A Matter of Time 01 - 02 (Volume 1) (MM)

by Mary Calmes

  Dane made my new rent seven-fifty a month, and even when I argued that such a number was insanity, he just gave me a look like I had passed annoying days ago. Since I was being given a gift, I shut up and accepted his generosity. I had ridden with him to the airport and he had promised to call when he returned on Sunday. I nodded and when he was ready to get out of the car, he did what he always did and put a hand on the back of my neck and squeezed tight.

  "I'll be back. Don't fret."

  I had squinted at him and the chuckle in return was deep.

  "Jory, the music is awesome," Celia said suddenly, bringing me back to the present. "Do you get serenaded like this every night?"

  I smiled at her and nodded.

  "Lucky."

  "Let's go eat." Jill yawned loudly. "I'm hungry and I wanna play some pool after."

  The walk down the street in the crisp night air was very soothing and Piper's arm in mine felt comfortable and welcome. All three of these women genuinely cared for me and it was relaxing being around them. Later, when we were playing stripes versus solids at the pool hall, Celia finished off her Bloody Mary and looked at me hard.

  "What?"

  "Thanksgiving is next Thursday. What are you doing this year?"

  I bent over the table to take my shot. "I dunno."

  "Why don't you come to my mom's with me and Angel? He can use the buffer."

  Her mother and her husband went at it every year. "I dunno... she tears him up."

  "It's because she doesn't think online poker is a real job."

  I agreed, but I would never tell her that. "I know, sweetie.

  I think I'm gonna pass."

  She shrugged. "Fine, then Jilly gets you, since Piper had you last year."

  "I'm not five, ya know," I assured her, smiling as I polished off my third mojito.

  "You better slow down." Piper chuckled, massaging my shoulders. "Or we'll be carrying you out of here."

  "Not that I would mind," Jill grinned suggestively. "You know my feelings, J. You just haven't been in bed with the right woman yet."

  I sighed and held open my arms to her. "Come gimme a hug."

  "Oh yeah, don't mind if I do," she giggled, moving fast to grab me tight.

  It was funny but the three of them were all over me, leaning on me, touching me, hugging me, patting my ass, running their fingers through my hair, smoothing fingertips over my eyebrows, my cheeks, down my nose. Always it was like this, the physical attention that was flattering and somehow just sweet. I was adored and it was obvious to anyone that looked at us. As I stood leaning on the bar, having been sent for the fifth round since the waitress was

  "too damned slow," I saw Nick on the other side of the room.

  I was a little tipsy or I would have never gone over.

  He was playing foosball with a woman and two other guys and even though I was sure he could see me, he didn't acknowledge me even when I was right beside the table.

  "Hey, Nick." I smiled wide, happy to see him.

  No answer.

  I glanced around at the others but only the woman's eyes flicked to mine. "Hi."

  "Hi." She gave me just a trace of smile.

  I looked back at Nick's face, realizing what, if I had been sober, I would have understood quicker. I was purposely being ignored. He was seemingly absorbed in the ball on the table and couldn't be bothered to give me the time of day.

  "Are you even gonna say hello?"

  "Sure." He looked up and his eyes were flat and cold, his tone icy. "What can I do for you?"

  It was my fault. He had been open and honest the last time we had spoken and I had blown him off as I had submerged under the wave that was Detective Kage. Basically I was getting a little karmic retaliation. I had been shitty to him, Sam had dumped me, and so I had basically reaped what I had sown. Big fat circle of cause and effect that I deserved.

  "Nothing," I said softly, hands in my pockets. "Sorry."

  When I got back to the girls I asked them if they wanted to hit the movies with me. They just stared at me until I volunteered to buy popcorn and M&Ms. That got everybody moving.

  On the way out I got my second dose of fun when a hand grabbed me by the back of my shirt and I was suddenly face-to-face with Detective Kage. I stood there, frozen, even though he had let me go, and watched him walk away with his buddies in a big, loud group, hand in hand with a beautiful blonde.

  "You look like a hustler dressed like that," he had said under his breath as he passed.

  I had thought different. I didn't think jeans, wingtips, and a brown dress shirt open at the collar said rent boy. But maybe there was just something about me that looked cheap? As I watched him make his way to the bar, saw him do the guy clenches and handshaking with the men he was meeting, I felt my heart in my throat. I could barely breathe seeing him make the crude gestures with the others over his date. Like she was hot and he was going to tap that later. I was going to be sick.

  Jill grabbed my hand and yanked me outside to get some air. They all wanted to know who Sam was and what he had said. I explained that it was much too long a story to go into before a movie. When I got the look from Celia, I understood that they could have cared less about anything at that moment but hearing me dish some dirt.

  We ended up going to the jazz club across the street from my new apartment and I explained all about Detective Kage, leaving out the part about people trying to kill me. Only Dane knew that piece of the puzzle. They sat and listened to me until two in the morning, at which time we adjourned to a mom and pop diner around the corner where we had breakfast. Piper said she hadn't been out so late since college. When Celia asked her what it had been like in the seventies she got smacked really hard on the arm. I laughed so hard milk came out of my nose.

  After I put them all in a cab I staggered up the steps to my apartment and passed out on the couch. I didn't leave again until Sunday night. Between the icy rain, the Real World marathon, and VH1 counting down everything from Worst Love Songs to Best Rocker Hair, I had no reason to go anywhere. I had enough food; I had tea, both iced and hot, and lots of water. Since I felt like sludge, I hit the gym late Sunday night and ran five miles until I was exhausted. Under the hot water I felt the funk start to recede. By the time I was out I was more like me than I had been in over a week.

  Stupid to give anyone power to make me feel one way or another—except my boss. Only Dane Harcourt got to yank my chain.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I sat in the chair across from Dane and waited. I hoped that my look conveyed how annoyed I was.

  "What?" he finally asked, and I could hear the irritation.

  "Are you going to tell me or do you want me to beg?"

  "Beg."

  "I don't wanna," I snapped, pushing out my chair and throwing the files that I had in my lap onto his desk. Since he had walked in the door he had been an ass. I had greeted him and all I got was a grunt. I had been bouncing off the walls to hear about his trip and he was giving me the silent treatment for whatever reason. I wasn't going to sit there and take it a second longer, as I could barely keep from yelling.

  "Don't you dare get up!" he ordered me sharply.

  "Or what?" I snapped back.

  "Or don't ever come back."

  I was stunned. "You're gonna fire me?"

  "Yes," he said in a low-voiced growl

  "Huh."

  I considered what he'd said. I sat there, not moving, thinking through my options, and though telling him to go to hell was tempting, I instead scooted back in. A moment of bravado would kill our friendship for all time. It wasn't worth it. The fact that he was counting on me to back down so he could save face was annoying beyond words, but this was my role. I was the one who gave in; he was the one who pressed.

  So I replaced the files in my lap and looked over at him. His eyes were like pieces of ice, so cold, so clear.

  "Okay, so I'll wait 'til you're ready."

  "And if that's never?"

  God, he was real
ly hoping for a knock-down-drag-out fight, and I had no idea why. "Then it's never," I said simply, shrugging for emphasis. "Whatever you want."

  Dark eyes just stared at me.

  He was so flawed. "What happened?"

  "I need you to call Glenn Upton for me."

  My sigh could be heard out in the lobby and he was glaring at me after that.

  "You have a problem?"

  I rolled my eyes dramatically. "No sir. What shall I ask Mr.

  Upton?"

  He stared at me a long moment.

  "Well?" I prompted him.

  "Nothing. Go back to your desk."

  So I did as I was told and sat there across from Joanna Belian, our new typist. She was very nice, easily in her late sixties, and had brought along some lovely pictures of her grandchildren.

  "Is it Jordan?" she asked me after a moment.

  "It's Jory." I smiled back, correcting her gently.

  "Your boss is quite a looker, even though he's got ice around the edges."

  "Does he?"

  "Oh yes, dear," she smiled at me. "Cold is the word I'd use."

  "I think he's just—" I began, but when the office door opened and he leaned out of the doorway I went mute.

  "Do you want to know what happened or not?" he asked me irritably.

  I threw up my hands. "I have no idea what you even want me to say at this point."

  He gestured for me and I got up and went into his office.

  When I turned around he walked over to the leather couch and flopped down on it. I couldn't help scowling.

  "What?"

  "You're being so weird."

  "Am I?"

  "Yeah."

  "Yes."

  "Whatever," I said dismissively.

  He looked up at me for a long minute. "Awfully confident today."

  "Were you serious before? Do you really want me to beg?"

  He sighed before leaning forward, head in his hands. "All right, so I took a cab from the airport to their place in Mesquite, and the house is huge. I don't know what I was thinking but for some reason I imagined them poor." He grinned suddenly. "Go ahead."

  "What?"

  "You have questions already."

  "No-no-no." I waved my hand dismissively, grabbing the chair I'd been sitting in earlier, putting it down in front of him so I could sit. "G'head."

  He nodded. "Well, so I go to the door and Caleb Reid is there and he invites me in. I dump everything in the foyer and—what?" he grumbled at me.

  "What?" I looked at him hard.

  "You smiled."

  "I smiled?"

  "You smiled. What?"

  "What?"

  "Why are you smiling?"

  "I can't smile?"

  "Just, what... why are you smiling?"

  I smiled at him again. "You said foyer. You're the only person I know who would use the word foyer when they were telling a story."

  "Oh for crissakes," he groaned. "Try and focus for once."

  "Yeah... sorry, go on, go on."

  Quick breath. "All right, so I drop my stuff and then I walk into the living room and she's right there, sitting on the couch. There's no adjustment time or announcement—I'm just suddenly face-to-face with my birth mother."

  "Oh shit."

  "Well said."

  "What did she say?"

  "She said hello."

  "And, go on, you're killing me here."

  "She wanted me to sit by her on the couch and I did. I didn't want to hold her hand but I could tell she did, so I did.

  I actually thought, what would Jory do if he were here?" He smiled suddenly, and his eyes were soft.

  And at that moment, with the weight of his gaze on me, I got it. In my life he was the constant. Everything else changed but Dane Harcourt remained. When I had been glib the night at the police station, wished them good luck finding anyone I loved, they needed to look no further than my boss.

  I admired the man, I was devoted to him and his welfare, and I just plain old loved him. Not lust—I didn't want to sleep with him. He was like the big brother I never had and had always wanted. He was my family.

  "What's wrong with you?"

  I shook my head.

  "So should I keep going?"

  "Yeah, yeah, go-go."

  "Okay." He sighed deeply. "Well I held her hand and she starts telling me how much she didn't want to give me up and blah-blah-blah—"

  "Boss!"

  "What? It's the truth. I sort of tuned out. I mean, I didn't do it intentionally but I shut off the listening because I realized that I really, truly don't care."

  "How'dya mean?"

  "I mean, what is she going to say? What do I want her to say? What does it matter? My parents are my parents. She gave birth to me but it doesn't make her my mother."

  I nodded. "That's right."

  "I was polite, I listened to what she said and I did the right thing and told her that none of it mattered and that everything turned out all right."

  "Did you meet your father too?"

  "I did. He looked terrible."

  "I feel real sorry for him. He didn't even get a say in whether to keep you or not."

  "No, he didn't."

  "What did he say?"

  "Something very similar to what you just said actually."

  "Huh."

  "He wants to come here and visit me."

  "Oh. That's interesting. What'd you say?"

  "I said we would see."

  "Do you look like him?"

  "Yes."

  "He must be gorgeous."

  I realized after I'd said it that it sounded like I was coming onto him.

  He looked at me hard. "I didn't notice."

  "So what else?"

  Flashing smile then, eyes firing as he spoke. "Are you embarrassed?"

  "Can you just go on before I kill you?"

  "Not very friendly."

  "Go on," I snapped at him.

  "We talked some more and I told them both that if there was anything I could do for either of them that they should not hesitate to call me."

  "That's it?"

  "That's it."

  "Did you stay for dinner?"

  "I didn't, no."

  "Can I ask you a question?"

  "Since when do you ask me?"

  "Okay, that's fair." I nodded. "Why didn't you ask your mother why she gave you up?"

  "It hardly matters now."

  "I think it matters to you."

  "I think it matters to you," he said mockingly. "You seem to always believe that you know what's best for me in every instance."

  "Better than you," I muttered under my breath.

  "Pardon me."

  "Nothing."

  "Jory."

  I crossed my arms and looked over at him with what I hoped was scorn.

  "What? Speak," he commanded.

  "I think I know what you should do."

  "When?"

  "Now."

  "And what is that?"

  "You need to go back and ask all your questions in case you end up not seeing them again."

  "I won't see them again."

  "Crap."

  "So you see, I won't be asking any more questions."

  "We could go back."

  "Why, so you can take notes?"

  It wasn't a bad idea. "The sarcasm is not lost on me."

  We were silent for several minutes. "Look at me," he finally said.

  "I am looking at you."

  "No, look at me."

  I looked into the dark gray eyes of my boss, saw the flecks of silver like always. "What am I looking for?"

  "Do you truly believe that this can mean anything anymore?"

  "Maybe."

  "Jory, are we friends?"

  I looked at him really hard, into the face I knew so well, and saw what I always saw, the absolute rock-like resolve.

  His strength, that I could always depend on, the reason other people were always so drawn to him, because of that streng
th. He was unmovable. He could be battered, but never broken. It was not often you met people who were unbreakable. It was almost a regal bearing he had, like he should have been a king. Someone you could surrender up your life to, an almost heroic quality. And so, because I didn't want him to think I was weak, I found my voice and answered him. "Yes, we're friends."

  "Good." He smiled warmly. "I'm glad."

  I studied him. "You want me to work for you forever, don't you?"

  The smile made his eyes shiny. "Forever. Such a timetable you choose."

  "I need to take care of you." I said it because I felt suddenly brave and because I was feeling vulnerable and because I could. He was the only thing I could point to and say was mine in my life. My boss. I was possessive to a fault.

  If he was going to belong to me, then he had to say the words. "May I?"

  He nodded.

  It wasn't enough. "That's a yes?" I prodded, wanting to be sure. Wanting him to make this finally solid between us. We had been dancing around it for so long, the commitment of friendship. He needed to make a choice, right then and there.

  To either give me the room I needed to maneuver in his life or back away. Truly his friend, able to speak my mind whenever I wanted to on any topic, from his love life to where he worked, to his family, to his friends, to the tie he chose in the morning. He was agreeing to give me a voice in his life and I would be able to weigh in and be counted. And God help him if he agreed because every woman that wanted him from that point on was going to be dealing with me up close and personal. The scrutiny would be unfathomable. "Say it."

  "What are you, twelve?"

  "Say it," I said menacingly. "Say it."

  "You're threatening me?"

  "I will soon."

  "Jory, you—"

  "Say it!" I demanded. I was going to kill him any second.

  "That's a yes."

  I caught my breath. I was absolutely stunned. "Really?" I couldn't believe it.

  "Yes."

  "You're positive?"

  "I'm positive."

  "Why?"

  "Just because."

  "And so I get to—"

  "You get to." He cut me off, sighing heavily. He looked worn out.