“Maybe,” said Boris with a noncommittal shrug. “Can you fuck off?”
“Sure,” said Jack reflexively. A burst of shame followed. He was always too eager to accommodate. Too quick to try to remove himself from any unpleasant situation. Too fast to assume that he was the problem when he clearlywasn’t.
Heknewall of this, but he couldn’t stop fucking doing it.
But there was no point in standing up to Boris. He wouldn’t remember tomorrow. Probably wouldn’t change even if he did. To Boris, Jack was just another loser in a revolving door of people he’d never see again.
A loser that he wanted to fuck, apparently.
“Are there other guests here?” asked Jack abruptly, rapping his knuckles on the edge of the counter.
Boris made a face. “Yeah, of course.”
“It’s just that I haven’t seen very many.”
“You just got here last night,” Boris pointed out.
“Still, though,” mused Jack.
“You spent all of ten minutes in the lobby.”
“Does anyone else work here?” Jack demanded, too annoyed to be polite any longer.
“Yeah,” said Boris. “Owner and cleaning staff. And Louey, but he only comes in on weekends.” He leaned onto his elbows. “You wanna see the manager? Think that’s gonna go well for you?”
“No,” Jack said. “I was just curious if one existed.”
“Iamthe manager,” said Boris, a little too pleased with himself. “Can’t help you, won’t help you.”
“That’s really reassuring,” scoffed Jack. “Who works nights?”
“Me,” said Boris, eyebrows drawing together.
“And you work mornings?”
“Yup.”
“Sounds exhausting. Do you ever go home?”
“Uhhh…” said Boris in lieu of an answer.
“Right. Doesn’t sound like it, honestly.”
Boris’s eyes narrowed. “What’s it to you?”
“I just think it’s a little odd, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh,” said Boris, lifting his magazine, then folding it like he was about to swat away a pesky persistent fly. “Like I said earlier, fuck off.”
Jack exhaled. “Gladly.”
The phone didn’t ring. He waited for hours, chewing on his lip, thinking of at least a dozen better things he could be doing. Still, he stayed, with only the newspaper for company.
Who was looking for him? Boris said the caller was a woman. Jack’s mother would’ve asked after him by name. So would the neighbor. Or Kathy. Or anyone whowouldcall for him, really.
Had this person called before? Vaguely, he recalled an afternoon when the phone rang and he’d ignored it, assuming it must be Dan, ready to berate him.
Well, if it happened again, he’d be sure to answer.
