Free Poet Anderson ...Of Nightmares by Tom DeLonge Page A

a coma. But if he were awake, he’d be here. And he’d be the best damn doorman you’ve ever seen. That’s what he does,” Jonas said, feeling the blood rushing to his face. “He impresses people. But now it’s just me and I need a job. I’ll fill in for him. I’ll wash dishes. I’ll take whatever job you have. And I’ll be fucking great at it.” He looked up and saw Marshall’s stern expression. “Sir,” Jonas added, smiling weakly.
    â€œAlan Anderson is in a coma?” Marshall asked. His eyes were concerned, and it caught Jonas off guard.
    â€œYes, sir,” Jonas said. “But he’s going to wake up. In fact, he’s seeing a specialist today. They expect him to make a full recovery.” Jonas didn’t even count this as a lie. It was the reality he chose to live in.
    Marshall slipped his hands in the pockets of his suit as if thinking things over. He looked at Jonas again, narrowing his eyes. “Aren’t you still in high school?” he asked. Jonas nodded, resisting the urge to say “Unfortunately.” “I won’t encourage you to leave school,” Marshall said. “That means you’d have to work the ten to two a.m. shift.”
    Jonas’s spirits brightened. Was he about to get the job? “I’m totally fine with that.” He pulled out the box under his arm. “I even brought the hat and the umbrella. I just need a suit.”
    â€œHm…” Marshall said glancing over Jonas’s outfit and then at the bag of clothes at his side. “That’s a certainty.” He took a breath and exhaled heavily, apparently not totally convinced. “Fine,” Marshall said after a long moment. “You can train tonight. I’ll send my assistant, Molly, down with your uniform. Meet Hillenbrand at six at the staff entrance so he can show you around. The girls,” he motioned to the front desk, “will give you directions. See you tonight, Mr. Anderson.”
    Jonas smiled and watched as the manager started to walk away. It struck him then that he didn’t know his pay rate or where he’d be staying tonight. “Sir?” he called.
    The manager turned around. “Yes?” he responded gruffly.
    â€œRoom and board?”
    Mr. Marshall closed his eyes and motioned for Jonas to follow him. Without missing a beat, Jonas fell into step at his side and walked with him onto the elevators. The manager pushed the button for the basement and Jonas felt his heart dip.
    â€œYou keep suites in the basement?” he asked.
    The manager laughed, glancing over at him like he was crazy. “You’re not getting a suite,” he said definitively. “There’s a renovated custodian’s closet down there. It has a bed and a tub—the basics.”
    Jonas clenched his teeth and shook his head. “Alan said you were giving him a suite.”
    â€œYes, well you’re not Alan, are you?” Marshall replied coldly. “You’re lucky I have anything at all.”
    Jonas wanted to argue, but he knew he was powerless in the situation. Great , he thought. I’m going from living in a hospital room to sleeping in a janitor’s closet. Some new life we’ve got, Alan .
    The elevator doors slid open, and Jonas followed behind the manager, noting the faded green wallpaper in the hallway, the threadbare carpet. Marshall stopped at a wooden door and pulled a metal key from the key ring hooked onto his belt. He unlocked the door and then worked the key off the ring before holding it out to Jonas. He must have sensed Jonas’s disappointment because his expression softened slightly.
    â€œI really hope to see your brother soon,” he said. “But in the meantime, you work for me. You show up on time, act professionally, and don’t cause any trouble. Staff meals are prepared and held in the kitchen.” He pointed down the hall toward a metal