The Devil's Copper Jamie Crothall (i like reading books TXT) 📖

“Oh, you’re good.”

“Maybe this is unprofessional, but…I’d like to take this ‘Billie’ out sometime.  Would that be…unprofessional?”

“...very.  And yes.”

We can skip the rest of that conversation.  I’m sure it would sound lame without the context of the moment.  And the long history of baggage to defend it.  I went to that office looking for insight into the mind of the man behind the business.  I left it with the first serious relationship I ever had in my life.  Seriously, I was twenty five, and never had more than a second date by that point.  Dating had always been either confusing or disappointing.  Then fate went and dropped this clichéd ‘tall, dark and handsome’ at me.  It sent me reeling.  I spent more time than I should have just trying to determine what I did to deserve it.  Jack was driven, yet thoughtful.  He worked at an investment firm by day, but in his own time he ran a side business out of a small (and let's be honest, dingy) office, working to make people feel valued and important.  I worked at a desk in a septic pumping company.  Jack had an MBA in finance.  I had a liberal arts degree.  He was comfortable in a suit and tie.  I was comfortable in a t-shirt and jeans.  We could not have been more different, yet after a few dates neither of us could imagine being with anyone else.

At one point, I told him he was too good to be true.  I asked if he had any dark secrets I should know about.  The only black mark he had to offer was that he used to play poker with some unsavory people, whom he was sure to distance himself from when he finished school and started building his career.

That I could live with. But there was another issue.  Not a deal-breaker, but a definite drawback.  Something that caused me concern, but didn’t bother Jack in the slightest.

Walter.

Walter Blunt was a good friend to Jack’s.  The ‘why’ of the matter was a mystery to me.  He was Jack’s exact opposite: lazy, unmotivated and, well, blunt. Often to the point of being outright offensive.  His emergence began like an infection, starting as a minor irritation, but eventually growing to an unavoidable presence.  He didn’t live with Jack, but he would often be there when I went over.  Walter didn’t say much but his mere existence was enough to cast an awkwardness over the room.  Most times I found him asleep on the couch.  I think that’s what bothered me the most.  He’d show up, sleep, make a few smart ass comments, then leave.  I’m sure I didn’t hide my frustration as well as I should have – I didn’t want to be that kind of person – but it puzzled me why Jack was always so eager to see Walter, despite the awkwardness his presence cast.

After ten months of being together, Jack and I decided to share an apartment in the New Sudbury area. It was a wonderful experience, overcast by the fact that Walter soon basically became a third tenant.  He was always there.  I had asked Jack on a few occasions if there was anything wrong with Walter.  You know…mentally.  Or if he had any issues or habits I should be concerned with.  Jack insisted Walter was just Walter, and that there was nothing to be concerned with.  I had suspected that he suffered from OCD; I often heard him randomly counting for no specific reason. (Often no higher than ‘three’ or ‘four.’)  Jack dismissed this.  He said Walter was always a bit ‘unique’ due to his upbringing, and that he looked out for him;  Walter had no family of his own.  That made it harder for me to complain.  But sensing the tension Walter’s frequent presence caused me, Jack did ask him to make himself scarce more often.  At least in the evenings.  It was a fair enough compromise.  I did my best to make Walter feel welcome in our home, provided he only come at the predetermined times.

It was when he started referring to me as ‘the princess’ that I felt the friendship was going to be a strain on our relationship.  Jack always chuckled, taking it as a joke.  I always took it as a jab.

Anyway, as problematic as it was I had to remind myself it was a small price to pay for the overall happiness I felt when Jack and I were together.  I even started to look at getting back into community theatre, if not for my sake, for the sake of my friends waiting to be part of a celebrity entourage.  After spending most of my life feeling like an outsider, I finally felt I was going to have a ‘normal’ life after all. Boy, was I wrong.

ONE

It was our one year anniversary.  Yet another wet and chilly Sudbury spring day.  Jack told me he had reservations at Chez Something-or-Other.  He knew I wasn’t impressed by that kind of thing, but he always tried.  I humoured him for the most part.  When we first started dating, I was worried I would never fit into this part of his world.  He once told me he knew;  he just liked seeing me squirm.  What an ass.

“Do I need to wear a dress?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “You don’t need to.”

“Do you want me to wear a dress?”

“I don’t want you to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with.”

“Is the implication that a dress would be preferred?”

“Do you want to wear a dress?”

“I don’t like dresses.”

“And yet here we are, having this conversation again.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Do you want me to want you to wear a dress?”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“Just dress how you