American Outlaw - Jesse James [87]
“I’ll stop over tomorrow before work,” I told his mom. She nodded at me gratefully.
Doing something positive for the community worked like a salve for my conscience. I knew that I had kind of been a screw-up when I was younger, stealing shit and just being a general menace. Now I was trying to do something helpful. Even if my efforts were probably kind of minuscule in comparison to what some people did, at least I was getting out there.
“I’m proud of you, Jesse,” Karla said one day, as I was dropping Jesse Jr. off at her place.
“It’s nothing,” I said, kissing Jesse good-bye. “Be good for your mom!”
“No,” Karla said. “You’re changing. I can see it. And you really did quit drinking, huh? I gotta hand it to you, I’m impressed.”
I shrugged.
“Almost makes me wish I’d kept you around,” she said, laughing. “Not quite, but almost.”
“Karla . . . I’m sorry I was kind of a loser to you the last couple of years.”
“It’s okay.” She shook her head. “It’s odd, but I have the weirdest feeling that we’re going to be friends someday, Jesse. In fact, I’m almost sure of it.”
“Me, too.” I nodded. “Hey, I still got your back.”
She sighed. “Same here.”
——
Janine and I continued along the frenetic, pleasurable path of our early romance. One evening, she brought two overflowing suitcases over to my house.
“What’s all this?” I asked.
“Duh, my stuff!” She laughed. “I don’t want to be apart from you, okay?”
“Well,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “I think alone time can be a healthy part of a relationship, don’t you?”
“For what?” She stuck out her tongue at me and unzipped a suitcase. “This house needs a woman’s touch something awful. I think I should decorate, don’t you?”
Janine had a unique relationship with money: she tried to get her hands on as much of it as possible, but as soon as she did, she would rapidly void it from her system, like a dozen bad oysters.
“Let’s go down to the strip,” she exclaimed. “I need to pick out some outfits.”
“For what?”
“I’m feature dancing this weekend! I told you that.” She hit me on the shoulder affectionately. “You’re an intelligent guy, Jesse, but I swear, you need to learn how to listen every now and then.”
Janine had long since ceased performing in adult movies, but she continued to cash in on the reputation she’d built over the last decade by dancing at strip clubs. The gigs paid extremely well and involved a lower level of personal investment than performing on film.
“Sweetie,” Janine purred, after running up an enormous lingerie and high-heels tab, “could I borrow your credit card? I left my wallet in the car.”
I frowned, but opened my wallet and handed it over to her.
“So, how much do you make at one of these clubs, anyway?” I asked, as we walked out to the parking lot.
“I don’t know,” Janine said, heaving her packages into the backseat of my car. “Honestly, I never take the time to count. It’s pretty good for just shaking my ass, though, I’ll tell you that.”
“But, like, how much?” I persisted.
“Fuck, sweetie,” she said, turning to face me, “I said, I don’t know. Five grand? Ten? More?”
“That is a lot,” I agreed. “So, I mean, excuse me for asking, but where does all that money go?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Well, all I mean is . . . why can’t you pay for your own underwear?”
She shook her head at me sadly. “I can’t believe you’re being stingy with your own girlfriend. With your own lover.”
“I’m not being stingy, I’m merely trying to figure out . . .”
“I’d give you the shirt off my back, Jesse,” she said, looking at me sincerely. “I just want you to know that.”
“Thanks,” I said, beginning to laugh. “Although I don’t think your little pink tank top would look very good on me. Look, honey, all I want to know is . . .”
“I have debts, okay?” Janine said, looking into the driver’s side mirror and adjusting a strand of her hair. “I made some bad business decisions. And I bought a couple of bad cars—really bad deals, you know?”
“What happened?” I asked.
“I didn’t like them! They were lemons,” Janine said. “So, I just dropped them off at the dealers.”
“You can’t do