Esme Chapter 3 free porn video

Thanks to everyone at Transcripts TG Fiction for all their support and help. Even that ditzy maid! Chapter 3 The thunder lit up the sky outside. Even against the backdrop of New York, it was impressive. Nothing man could ever build and all that. Moments later, the rain came. Esme felt relieved, she could feel the humidity and the heat dropping. She lay awake thinking, unable to empty her mind. The sun had already dried their stoop when the girls left for work the next morning. Only the odd patch of water in random shadows told the tale. At least the humidity had broken, even if it was still hot. Freya talked about work, who was up and who was down. She knew she should be listening but her mind wandered. She thought of Jay's car, watching him drive. That serious expression, his eyes rarely leaving the road. The other women in the office were all wearing skirts and light summer dresses. Esme was in a t-shirt and shorts. One of the perks of being a journalist was not having to worry about your appearance. The same men who wrote copy about a young actress's 'weight gain' or 'costume malfunction' would think nothing of wearing the same food stained shirt for a third day running. She sat on one of the sofas in the 'ideas' space. It was close to one of the ACs and gave her a good view of MM's office. Freya had told her to watch who went in and out, that it'd help her get her break if she knew who the movers and shakers were. She was getting an idea of who Freya had meant, but still had no concept of how to approach any of them. Looking up from her article on New York's aging water supply system, she saw Jay and Freya entering the office. Funny, she thought, Freya hadn't mentioned anything at breakfast. Something must have come up. She kept glancing up, peeking through the glass walls of the office. She could see MM striding around and Freya sat in a chair. Jay was leaning against the wall, his face turned away from her. It killed her not to know what was being said. In the fifteen minutes the meeting lasted, she had written and rewritten the same sentence four times. She could tell it was over because Freya had stood up and Jay was moving towards the door. Whenever Freya finished a meeting with MM, she always headed outside for a smoke. It was the only time she smoked, but she did it every time. Esme put down her MacBook and scooted out into the corridor. She would claim to be coming back from the toilet and then probe her for details. She stood around nervously for a few minutes watching the glass door. Then it swung open, but it wasn't Freya. "Hey." Jay's smile was broad and unselfconscious. He seemed genuinely pleased to see her and she couldn't help but smile back. He wore a short sleeved, blue button down shirt, the top two buttons left open. Her eyes followed the way it sat on his shoulders. As a teenager, she had distrusted her desire and had willed herself to look away. She tucked her left foot behind her right leg, scratching at an itch that wasn't there. "Erm, hi," she pointed behind herself, "I'm, er, just coming back from the loo..." she trailed off. She couldn't look him in the eyes, instead focussing on floor. "Thanks for the news flash." His smile grew larger. They stood there looking at each other, neither speaking. Then the elevator pinged and, like Pavlov's dogs, they both looked. A short blonde woman stepped out of the elevator, wearing a short print black dress and round sunglasses that looked like something out of a music video from 1989. Jay smiled broadly. "Hey, Patty!" 1989 smiled and held out a tripod, which Jay took. She gave him a hug, "Thanks for the loan, kiddo. You saved my ass." Esme looked at 1989's hands. They were so porcelain white that they made Esme feel diverse. She noted how relaxed they seemed with each other. She had to fight down her instinct to put herself between the two of them. 1989's eyes turned to her. "And who is this?" Jay looked embarrassed. Had he been caught out, was this his other woman? "This, Patty, is Esme," he recovered. She could feel her heart pounding. "The Esme," the emphasis on the The. Patty flicked down her sunglasses, peering at her. She stuck out a hand. "Jay can't stop talking about you!" Esme dumbly took her hand, not sure what she was doing. "A little, I've talked about her a little." Jay had turned red. Right then, Esme could have kissed her. Patty took her by the arm, turning her slightly away from Jay. "So how was your first visit to Western PA? Did Jay make you eat scrapple?" Esme picked up on an accent hidden deep below Patty's New Yorker front. "No," he said, still blushing. He regained his composure, sort of. "Patty and I went to the same high school. She moved here about a year before I did." Jay explained. "He was a scrawny thing back then. Hair just a mass of curls." Esme couldn't stifle a giggle. She could visualise the gangly teenager. "But, anyway. Jay, Pete wanted me to remind you it's the opening tonight," Patty turned again to Esme. "Our friend is in an exhibition at 11R. You totally have to come!" Patty beamed at both of them. It was Esme's turn to go red. "Erm, I'm not sure," she looked to Jay who seemed equally as bamboozled. "I don't want to ruin Jay's night out with his mates." "Mates!" Patty seemed apoplectic with delight. "You're right," she looked at Jay, "that accent is amazing." Esme sighed. She was used to Americans treating her way of speaking as if it was a party trick she brought out especially for them. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind," Jay, who seemed a couple of minutes behind the girls, muttered. "Well, then that's it. I'll see you both outside at seven." She smiled at Esme, looked at Jay and then looked back at Esme. "I am so happy I finally got to meet you," and then she walked off. Esme had to wait a further forty minutes for Freya to leave MM's office. She Googled scrapple and got nauseous. Freya came out. "Sorry, the old man has me doing everything." They went downstairs and outside the service entrance, the only place Freya could smoke. She laughed. "You know you were set up right?" she said, taking a long drag off her cigarette. "No," she said, looking down. "I mean I don't think so. It was all coincidence. I mean how could she know that he'd be in there and I'd be on the couch and..." Freya smiled. "If you weren't, she would've found an excuse to find you. It's fairly obvious he's been talking about you. She wanted to see you for herself." Esme huffed as she contemplated the low cunning of her own sex. "But I can't go like this," she motioned down to her black t-shirt and shorts. "It's a fancy opening. I look like Stig of the Dump." "Who?" "It's a children's book. A time travelling cave man found in a municipal tip. It's not important. The point is neither he nor I should be at an opening." She rolled her eyes. "Oh please. They will eat you up," she said, looking Esme up and down while Esme stared dumbly at the floor. "'Stig of the Dump,'" she said, imitating the accent. "they'll love that. That and the whole pale, interesting thing." Esme shifted uneasily as Freya looked at her legs. "Did you shave this morning?" Esme glared, embarrassed at having been caught. "You must have noticed the guys in the office checking them out." She hadn't. She felt like squatting down to cover up. She'd have to waddle around for the rest of the day like a duck. "Look, do you want to see Jay?" "Yes, but," again she could look anywhere but at her friend's face. "not with his mates. That Patty woman terrifies me. Isn't it too soon anyway? What next, tea with his mum?" She'd spent most of the morning trying to think of excuses for the two of them to hang out, but the friends cancelled that out. "First, tea in Western Pennsylvania? Uh, no. Second, these are friends, not family. Third, if you like him," and Esme blushed. "Since-" and she emphasized 'since,' with a big smile. "You like him, you're going to have to get to know his friends. Do you think I care about football? But I did it for when I was hanging out with Jason's friends." "You know me. I'm not good in groups. I can do one to one, with people I like... over time... maybe." Freya cupped her cheeks. "Aww, my little kitten is growing up. Just ask them lots of questions about Jay and watch him squirm all night." She smiled more genuinely this time. She liked the sound of that. --- The opening had been packed. She'd had to hold Jay's hand so as to not get lost in the crowd. Now, walking to the restaurant, they stayed linked together. Their bare arms brushing together. Patty kept glancing back at them smiling. Esme both wanted to crawl under one of the parked cars to hide, and didn't want it to end. Pete, one of the exhibiting artists and Patty's, well, she wasn't sure what he was, was a quiet man. He didn't speak often, but when he did it seemed well considered and sincere. Esme, having neither the talent nor the desire for small talk, respected that. "You'll love this place. They do classic junk food - cheeseburgers, hot dogs, fluffernutter - but tapas style. Have you been?" Patty's voice was high and light. Esme shook her head, afraid to speak for fear of. Sounding stupid? Sounding British? The restaurant was dark. On the walls were old beer signs. In the corner was a vintage Elton John 'Captain Fantastic' pinball machine around which three twenty-somethings in expensive suits with ties off stood. It was clearly designed to look like a 'dive bar.' Looking at the clientele, you knew it was anything but. Jay looked at Patty and laughed. "Looks like Nagy's." Patty laughed. "Totally. I know the owners. If Nagy knew how much they paid for this, he'd sell the place and move it here." "He'd sell Margaret for that. Remember that time with Steve and that guy," and they went into some story about what she presumed was a night in Uniontown. Esme looked at both of them, lost in their reverie and turned to Pete. "I loved your photos," Esme had to shout to be heard over the noise. She was a quiet speaker by nature. Not an advantage in New York. "Thanks." Pete smiled lazily. He'd been working right up until the start of the opening, and had pulled several late nights over the week. A couple of free glasses of wine later and he was pleasantly buzzed. "So when are you two next in PA?" Patty asked excitedly. With her glasses gone, she had a pleasantly round face. "Not until MM OK's the budget," Jay said. "The family asking for much?" Pete said before taking a sip of his beer. Esme and Jay exchanged glances. "Not really." Jay leaned in conspiratorially. "Don't tell anyone." "Not even my friend Freya, if, when, if you meet her," she interjected. She surprised herself by how much she wanted them to meet Freya. "Not even Freya." Jay placed his hand down on the table so that his little finger crossed hers. "But the family hasn't asked for any money. Esme's trying to butter MM up to help them out." "Well it was Jay's idea really." Esme suddenly found the menu incredibly interesting. "A right pair of Robin Hoods you are," Pete laughed. Patty lay her hand on his shoulder. "Please don't do that accent again," suddenly Esme's champion. The food came. They had ordered mini cheeseburgers, fried chicken sandwiches and something called fluffernutter sandwiches. When Jay suggested it, Esme said, 'peanut butter and marshmallow spread? And people eat this? Willingly?' Jay and Patty laughed. "Did they serve this on Fridays at St. Mike's, Jay?" He laughed. "Yup. That or fish sticks. Except during Lent. St. Al's?" "No," she said, laughing. "I asked because I was curious about the menu." She turned to Esme. "Catholic school. St. Michael's and St. Aloysius. We both went to Catholic grammar school. Different parishes." Esme smiled, appreciating the effort on her part. "Anyway, no meat on Fridays, so you could have fish sticks, or," and she held up the fluffernutter on white bread, "this." Esme took it and turned it around, this way and that. "And you chose this? And you all think Marmite is disgusting," she said, laughing and hoping they got the joke. She ate with trepidation, afraid of dropping anything on her shirt. She wished there had been something she could have eaten with a knife and fork but knew that wasn't an option. She remembered how the press had got on Mayor Di Blasio for eating pizza with a fork. She wished Freya was here to translate, to help. She decided to go back to Pete. "How did you choose mermaids?" Pete's photos had been taken in what looked like suburban swimming pools. They showed various women, and one or two men, from children right through to the retired, in mermaid costumes. He smiled. "Haven't you heard? Mermaid swimming lessons are the new craze. Mermaids are the new unicorns." Esme smiled. "There's something really magical about mermaids, I mean the photos. Especially the ones where they're floating in the water." She took a bite of her cheeseburger. "It started as an article for a lifestyle magazine. Just something throw away. But it just hooked me. The idea of being able to literally transform yourself. The idealism meeting consumerism. Freedom, but only if you can afford it." She glanced over at Patty. She could tell she'd won points by engaging Pete. Then she remembered what Freya had said. She turned to Patty. "So you two go back to high school," she said, moving her hand between Jay and Patty. "How did you and Pete meet?" "Undergrad. At Carnegie Mellon." She noticed the way that she pronounced it. Car-Nay-Gie, the Scottish style. Not Car-nuh-gie, like people in New York did. "Actually, that's where I met Jay. Pete introduced us, sort of." Pete leaned forward conspiratorially. "It's all his fault." He jokingly hid his finger as he pointed at Jay. He spoke with his mouth half full. "Anyway-" Patty hit him. "Pete ran this sci-fi film society at school. One day, this dorky little 11th grader shows up, trying to look cool in his Nirvana t-shirt and jeans so baggy you could see his boxers. Fresh from his Dungeons and Dragons club." Jay put down his food. "I was never in the Dungeon and Dragons club," he said, blushing. Esme hid her smile by taking a sip of her beer, only it backfired and she ended up dribbling a little on her chin. She came to his defence. "there's nothing wrong with it. I was." It had been a safe place to hide during break. Patty clapped in delight. "You had to be the Queen of Dungeons and Dragons! I bet all the little geeks were horny for you," she glanced over at Jay. "Just like now." She kept her eyes on her food, but she was smiling. "I wouldn't say that exactly." She always got stuck as a female elf, which at least was better than a princess. "think more like braces and oversized glasses." "Oversized glasses?" Jay asked. "Dad thought I'd grow into them." She never did. "Anyway," she said, to try and deflect attention. "so this curly haired geek," she looked at Jay, put her hand on his and smiled. "shows up. How do we end up here?" Patty laughed. "So, he shows up to see, I think, 'Escape from New York'..." "Blade Runner," Jay said, "it was Blade Runner. If you're going to embarrass me, do it right." Patty rolled her eyes. "Fine, Blade Runner. Anyway, so this geek shows up at Blade Runner..." Pete interrupted her. "Anyway, so after the movie, we all head over to the 'O'," Esme assumed that this was some sort of bar. "and Jay here tags along. And somehow these two yinzers put two and two together and figure out they're both from Uniontown..." From the way Pete interrupted her, she assumed that there was something between them. Esme was afraid to ask what a yinzer was, thinking it was some sort of slur. "Excuse me, I'm confused. You went to the same high school but only met at the film society?" Jay said, "It was a big school." Patty smiled and put her hand on Jay's. Esme resisted the urge to rip it off. "Please. He was two years younger than me. There is no way I would have associated with him, especially with that mop," she said, rubbing his head. She smiled. "Anyway, after two years at Carnegie Mellon, I run away to New York, to NYU. Four years later, guess what washes up at my door, acne all cleared up..." Jay put his hand on Esme's and gave it a squeeze. Patty grinned. "But, you don't care about that." Esme felt the spotlight turn on her. She knew that Patty would press her for details. "Tell us about you, Esme. Where are you from?" "Near Manchester." "Have you ever been to the Star and Garter?" Pete asked. 'Thank you,' Esme thought. 'Thank you. Thank you.' "Of course," she said, with what she hoped was not noticeable relief. "I went there all the time as an undergrad...." ----- Jay walked with her to the L train. "So," Esme said, not sure of what else to say. Jay smiled. "You survived. Did you have a good time?" He moved towards her. She stumbled backwards a little, leaning up on the railing to the steps. "They're nice, your friends..." She balanced one leg against the rail. He looked down. "Why do they know someone like me?" He put his hand on her knee. She made no effort to move. She put her hand on his shoulder. "No, not at all. They obviously care about you." He looked at her, with a half smile. "Isn't that what friends are supposed to do?" He leaned in and looked into her eyes. "We're both know that's not always true." She moved even closer, the tips of her breast brushing his lower chest. She leaned her head upwards to meet his lips. At 5ft 10, she liked that she had to. The first kiss didn't last long. The second one was longer. She could feel his hands on her hips pulling her closer. "Worth the wait?" she asked. "Meh," he said, smiling at her outrage, "we can do better." For the third kiss, she let him tip her back slightly. Walking down the steps she couldn't help turning back. He caught her looking and smiled. She got out of the train and saw a text from Freya. Freya: 'At Jason's.' Of course, when I need you, she thought. Not that I want you, but when I need you. A second text came in. F: 'So :-)?' Esme: 'So :-p :-)' She replied back, embarrassed at her girlishness, her girliness. F: "Who is she?' E: 'Friend. High school friend.' F: 'Friend? Or "friend?"' E: 'Hm,' she decided to tease her. F: 'Bad kitten.' E: 'Just friend.' F: 'Oh :-)" E: 'Yes, oh :-). Kissed. :-)' She could see Freya excitedly telling Jason, him rolling his eyes. F: 'Aw. And?' E: 'Good. Very good.' F: 'Good Kitten. Gotta go. Talk tomo. Xo.' Esme unlocked the door and smiled to herself. --- Esme sat at the kitchen table, her bare legs crossed underneath her. She was idly Googling Uniontown and the surrounding area, hoping to come across anything that would give her a lead. What she'd been finding was photos of people. Black and white pictures of bearded men standing in front of buildings long since gone. Facebook pictures of couples and families. All smiled out at her, none realising the future was looking back at them. This was getting her nowhere, she decided to change tack. She typed in 'biggest companies in Johnstown'. Halfway down the search results, she found a report by the local government and clicked on it. Scrolling down the list of company names, none jumped out at her. Plenty had various scandals attached to them, but it was hard to know where to start. What, if anything, would connect them to what had happened to Aiden and herself? She decided to search each name and see if any had connections to the North of England in the 1990s. The first five had little or nothing to do with the setting of her childhood, aside from having sold products in the area. The sixth, AWW Produce, was the same, only something caught her eye in the image section. A logo, a cartoon turkey she remembered from her childhood. She clicked on it. The Archer's Turkey, a great grinning bird happily inviting you it eat its own kind. She remembered the cartoon commercial that had aired on TV. It suggested that it was a great way for mum to get 'turkey goodness' into her kids. The actual turkey sticks and burgers were the sort of processed food kids loved, but kept parents up at night worrying. She wondered if you could get away with a commercial like that today? After a little research, she discovered that Archer's Turkeys had been bought up by AWW Produce, an agri-business giant in 2002. They used to have a processing plant in Shavington, on the outskirts of Crewe, that was shut shortly after the buyout. AWW had opened a plant near Uniontown about two years ago, which was a big deal and was covered extensively in the local paper. Not much of a link, but it was something. She looked up at the little clock on her computer screen, it was past 2am. Freya was at Jason's again. She'd tell her in the morning. She sat there staring at her phone. She could text Jay, he'd be asleep but he could read it in the morning. She typed out a quick message. E: 'Possible connection - AWW Produce in western PA - Archer's Turkeys in England. Could pollution be a cause?' She held her breath, then hit send. Immediately she felt like an idiot. She got up and rinsed her cereal bowl in the sink, headed to the bathroom and brushed her teeth. When she returned her, there was a reply and her heart leapt. J: 'Hey, Night Owl :-). Interesting, possibly. Have you emailed their press yet? We could tell them doing a piece on American agri-business. Ask to look around?' The glow of her laptop called to her. Suddenly she didn't feel so tired. E: 'Writing one now. I'll cc you in J' she paused for a moment, then added, 'x' It took her less than five minutes to find an email address. Crafting the email took longer. You had to hook press people into these things. They could sniff out bad publicity. After finishing she got into bed, placing her phone on the pillow next to her own. She hated girls who acted like that. Five minutes later, she got the reply she wanted. J: 'Nicely written. "we are looking into struggling communities and how gov red tape is hurting them". Now we wait. X" The texting kept going, as Esme tried to think of new ways to keep it going. Eventually it got too late. J: 'Shit, 3am! I need my beauty sleep. Go for a drink after work tomo? Xx' The next day went by slowly. "I don't see why you're so nervous," Freya told her at lunch. "It's a date." She used her fork to push her salad around the plate. "The two of you have gone out before. Why is it a problem now?" "We haven't been on a date. Our annoying friends invited us out with a group." Freya at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed. "Or he's been helping me out with a story," she took a deep breath. "What if we don't have anything to talk about?" Freya laughed, and then she must have caught the fear in Esme's eyes. "How long were you texting for last night?" "That's texting. You have time to think of a reply. Actually talking is different." "Well, I'm the first to acknowledge your fear of human contact," she said drily. "Thanks, it's appreciated." "But, it's not that different. You have plenty to talk about. Work, awesome friends who only want what's best for you." Freya was enjoying this. "And you're going for a drink. After a couple, you won't have a problem." She paused. "Just don't drink too fast." Esme took a bite of her food and tried to talk at the same time. "OK... mum!" "Hush. Now onto more important matters. What are you wearing?" Esme gestured at what she was already had on. "I saw that green dress sticking out of your bag," Freya smiled knowingly. The green dress was one Freya had insisted on her buying during a shopping trip a couple of months ago. Esme hated shopping. Too much time exposed in crowded public places set her nerves on edge. Freya however had started insisting on bimonthly trips as a clause in their friendship agreement. "It's too short. It's only a first date," Esme said nervously. "You sound ancient. 'First date'" Freya used a mock Victorian accent. "Has he presented his calling card in your parlor? Eh, it's too late for just a first date anyway. And it's not too short, it suits you." "No, it doesn't." Esme's voice was quiet. "Let me ask you one question," she said, looking down at her ankles. "You're wearing pantyhose under those jeans, aren't you?" "Oh... shut up!" "It's decided then. You're wearing the dress." Near the end of the working day, Esme changed in the women's toilets. Thankfully, Jay had been out on assignment all day so would be unaware of the effort she'd put in. She did however get the attention of Sal, who came over and talked to her for twenty minutes about a vaguely tech aspect of her recent article on western Pennsylvania. "We should do something together." She was sat on one of the sofas. He towered over her, leaning against the wall. "nNe went to tuck them under, which made him look her up and down that much more intently. She sat up straight and put both legs straight on the floor, tugging at her dress, willing it to be longer. "Maybe," she hated him, he was making her late, "let's run the idea past Freya," who she'd pre-warn to kill it. "We don't have to worry her, I'll bring it up with MM tomorrow." For some reason, MM loved Sal. She'd have to figure out another way to kill it. Just then her phone buzzed, Jay was waiting for her around the block. They had agreed to keep it all on the down low in the office. "Look, I've got to go. A friend is waiting for me." He just smiled. "Sure. Lucky guy. I'll see you tomorrow," he winked, actually winked. Then left. Esme felt a little nauseous. For a moment she thought about taking her clothes bag with her. On balance she figured it was too big and stuffed it in a locker. In the elevator, she tried to text Jay back, but there was no signal. There seemed to be people getting in and getting off at every floor. She could have killed the guy on 7 who held the door for his friend. Finally out in the lobby, she sent the text, even though she was now only five minutes away. "Did. you. get. my text," she panted. Jay gave her his easy smile. "No." He held up his phone for a moment. Then there was a ping. "There you are," he read the text. "Apparently you're running late. Oh, and Sal's a jerk." "All very true." She took his hand. "Now, where are you taking me?" The bar, Speakeasy, was in a basement on Rivington Street, on the Lower East Side. As they walked from the train, Jay took her hand and told her about the neighborhood. "This was where all immigrants came, when they got off the boat at Ellis Island," he said, pointing at the tenement buildings. " Everyone came through here. First, the Irish, then the Jews and Italians and then the Puerto Ricans and Dominicans. Then crack, then the artists and now the rich people," he said, pointing at an empty lot on which was sure to rise some glass monstrosity where one bedroom apartments went for millions. "You wonder how many of them had family here at one point. And now they pay through the nose." There were no signs announcing the bar and Jay had to press the intercom to get inside. There was a sign on the inside door saying 'no suits, no ties'. The bar itself looked like a set from Mad Men. Esme was glad Freya had made her wear the dress. It fit in much better than her jeans would have. The bartender who served them looked like a cross between a burlesque dancer and a vintage secretary. Jay asked her what her specialty was. She announced it as if on an audition which Esme assumed she was. "What are you thinking?" Jay showed Esme the list of possible cocktails. There were too many. "What do you recommend?" Jay looked at the bartender. "Two Royal Canadian Small Batch Old Fashioneds, thanks." They found seats near the back. The sides of the room was split into different booths with the centre left open with just a few tables. Very discreet, very cozy. The perfect place to impress your date. She sat down, legs together, pointing towards him. "So," she said. "Um, how was your day?" He laughed and teased her. "Fine dear. And yours? What happened with the kids today?" Esme couldn't look at him, instead staring at her fingers. "What are you so nervous about?" She picked at the end of a nail that was coming off, she wished she'd had the foresight to get them sorted earlier. "Relax," he said. "You look great." "Thank you," she said. He was wearing a button down shirt and jeans, like he did every day. "So do you." Then she laughed. "I didn't mean that. I mean I did but it's like when you take a cab to the airport and the cabdriver says 'have a good trip' and you say, 'you too.'" He leaned over and kissed her. Her mouth opened, allowing his tongue to probe hers. After a few seconds, he smiled. "Are you more relaxed now?" She leaned back in and kissed him, as his hand reached under her dress and rubbed her thigh. They broke the kiss and he said, "I'll take that as a yes." She smiled. "I just get nervous sometimes. I'm not the most social person, if you haven't noticed." "No," he said, with the requisite sarcasm. "This isn't social. This is us, Esme." "I know," she said, again unable to look at him, but holding his hand. "I'm just..." Just then, the waitress came over and with a huge grin said, "Can I freshen these up for you too?" "Yes, please," Esme said. "Two more, what was it, Royal Canadian Small Batch Old-Fashioneds," she said, looking at Jay. She longed for the days when people just drank. For drinks without 'muddled mint' and 'bruised ice.' The waitress left and Jay kissed her again, his hands rubbing her thighs and hers his. In the brief moments when they came up for air, Esme wondered what the rest of the bar was thinking about the couple groping each other in public. She thought how she had done it all the time with Max, but that was different. It was his bar and she was always dressed in jeans and a t shirt. Somehow here, with Jay, in a dress and pantyhose, she felt different, more exposed. After they finished their drinks, Esme stood up. She could feel the alcohol rush to her head. "Excuse me, I have to use the loo." Jay's smile was slightly lopsided from the drink. "What?" she said, feeling embarrassed. "Nothing. 'I have to use the loo,'" he said, in a mediocre impersonation of her accent. "The way you say it makes it sound so classy." She could tell he was buzzed, not drunk. "As opposed to?" "I gotta take a leak," he said, his accent coming on strong. "You're right," she said, kissing him again. "I do sound classier," and she went off. She came back to find Jay standing up. "What's up?" "I settled up the tab," he said. "Would you like to continue this at my place? I live on Second and C." She suddenly felt nervous. His place. She rarely went to their place, they came to hers. He must have picked up on it because he said, "I just thought...." She took a deep breath and thought, 'I can do this. We see each other at work. I can do this.' Then, she smiled nervously. "You thought right," she said. "Kiss me again." Like a scene in a bad film, they fumbled at his door, kissing violently while he took out his keys. He pushed open, and then closed the door, with his foot. She unbuttoned his shirt and then his pants. He pulled down her pantyhose. 'They're probably ruined,' she thought, then, 'who the fuck cares?' They went into his bedroom. He began kissing her neck, at her collarbone, which excited her. Out of nowhere, the mental image of her Adam's apple, the Adam's apple she would have had flashed through her mind. She turned around, offering the nape of her neck. He began kissing it and massaging first her breasts and then her thighs. He began fingering her clit, making her shudder. She could feel his erection poking her in the bum. She moaned and climbed onto the bed, on all fours. "Jay," she said, offering herself. He climbed onto the bed and flipped her over. "I was a wrestler when I was a kid," he said with a smile. "How about we do it this way first? I'd really like to see your face the first time..." She thought for a second. 'How would Freya get Jason to do what she wanted?' She smiled. "Are you sure?" she tried to purr, but ended up making herself cough. "I just thought..." He leaned over and kissed her again, hard. "Don't think," he said. "It only hurts the team." He reached into his nightstand and put on a condom. She squirmed slightly, knowing it was unnecessary. She dug her fingers into his back, willing herself to be in the moment. "Oh god," she yelled. "Oh god, oh god, oh god," she said. "Yes," she screamed, as she felt him shudder inside her, knowing that he had come. She hadn't. She was too nervous. "That...was...amazing," she lied. For a moment she wanted to cry, could she only get there the way she'd done it with Max? But, seeing the worried look in his eyes, she pulled herself together. He went to the bathroom, waddling slightly so the condom wouldn't fall off his now limp penis. She heard the toilet flush and he came back. He laid down and spooned her, his arm resting across her chest. "Not too bad, was it?" Esme smiled. "It was a solid first effort," she said. He laughed and flipped her over again with ease, which both horrified and excited her. He looked into her eyes. "A solid first effort, eh? Well, you'll love the second effort..." "Cocky, aren't you?" she said, smiling back. She looked into his eyes wishing she could know what was going on behind them. "What makes you think there's a second effort coming?" She was shocked when she heard the words leave her mouth. They made her feel, well, girly. He didn't say anything and she just smiled. She sat up and began looking for her dress. It was in the opposite corner of the room, where he had thrown it. "What are you looking for?" he said. "My dress." "Why?" "I just thought...I mean...us." She had never spent the night, at least not when she was sober enough to know. He smiled, patting the bed. "Relax," he said, taking his phone and setting the alarm. "We'll get up an hour early and go to your place so you can get a change of clothes." "Er, uh..." "Do you not want to stay?" he said, sounding hurt. She took a deep breath again. She thought of all the deep breaths she had taken that night and wondered if next was scuba diving. "No, no, I do. I didn't want to be presumptuous," was all she could come up with. "I'm not in the habit of chucking beautiful women out of my bed," he said. She hit him with a pillow. "Urgh, what kind of cheese comes from western PA? Because I think you're it. Bloody idiot." She laid down in his arms and fell asleep. In the middle of the night, she woke up and stared at the ceiling. Even as he slept, she pulled the sheet over herself and held it tightly with two hands. After a half an hour, she fell back asleep. The next morning, she woke up on the opposite side of the bed from him, the sheet still pulled around her. She looked at the clock - 8:15. "Shit!" she yelled. "What?" Jay mumbled. He looked at his phone. "Oh shit," he said, smiling. "We must have slept through the alarm." "Well, I don't have time to get back to my place," she said, agitated. "What am I supposed to wear?" He pointed at her dress, which was now hanging on a hanger. "I put it there last night," he said proudly. "You'll wear that again." She let out a groan. "People saw me in it last night." People, meaning Sal. "So? Everyone's worn the same thing again some time," he said laughing. "If you say 'walk of shame,' I'll kick you in the balls. Hard." "It's no big deal. No one saw us together." She wasn't sure that she agreed with his logic, but wasn't left with any choice. "Hang it in there while you shower. It's bad enough I'm wearing the same thing twice, I'd rather it not look like it spent the night in a ball..." They came into work, fifteen minutes apart, Jay first. Esme hoped that Freya would be busy and wouldn't notice. No such luck. She didn't say anything, just looked her up and down and smiled, well leered. Three minutes later, a kitten emoji appeared, next to a smiley face with two hearts for eyes and a finger pointing at a hand making the 'ok' sign. While Esme wanted to crawl under her desk, she begrudgingly admired Freya's dexterity with perverted iconography. All she texted was, 'later.' Freya: 'U bet' Esme: 'Is Sal here?' F: 'Why?' E: 'He saw me last night and made a comment. Not in mood :-(." F: 'He's not here, but we need to talk....' --------------------------------------------------- "What the fuck," was all Jay had said. "I'm no happier about this than you are," she said, for the tenth time, as they stood outside the building waiting for Sal. They had chosen to leave after the morning rush hour, to avoid traffic. "You know how much MM loves him, although god only knows why. He convinced him to do the story....we have no choice." She smiled. "I will make this up to you, I promise." She could scarcely believe it when she heard the words leave her mouth. "You're right," he said, brushing her hand with his. They had agreed to keep the contact to a minimum around the office. They saw Sal pull up, in a large red SUV, the sort that rappers drove. Sal had convinced MM to let them rent something. Jay grumbled about how it was unnecessary, how he had a car. Esme paid lip service to him and agreed half-heartedly, secretly grateful for legroom and a functioning air conditioning system. Esme walked to the back door. She saw the look of disappointment on his face but he nonetheless got out and opened it for her and offered her his hand to get in. He smirked at Jay, who glared then pointedly went to the back to load their bags and his camera equipment. "What the fuck is this, Sal?" Sal smirked. "It's a truck. Fit in with the locals and all." Esme knew nothing of cars, but thought about last time. She remembered sedans that made Jay's look new and pick up trucks that looked like they had been really used. Jay just looked at him, then her and then rolled his eyes. "It has satellite radio," he said, looking at Jay who just stared at him blankly. He started turning the dial, landing on a station called 'Sirius XMU - today's indie rock,' the sort of stuff she pretended to like in college. She stretched out in the back seat and closed her eyes, trying to fall asleep to the sounds of Jay and Sal arguing over various bands. Sleep never came. They crawled down the New Jersey turnpike, there having been an accident at Exit 8, which Jay snarled, 'we would have known if you put on traffic before we left.' "Jesus, stop bitching like a girl," Sal said. "No offense, Esme." She imagined punching the back of his headrest. After they crossed the Delaware into Pennsylvania, they made a lunch stop. While they waited for the waitress, Sal pontificated over whether it was better to order a cheesesteak or something called a 'hoagie' in Philly. Jay looked him up and down and said, "tourists and drunks get cheesesteaks. A hoagie is just a hero. People who know get roast pork with provolone and broccoli rabe." Oh, why don't you two just go in the bathroom and settle this, Esme thought. She wanted to side with him but they had agreed to keep everything under the radar at work and certainly with Sal. Jay excused himself to use the bathroom. "Jay's OK." Sal slid over to her side. She moved as far along the bench as she could, pushing herself against the wall. "You don't have to argue with him on everything." "What's it to you?" "I'm stuck in a car with the two of you for the next four or five hours." Sal just shrugged. "It's a guy thing." It's a 'being a dick' thing. Esme spotted Jay returning from the toilet. He did a little double take when he saw how close Sal was sitting to her. She gave him a pleading look. She hoped it conveyed her inner thoughts. Please don't make this a thing, I hate this as much as you. Jay sat down, and to his credit, smiled. The waitress came over to take their order. Before Esme could order, Sal said, with a sneer towards Jay. "My friend here says I should try the roast pork hoagie." The waitress rolled her eyes and, without looking, wrote on her pad. "And," and then she looked right at him. "You, miss?" "A cheese omelette, please. Thank you." "You're welcome," she said, with a smile. "And you, hon?" Esme smiled, thinking that she used 'hon' unironically. Jay looked at the menu and said, while staring at Sal. "Scrapple. I'm having scrapple." The waitress looked at the two men, then Esme and shook her head. 'I hope wherever you're going, you get there soon, hon.' While they waited for the food, Sal looked at her. "So you are from the North of England Es?" She hated him calling her 'Es'. She could see him looking at her in the rear view mirror. "It's Esme, and yes. The North West." She wasn't normally pedantic, he brought it out in her. "Ever heard of the Harrowing of the North, Jay?" She could see Jay tense up. "I bet Esme has." Again that stupid grin. "Sure, we covered it at school." She was looking for a way to get out of this conversation. Just shut up and eat your food, she thought. Or complain about the jukebox. "You know who William the Conqueror was?" "Of course." She could hear the testiness in Jay's voice. Silently she pleaded with him not to lose his cool. "Do you know what he used to be called? At the time I mean," Sal turned to look at her, "I bet Esme does," again. "The Bastard. William the Bastard." "Because he was, Jay, in more ways than one. In both the original and modern meanings of the word." Jay said nothing, it was a monologue not a dialogue by then. "He did some terrible things to where she's from. Sent his knights up there to kill everyone. Most of those who died probably died from starvation after they destroyed all the crops, but still a very gangsta move. It didn't recover, where she's from. Not until the industrial revolution. What do you think about that Esme?" I think pretentious white boys saying 'gangsta' should be beaten by actual gangsters. 'Oh, I'm invited to talk again,' she thought. She leaned forward placing a hand on Jay's seat. Under the table the tip of her foot brushed his. "I think you spent half the night on Wikipedia, Sal." She leaned back, before she did she made sure she brushed Jay's leg ever so slightly. "Oh look, our food. Let's eat, shall we?" ----- They arrived at the motel a little after 6pm. The sun was still warm and all three of them were stiff from the drive. Sal went off to 'flash the company card' at reception. "That was a fucking nightmare." Jay stretched his back. "Yes." She sat down on the curb rubbing life back into her legs. "Where did he learn all that medieval crap?" "Like I said," she smiled up at him, "Wikipedia." He smiled back. "Best part of the trip." She looked over her shoulder. "Head's up. The dickhead's returning." She pushed herself back up off the floor. "OK, Esme, you're over this way with me." He handed her a key. "Jay, you're over there," he passed him a key, pointing in the opposite direction. "What do you say to an hour or two to clean up and then we head over to the bar across the street?" Jay stared at his key for a while before shrugging. "Sounds like a plan. Esme." He gave her a little nod. "See you in a bit." She smiled and gave him a little joking salute. "In a bit." She wasn't surprised to find her room was next to Sal's. "God, I'm stiff," Sal put his key in the door. "how about helping me out?" How about I call human resources? "Run a bath, precious," she said, closing her door behind her. The door closed and she dumped her bags on the floor. She waited until she heard the door of the bathroom close next door before she crept out. She checked her phone. J: 'K11' That was right on the other side of the complex. By the time she found it Jay was leaning on the open door frame waiting for her. He had a can of beer in his hand. "Where did you get that from?" He stood up. "I come prepared, You want one?" he indicated inside the room. She took the one in his hand and took a large swig. "I. Hate. That. Guy." He laughed. "So what are we going to do about all that tension? In," he looked down at his phone, "an hour and forty three minutes." "You got more beer?" she took another glug. "Sure," he took her hand, "over by the bed." "Really? Is that the best you can do?" she said, as she let herself be led into the room. An hour and fifty minutes later they lay next to each other. Jay sighed. "We need to go. The dickhead will be waiting." She showed him what she'd just typed as a text for Sal. "Women's problems...nice. What about me?" She nuzzled up next to him. "Too tired?" She couldn't lie still, a combination of the long ride and failing to reach climax again. Jay sighed. "No. We need to run through the schedule with him. Unless you want to be driven all round western PA for the whole day before he drops you off. Bet he has Wikipedia open right now." "Fuuuuck." She hit the bed with her fists. "Let's go." --- Aiden met her at the end of the drive. His parents had suggested she take him out. Apparently he'd become reclusive, hating to go out in public in fear of bumping into someone he knew. He was wearing long cargo shorts and a white baggy t-shirt. Esme couldn't be sure but she got the impression he'd bound down his breasts. She could remember doing the same. She scratched the side of her chest remembering the bandages. "Hi," his hands were in his pockets, his eyes fixed to the ground. "Hey mate," she said, like the lamest aunt ever, "I thought we could go for a drive." She indicated over at the SUV. There had been a big argument with Sal that morning about who got to use it. "We'll go wherever you want. Perhaps out of town, somewhere you won't be recognised." He looked up at her, the briefest hint of a smile on his lips. "That could be OK." They drove for about an hour. Esme had little or no idea of where she was going and Aiden only knew places his parents had taken him. They ended up at a bowling alley near the interstate. "Do you think they ever clean these?" was her attempt to strike up a conversation. She turned the bowling shoes around in her hands, wrinkling her nose at the smell. Aiden sat on one of the steps tying his shoelace. He just nodded and muttered noncommittally. They found a lane, Aiden having to show Esme how to set up the scoring sheet on the computer. She noticed he put his title in as 'AJ' and her's as 'Grl'. OK, she thought. How would I handle this if it was a story? She heard the cracking sound of Aiden's ball hitting the pins. He got all but two down on the first go, and the others on his second attempt. She selected a ball that was a little too heavy for her and made sure to drop it slightly late as she bowled it away. It wobbled a little, just taking out a couple of pins at the side. "Do they have bowling in England?" Aiden was almost smiling. "A different kind." As well as the American kind. "Really?" "There's lawn bowling, which is played outdoors and tends to be for older people. The balls are smaller and less heavy." Aiden seemed to contemplate this for a while. "Here," he said," let me show you. He stood behind her and took her arm. "You bowl like this," He moved her arm back and forth. His crotch connected with her bottom. She could feel him freeze awkwardly. Somewhere to their left, there was laughter. The both looked. Two men were watching them. She felt him pulling away. When she turned, his eyes were staring at the floor, mortified. "Don't let them bother you." She nodded in the direction of the two men. "They don't care who we are." She tossed her second ball, taking better care this time. She knocked down all but one of the pins. "Thanks," she smiled brightly. He seemed a little happier. They continued on like this for a while. She choose balls that were too heavy for her, letting him give her tips on what to do. After a while she could see Aiden's confidence rising. He actually got two strikes in a row. Then the two men came over. "You and your girlfriend play here often, kid?" Both men held beers in their hands and, judging by their breath, these weren't the first. The man who spoke was lean, with a couple of day's stubble; his friend was tall and well built. "This is our first time," she answered, Aiden had frozen up. "And this is my brother." "Doesn't he speak?" the other man spoke. His hands were large like spades, dwarfing his beer bottle. When he wants to." Both men laughed. The man with spade-like hands moved closer to her, blocking the way between her and Aiden. "I'm Jake and this is Mickey." He loomed over her, forcing her to take a step back. Jake looked at the scoreboard. "You ain't much good." She shook her head. "I don't get much practice." "Too scared of coming up against a real man?" The dig was aimed at Aiden. Were they really trying to one-up a teenager? Aiden looked him in the eye. "Some of us have better things to do than hang around a bowling alley," he laughed. She wished that he hadn't. The lugs would take it as a challenge. "Go on," Jake said, "bowl your last frame." It was true. Aiden had finished but she had one last frame to go. She went over to pick a ball, hoping to spot a way out. "Try this," Aiden half whispered, pointing out a lighter ball to her. She smiled at him. He didn't seem to be freaking out, which was good. All you had to do was stay calm. If they didn't get a rise, they'd go away. She picked up the ball he'd offered, noticing it was pink. She swung her arm a couple of times, acclimatising to the new weight. From behind her, she heard a wolf whistle, she stopped and turned around. Both men were laughing. Jake spoke. "You're cute, but you'll never be truly pretty dressed as a boy." Negging bastard. "High praise from a man in stone washed denim," Esme said. Aiden laughed as did Mickey, who was eying Jake nervously. "Just go ahead and bowl, cutie," Jack said. The anger help her focus. She bowled, remembering the lessons her father had given her about spacing her feet, aiming and letting go at just the right moment. A strike. Mickey even gave a little cheer. She felt Aiden take her hand and pull her away. "Great meeting you guys, but we've got to go. Promised dad I'd get my sister back in time for dinner." She was impressed at how calm he was. He stood his ground, refusing to be pushed back by the two much larger men. The frightened teenager who couldn't look anyone in the eye had disappeared. In the car, Esme had to take a moment to compose herself. She could still feel Jake's touch as she had pushed past him. His hand 'accidentally' brushing against her behind. She looked over at Aiden who seemed pretty happy. "My hero," she brushed his cheek, then worried that was the wrong thing. "You handled that well." He smiled at her. "They thought I was a man. A boy I mean." "You are, both. If you want to, I mean," She pulled out of the parking lot, the roads were starting to get busy. His voice went quiet. "The doctor was saying there's a... a surgical procedure. It can make me female," his voice went quiet. "rather than, you know. Not one or the other." Her grip on the steering wheel got tighter. "I know the one." She glanced over at him. All the confidence of just a moment ago had gone. "Do I have to?" His voice sounded younger than it had before. "No!" She said more firmly than she had meant to. They had stopped at a traffic light. "Look at me, Aiden," reluctantly he did so. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to. It's your choice." "And you chose to be a girl?" She sighed. "No, not really. My dad made the choice for me." "They can do that in England? Can they do it here too?" "No. Not now. That was a different time. All you needed was parental consent back then. Now you have to see a psychologist. There's a whole procedure. In the end, there's no way they can make you do something you don't want to." She could see him relaxing out of the corner of her eye. "Thanks. It's just sometimes mom and dad, they talk like I'm just a little kid." He was only thirteen, she thought. I was only thirteen! It's too much. "Can I ask you a favour?" His voice was young again. "Sure," they were pulling up in his driveway. She could see Aiden's parents at the door. She didn't notice a third figure a little behind them. He was hidden by the shade of the porch. "Can I get your email address? You know in case I want to ask a question." She smiled. "Of course." She leaned over into the back of the car pulling out her purse. After finding a pen and an old receipt she started scribbling. "This is my email. WhatsApp and Twitter. There's my cell too in case you want to go old school," she handed it to him. By this time Aiden's mom was at his side of the car and his dad at hers. "Please leave." Aiden's dad sounded pissed, while, out of the corner of her eye, she saw his mom dragging Aiden inside. "Why didn't you tell us you were a journalist?" "Huh?" Then she saw who was on the porch. Sal. He sat there, at least he looked embarrassed. She pulled him close. "it...it wasn't relevant. I wasn't here on a story. I just wanted to help. Then I thought I might get some money for you..." His finger was in her face, but she could see the pain in his eyes. "Keep away from my family, you... vulture!" He turned quickly and then marched back into the house. She was still shaking when Sal reached her. "What was all that about, why didn't you tell them you're a reporter?" "I-it wasn't relevant. I was trying to help," then she looked directly at him. "You told them didn't you?" He said nothing. "You little shit! Why the hell did you come here, it's nothing to do with your story! Where the hell is Jay?" "I left him downtown, told him to get some good atmosphere shots. Anyway it's a good thing I did come by, it's highly unethical to.." She cut him short. "Shut the fuck up, you arsehole. Get in the fucking car but don't speak to me." She got in the car slamming the door. As she drove away she could tell he was watching her. She couldn't read his expression. They got back to the motel, not having spoken the entire time. Jay stood in the office, talking to the desk clerk and paying for something. He walked out and said, "How did it go?" Esme stared at Sal for several seconds. "Well, Sal right and proper fucked things with the Jankowskis...." Jay stood in front of Sal, glared and just said, "How?" "He told them I was a reporter and god knows what else...." Sal looked at Jay and, clearly mustering his strength, said, "It's unethical and if it got back to MM, we'd be fired," and he looked at Esme, with a confused look and said, "and I'm not getting fired over this...." "Shouldn't you be writing about some stupid gadget?" Esme said. "Why are you here? Why did you go to the house anyway? It has nothing to do with our story." He just smiled and looked her up and down. "I could ask you the same question." Jay walked towards Esme, getting close but not touching her. "I think," he said, slowly and deliberately. "we should go to our rooms and then go across the street in a hour to talk about tomorrow." Esme sat in her room for an hour, stewing. She wanted Jay to come over but knew he was right, when he texted. "not now. Dickhead is looking at us with his one eye :-)," which made her laugh. An hour later, they went across the street to discuss the next day. They were standing at the bar, when Sal went off to 'use the loo.' Jay looked at Esme and said, "somehow, when he says it, it's not so classy." He then stuck his hand in the back pocket of her jeans. He didn't squeeze, he just put it there, which felt both intimate and violative. After Aiden, she couldn't handle it, not now. She moved his hand out. He looked hurt. "What?" "Later," she lied. "Not here. Not now. Later." She wasn't sure about later. She was sure about now. --- On the second day Sal made them go to the brand new industrial park on the outskirts of town. It comprised of a number of giant shed-like warehouses, each housing a different company. Most were storage for big supermarkets and online stores like Walmart and Amazon. The surrounding lawns and trees were well manicured. Industry in the fourth industrial revolution. Although for the life of her, Esme couldn't remember the second or third revolutions. It was a long day. Sal did all the talking. He kept referring to Jay and Esme as his team. She'd assumed they'd be there for a few hours. It ended up lasting most of the day. A manager of a distributor that supplied a number of the major drug chains was showing them around the floor of his warehouse. Jay was getting excited about taking photos of the long lines of shelves. The plastic bottles and their labels peeking out of cardboard boxes. "Look at this," he spoke mostly to himself. "A nation addicted to drugs." She caught a glimpse of one of the labels. The dosages were eye wateringly high compared to her homeland. As Jay talked Esme spotted a group of women near the loading bay taking a cigarette break. She looked over at Jay, who was now deep in conversation with one of the packers and decided to wander off. "Hey." The first woman was tall, her hair dyed blond, which contrasted against her tanned skin. She wore a white coat and massive gloves. "Hi," She leant back against the brick wall peeling off the gloves, then throwing them on the ground. The other two women just watched. One large with arms thicker than Esme's legs, the other Black, small and bird like with skin pulled tight over high cheekbones. "You worked here long?" "You a reporter?" the blonde shot back. She took a long hard drag on the cigarette she'd just lit. "For the Reporter." She grinned foolishly, hoping the lame joke would break the ice. It didn't. She took another drag, blowing the smoke away from her. "I don't like the media. Fake news," she said, while the other two women nodded. "I understand," she mumbled, willing herself not to run. "My name is Esme Entwistle," she said, sticking out her hand. The woman stared at it and looked at her friends. "You're, er, cleaners?" "Yes," the woman with the thick arms said, while her friends laughed. Esme was reminded of being in the school playground and going up to the older girls. "My mum was a cleaner. At the local community centre. She'd wait for dad to come home then go there in the evenings. When I got older she'd leave earlier and I'd make tea, I mean dinner, for my younger brother and me. Usually spaghetti hoops." She felt like she was babbling. The blonde said, "Spaghetti-Os?" Esme nodded, assuming they were the same thing. "Sounds about right? Where yunz from?" Esme remembered Pete and 'yinzers,' and relaxed, at least knowing what he meant now. "The North of England. A small town. Used to have factories, now it has an enterprise park like this." All three of them laughed. She felt immense relief. "Expensive raising kids in England?" The bird spoke for the first time. Her accent was southern. "Expensive everywhere," the blonde replied, again they laughed. This time Esme joined in. "You have kids?" The question was directed at her. "No." Her voice went small. She felt off balance. "Sorry." The blonde laughed. "Not as sorry as us for having them." More laughter. Esme blurted out, "Well, I mean I can't," she said. Her emotions burst forth, like a volcano about to blow just under your feet. She had never said it out loud before. She saw the confused and worried looks on their faces. "Sorry, too much information, as they say." Big Arms touched her arm and said, "It happens honey. Know a lot of women around here with that problem." Esme kept babbling, the hot lava of her emotions too close to the surface now. "And I've met someone, but I haven't told him yet." Without thinking she turned to look at Jay. He was taking pictures of the only truck on the lot. "Sorry." The blonde put a protective arm around her. "You're alright, kid. If he's good, he'll get over it. If not, fuck him." But she didn't want to fuck him, at least not metaphorically speaking. Big Arms was looking around her. "It's not one with the funny beard, is it?" Esme shook her head. "Sal, oh god, no!" The women laughed and she continued. "he's far too in love with himself." Big Arms looked at him and nodded. "You can tell." "The photographer?" the bird asked shrewdly. "Uh huh," she nodded. The blonde laughed. "Not bad. Bit skinny, but then again so are you. My boy's father has hair like that. At least he had, he still might. I haven't seen him in years." Ten minutes later the foreman came out and called the women back inside. The blonde had a sandwich out. "Come on, Cheryl. You know you can't eat on site. Only in the designated areas." She looked Esme. "Are they the same where you're from?" Esme didn't know if she meant bosses or men. "Are they any different anywhere?" When they had left Jay came over. "Where's Sal?" "Still talking to his guy. I don't think we're going to make the food plant today." "No," In the distance she could see Sal still talking to a group of men. She envied his ability to fit in. His confidence born of a complete lack of concern for what others thought of him. Jay spoke quietly. "I've called for a cab. Blow this pop stand?" Esme kept an eye on Sal. It would be foolish, the story would get back to the office. And he had that whole Jankowski thing over her. "Yeah, fuck it. We aren't doing anything useful here. Where do you want to go?" "Wanna see Nagy's, some of my old haunts?" he said hopefully. She nodded. "OK, but first there's a place I'd like to stop off." He looked unsure of himself. The graveyard was a little way out of town. It was situated on a small hill overlooking an old mining area. Esme walked a few steps behind Jay, watching him as he wound his way through the plots. Every now and then, he'd glance at the piece of paper the man in the office wrote the location of his father down on. It seemed odd to be in a graveyard on a sunny day like this. She expected crows and dark menacing clouds. Instead she watched two squirrels scurrying in between the stones. They seemed to be keeping to the shade. Was it to stay hidden or because of the heat? "Here he is." Jay stopped in front of an ordinary looking headstone. He stood there silently. Esme was unsure if she should say or do anything. After a few minutes of furious internal debate, she placed her hand on the small of his back. She wasn't sure if she should have done more, but he moved a little closer and she figured she must have guessed right.