,’ Jimmy said, his eyes on my body rather than my face.

‘Actually, we did.’ I gave Mona a quick wink to signal I was about to have some fun here. Christmas had been miserable and ten minutes ago I’d been crying my heart out. Winding up a sleaze like Jimmy Boyle seemed like a sure way of cheering myself up. ‘We wore little red halter tops with ‘The Sexties’ written across the chest in shimmering, gold print. Denim hot pants and black stiletto heels.’ Jimmy’s jaw hung loose at my description. I would’ve taken more pleasure in this if I’d been exaggerating, but that’s exactly what we had worn. Night after night, and it was damn uncomfortable.

‘You don’t say.’ The words drifted out of Jimmy’s mouth. He was lost in a vague daydream now. Mona put her hand across her face to hide a giggle. But the fun wasn’t over yet.

‘Yeah, course my halter top and hot pants had to be cut a little larger than the other girls to accommodate my shape. As you can see, I don’t exactly live off salad.’ I moved my hands down the sides of my purple sweater dress, pressing the material flat against me to illustrate how my body bulged out at the top, tapered in at the waist and curved out at the hips.

Jimmy’s eyes were wide now, and I swear I saw him gulp.

‘Where’d you say you were stayin’ tonight?’ he asked, still half in a daze. Mona laughed at him and shook her head. I joined in and would’ve laughed harder except where I was staying was a bit of a touchy subject.

‘Uh, actually I got a room booked in some fancy hotel,’ I lied.

‘Oh yeah, which one?’ asked Jimmy, snapping out of his trance.

‘That’s privileged information, I’m afraid.’ I smiled and then took a sip of my coffee. ‘Not really the kind of thing you go round blabbin’ to strangers.’

Jimmy looked at my suitcase and then back up at me. He was doing some figuring but exactly what he was working out about me, I couldn’t tell.

‘Why’d you say you were in town?’ His eyes were narrowed at me now.

‘You always ask this many questions?’ I teased, biding a bit of time.

‘Force of habit. I’m a reporter for The Chronicle . So, just naturally curious, you know,’ he explained.

‘Well, I’m just passing through.’ I took another gulp of coffee, shielding my face with the large mug. I was a terrible liar, which is why, if I could avoid it, I never did it. I had a feeling, though, that it was a skill I was going to have to work on if I wanted to stay alive.

‘From where to where?’ Jimmy pushed. I kept drinking my coffee. Pretending I was thirsty when really I just needed thinking time… and the warmth to get me through the cold night ahead.

‘New Jersey to Grosse Pointe.’ Another lie. ‘On my way home to see the folks. Missed them over the holidays with one thing and another.’

Mona nodded along, seemingly swallowing my story, but Jimmy just stared straight at me. He didn’t believe a word of it, I could feel it.

At that moment, the doorbell chimed, closely followed by the words ‘Evening jelly bean, how ’bout some coffee?’

‘Will you excuse me?’ said Mona. ‘That’s my husband.’

I turned to look at him. He was a tall, black man with a hairline that suggested he was somewhere in his late thirties. He had a trimmed beard and calm, steady eyes. Oh, and he was wearing a police uniform.

Neat. A cop. Just what I needed.

I diverted my eyes back to the counter real quick, my shoulders tensing. Out of the corner of my eye, I felt Jimmy looking at me but tried to pretend like I didn’t realise. Glancing back at the glass frontage of the diner, I could see it was still snowing outside. I didn’t want to go back out there but this Jimmy fella wasn’t going to let up with his questions, and hanging out with a cop wasn’t a smart idea just now. Besides, if I told any more lies I might have to account for some of them when Esther got back.

I looked at my Swatch and feigned surprise at the hour.

‘Wow. I’d better go and check in. Mind if I pay up?’ I called down to Mona.

‘Sure thing, honey,’ the waitress said, placing a saucer on the counter with my check. I looked at the amount and paused. I couldn’t really afford to tip but I’d just told Mona and Jimmy I had a swanky hotel lined up so I couldn’t very well not tip. God damn it, Bonnie, why do you have to open your big yap? Inwardly, I called myself names I’d never dare say in front of my mama and doled out two of the seven dollar bills I had left in the world.