Lips On My Heart

by M J Marino

  He’s right. I’ve been having a difficult time. I’ve had to look farther out to find companies willing to work with me, some overseas, cutting into profit and extending deadlines. With all my contacts available, I would be saving money and increasing productivity.

  “And all I need is a week of your time before my PE can get back. You would literally be working an hour on-site and be able to return to your own projects. Denver isn’t too far from Fort Collins. It’s a great deal, Jo.”

  This is almost too easy. Jacob’s in no position to turn my favor down now. His job is on the line, and considering he sacrificed our relationship to get where he is, he will jump at this.

  “Jacob, I’m willing to take this contract with the firm agreeing to take me off the blacklist—in writing—if you help me in return.”

  Silence. “What do you need, Keebler?” he asks with a smile in his cocky voice.

  I cringe, hearing my old nickname. He thought it was clever to name me after an elf living in a tree making baked goods because I’m short. It was fucking annoying then, and it’s fucking annoying now. But I’m not in a position to start chastising him.

  “I’m in need of a consulting engineer for a project here in Fort Collins. I’m offering it to you, if you want it. Projected deadline is four months, but I’m negotiating with my general contractor to bring in a bigger crew. It’s feasible to shave the deadline down to three months, maybe sooner if we don’t run into any snags. I don’t need you on-site daily. It would be preferable, but I would like you there at least three days a week, and to handle all questions and concerns from the client within a reasonable amount of time.

  “You would have to tap into your vacation bank to avoid the firm finding out you’re poaching projects on the side. Or you could finagle a way to come out to your Denver project and find time to work on mine. The pay will be more than worth all the trouble,” I say cordially, surprising myself.

  More silence. “Jo, why are you asking me to do this? After everything that happened…I mean, you haven’t talked to me since you left California. You refused any contact with me when I would reach out until I sent you this deal. I get you jumping on my contract to get your contacts back, but why do you want me on your project? I’m not saying no, I’m just curious. Are you overbooked with projects or is there something else going on?” Jacob inquires, and I can hear the hope in his voice.

  He wants this to be more than me wanting his help. He wants this to be me reaching out to him on a more intimate level. I need to set the record straight.

  “Honestly, I’m not comfortable with the client. We have a difference of opinion when it comes to communication. I believe it’s in the best interest of the client if he and I to have limited contact, which as you can understand is difficult to do while under contract. This project is important to me. Walking away is not an option. I can’t risk breaking the contract and possibly being sued because of it,” I admit.

  “I comprehend all that. And I’m happy you thought of me when considering candidates,” he says after a pause. “Tell me about the project.”

  After filling him in on what the build entails, he seems to hesitate. “Let me get this straight. You’re building a compound for a biker gang?” he questions with skepticism.

  “Yep.”

  Jacob laughs. “When do you break ground?”

  “Two days, but I won’t need you ‘till two weeks out from then. I’ll be able to manage for now since my client is away on business.”

  “What business does a biker gang do?” he questions, but quickly stops himself. “Wait, never mind. I’m pretty sure I’m better off not knowing.”

  A sudden urge to defend Maceo and his MC crew has me almost telling Jacob he’s got the wrong idea, but I decide against it. Maybe this will keep Jacob on the straight and narrow while working around me.

  “What do you think?” I chew on my thumb as I nervously wait.

  Another pause. “I think I’m going to be spending a lot of time in Colorado the next few months.”

  I let out a slow sigh. “Thank you, Jacob.”

  “Anything for you, Keebler. Can’t wait to see you again. I’ve missed working with you. I miss you all the fucking time,” he says in a husky voice, making my skin crawl. Gah, gross!

  “I’ll be in touch,” I say, before disconnecting. I take another deep breath and run my fingers through my hair. As far as eating crow goes that was pretty painful, but at least Jacob wasn’t a dick about it. He’s too eager to get back on my good side to be his typical douchebag self. I pray I can keep myself in check during this damn project.

  Exhausted, I lean my head back on the couch. I’ve barely slept during the week, stressing over Maceo for apparently no reason at all. Asshole.

  Talking to Jacob for the past hour certainly helped to sober me up. I’m able to stand without feeling like I’m going to tumble over.

  I yawn. “Come on, Hades. Let’s take a walk and get your business done for the night.”

  Hades hurries to me and I leash him up. As we walk, my phone rings, but I don’t recognize the number and ignore it—I’m not in a talkative mood at the moment, even if it is business related. If it’s important, the person will leave a message.

  The same number calls again, and I ignore it. When they try a third time and I don’t answer, there’s a beep to notify me of a voicemail. I can’t check it since I’m busy inverting a poop bag over Hades’s epically huge turd.

  A minute passes before my phone rings, a different number this time. That’s weird. Two unknown numbers in a row. Another beep from the voicemail. And then my phone is ringing again. It’s a different unknown number. This happens multiple times from six different numbers.

  Fucking scammers. How do they get my number?

  Once Hades and I are safely locked back inside the condo, I listen to my voicemails.

  “Josephine, pick up the phone. Come on, baby. Let me hear your voice.”

  “I talked with Punk. And I get it, Josephine. I know you’re mad, but please pick up your phone.”

  “Josephine, I can’t make this better if you don’t talk to me. Answer the phone!”

  “Pixie, I’m losing my cool here. Answer the goddamn phone.”

  “Fuck!”

  “Answer the fucking phone, Pixie! I’m not playing around anymore.” “Atlas, calm the fuck down. You’re not going to win her back if you freak her out.” “Shit. I’m sorry I’m yelling, but you’re making me lose my fucking head. And you better unblock me, damn it.”

  Jesus. Maceo’s out of his damn mind if he thinks he can command me to do anything. I go through my phone and block all the numbers he used to call me. He must be using every single cell phone belonging to his team.

  I look over at Hades, out cold on his bed, and I decide that’s a good idea, heading toward my own bed. My phone goes off again, but this time I recognize the number as Punk’s.

  Irritated, I answer my cell. “What is it now?”

  “Jo, please, I’m begging you. Unblock Atlas. Gauge called me all panicked after Atlas noticed you blocked him. He’s going fucking wild over there, and Gauge can barely keep a handle on him. The team is worried he’s going to compromise the mission.”

  My stubbornness could be putting the team and the assignment at risk. Guilt riddles me for a moment, but not enough for me to roll over. Maceo had me fucking worried for damn near a week.

  “Oh, so now he tries to answer my texts? Well, fuck him! Punk, I’m sorry he’s acting out, but now he gets a taste of the silent treatment I’ve had to deal with for five days.”

  Punk groans and curses into the phone. “Okay, you don’t have to answer him or talk to him, just unblock his sorry ass. Ignore all the messages you want, but if he’s at least able to send them to you, it will take the edge off his crazy.”

  I lie there for a moment, thinking about it. “Okay, Punk. I’ll unblock him. I don’t want to jeopardize the operation, but I’m not reaching out to him and I’m deleting everythin
g coming through from him. Until he’s back, I will only work with you on this project. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Thank fuck. That’s fine, Jo,” Punk breathes out with relief only to immediately suck it back in. “Wait, you can’t delete his shit. He’ll know.”

  My brows pull together. “What do you mean ‘he’ll know?’” All at once, it hits me like a fucking wrecking ball.

  “You have got to be kidding me!” I screech. “Tell me he doesn’t have my phone monitored.”

  Maceo told me he deals in security. I already knew he was snooping into small things like finding my address and going through my social media accounts. But tracking my phone?

  Soft thumping is the only sound coming through the phone speaker. I imagine Punk is banging his head against a wall somewhere. It’s all the confirmation I need.

  “Un-fucking-believable,” I fume. “I’m getting a new number.”

  “No, Jo, please don’t,” he pleads. I actually empathize with the guy. Maceo’s probably going to have his nuts for all the shit he let slip.

  “How would you feel if all your shit was being monitored?” I chide.

  He groans. “I get it, Jo. All of our shit on the crew is being monitored.”

  I blanch. “What?”

  “All of our stuff is tracked. It’s a way of watching out for each other if something happens to one of us. We know where everyone is at any given time. We’re able to read through text messages and emails to keep track of info regarding missions,” he says with a sigh.

  “And what about shit which has nothing to do with the missions?” I inquire in disbelief.

  Another sigh. “It’s a natural casualty. Most of the guys have nothing to hide since we’re not in committed relationships and it’s kind of like bragging rights when, um, sexual things come through. But don’t worry. Atlas is the only one who sees what comes through from you, well, him and Chase, since he’s our cyber guy. Maybe don’t send nudes to Atlas and it will be all good.”

  There’s mumbling in the background before Punk is back on the phone. “Chase says Maceo was going to tell you about us tracking you if things turned serious between the two of you, but he didn’t want to worry you if you guys were a bust. He’s doing this for your own safety.”

  Punk’s words trigger a memory of Maceo and I in bed. He was talking to me about taking extra security percussions and we were interrupted when he got the text for the mission. Was he trying to tell me he was monitoring my phone? Does this mean he thought our status moved from uncertain to serious?

  Who fucking cares! He hacked your phone, Jo.

  “I didn’t fucking agree to this shit, Punk. None of this is fucking ‘all good,’” I bite back. “What does Maceo have access to?” I need to know how deep this shit goes.

  “Everything,” he admits.

  “Everything,” I repeat as a cold sweat rolls over me. I drop the phone in my haste to make it to the toilet as all the bourbon I drank comes back up. I have never felt this violated in all my life.

  “Jo? Jo, are you still there? You okay?” Punk’s voice comes out louder through my phone speakers.

  “How are you on the damn speaker phone?” I cry out.

  “Um, I asked Chase to override your phone in order to check and make sure you’re okay,” he says sheepishly.

  “For fuck’s sake!” I scream and start sobbing. “Tell Chase if he unblocks access on my phone for Maceo, I will go to the police and report him!”

  There’s more mumbling in the background. It must be Chase. “Best not tell her we work hand in hand with the police,” I hear his muffled voice.

  “He can’t, not without some major hacking since you blocked Maceo and you didn’t block me. Shit, Jo. What can I do to make this okay?” Punk pleads, worry laced in his voice.

  I collect myself before answering. “Nothing, Punk. There’s nothing that will make any of this right.”

  Silence from him on the other end, but I can hear him typing away on his phone.

  “Atlas wants to know why you made a phone call to a Jacob Klein that lasted over an hour,” Punk asks, his voice all business.

  Fucking controlling jealous asshole!

  Of course, he would be going through all my shit since I’ve blocked him from texting and calling. He’s probably livid, knowing I was talking with my ex tonight.

  “Tell Atlas it’s none of his fucking business,” I spit before crawling over to the phone and disconnecting. I remove the battery, not wanting to be disturbed anymore tonight. Then I crawl to my bed and climb in before sobs take over again. Hades whines in the doorway, worry contorting his adorable big face.

  “Come here, baby boy,” I say through a sob and pat the sheets.

  Hades launches up to the bed and lies right on top of me. I stroke his fur and continue to cry, letting the warmth from him seep into my cold body.

  “You’re the only one I trust, big boy,” I tell him. I drift off, knowing he’s watching over me tonight.

  Chapter Six

  Josephine

  True to my word, I did my job with a vengeance—to finish ahead of schedule. Jared didn’t fight me on the extra manpower, sensing it wasn’t up for debate. Seeing as I was barking orders at most of the crew members and making his job a little easier, he was happy to have a bigger crew.

  The first week, the field was cleared and leveled. Slabs and foundations were poured and set. Framing was up on the main headquarters, and welders finished putting up the garages and mechanic shop by the beginning of the second week.

  By the middle of the second week, the metal roofing, windows, and doors were installed to all the buildings. Inspectors were in and out daily, passing us on all inspections, allowing us to plow through.

  I did all of this dutifully, while several different MC members stopped by to monitor the progress of the build. Punk was present among them most days, giving the thumbs-up to all my decisions. I’m sure Maceo gave him the order to allow me to make any and all design choices.

  Punk was always pleasant and made sure I had everything I could possibly need. I tried not to take my anger out on any of them, seeing as my rage was reserved for Maceo, but all the MC members stepped on eggshells around me. I had no problem telling them to get the hell out of my crew’s way if I felt they were overstepping.

  As hard as I was being on my crew, they didn’t fight me. Either they were used to the treatment from other jobs, or they could sense I was stressed over the project and the company around us. They nodded when I gave an order, and they did whatever I requested. I guess I was paying them enough to make the long hours worth their time. Every night, I apologized to them for my bitchy behavior, which only made them laugh as they said their goodbyes for the day.

  Taking pity on Chase for wasting hours hacking into my phone, I unblocked Maceo’s number. The next morning, I bought a burner. I used the new phone for anything unrelated to Maceo’s project, including keeping Jacob in the loop on the progress of the build.

  At the rate we were going, we could be done before the three months were up. Jacob was biting at the bit to get out to Fort Collins, but I was no fool. I knew his attention was much more focused on me than the actual build itself. I had to remind him every time we talked. He was not to come until the end of the second week.

  Jacob came through on his end. I received a contract from my old firm confirming to stop blackballing me in exchange for a week of my PE services on the build in Denver, and I signed the deal. I went to Denver every afternoon to go over the blueprints, make changes if need be, and sign off on them. Then I returned back to the MC build site, relieving Jared of watching both crews, and working late into the evening.

  The doors which had once been shut were miraculously open and it showed. Jared and I were bombarded by other vendors offering better deals on supplies. Last minute orders were delivered quickly by suppliers, and contractors were networking with us. Never again could my old firm screw me over without me suing the shit out of them. The week I in
vested traveling back and forth between projects was worth it.

  Punk would call me on my old phone with anything regarding the build. All questions asked on Maceo’s behalf regarding anything other than the project were immediately cut off. I was done with the bullshit and wanted to move on.

  Putting all my focus into my work was the best therapy. As much as this project was causing me anxiety, I was living in my element. This is what I was always meant to do—build and create works of art that brought my clients joy.

  Maceo continued to send text messages and leave voicemails, but I ignored all of them and left them unanswered. Thankfully, he avoided bombarding my email. It’s almost like he could sense it would set me off. I would have thought he would have given up after days of no response from me, but he dutifully left me a text and voicemail every morning and every night, trying to make up for his screw up.

  Too little, too late.

  It’s Friday of week two, and I bicker with Jared about pressing through another weekend with the second crew, giving our first crew a reprieve. Jared wants our original men on the job and is pushing for us to take the weekend off.

  While we debate, a rental car pulls onto the property and my stomach drops. Though I was expecting Jacob to show up today, it still doesn’t mean I’m happy to have him anywhere near me. I grab Jared’s arm for emotional support—he knows how much I’ve been dreading seeing Jacob.

  Jared sneers at the rental as Jacob parks the car. “So that’s the dumb fuck who screwed you over back in California?”

  “The one and only. Do me a favor and play nice with him. We need his help on this build.”

  I haven’t told Jared exactly what happened between Maceo and I because I’m too embarrassed, bamboozled by Maceo’s charm. All Jared knows is that we had a ‘misunderstanding.’

  Jared snorts. “No, Jo, we don’t need him. We need you. That leech shouldn’t be anywhere near you after what he’s done.”