Read Online Low Life by Ryan David Jahn - Free Book Online Page B

hamburger and the packaging had leaked.
    ‘Jesus,’ Robert said. ‘You didn’t say—’ He put his hand over his open mouth. ‘I – who is he?’
    ‘Jeremy Shackleford. He taught math at the Pasadena College of the Arts.’
    ‘Why did he break into your place?’
    ‘I told you,’ Simon said. ‘To kill me. He broke in because he wanted me dead.’
    ‘Why?’
    Simon shook his head.
    ‘I don’t know.’
    He reached down and put the bag back over the corpse’s head.
    Both men simply stood silent for a long moment.
    Finally, Robert said, ‘I’ve – I’ve seen him before.’
    ‘When?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ Robert said. ‘Monday maybe. Is today Thursday?’
    ‘I don’t know. What happened?’
    ‘Remember when I told you a guy accosted me on the street?’
    Simon nodded. He remembered. Robert had even mentioned that the guy looked a bit like him. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of that till now.
    ‘This is him. I was walking to that liquor store on Fourth Street to get a pack of smokes and he grabbed me by the shirt and slammed me against a wall and asked me if I was the one who
took it.’
    ‘Took what?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘What did you tell him?’
    ‘I told him I didn’t.’
    ‘What are you gonna do now?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ Simon said. ‘Now that you know, I was – I was hoping you could help me figure that out.’
    Robert was shaking his head before Simon even got the sentence out.
    ‘No,’ he said. ‘No way. I don’t – I never. No. No.’
    Simon and Robert had been sitting on the couch, but now Robert got to his feet.
    ‘I’m gonna wait for the auto club outside.’
    ‘You don’t want another drink?’
    Robert shook his head.
    ‘Are you sure?’
    ‘Yeah,’ Robert said. ‘I’m – ’ he licked his lips and swallowed – ‘yeah, I’m okay. I have to drive. I’m gonna go.’
    Simon felt a sudden desperation to keep Robert there. In part because if Robert left Simon didn’t know what he would do – maybe he would go straight to the police – but mostly
because he simply didn’t want to be alone right now. Thinking of the life Shackleford must have lived with his wife and his students and his university friends made Simon feel hollow in his
own. What did he have? His record collection and his whiskey. And Francine, of course. But it wasn’t enough.
    ‘Are you sure?’ he asked.
    ‘Yeah. I’m just gonna wait outside.’
    ‘Please. Just stay for one more drink.’
    ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
    Robert walked to the front door and pulled the chair away from it.
    ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he said again, and then pulled open the door.
    ‘Robert.’
    Robert stopped. He turned and looked at Simon.
    ‘Don’t go to the police. Please. I need to find out why he wanted me dead.’
    Robert bit his lip, looked out into the corridor – maybe thinking of Tijuana and his trouble there – and then he looked back.
    ‘I didn’t see a thing,’ he said finally. He swallowed. ‘And now we’re square.’
    Simon stared down at the ice in his glass for a long moment.
    ‘Simon?’
    He looked up at Robert.
    ‘If I keep quiet,’ he said, ‘we’re square. I don’t owe you anything else.’
    Simon nodded.
    ‘Okay.’
    Robert stepped out of the front door, pulling it shut behind him, but it only swung back open again. Simon listened to him walk across the corridor floor and then down the stairs to the lobby,
shoes clunking against wood. Then he was gone.
    Simon poured himself another drink, sipped it.
    When he leaned back he felt something large and heavy in his pocket. He reached in and pulled it out. It was the picture of Jeremy Shackleford and Samantha he had taken from their house. He
looked at it for a long time, at Samantha’s smile, at how beautiful she was. It must have been wonderful to have a woman like that, to be able to call a woman like that your own. Simon
imagined sleeping beside her, spooned up against her bottom, one arm wrapped