Knave of Broken Hearts (11 page)

“Don’t you?”

“Like you said, I’m straight.”

“But you’re not blind.”

His laugh escaped. “Yeah, I think he’s gorgeous.” He sipped Coke. Where was that burger? “So how did you know you were gay?”

Ian glanced at Jim, then down at the salt shaker. “I waited for all the feelings and stuff they kept saying I’d have over girls. Never happened. Then one day I realized it had happened, just not for girls.”

“How old were you?”

“Going on seventeen. Late bloomer.”

“Do, uh, most guys catch on before then?”

“I don’t know. I’m only now making a few gay friends. But it seems like it’s both earlier and later than me. Some guys don’t know until they’re, like, forty.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah. A lot of guys have had relationships with women. Because they thought they should, right? It never occurred to them that it could be any other way. Then one day they meet a guy and want to fuck him.” He looked around and lowered his voice. “It’s really tough because they have these whole phony lives to disassemble. Kids and everything.” He shook his head. “So I’m an early bloomer by comparison.”

“That’s really tough.”
And really scary.

The waitress brought the burgers finally, and Jim grabbed a huge bite. “But, mmph—” He shoved lettuce into the corner of his mouth. Who said he never ate vegetables? “Aren’t all men kind of attracted to other guys, you know, sometimes? Doesn’t make them gay.”

Ian frowned. “Don’t know about that. I’m not sure most guys really are attracted to dudes. I mean, some of my friends in high school probably never thought another guy was beautiful. They wouldn’t even appreciate Ken Tanaka.” He laughed. “That takes serious heterosexuality, man.”

Shit.

Ian seemed to like this subject. “I mean, do you think Dad ever lusted after a guy? I mean, do you?”

Jim caught his breath. He breathed out but no words followed the air. The question sat there like a turd in the middle of a bowl of cereal.

Ian narrowed his eyes. “Wait, do you?”

“Uh, no, of course not. I mean—”

“Do you think you’re gay?”

Jim glanced around frantically. “Shit, no! Why would you say that?”

“You brought it up.”

“No. I was just trying to show support for you. That’s all.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry.” He bit his hamburger.

“That’s okay.” Jim shoved the rest of his burger aside and sipped the last bit of his watery soda.
That sure as fuck did not go well.

Neither one of them said much while Jim paid the check and they walked out to their respective vehicles. Not awkward, exactly. Or maybe, yeah, awkward. The lightly used Subaru seemed like a great car for Ian. Too bad he was about to graduate to the bus.

Ian took off out of the lot, and Jim followed. His head hurt from Ian’s oversharing. Forty-year-old guys who suddenly want to screw dudes. That idea was fucked up. But sweet Jesus, Billy had been twenty-five before he realized he was into guys. Jim ran a hand through his hair.
Why didn’t you just tell him about the yaoi? Ask him what he thinks? Because you’re scared to know, you giant pussy.

As they pulled up to the gates of Pelican Hill, Jim shuddered. A drive down memory lane, and not in a good way. He remembered powering out of these gates in the old truck he’d paid for himself, carrying his clothes, toothbrush, and a bucketload of scared in the back. He’d lined up a job as a drywaller, two extra gigs doing painting and assisting an electrician, and a room in a guy’s house he could rent. He’d been sixteen but big for his age so he got away with it.

Ian passed through the gate, and Jim rumbled the truck up to the guard. “Good evening, sir. You’re following Mr. Carney, correct?”

No, I’m a fucking cat burglar.
“Yes.”

The guy handed him a yellow card. “Please display this visitor’s pass in your front window while you’re here.”

“Thanks.” Because otherwise he might be lynched before sunrise.

He pulled away from the gate and saw Ian waiting ahead of him. Falling in behind, he wound through the wide, quiet streets accented by low lights so they wouldn’t interfere with the spectacular view of the entire coastline below. He hadn’t thought about this view as a kid. It was the way things were. How times had changed.

Around the next curve, the big Tudor-style mansion came into view. Impressive, pretentious bullshit. Once it had just been home.
Heart beating too fast. Calm down.
Ian navigated the Subaru into the long circular driveway. Jim just pulled to the curb in front. Ian bobbed around in the front seat for a while, then climbed out with a box probably holding all the crap he’d kept in the car. His sweet, pretty face looked so sad, Jim wanted to jump out and hug him. Ian took two steps, stopped, fished in his pocket, and brought out the keys he’d clearly forgotten to leave. He opened the car door again and put them on the dashboard, his shoulders bowed like the keys weighed fifty pounds.

He got partway down the drive toward Jim when the front door of the house opened.
Shit.
Dr. James Carney wasn’t a big man. Jim and Ian had inherited their height from their mother, who equaled their father in stature at five ten. But he sure as hell could look formidable. Their father called Ian’s name, and the kid stopped but didn’t turn around. His father said something else Jim couldn’t hear, and Ian cringed.
Fuck that.

Jim opened the squeaky door of the truck and stepped out. He walked toward his brother, staring at their dad.

James Carney frowned. “I should have known he’d go to you.”

Jim cleared the space and took the box from Ian but still looked at his father. “Where the hell did you expect him to go when you threw out your own son, you self-righteous asshole?”

“He’s no son of mine.”

Ian jerked like he’d been hit, and Jim put an arm around his shoulder. “Even animals don’t deny their children.”

“Alligators eat their young. Sounds like a good idea to me.”

“It would, you fucking reptile.”

“You’re two of a kind.”

“You ought to know. You produced both of us.” He turned and guided Ian back to the truck. The kid managed to stay straight-backed and tearless until they’d driven away from the curb and powered down the winding street with zero regard for the speed limit. Then Ian dropped his face in his hands.

Jim gave Ian’s knee a squeeze. “Damn that asshole to hell. I’m so sorry this happened to you. But you’re smart and talented. You don’t need him.”

“He—he was always hard on me, but I thought he loved me. How can he say I’m not his son?”

“He’s just stuck in his righteousness and can’t back down.”

Ian nodded and mimicked their father’s slightly nasal voice. “‘Homosexuals are warping our society. They want special treatment when what they should get is shipped to an island where they can fuck each other and leave the rest of us alone.’ He probably wishes I’d go to an island and he wouldn’t have to think about me anymore.”

“Maybe he’ll wake up one day and be sorry he lost both his kids.”

“You think so?”

“No, probably not.” He gave Ian a one-armed hug across the console. “At least we’ve got each other, okay?” Jesus, how did he get to be a grown-up so damned fast?

“God, I’m sorry, Jim. Now he hates you too.”

“He always hated me. You didn’t do anything.”

“No, he didn’t. He talked about how you made it on your own and that was admirable.”

That gave him a weird shiver. “He’s perverse. Just trying to make you feel bad.”

“I guess. I don’t get why he’d say we’re two of a kind. All you did was walk out and live your own life. You weren’t caught sucking dick.”

Jim just kept driving.

C
OME
ON
.
Come on.
Jim paced inside the empty, bare suite. Constance Murch would be there any minute for their lunch, and he really wanted to have something to show her. Rico had said he might have roughs. Jim wanted those roughs.

He glanced at his watch. The crew had stayed home since he didn’t have an approved plan for them to build to. One precious day wasted. God, he needed to be well underway before Billy got home. If Billy got back from his honeymoon to find the suite not even started, he’d have to think Jim was a fuckup, even if the owner had changed tenants.
Come on.

The door pushed open, and Rico rushed in carrying a handful of papers.

Jim hurried over to meet him. “Have you got something?”

“Yes. It’s rough, but at least you have an approach to show the owner.”

Jim opened the folded printouts. Man, it looked authoritative. “This is great. I’ll go over it carefully and show it to the client. I really appreciate you making such a huge effort.”

“I’ll confess to not getting much sleep, but I appreciate the chance. I’m new, and this is the first time Willings has let me do something on my own.”

“I know just how that feels.”

“I’ll get out of here so you can talk to the client, but I would appreciate knowing her reaction.”

“You got it. I’ll call you.”

Rico stuck out his hand. “Thanks.”

Jim shook. “No. Thank you.”

Rico ran out as fast as he’d come in, and Jim started looking at the plans. He got through the whole set once when the door opened again. “Hello, Jim. Ready for lunch?”

Constance Murch looked different. Not quite so buttoned-down and businesslike, she’d worn a blue dress and higher heels. Her blonde hair hung to her shoulders real smooth. She looked pretty, which was nice, and she’d obviously made an effort, which was scary. “Yes. Thanks.” But he’d made an extra effort too, putting on a pair of dark blue khakis and a long-sleeved shirt.

“I thought we’d go to the restaurant here in the building. Their food is good, and I made a reservation.”

He smiled. “I’m in your hands.”

That got a big grin out of her. “How nice.” She nodded at the papers in his hands. “Looks like you have something to show me.”

“Yeah. Just rough, but it’ll give you an idea of the approach.”

“Excellent. I can’t wait to see them. Let’s go get our table and we can talk.” She slipped an arm through his and led the way out the door.

As they walked, her boob pressed against his bicep. It was kind of nice.
See, I really like women.
She didn’t let go until they’d walked across the lobby, been shown to a table in the back of the pretty garden restaurant, and were seated. “Do you want iced tea, or shall we have some wine to celebrate our future collaborations?”

What the fuck did that mean? God, wine sounded good, and he didn’t even have to pay for it. “Uh, I’m working, so I better stick to tea.”

She nodded. “I like a serious man. Good.”

Had he passed some sort of test? He glanced at the menu. “I haven’t eaten here before. What’s good?”

“They have excellent salads.”

Yuck.

“And I’m told their burgers are memorable. You impress me as a burger man.” She smiled.

He grinned. “Then I impress you correctly.” He glanced at the list, and they had every kind of thing you could do to a burger, from avocado to wasabi.

The waiter arrived, and she ordered a salad and he got a burger with cheese plus sweet potato fries, which sounded weird, but Constance assured him were good. When the waiter left, she leaned forward, flashing more than a hint of cleavage. “So show me what you’ve got.”

That could be interpreted a lot of ways. He unfolded the drawings and spread them out on the tablecloth. “Since you liked the consultant’s sketch, my architect—” He almost laughed at the possessive. “—kept it in mind while working out these plans. Notice that he’s maintained the light and visibility but cut back on some of the expanses of glass, which should keep the costs down.” Oh man, he was full of shit, but that’s the way he saw it.

She stared at it with a crease between her light eyebrows. “Have you done a cost estimate?”

“No, ma’am. He just finished this rough this morning. But if you like the approach, I’ll get right on it.” His shirt should be jumping, his heart beat so hard.

“You’ve based both suites on the same concept?”

“We can, or we can simply use the approved plan for the lobby suite and this approach for the eighth floor. It depends on what your tenant wants.”

“You like this design better?” Did she like the damned thing? Her deadpan gave nothing away.

He took a breath. “Yes, I do, but it could be a little too, you know, much for some tenants.”

She stared at him, the crease still there. He noticed she lined her lips with something darker than her light pink lipstick color. Then her face lit up. “A perfect assessment. I think this approach is brilliant, and since my upstairs tenant is a designer, he’ll love it. The new lobby tenant is a physician and quite cheap, I must admit. The existing design will be perfect for him. I think you’ve created exactly what I need—assuming the price is right for my eighth-floor tenant. Can you cost it out for me tonight?”

Whew.
“Yes. With pleasure.”

The waiter delivered their food. The warm smell of the burger filled his nose along with the flowery scent of her perfume. It all made him a little light-headed.

She clasped his forearm, and the warmth spread up in waves to his shoulder. “Now let’s discuss how we might do things together in the future.” Her smile had a lot of layers.

What did she want, exactly? And why should he care? She was a pretty, apparently available, and maybe even rich woman. He was an unattached heterosexual man. He had no problems at all. He smiled back. “I’d like that.”

“I’ve been looking for a good construction company to do work with me.”

“TIs?”

“Yes, but also more significant remodels. I’m considering buildings I want to invest in, but I need to know if they can be renovated both attractively and cost-effectively. I was impressed with Mr. Ballew, and I adore the building he remodeled for Chase Phillips, but knowing he has a man like you at the helm—” She tightened her fingers. “—convinces me that we have more to talk about.”