Page 12 of Caged
The next few weeks passed quickly. I was still working two jobs, trying to dig myself out of the financial hole that leaving my ex had created. At some point Jonathon convinced me that we should have a joint bank account for household and shared expenses, and when I left him after he hit me, the first thing he did was drain all the money out of that account.
When I went to the bank, they told me that there was nothing they could do, a joint account meant that he had equal access to the money. Since I’d been putting my entire paycheck into the joint account, I was left with the couple hundred dollars I had in my individual savings account.
I was such an idiot. I’d heard the advice that women should always have their own money in case of an emergency, but I hadn’t listened.
Sarah had offered to let me stay in her apartment for free until I got back on my feet, but there was no way I was going to take advantage of my friend like that. I insisted on subletting. I had a sneaking suspicion that she was undercharging me for the rent, but I didn’t want to look at that too closely. Not right now when I had a car payment, student loan payments, and a bunch of credit cards I needed to pay.
Unfortunately, even with working two jobs, I had zero cash left to do anything fun, like go to Club Surrender.
Jonathan would have never understood my going to a place like that, so I’d lied and told him that I was going to a book club meeting whenever I went to the club. I’d only been there twice since the break-up. I’d already purchased a ticket for the rope demo before I left Jonathan, and then I got that pass from Skye the second time.
Right now, I couldn’t afford to waste a single dollar on anything that didn’t help me get out of the financial mess I was in.
When I came back into the bar after we talked at the picnic table, Skye was seated at a table in my section. I thought she’d try to talk to me some more, but instead she acted like I was any other waitress, other than the way her eyes followed my every move. She ordered a Manhattan and a basket of fries, lingered over them for a while, then took off, leaving me a one hundred dollar bill as a tip.
Over the next few weeks we went through the same routine. Skye came every Wednesday night after work, sat at the same table, ordered the same drink and fries, then left me a crisp one hundred dollar bill as a tip.
Other than small talk, we didn’t say too much. She didn’t ask me any personal questions or suggest we get together. Often, I was the only waitress on the floor and didn’t have time to talk. But I felt her eyes on me, watching me carefully. It should have been creepy, but in actuality it felt kind of comforting, like she was watching out for me.
One Wednesday, about a month after the picnic table conversation I was coming out of my day job at a marketing company when I heard someone call my name. My ex-boyfriend Jonathan was leaning against the building, looking more haggard than I’d ever seen him. Normally he was well dressed, clean shaven, without a hair out of place. Today he was wearing ratty old jeans and sporting at least a few days’ worth of scruff on his chin, his eyes ringed by dark circles.
I tamped down the ingrained urge to take care of him.
“Janie.”
“What are you doing here Jonathan? I would have thought the restraining order would have made it clear that I didn’t want you anywhere near me.”
He stepped closer, and I held up my hand. “Don’t think I won’t call the cops on you, because I will.”
“I need you to call off your people,” he said aggressively, although his eyes looked a little wild.
“What are you talking about?”
“C’mon Janie. My car gets repossessed, I get fired from my job for being a liability after someone sends them a copy of the restraining order and dozens of texts between us, the County comes to the house and seizes my cat saying I don’t have a license, my cell phone is forwarded to a sex chat line, and now I have a computer virus which ruined my hard drive and emptied my bank account. I get it. You’re angry with me, but enough is enough.”
I frowned in confusion. “You’ve made a lot of enemies I’m sure, maybe it was one of them.”
“I know that was you. It had to be.” He glared at me like he wished he could incinerate me with his eyes. “Look, I’m sorry you made me so mad that I hit you one damned time, but you don’t have to ruin my life over it.”
That was textbook Jonathan. The problem always was that I’d done something to make him behave a certain way, he never took responsibility for anything. I felt a surge of anger at both of us. Him for being such an asshole, and myself for putting up with it.
“To be clear, you did way more than hit me,” I said firmly.
Jonathan’s fingers were twitching like he was dying to come at me, but with the crowd of people walking by on the sidewalk, he didn’t dare do it.
“Whatever is happening now, you can blame karma, not me. I’ve moved on, and I suggest you do the same.”
He shoved a shaking finger in my face and growled in a menacing voice. “Call. Off. Your. Dogs.”
When my ex-boyfriend stormed off, I sat on one of the steps leading up to my office and took several deep breaths. What was Jonathan going on about? I hadn’t shared the restraining order with anyone, although those kind of things were easy to get copies of since they were public record.
But tapping into phone records and creating elaborate viruses, that seemed like it would take a criminal mind. Or someone who had the money to fund a criminal mind. A vision of those hundred dollar bills that Skye left for me every week flashed through my mind. I remembered Sarah saying something about how Skye had an important job, although I couldn’t remember exactly what it was.
“I will ruin him.” Skye’s words a few weeks ago played on repeat in my head.
Surely it wasn’t her? There was only one way to find out...
Skye hadn’t even sat down at her usual table that night before I strode over and grabbed her wrist.
