With a frown, Jack said, “I can’t dress myself?”
“I never said that,” Carla protested. “You do whatever you want.”
Black, white, grey, and sometimes navy were the only colorsJack ever purchased, which meant that his clothes usually matched, no matter what he wore. Nice and simple.
He eyed the green polo skeptically. He’d always been told he looked good in blue. That it brought out his eyes.
Fuck it. When was the next time he’d have an opportunity to wear green? So what if he looked like a fir tree for a day?
“Fine,” he said. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I always am,” said Carla, waggling her eyebrows.
“I very much doubt that,” said Jack. After selecting a pair of jeans that looked like they might fit, he ducked into the bathroom.
A chandelier glittered over a bathtub wide enough to fit two people, complete with jets and multiple faucets, meticulously sculpted. Spotless marble countertops and floors glittered. The toilet was so white as to be blinding; he wondered if anyone had ever used it before.
Jack sprayed cologne on his wrist and immediately regretted it. The scent was overpowering, with chemical notes that reminded him of a hospital. Even after washing his hands up the elbows, it still clung to him.
Whatever.
He left the bathroom feeling a little more normal, a little more relaxed. After nearly a month trapped in the pinstriped suit, he never wanted to see it again.
“Feel better?” Carla asked. “You look like you feel better.”
“Maybe a little bit,” Jack admitted.
“Good,” said Carla, admiring her handiwork. “Now, let’s get back to that list.”
Under Thingsthat Didn’t Work, Carla scribbled,
1) Death
2) Leaving (up to 300 miles distance)
3) Staying up all night
4) Prayer
5) Dumping Ronnie
Jack stared at the last option in shock. “You dumped your boyfriend?”
Carla gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I thought it was worth a shot. Didn’t matter. It was a complete shitshow and I still woke up next to him the next morning.”
Jack opted not to ask about that and just nodded sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Now I know hownotto break up with him if this stupid loop ever ends.”
“You still want to break up with him?”
“Yes, idiot!” Carla cried, dropping the pen onto the desk with a clatter. She glared at him. “I’ve told you like seven times! I don’t want to be here. I didn’t want to come here in the first place. I tagged along because I didn’t know how to dump him.”
“I take it you can’t just break up with a mob boss.” Jack shuddered, imagining a life spent hiding from mobsters. Constant name changing, a new disguise every week, a new city every day…
If he wasn’t careful, that might soon become his life.
“It’s not because he’s the boss,” Carla groaned. She shoved a lock of hair behind her ear. “And no, I can’t just dump him. Are you kidding? But it’s not because he’s a mobster. It’s because he’s anasshole.” She slammed her hands on the desk and Jack, still half-expecting to find a gun pointed at his head, jumped.
