In the Details Read online

  Judith frowned. “It would have to be a lot of women. And if it’s true that he did this, there are more women out there who will come forward. But like I said, it would have to be a lot of them, and even still, I just don’t know.”

  “How many?” She’d never considered the critical mass required for such a thing.

  “I don’t want to rain on your parade, so I’ll be modest and say two dozen.”

  “Two dozen? You think twenty-four women would have to have the same story before it would spell disaster for him?”

  “Right. But don’t get discouraged. There’s always the possibility that a man could come forward claiming Jimmy did something inappropriate to him, and this state’s lingering homophobia would put an end to Jimmy instantly.”

  “That’s pretty damn cynical, even for you.”

  Judith waggled a fry at Jessica. “Doesn’t mean I’m not right.”

  Chapter Six

  Jessica closed the front door of her building behind her with some effort. The last week of work, if nothing else, had only made Jessica more excited to see who Mrs. Thomas had selected for her employees. She’d called Jessica the day before to say that she’d found some excellent candidates, and Jessica had reiterated that she didn’t want multiple candidates for each position and that Mrs. Thomas ought to simply pick her favorite for each role and send them over for training. There was still a lot to prepare before the new hires arrived in a few days … but it could wait.

  For now, she was bone tired and agitated. It is Risen closed early on Sundays, the thought behind that being a moment for Jessica to catch up on inventory, pay bills, and possibly get more than five hours of sleep.

  So, naturally, she’d spent most of the afternoon mindlessly staring at her phone screen, tumbling down one rabbit hole after the next. And just as naturally, that left her in a sour mood. Especially when a picture of her with her least favorite person in existence was all over the news.

  AT LEAST YOU KNOW WHY I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH HIM.

  Could have been useful to have more notice or an explanation. Would’ve saved me quite a headache.

  The photo of Jessica and Jimmy shaking hands was making the rounds after Thornton News published it the same day the first two women came forward.

  “When you rise, I rise.” Jimmy had said that. If there was any truth to IT, and that was a big fat if, did it also mean that if Jessica fell Jimmy would, too?

  Doubtful. She’d fallen plenty of times, and Jimmy hadn’t so much as stumbled during any of them. If it were true, though, she was nearing the point where it would be worth self-destructing just to see him suffer.

  In the week since the breaking story, four more women had come forward and the number was expected to rise. Would it break two dozen—Judith’s predicted threshold for it to make any difference?

  Meanwhile, Jessica had been inundated with interview requests. She was, after all, a young woman who Jimmy knew. To some of the inquiring minds, that meant that if he’d never done anything untoward with Jessica, all the women must be liars. To others, it meant Jessica condoned whatever abuse might surface. And to others still, it meant something more nebulous and sinister about the state of the world.

  IN MY INFINITE WISDOM, I HAPPEN TO KNOW THAT TELLING YOU SOONER OR EXPLAINING WHY WOULD NOT HAVE CHANGED THE OUTCOME.

  Then why did you warn me in the first place?

  SO YOU COULDN’T SAY I DIDN’T.

  Nope. Not buying it. That’s the predestination shit we’ve talked about. You know I’m done with it, right?

  YES. AND I KNEW YOU WOULD SAY THOSE EXACT WORDS. I’VE KNOWN SINCE BEFORE I CREATED LIGHT.

  Oh, bullshit. I know you don’t think that far ahead. Otherwise you wouldn’t have created Original Mistake.

  She paused at the coke machine at the top of the open staircase to swipe a credit card and get herself a Dr. Pepper. She knew it was either that or a beer, and she could use an upper at the end of the day if she was going to get her finances into some semblance of an organized spreadsheet to present to her future accountant. He or she would see right through any attempt at organization, of course. So why did she bother?

  Oh, who gives a fuck why. I feel the need to, so I’m gonna.

  Twisting off the bottle top, she made her way down the hall toward the front door of her condo.

  No, not her condo. Jameson Fractal’s, which he’d bought for his gynecologist sister who didn’t want it. Chris had offered to buy it outright with his football money so Jessica wouldn’t feel like she owed Jameson anything (this was Chris’s suggestion, and Jessica understood there was an ulterior motive to his not wanting his girlfriend to live in another man’s house; she was okay with that degree of jealousy). She hadn’t bothered to take the first steps toward actually making it happen, though. There was so much going on already. Next chance she got, though, she’d make him the offer. You know, whenever she stopped actively avoiding him to deprive Team Jameson of fodder.

  She fumbled with her key ring, which had begun to look more like a metal pom-pom since she started the bakery. Unable to pluck out the correct one with her hands full, she paused, screwing on the lid to her soda and tucking it under her armpit.

  Just as she did, the door behind her flung open, and she jumped. Why was she always so jumpy when she was tired?

  She turned around to nod an exhausted hello to Jeremy. Except the man exiting was neither Jeremy nor her half-brother. Following after the first man was a small parade of others, mostly men but a few women, none of whom she recognized, and all of whom carried the distinct musk of the streets.

  And at the end of the line was Jesus, waving dreamily. “So helpful, really. Stay safe out there, folks. Jesus sends his love.”

  “Get back to me when Jesus sends some heart medication,” grumbled a man in way too many layers for the May heat.

  “Jessica!” Jesus said excitedly.

  “You two hosting parties now?” she asked, watching the woman at the back of the line check the coke machine’s change dispenser on her way down the stairs.

  Jeremy answered. “It’s a focus group.”

  “Focus group?” She turned to him for further explanation, and Jesus provided.

  “As you’re aware, when I first took on this body, I was living on the streets. I quickly discovered that the treatment of homeless has gotten progressively worse over the last two millennia.”

  “I’m pretty sure Austin is one of the better locations in the country to be homeless.”

  “Even more horrifying!” Jesus said enthusiastically.

  Jess paused, vacillating between curiosity and a deep desire to lie down. For the moment, curiosity won out. “You’re a champion for the homeless now? Going to change the world … again?”

  He waved it off. “No, probably not. I find that your homeless—”

  “Not mine.”

  “—are a bit more unruly than they were in my time. I’ve been attempting to help them find their way, and they … they tell me to shut the H-E-C-K up.”

  “It was a party, then,” she said, “not a focus group. Wish you’d invited me.”

  Jesus’s mouth fell open, his eyes going wide as he placed a gentle hand on Jessica’s shoulder. “My sister, have I upset you? Am I the meanie?” He pressed a hand over his heart.

  Jessica cleared her throat. “No, no. I’m just kidding.” No point spurring an existential meanie crisis in Jesus Christ. She nodded to Jeremy. “I’ll let you two get back to it, then.”

  “Actually,” Jeremy said, “we could probably use your help, right Joshua?”

  Jessica rolled her eyes at Jeremy’s continued refusal to acknowledge that he was living with Jesus Christ. Not only did the angel deny his own heavenly station, he maintained that Jesus was simply confused. And yet, he continued to allow “Joshua” to live in his condo. Seemed incredibly unwise from Jeremy’s perspective.

  Jesus nodded. “Oh yes! We would love your help, sister. We just spent the last four hours feeding the
homeless while asking them a series of scientifically formulated questions about their daily treatment—”

  “Mostly feeding them,” Jeremy added factually.

  “And the next step to our campaign is to repeat the process except with people who hate the homeless. We would love it if you were a part of that.” Jesus grinned

  “Oh, um, no. I don’t hate the homeless.”

  “Your treatment of them says otherwise, sister.”

  “No way. Hating the homeless is just wrong. I don’t hate them. Sure, I’m not thrilled when they call me a stingy whore or take their penis out in front of me, but, you know, it’s just in-person practice for that rare occasion when I drunkenly log in to my Twitter account.”

  Jesus and Jeremy shared a patronizing glance.

  “Sure,” said Jesus.

  “Ooh!” Jeremy snapped his fingers then pointed at his roommate. “Tell her the slogan you came up with.”

  Could she just slip inside midway through this conversation? Would that be okay? Except now her interest was piqued. “Let’s hear it.”

  “Of course! That’s the most important part of this awareness campaign. I’ve been studying what you call marketing, and it seems that the quality of a product matters much less than the slogan.”

  Jessica waved for him to get on with it.

  Jesus bit his lip excitedly and planted his feet. “Treat every hobo like they might be Jesus.”

  OH, THAT’S NOT GONNA WORK.

  Finally, we agree on something.

  Jesus’s exultation melted as his shoulders slumped. “Daaaad! Why can’t you support me?”

  “You heard that too?” Jessica asked, though it was clear from the level of moping that he had. “I hate to say it, but he’s right. You’ll see once you spend a little more time in today’s world. But points for pronoun inclusiveness!” She thrust a forced grin at her brother.

  He nodded, his spirits starting to lift with the compliment. “Thanks for noticing. We’re all God’s children.”

  “Some more than others,” Jessica said. When Jesus looked up, she motioned to the two of them and he nodded.

  “Ahh, right.”

  Jeremy jumped in. “We’d better go air out the condo if we don’t want to suffer violent olfactory-induced nightmares. That’s how Tupac went, you know. Of course, no one will admit it.”

  “Tupac?” said Jesus. “I’m not familiar. Sounds like some sort of a prophet, though.”

  The men headed across the hall, and Jessica found her key finally.

  “He basically was,” Jeremy said. “But the smellmares got him.”

  Chapter Seven

  For someone who had never played quarterback, Quentin Jones could throw one hell of a spiral.

  And for someone who played three years of high school football for the state champions, Jessica caught the football like a fucking idiot.

  Despite being aware of that, the feel of the turf underneath her bare feet and the touch of the pigskin made her feel like she was miles away from the overwhelming and monotonous responsibilities of adulthood. Sure, being on the field meant work was simply going undone, but being on the field also meant she didn’t care. Those were all problems for future Jessica to handle.

  She caught Quentin’s perfect pass by cradling it against her body and leaning her head away, just in case the ball bounced out and took an unfavorable angle into her face again. They’d been at it for a half-hour now, and just like the other few times they’d met up after dark to blow off some steam, Jessica wondered why they didn’t make this a weekly thing.

  She lobbed the ball back to Quentin, and he caught her wobbly attempt at a spiral effortlessly. “How many women is it now?”

  He threw it back to her and she wrapped it up against her chest. “I think it’s six or seven. Not sure.”

  “They still hounding you about the dumbass photo?”

  She threw the ball and it soared over Quentin, even as it leaped into the air for it. “Sorry! No, Wendy, Cash, and my lawyer got that sorted out for me.”

  As he chased down the rogue throw, Jessica glanced over at the last two hopeful paparazzi on the bleachers, who stared, bored stiff, at their cell phones. One of them glanced up at her, but when it was obvious she wasn’t about to kick field goals, he looked down at his phone again.

  Quentin jogged over. “I think that’s about it for me today. Stretch and go get a burger?”

  “Sounds good. We easily burned like a hundred and fifty calories. Burgers are a little less than that, right?”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s right.”

  They sat on the grass, facing each other and began to stretch.

  Quentin reached for one of his feet and was only able to get a slight finger hold on his big toe.

  “Not bad,” Jessica said, unable to reach past her ankle as she attempted the same position.

  Quentin nodded at her. “Damn, Jess. I’m surprised you haven’t pulled a muscle kneading dough or whatever the hell y’all do over there.”

  She decided not to mention that she had pulled a muscle in her forearm doing just that. “Stretching is the farthest thing from my mind lately.”

  “We need to do this more often or else you’re going to end up in the hospital next time Chris comes in town.”

  “Is that why you’re so limber?” she asked. “You been staying fit with a lady friend?”

  It was clear, as the shadow moved across his face, that not enough time had passed for that. Quentin shook his head and fixed his attention on his outstretched leg. “Nah.”

  “Have you talked to her at all?”

  He shook his head. “You?”

  “Nope. She probably just needs a little time. Who knows? She could come around.”

  “She lives in the same city as us and she hasn’t said a word. You think she’ll come around once she’s in another state surrounded by a bunch of people who haven’t lied to her about me being an angel?” He whispered the last bit so the onlookers wouldn’t hear, but it was unnecessary. No one was paying any attention. Amateurs.

  “She loves you, though,” Jess said. “She’ll eventually understand.”

  Quentin moved into push-up position to stretch his calves. “I don’t know why you assume that. Just because two people are in love doesn’t mean it’ll work out.”

  When she didn’t respond, he looked up and added, “You and Chris are different.”

  “Of course we are,” she said, staring at her hands as they clutched her touching toes in butterfly position. “I’m not worried about it.”

  “Right. You shouldn’t be.”

  “Good, because I’m not.”

  “Okay then. When was the last time you hit him up?”

  “You’re an asshole,” she said.

  Quentin laughed and let his knees fall to the turf. “What?”

  “You’re trying to point out that Chris and I hardly ever talk anymore.”

  Rather than responding right away, Quentin sighed and pulled his knees through, leaning back on his butt. “You’re right.” He chewed his lips for a moment, avoiding her eye. “You got me.” When he looked up, there was an uncharacteristic seriousness to his eyes.

  She didn’t trust it.

  He continued, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you ever since high school. Our fake break-up crushed me, and all I’ve wanted is to see you ditch that Riley creep so we can start fake dating again.”

  Jessica laughed. “God, you’re an idiot.”

  Quentin jumped to his feet. “That’s how I make the big bucks in tech.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “I literally can’t stop you from it without violence.”

  “Great. Do you think Miranda was just tired of being my friend and looking for an excuse to break up with me?”

  He immediately squatted to be on eye level. “What?” He laughed as he said it.

  “I mean, do you think she was tired of being overlooked because everyone was always focused on
me?”

  To his credit, he thought about it before answering, and Jessica waited in suspense. Then he said, “I could see a lot of people feeling that way, but not Miranda.”

  The relief was immediate. He was the only person who knew Miranda better than her. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I guess some people need recognition from others to drive them, but that’s not her. She does what she does because it matters to her, not because she thinks it’ll please the right people. Have you been worrying about that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Shit. That’s awful. No, I never sensed any genuine jealousy from her about you and your life.”

  Jessica laughed dryly. “Why would she? If anyone should be jealous of anyone else’s life, it’s me of hers.”

  “I agree. Your life sucks.”

  She snapped her head up to blink at him.

  “What? Wasn’t that what you wanted to hear? Hey, I got an idea. Let’s give the paparazzi a new photo to circulate around instead of that one with you and Jimmy.” He grabbed the football off the ground. “I’ll hold.”

  She stood as well, wiping stray pieces of grass from her ass. “Sure. Start small or go big?”

  He looked over at them. “They’re not paying attention. Go big. They’ll near about poop themselves when they think they missed their one shot.”

  She laughed. “You’re smarter than you look, Quentin.”

  “And act.”

  And the two of them jogged over to midfield to set up the field goal kick.

  Chapter Eight

  Jessica didn’t bother to unhook her bra, and Chris didn’t bother to do it for her. The mist of the dense and quiet forest was chilly, anyhow; not the best climate to bust out the nips.

  Chris continued with his story. “After the morning workout, we were supposed to have lunch catered, but there was some mix-up and the food didn’t arrive, so Coach called the place and they said they didn’t have an order for a hundred and fifty cheesesteaks. It was such a disaster. So, I ended up going to burgers with Montopolis and Santino, but by the time we got there, the line was so long that—”