Page 1 of Time Served in New York
1.
PANDORA
“You know planes have a weight limit, right?” Marler asked me from where he sat on the couch as he watched me sort and organize the clothes and shoes the girls wanted to take. “What you’ve got there on the table is enough for all of us to wear for six weeks without having to do any laundry.”
I held up a cropped hoodie in one hand and a pair of ripped skinny jeans in the other before I tilted my head and said, “I don’t know that these are really your aesthetic, but you can try them if you want.”
Marler raised his eyebrows in question. “Do you think you’ll have enough room for our clothes somewhere?” I looked at the coffee table and saw a stack of jeans beneath a stack of t-shirts with a pile of underwear on top of folded socks next to miniature versions of the same. “Jared and I could fit our shit into two plastic shopping bags and still have room for our toiletries.”
I let out a sigh as my head fell back. I studied the ceiling for a second as my mind raced. “I haven’t even gotten to that part yet.”
“I’ve never been to a hotel that doesn’t give you shampoo, soap, and lotion.”
I lifted my head and stared at him as I thought of all the products me and the girls would need for our hair and faces along with the tools we used everyday. “That stuff isn’t even . . . Just no, Marler.”
“So we find a drugstore and buy some little bottles of your stuff when we get there. Easy peasy,” he said with a shrug.
“That’s not all we’re taking for Jared . . . or you, for that matter.”
“Yeah, it is. We’re men, Pandora. Simple creatures who don’t need much . . .”
“You need deodorant.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that one, but we could buy that at a pharmacy too.”
“Do you know what the average temperature in New York City is during the month of December?” Marler shrugged. “It’s in the 40s. That’s why the girls packed their winter clothes instead of t-shirts.”
“That was only half a shirt you held up a second ago,” Marler pointed out. “Do their stomachs not get cold?”
“You were nice enough to pack Jared’s things along with yours, and I appreciate that. However, a stack of t-shirts that Stamp has collected for him in his travels isn’t really . . .”
“Well, that’s what I’m wearing, and you think it’s cute to make him all matchy-matchy and shit, so . . .”
“Marler, I swear I am going to . . .” Our argument was interrupted when the phone rang, and I snatched it up from the table as I glared at Marler while I tried to remember at least one thing I loved about him. When I glanced at the screen and saw it was Jenn calling, I greeted her with, “I hope to God you remember how to run the backhoe because we’re gonna have to bury a body in about 10 minutes.”
“Make that two,” Jenn complained. “The man put his shit in the suitcase and then slid it across the bed and said, ‘That’s all the space you’ll need, right?’”
“And then you killed him, huh?”
“I can’t even fit the shoes I want to take in the space that’s left!”
“Did he actually pack a coat or does he have a pile of jeans and t-shirts too?”
“Fuck. I never even considered the cold. That changes everything,” Jenn groaned.
“Do I own a coat?” Marler asked as he stared at me with his head tilted.
“Does Boss own a coat?” Jenn asked at the same time.
“We don’t leave until the day after tomorrow,” Marler complained. “Can’t we do this shit tomorrow night?”
“Let me call Paula and see what she’s taking,” Jenn said.
“I’ll call Frankie and see how much space we actually have for luggage. Between us and the Ares women, we may need a cargo plane just for our bags.”
“Text me after you talk to her,” Jenn instructed before she hung up.
I hit the button to speed dial Frankie and then put it on speaker before I set the phone down and listened to it ring. She finally answered.
