A Five-Minute Life

“White Russian, please,” Thea said with a grin. “It’s been a while.”

I went to the bar, ordered the cocktail for Thea and a beer for myself. When I returned, Thea had her phone pressed to her ear, a finger plugging her other, and a look on her face I didn’t like.

Damn you, Delia, I thought, sliding back into the booth. Leave her alone. Let her be happy.

“What?” Thea shouted. “I can’t… I can hardly hear you.” She listened for a few seconds more, her brows furrowed. Then her eyes widened and her lips parted. “You’re lying. You’re…” She glanced at me furtively.

“What?” I asked, every nerve-ending in my body lit up. “What’s she saying?”

Thea huffed a sigh and rolled her eyes. “I can’t hear anything. Hold on.” She covered her phone with her hand and said to me, “It’s too loud in here. I’m going outside to let Delia bitch at me for a minute about the tattoos. I’ll be right back.”

“Thea…”

But she scooted out of the booth and out of the bar, her back straight and stiff.

I tugged at the label on my beer bottle watching the door. I couldn’t see Thea, so I started a mental timer. Fifteen minutes. That was our agreement.

Thea returned just as I was ready to go find her. She speed-walked through the bar and slid into the booth breathlessly. Her eyes were bright and glassy.

“My sister, I swear…” She took a long pull from her White Russian, nearly draining it.

“What did she want?”

“Nothing,” she said. “She’s pissed about the tattoos. I knew she’d freak out.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“I’m not about to be arrested, am I?”

She let out a short, loud laugh. “No, no, nothing like that. Just Delia being her Delia-self.” She finished her drink and clanked the glass down. “Oh my God, I think I’ve got that post-tattoo endorphin rush they tell you about. Are you done with your beer? Let’s blow this joint. We got more New York-ing to do.”

She was already sliding back out of the booth but I caught her hand.

“Hey. Are you okay? What did Delia say to you?”

“It’s nothing, I swear. Just… stuff about our parents. She’s trying to make me feel guilty.”

My phone rang from the inner pocket of my leather jacket. I fished it out. “It’s her.”

“Don’t answer it.” Thea’s eyes were hard and intense; a look I’d never seen her wear before. “She wants to ruin this. Don’t let her. Please.”

The phone’s ringing seemed loud even under the thrashing music.

Thea’s gaze never wavered from mine. “I want this time with you, Jimmy. I’m not ready to give it up.”

Neither am I.

I shut off the phone and put it back in my pocket. “Just until tomorrow morning,” I said. “Then we touch base enough to let her know you’re okay. Like usual.”

Thea’s tight, tense expression broke up into a radiant smile. “Absolutely. I thought of where I want to go next,” she said, practically vibrating in her seat. “To a club. Dancing. I need a fix of my techno-slash-EDM music.”

I watched her for a moment, studying her.

Something is wrong. She looked almost terrified…

The thought floated in and out. I caught sight of her new tattoo.