Authors: Susan Lyons
Skills? Not hardly. The black lady had the skills, the white guy had the education. And Bakker was damned stupid.
“These people want a free ride,” the manager complained.
“They aren’t prepared to put in their time and work for it.”
“These people?” It wasn’t the first time today he’d heard the term.
Bakker scowled into his black face. “People who don’t have the skills. Education. Work habits. Whatever.”
Jax had said the same kind of thing himself. People should work hard for what they wanted, not rely on affirmative action. But he also believed that, having worked hard, they shouldn’t be discriminated against. And from what he’d heard at Family Friend today, it seemed discrimination just might be systemic. Tuesday morning he was back in his office, transforming his scribbled notes into a typed record. A record that disturbed him.
When Caitlin came in to ask a question, he snapped, “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?”
She scowled, as much as a freckled elf can scowl. “Jesus, Jax, what’s wrong with you today? That’s the third time you’ve taken my head off.”
“Sorry, I’m busy. Nothing’s wrong.”
“You’re always busy. Boss, you need to get a life.”
“I’ve got a life,” he said grumpily. Why had he encouraged her to be so informal? His life was none of her business. But he couldn’t snap at her again.
“Like, a girlfriend, was what I was meaning,” she said. “You need some R&R.”
He wasn’t about to tell her he’d just spent two weekends having lots of recreational sex. “I don’t have time to meet women, much less go out with them.”
“The meeting part wouldn’t be a problem. I know at least a dozen gals who’d love to go out with you. You’re, like, a primo catch.”
Suzanne certainly didn’t think so. “I don’t want to be caught.”
She rolled her eyes. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were still hung up on your wife.”
“Ex. And you do know better.”
“Tonya’s doing well, isn’t she? I saw the invitation for that dinner at her new restaurant. Sounds like it’s going to be a great place. Hint, hint.”
Eventually, Caitlin’s brashness usually did make him laugh. Now he chuckled and said, “I’ll take you for lunch when they open.”
“Great! In exchange, I’ll get you a date for that dinner.”
Once, he’d toyed with the idea of taking Suzanne, wondering about her meeting Tonya and his mother. Now the only invitations he’d be issuing to outrageous69 were ones for hot sex. If he ever felt in the mood for it again. “I’m going alone.”
Caitlin gave an exasperated snort. “Fine. Be like that.” Heels clicking on the hardwood floor, she stomped out of his office. He turned back to his computer and saw, beside it, Tonya’s invitation.
Funny thing was, Suzanne would probably get along with the other ladies in his life. It was him she didn’t get along with. His mother had said she sounded like a nice girl. And, as it turned out, she was, as well as being a sexpot. A nice girl, who would end up with a guy far less successful than he. But that’s what she wanted.
It wasn’t that he’d spent his life trying to be better than the other guy. Well, maybe he had. Not better in some obnoxious way—at least he hoped not—but trying to prove he could be anything that a white guy could be.
And Suzanne would choose a low-achiever white guy. Not that he wanted her to choose him, not for marriage and all that crap. So why did it piss him off that she rejected the goals he’d been working so hard toward?
Because it meant she was rejecting him. Who he was as a person. She’d happily take him as a lover, but not as a person. He heaved a sigh. Damn. He and Suzanne had actually started to develop something worthwhile. Now, exhausted and stressed, it was the friend he missed, more than the sexpot. But it was when they’d ventured into friendship that their relationship fell apart. It seemed that, for them, sex and friendship weren’t compatible. So, fine, they’d learned a lesson. Why was he obsessing like a girl?
He picked up the phone, dialed Tonya and RSVP’ed that he’d be attending her dinner party alone.
“You can escort Darissa,” she said.
“Mom’s not bringing a date?”
“You ought to know she doesn’t mix her personal life with business.”
“Yeah, guess I oughtta. Hell, I didn’t even know she was dating until she told me a week or so ago.”
“She’s a private person.” Tonya paused, then said, “Jax, you’re really okay with her being a partner in my business?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“A new business? It’s risky. I know how strongly you feel about her financial security.”
It was true, yet somehow he’d never questioned that aspect of the new venture. He had to smile when he realized why. “I have faith in the two of you. You’ll make a go of it, she’ll do okay.”
But her comment about finances made him remember things Suzanne and Rick had said. He bit his lip. “Am I too hung up on money?”
“It’s natural to want to look after your mom.”
“Yeah, but I mean . . . in general. In my own life, my career.”
“Um . . . Hung up on money? No, I wouldn’t say that.” But her tone was wary, like there was something else she
would
say. He didn’t want someone else dumping on him, but he valued Tonya’s opinion. In many ways, she knew him better than anyone else did. “But?” he prompted.
“You’re really driven to make something of yourself.”
“So are you.”
“Well, I want to run my own restaurant, do things my way, make my customers happy. But it’s for personal satisfaction, you know? Not for . . . glory.”
Her comment was so unexpected, it made him chuckle.
“You think I want glory?”
“You’re out to prove something, Jax. To yourself and to the world.”
He sure the hell was. “You saying that’s bad?”
“It makes you concentrate on your goals, pretty much to the exclusion of everything else. It’s how you get things done.”
Sure. He’d learned that technique as a kid, and it had always worked. Except . . . “I didn’t do so well with our marriage.”
“No. You didn’t see it as an important goal, or at least not as important as work.”
Damn. He’d loved her, but she was right. Building his career had mattered more. “I let you down. Hurt you.”
“Yeah.” She sighed again. “Oh damn, it’s not fair to let you take all the blame. I’m at fault too. I knew how hard you worked, knew your goals. You had trouble making time to see me when you were articling, so why did I think you’d change?
I loved you, Jax, but we both should’ve realized marriage wouldn’t work for us.”
Yeah. If the two of them had ever had the kind of conversation he and Suzanne had had on Saturday, they’d never have married. “I loved you too,” he said softly. “Thanks for being so understanding.”
She was quiet for a moment, then she gave a chuckle. “Instead of bitching at you like I usually do? Sorry, guess there’s still some old hurt hanging around. Crazy, because I’m so happy with Benjamin. So grateful I was free when he came along.”
“I’m glad it’s working for you, this time around.”
“Me too. This time, I knew what I was looking for. Benjamin and I are lovers, best friends, partners. We share our lives. We talk about our jobs, help each other out, and we always make sure there’s time to talk, make love, laugh.”
Yeah, Suzanne and Tonya would get along. They had the same values. Just like Rick.
Was he the only one in the world who was trying to live the American dream?
Or had he ever truly understood that dream?
When Jax rose on Wednesday, he wondered if racquetball was still on. He’d expected an e-mail saying Rick couldn’t make it. When it hadn’t come, he’d thought of sending one of his own. But hell, that would be admitting something, and if Rick wasn’t going to, then nor was he.
No Rick in the changing room at the club.
Slowly, Jax took his racquet from its case. If they stopped the regular games, he’d have to find some other way of getting exercise. All those hours at a desk really took a toll on the body. A few minutes later, the door crashed open and a breathless Rick rushed in. “The BART was late.”
“No problem.” Jax bent to retie his shoes.
Why did he feel relieved? He told himself it was just because he needed the exercise, and their familiar three-day-a-week routine was the easiest way.
They played in silence, but for calling out the score. The play was hard and fast, both of them sweaty and short of breath. Jax won the first game, Rick the second, and the third was hard fought until Jax made the final point.
“Good match,” Rick panted.
“Yeah.”
Neither spoke again. Not until, showered and changed, they hit the street together.
“Hope the BART’s back on schedule,” Jax said.
“Yeah.”
“Friday?”
“Yeah.”
Okay, fine, it wasn’t like he needed conversation from Rick. Their relationship was all about keeping fit. Still, this not-talking crap was awkward. He could call Rick, apologize. But hell, Rick had overstepped, taking that whitewash stuff from teasing to serious. He was the one who should apologize first.
Suzanne had apologized.
And look where that had gotten them. To a spot where, unless he felt like proposing crazy sex, he didn’t feel like he could even e-mail her.
By Thursday night, Jax was going through serious Suzanne withdrawal. He couldn’t do this cold turkey, he had to hear her voice.
It was around ten when he picked up his cell and phoned from his office. His hello was met with a long silence. Then she said, “Jaxon? How are you?” She sounded wary. He went for honesty. “Tired, overworked. The same old me.”
She gave a soft laugh, and when she spoke, her voice was more relaxed. “Another rung or two up the partnership ladder?”
He listened hard, but there was no undertone, no jab. Damn, it felt good to hear her voice.
“One can only hope.” He glanced at the stacks of files on his desk, the notes from more crappy Family Friend interviews—
this time at a branch store—waiting to be transcribed. “There must be some reason—” He broke off.
“Reason?” She sounded so gentle, like she really wanted to know.
“I was going to say, ‘reason I’m killing myself like this.’”
“You know the reason, don’t you? I mean, you sounded pretty sure when you talked about your goals.”
“I—”
“Look,” she interrupted, “it was shitty of me to attack your priorities. I should know better. I have these three girlfriends, we get together every week, and the wonderful thing about our friendship is that we can disagree. We discuss, give our opinions, sometimes just agree to disagree, but it’s not an attack. We support each other, we care.”
Imagining the four of them made him smile. “I’m not so sure you were attacking,” he admitted. “Yeah, it felt like it, but you hit one of my hot buttons. Maybe I overreacted.”
“I know
exactly
what that’s like,” she replied eagerly.
“That’s why I came across so strong myself. My hot button is fathers who put work ahead of their kids.”
He pushed his chair back, resting his sock feet on his desk.
“That’s a good hot button. I agree with you. Hell, I had a father who didn’t acknowledge I existed, and a step dad who’d have preferred I didn’t.”
“Oh Jaxon, I never thought of it that way. What an idiot I am.”
“Don’t go feeling sorry for me. My mom always put me first.”
“She sounds wonderful.”
Oh yeah, Suzanne and his mom would definitely get along.
“So, what about you?” she asked. “Will you have kids one day? You didn’t mention a family when you talked about your goals.”
He’d never really thought about it. When he and Tonya married, they’d agreed children were an issue for way down the road. But . . . if he couldn’t handle marriage and a career, he sure as hell couldn’t have kids and do right by them. Why had he never figured this out before?
“I guess . . . probably not,” he said.
His brain said it was the right decision. But . . . He’d never be a dad. Never help with homework, teach his kid basketball. Never break the pattern and be a real father, unlike his dad and step dad.
And his mom would never be a grandmother. She sometimes teased him about getting married, making her a grandma, but he didn’t know if she was serious.
“Too bad,” Suzanne said. “All those great genes not getting passed on.”
“Great genes?”
“Handsome, intelligent, athletic. You’re the perfect man.”
He frowned. “You don’t really think that. You think I’m a workaholic.”
“Well . . . You are, aren’t you? But that’s not genetic.”
“My mom worked hard.”
“Yes. But for survival, and to make a good life for you.”
“She taught me anything is possible, if you work hard enough.”
“It’s a good lesson. Each person has to decide what they want to work for. You’ve done that, and now you’re making it happen. That’s something to be proud of.”
She wasn’t attacking him now, she was suggesting he should be proud. Why didn’t he feel better?
He leaned back in his chair and rotated his aching neck. What he’d give to have her fingers massaging his shoulders. “Hey, Suzanne, you said your hot button is fathers bailing on their kids? But your father is there, for you and your sister. Isn’t he?”
“It’s a long story.”
And obviously not one she wanted to share. Silly to feel hurt. “It’s okay, forget I asked.”
“No, it’s just hard to talk about. But I’ve done it already this week, with my girlfriends, and I feel better for it.” She gave a little sigh, then went on. “When I was a girl I had a best friend . . .”
He listened as Suzanne told Liz’s story. When she got to the end, he said, “Poor Liz. And poor you. It must’ve hurt to know your friend was in pain, yet wouldn’t let you help her.”
“It did. I still feel like I let her down.”
“You did everything a friend could do.”
“We all knew her mom was taking pills. We knew Liz had access to them, knew she was upset, feeling guilty and depressed. We should have guessed.”
“That’s hindsight. I bet, at the time, you did everything you could think of. I know you.”
“I sure tried.”
He had a flash of insight. “Suzanne, what’s your most important goal in the world?”