Page 49 of Even After Sunset

Still, these last two days have been… okay. It’s been different—just getting away from people who either can’t stand me or just see me as some sort of bad-ass party-favor.

Jax drives me crazy. But there have been moments when I’ve remembered what it’s like to be more than just a holding tank for my nightmares. And I know I shouldn’t trust this feeling that maybe I could find a way to escape for a few hours a day without all those crutches: the parties, the girls… the liquor. I sure as hell don’t deserve it. Especially not from her.

So even though I have no right to resent her, I kind of do. I can’t stand the way she looks at me, like she’s studying me to find a hint of some gem hidden beneath the surface of my shitty personality. I have no idea how long it’ll take for her to figure out there isn’t one. This is who I am now: any glint or sparkle that might have existed back when she knew me rusted over years ago. And now it’s a full-time job just keeping those pieces from completely crumbling altogether.

And I don’t hate Jackie for trying to fix me. I hate that shewantsto. Because if she knew the truth; if I had the balls to tell her the truth, that hopeful smile would fall from her lips in a heartbeat and she would come at me with claws unfurled. She would tear me limb from limb. Utterly destroy me. And I would have it coming.

I’d probably be relieved.

One of these days, I will let her. One day when I’m feeling too angry or guilty or even just too beat down from dragging these lies around everywhere I go, I will give her the ammunition she needs to stop feeling so goddamn guilty for the fact that she has a life now that is a hundred times better than the one she had back when we were friends.

“Oh my gosh!” she exclaims, pulling me from my thoughts. “No freaking way!No freaking way!”

I lower my phone.

“What’s up?”

It’s her happy voice. I think. But it’s hard to be sure with this new version of Jackie who is upbeat about almost every situation.

“I sold three covers, and I got a request for two custom covers!Custom covers… omigosh this is so cool!”

She beams at me like I’m going to share in her excitement, only I have no idea what she’s talking about. Also, I’m not the kind of guy who jumps up and high fives at the first sign of good news.

When I still don’t react, she turns her laptop around to face me. “I set up an account on this website called CreateHire. I started designing book covers… and I—”

“You design book covers?”

“Yeah. See? I just started a few weeks ago. I designed these fantasy covers, and I put them up for sale on CreateHire three days ago. And then today, two people requested custom projects!”

Her voice gets higher on the last couple of words and I can’t help smiling. It’s impressive as hell, to be honest.

“You designed those?”

She nods. “Yup. And I said I could design custom covers for more money. Like if someone has a book they’re publishing and they have a specific cover idea in mind, or they want something totally unique or whatever, I’ll design it for them at a higher cost.”

I lean in, clicking on one of the images. “Holy shit. How did you learn to do this? Did you take classes or something?”

“I taught myself online. Photoshop.” She’s still beaming. “I love it so much… it’s the coolest program. It’s so powerful. I mean, it’sinfinite. And overwhelming and hard, but yeah, also really awesome.”

She has to take a breath after that last sentence. I’ve never seen her so jazzed about anything. To be fair, I haven’t seen her in over seven years. But still. She’s lit right up. It’s sort of cool to see.

“That’s really amazing.”

“Thanks.” She suddenly looks bashful. “Sorry. That was kind of over the top. It’s just—”

“No,” I cut her off. “Don’t apologize. You should be happy.”

I get up when I notice a couple of girls approaching the camper. I glance at my phone: it’s ten minutes past two. I reach over and slide the order window open, then peer over my shoulder at Jackie as I flip the turquoise sign toOpen.

“Work on the covers,” I tell her. “I’ll man the window.”

Jax looks shocked. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m being nice, or because she’s horrified at the thought of trusting me with customers. And money.

“Oh my gosh Silas, no. You don’t have to do that! I’ll work on them tomorrow afternoon or something.”

“I don’t mind,” I say. And then to the customers now standing at the window, I turn and say: “Hey. How can I help you?”

I don’t sound anywhere close to the level of cheeriness I’ve seen Jackie use to greet her customers, but I sound polite at least.

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