by Shandi Boyes
“No. It’s just…” He scrubs at the stubble on his chin, his next words coming out in a hushed whisper. “What if it’s true? We’ve got a lot riding on this assessment, Colby.”
“Are you fucking serious? You’ve met Jamie. You know she’s stronger than this.” I wave my hand in the direction Brad just was. “She said she’d have my back if I proved I was competent.”
Anger flames my face when he says, “Before she left with her fiancé who she lied to regarding your correspondence.”
“She did that because… because…” I’ve got nothing.
“Because he could have a hold over her you don’t know about?” Tyrone steps closer to me, his stance non-aggressive. “She agreed with you when you said he was a douche, yet she still left with him after telling you she plans to marry him.” He licks his puffy lips that get all the girls’ heads in a tizzy. “If you think she’s bigger than this, why didn’t you let her bust him tonight? You didn’t have to whisk her off like you did. You could have let her see the truth firsthand, saving us from worrying he’ll fuck over everything we worked for just to prove a point.”
I speak before my head or heart can battle. “I don’t want to hurt her, Ty. The life in her eyes is only just being lit. I don’t want to douse it.”
Tyrone appears as shocked by my declaration as I felt expressing it. They evoked strange feelings in me—ones I’m certain I’ve never experienced before. I could blame the cocky bastard inside of me that’s certain I’m God’s gift to women, so lighting flames in women’s eyes is the reason for my existence, but the sentiment behind my tone would make a quick liar out of me.
“You care about her as more than a friend.” Tyrone isn’t asking a question. He’s stating a fact.
I shake my head, denying the voice in my head agreeing with him, incapable of backing down. Jamie and I have epic chemistry, but we’ve never stepped over the barrier the ring on her finger propped between us—physically. Mentally is an entirely different story, but I’ll save you that tale for a day when my heart isn’t sitting in my throat.
Tyrone acts as if he didn’t see my head shake. “I don’t know how I didn’t put two and two together sooner. You’ve been different since she walked in The Drop Zone.”
“Because I have no intention of playing Sheets Twister with her. I don’t chase taken women. I’m not my father.”
He doesn’t even look pissed by my lie. “Don’t put this on his shoulders, Colby. You know as well as I do that your backpedaling has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the stupid pledge you made.” He steps closer to me, his smile making it seem as if he just found a pot of gold under the rainbow. “If it’s true, if she has broken through the façade others couldn’t, fuck Brad and Metrics Insurance. It’s time to take a risk that doesn’t involve a parachute for a change.”
I hit him with a stern finger point before jabbing it into his chest for good measure. “I swear to God, if you give me the same crappy line you’ve given me every day for the past five months, I’ll use it to wring your scrawny neck.”
He gives me a look as if to say, I’d like to see you try, but I don’t back down. I’m fucking pissed, my gut is swirling from wolfing down a taco as if I hadn’t already eaten my weight in waffles, and I’m about to say something I’m certain I’ll regret within ten seconds of saying it, “I’ll step back.”
“From?”
The panic in Tyrone’s eyes is washed away when I say, “From Jamie. I’ll take our friendship down a notch. Let nature take its course, so to speak. Then you won’t need to worry about her douchebag fiancé fucking us over, and the ridiculous notions in your head might fuck off right along with him and his bogus claims.”
For the record, it didn’t even take two seconds for regret to hit me like a ton of bricks. I like Jamie. The more time I spend with her, the more I realize how misunderstood she is, but she also has me breaking rules I swore only months ago not to break. I can’t do that anymore. My rules were created for a reason, and I refuse to break them for anyone. In the long run, Jamie will realize I did her a favor by pulling back.
Worry skates across Tyrone’s features, hardening them. “You don’t want to do this, Colby, any more than I don’t want you to.”
“It doesn’t matter what I want, Tyrone. It’s about doing the right thing. She doesn’t deserve that.” I point where Brad once stood before dragging my hand down my body. “But she doesn’t deserve this either.”
He steps closer to me as fury overtakes his worry. “She deserves the right to make her own decisions.”
I agree with him, but I’m a missile locked on its target. When I’ve made up my mind, there’s no stopping me. “You can’t play on both teams, Tyrone. You have to pick a side. Your business or your stupid beliefs I’m more deserving than the hand I’ve been dealt.”
He steps closer to me, his eyes watering. “I choose for my best friend to stop acting like he’s already fucking dead. That’s what I choose.” His heaving chest connects with mine when he brings himself so close to me there’s no way I could miss his hushed words. “You say you’re not scared of death, that you started our business because you aren’t afraid of anything. You lied. You’re so scared of dying, you are letting it kill you long before you’ve lived.”
Chapter 15
Jamie
I stop staring at the empty inbox on my phone when Brad enters our walk-in closet. His pricey suit looks cheap since his left eye is still holding remnants of the black eye he got two weeks ago when he was mugged on his way home from a meeting. Raguel said the chances of finding the perp are low since Brad refused to get the police involved.
“Only those with nothing steal from others,” he said when I urged for him to contact the authorities. If someone were foolish enough to rob him at knifepoint, what chances would someone like me have if I venture outside after dark?
But no matter how hard I pleaded, he didn’t give in. That isn’t unusual. If it isn’t Brad’s idea, it’s a bad idea. I guess that’s why he shot down my many requests for us to stretch our wedding date to one more suitable for two people who haven’t even known each other for a year.
Expensive cologne filters through my nose when Brad bends down to press his lips to my temple. “What are you doing home so early? I thought you had a desk of assessments to get through.”
“I did. Hugh sent me home to pack. I head north tomorrow morning.”
He jerks back, his brow etching high. “He still wants you to attend the getaway he organized?” When I nod, he shouts, “What for? I thought you made your decision on The Drop Zone’s application weeks ago?”
“I did,” I reply with a nod. “Hugh still thinks I should attend. He’s hoping firsthand claims to go with my reports will have Mr. Luis understanding why I cleared The Drop Zone for insurance.”
“You cleared them for insurance?”
I wiggle my finger in my ear. “Jesus, Brad. What’s with all the shouting?”
When I stand from the daybed, his hand shoots out to grab my wrist. “I thought we were done with this.”
By ‘this’ he means Colby McGregor. Not even being mugged the night before could douse his fury when the Los Angeles Chronicle ran a full-page spread on Colby and me dancing. Supposedly, our “happy, loved-up faces” reignited the story that we were on the verge of wedded bliss. The press has been so hounding the past two weeks, I used them as an excuse for Colby’s lack of contact the days following him bundling me into a cab in a hurry. When our dance class arrived and passed without a word from him, I realized there was nothing wrong with my email hosting provider. He had cut contact with me.
“You said this silly thing was behind us.”
I suck in a big breath before cranking my neck to Brad. “It wasn’t silly. It also wasn’t a thing. He was a friend, Brad, nothing more.”
“A friend who just happened to drop you the instant your assessment of his coverage was finalized?”
When he sees the truth in my eye
s, he smirks a cunning grin. As much as it sucks to admit, he’s right. The morning I emailed Hugh the all-clear for The Drop Zone to be sheltered under Metrics’ giant insurance umbrella, Colby stopped returning my emails.
“Convenient, wouldn’t you say?” Brad releases me from his hold, somewhat aggressively. “I guess his ploy worked, didn’t it? Before your little foray of emails, you were prepped to deny his application. Who knew a little flattery was all it took for you to bark when commanded?”
He re-catches my wrist when I attempt to slap him across the face. This hold is firmer than his first. It sends pain zapping up my arm as quickly as it spikes my panic.
“Let me go.” My voice is smooth and calm considering I’m seconds from going on a rampage. Brad’s moments from discovering I’m not programmed to jump on cue. Murder, though, I’m reasonably sure that’s a command I can immediately snap to.
When he releases me from his grip, which is longer than it takes for my wrist to start throbbing, he pushes me back, sending me toppling onto the daybed with a bang. “Embarrass me again, and you’ll have more than this on the line.” He gestures his hand around an apartment many would consider luxury where all I see is a prison without bars.
After a final sneer, Brad leaves the walk-in closet without so much of a backward glance.
I pack my belongings and leave just as quickly.
“I want out.”
I hear Athena tell a cab driver to pull over before the hustle and bustle of LA comes roaring down the line. “You need to speak up, sweetie, I thought I heard you say you want out.”
She sounds surprised. Rightfully so. We’ve had this code for years. If either one of us say, ‘I want out,’ it means we’re ending a relationship. For the past nine years, those three words have only ever been spoken by Athena.
“I do. I want out. Do you still have contact with that divorce attorney? I know we’re not technically married, but our assets are too intertwined to do this without assistance.”
“What did he do?” I swear China will be able to feel her anger. I’m not even in the same zip code as her, yet I can still feel it. “I swear to God, if it’s any of the things your crackling voice is putting in my head, I have a blowtorch at the ready.”
For the first time in two weeks, I smile—then I cry.
“Oh, honey… where are you? I’ll come to you.”
“I’m okay.” I slip into the backseat of the cab Raguel is holding out for me before handing him the twenty fisted in my hand. “I’m going to see my parents before I leave. They’ll make everything better.”
“Okay…” I can tell Athena wants to say more, but she’s stumped for a reply. She’s not the only one. I’ve been dying to say those exact words to her for months, and they arrived with as much relief as I predicted. “While you’re away, I’ll get everything started. You don’t need to worry about anything, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
I drag my hand under my nose before nodding. “I will.”
“I love you, sweetie. It will get better, I promise. The first step is always the hardest, but you’ve done that now, so it’s only onward and upward from here.”
I nod, agreeing with her. “I know. I love you too. Bye.”
It feels like a good thirty seconds pass before Athena eventually hangs up, and thirty minutes later, I arrive at the assisted-living facility where my mom resides.
“How is she today?”
My dad’s big worldly eyes pop over the newspaper he’s reading. He’s in his favorite position in the corner of my mother’s room, watching over her as he has every day for the past eight years. “She’s good, sweetheart, real good.”
The joy in his tone makes me smile. “How many times today?”
He waves his hand across his hulking frame like he’s shooing away a fly. In reality, he’s more in love today than he was the day they wed. “Only four. It’s been a slow day.”
“It’s still early. Give her time.” After being wrapped up in a smell that reminds me of flannelette sheets and stovetop brewed cocoa, I pad closer to my mom’s bed. She glances at me blinking and confused. That isn’t unusual for someone with severe Alzheimer’s. “Hi, Mom.”
The broken heart I anticipated when I made my decision to leave Brad hits me full force when a single tear rolls down her cheek. She’s not crying because she doesn’t know who I am. She’s spotted my dad standing behind me.
“James.” She holds out her hands for him, sobbing more when he balances his forehead against hers. They stare into each other’s eyes for what feels like a lifetime before my mom says, “We should get married?”
“We should,” my dad replies as if today isn’t the fifth time she’s suggested they renew their vows. “Do you think Jamie could attend? She could be our witness.” My dad holds out his hand, inviting me into a duo hug so tight not even Alzheimer’s can break it.
“Yes, that would be lovely. She’s very beautiful.” My mom stares at me like she’s seeing me with the curls I straightened this morning. “Do you look like your mother? I think I know her.”
When I nod, it’s the fight of my life not to let my tears fall. “My dad says that all the time. Except her hair is wilder than mine.” I run my hand down the entanglement of curls curtaining her beautiful face.
For the briefest second, hope flares inside me that she’s remembering. It’s quickly dashed when she shifts her eyes back to my dad and says, “James, we should get married.”
Chapter 16
Colby
“Don’t give me that face, Casper. She’s here as a ticketholder, so you sure as fuck better treat her like one.”
“Ticketholder? Right.”
I don’t believe a fucking word Tyrone speaks. He all but glued my hands to the keyboard in an endeavor to get me to return one of the many emails Jamie sent the past two weeks, so I’m supposed to believe she’s here solely for an adrenaline-packed weekend.
“I wasn’t born last week.”
“With how many brain cells you seem to have lost over the past month, I’m beginning to wonder.” He shoves the bag of a pretty blonde with fake boobs and clothes way too skimpy for the miserable weather into my chest before making his way to help Jamie with her luggage. “And yeah, that was a low blow, but you deserve it.”
Grunting, I toss the blonde’s Prada bag into the back of the van we’re loading like its trash before giving Tyrone the one-finger salute. We’ve barely spoken since our ‘conversation’ in the alleyway two weeks ago, but he doesn’t need words to project his annoyance. He’s refusing to fumigate my loft of pests, he’s not scheduled me for a solo jump in weeks, and anytime I try to get an invite to his tequila and taco Tuesdays, he tells me he doesn’t eat according to what day of the week it is anymore. Who under the age of fifty doesn’t follow a weekatarian diet? That would be like saying not to throw candy bars at women during their menstrual cycle. Both notions are ridiculous.
I wind down my upstanding finger when a big pair of aqua eyes lock with it over Tyrone’s shoulder. Jamie’s eyes are narrowed into tiny slits, but their thinness can’t hide the roll they do. I return her stare, pretending I’m not pissed I didn’t treat her like every other woman I’ve come across. I should have worked her out of my system when I had the chance. Fucked her until the smile she wears while dancing no longer highlights my dreams. I should have chewed her up and spat her out, then the sadness in her eyes wouldn’t affect me like it is.
She’s a taken woman.
Engaged.
Soon to be wed.
Not on my fucking radar.
But even if she were, I doubt I would have treated her like every other woman I’ve bedded.
Tyrone was right. I was different around her. It’s amazing how much you can be yourself when you’re not trying to impress somebody. We were only friends and doing the most mundane tasks, but the time she was in my life before I said I’d step back were some of t
he best weeks of my life.
This is Cate’s fault—stupid fucking dare.
After reluctantly handing her suitcase to Tyrone, Jamie shadows him to the van assigned to take us to a cabin in the dense forest in Northern Cali. Her narrowed eyes taper even more when she takes in the women flanking me. They’re fluffing their hair and checking their makeup for the hundredth time this morning, unaware the only people they’ll see for the next four days signed a contract agreeing to keep things professional at all times—myself included. I don’t recall a non-fraternization policy being discussed when we dreamed up this trip, but since I rarely pay attention during meetings, who was I to call Tyrone out as being a lying two-faced back-stabbing motherfucker.
What? It’s been a hard two weeks. You have no clue how hard it is to decipher the number of buttons a woman has undone when she’s wearing a cashmere sweater over her shirt, then face the risk of booting them out yourself if your calculations are off. Screw that. That wasn’t a risk I was willing to take, so not only has Jamie’s smile featured in my nighttime dreams, it’s taken up a good chunk of my daytime ones as well. You can imagine how well that’s going down with the python in my pants?
Tyrone places Jamie’s luggage into the van before shifting on his feet to face me. I tighten my jaw when his smug grin tells me I won’t like what he has to say next, “Colby, you remember Jamie, right? The insurance assessor you threw off a cliff but somehow managed not to get sued.”
I give him a look, one that warns we’ll be having words with our fists real soon. “Of course, how could I forget having her fiancé strapped to my chest? It’s a pleasure seeing you again, Jamie.”
Yep, Colby McGregor turns into an asshole when the woman he thought was smart enough not to be manipulated is, and he hasn’t been laid in weeks.
