Rough [02] - Roughhousing (18 page)

Not bothering to listen to her announce him, James sighed and muttered to himself, “I wouldn't count on his being all that delighted."

Angela hung up the phone, with a broad smile for James. “Follow me please.” She led the way to the large carved door that separated the two offices, opened the door, and gestured for him to enter. James slipped by her and stepped into another part of Bram's world.

The room was huge, tasteful, masculine, and powerful, decorated with deep earth tones, heavy wood furniture, and elegant details. The walls were lined with stuffed bookcases and the carpet was so thick it swallowed the sound of his approach. The room was over sized, just like its owner. James felt small and insignificant here.

James almost gasped out loud at the sight of Bram, sunlight all around him highlighting his sharp facial features and turning his honey-blond hair to spun gold as it streamed in from a bank of windows. Behind him lay an impressive view of the city.

In front of a paper-strewn desk, Bram stood waiting for him, a delighted smile on that handsome face and playful twinkle in those eyes. He was holding what looked like several photographs, their edges yellowed and objects in them made of shades of faded gray. He put them on the desk as James approached him.

"Well, good morning. Again. What do I owe the pleasure of this visit to?” Bram's deep, rich voice played hell with James’ libido, but he quelled it, concentrating on his building nausea instead. But it was hard.

He had seen and admired Bram at home when the man had dressed in his tailored business suit with all the trimmings. The man transformed from the laid back, comfortable cowboy in worn jeans and boots to a crisp, flawless executive with the ease of a man born to the role. James knew Bram preferred a hands on role with his own company, but when he needed to become his company's spokesman, he looked every inch the powerful man in charge. James felt his resolve to confront Bram weaken.

A sudden pang of fear shot through him and he fought to control his breathing to keep it from becoming too rapid. The pounding in his head had eased slightly while talking to Angela, but it picked up tempo and force with every step James took. He was out of place here. Bram was an influential businessman, and a man with a growing, prosperous company and a staff of hundreds, maybe a thousand. No wonder he was so in control and self-confident. Bram had a right to be.

As James looked around the office and at his bold, beautiful, massive lover, a cloak of heavy sorrow fell over him. His stomach churned and twisted. He didn't belong here. Fear and defensiveness choked him and the pressure in his head made his vision blur. He thought he might pass out until Bram's warm, strong hands grabbed him and pulled him in close.

"Jamie?"

The dizziness faded to a tolerable level. Not wanting to, James gently but insistently disentangled himself from Bram's embrace.

Bram didn't object, but didn't let James get too far away either, holding onto him by one shoulder. He dropped his arm when James looked him in the eye.

"Jamie? What's wrong?” Bram titled James’ face up and gave him a critical, concerned once over.

James knew he was a sorry-looking sight, hair wind-tossed, face bruised and battered, skin dark where he hadn't been able to shave away all of his morning stubble effectively around the multiple cuts. But he knew there was something in his face that made Bram take notice. There was no point in beating around the bush. Not knowing was eating him alive.

"I got handed the Becker Estate Project this morning."

"That's great!” Bram's concerned expression took on an element of confusion. “Dunn liked your plans then? I told you he would."

"He never saw them.” James’ tone became testy. Even he could hear the unspoken accusation in it. “He gave it to me out of the blue."

Cautiously, Bram said, “He must know you're capable of the job."

"It belonged to Art Wheeler. I would have loved to have been allowed to just join the project, but Dunn turned it completely over to me.” James felt his dismay and frustration growing. “Art isn't even a part of it anymore."

Bram sat back on the edge of his desk, thick arms folded across his hard chest, and gave James a thoughtful look. “He must have had his reasons. Didn't he explain his decision?"

"No, he was in a hurry to get to a meeting. The only thing he did mention,” James stared at Bram, his expression waffling between a glare and a beseeching grimace, “was a call from you."

Understanding seemed to dawn on Bram and he slowly stood up. “Oh.” He gave James a hard stare. “You think I had something to do with getting you the assignment, don't you?"

"Did you?"

"Do you have to even ask? After everything, you actually have to ask?"

"I know you.” James started pacing in front of Bram, hands gesturing in the air as he talked. “You like doing things for me. You like being in control of things.” He was talking to himself now, words tumbling out and eyes darting between the floor and the tips of Bram's shoes. “And, and I've been stalling on showing him the plans, I know. And it's your nature to make things happen, to get things done.” James could barely catch his breath he was talking so fast. His head was pounding, his vision hazy, and his balance felt slightly off. “And, and, and this is just one more example of your following your nature."

To keep from stumbling, knees suddenly weak, James stopped in front of a silent Bram and stared up at him, so unfocused he could barely see his lover through the pounding haze of pain behind his eyes. Getting upset while suffering through the aftereffects of a head injury seemed to be an unwise decision, but he couldn't stop the words and feelings from flowing out.

"I've worked all my life to get where I am and I've done it alone. No family, no partner, no support, and no encouragement. On my own. And maybe that's the only way I'm meant to be. Alone.” James wiped the tears off his face and looked Bram in the eye. “Maybe it's the way I'm supposed to be."

"That's it? I don't get any say in the matter?” Bram's voice was very quiet and controlled, so fitting with the corporate image he was projecting. So controlled and controlling to James’ ear.

"You said it all to Dunn, Bram. I need to be an equal with you if this is going to work. And it doesn't look like that's ever going to happen with you taking control of my life whenever it suits you. Even if it's to be kind.” James pushed at the air between them and closed his eyes for a second to ward off the nausea boiling up in his gut. Lips pressed in a thin line, he said, “I can't do this. I just can't.” He backed a few paces away from Bram. “Don't pick me up after work. I'll take a cab back to my place. I need to...” he stuttered, finally at a loss for words, “to think."

James turned on his heel and strode out the office door, vaguely surprised and relieved when Bram didn't follow him. He shot past Angela Bell with only a slight nod of thanks. He took the first open elevator he spotted, heedless of the fact it was going up. Bracing himself in the corner, James closed his eyes and rode in silence until the doors chimed and the lobby came into view. He managed to hail a cab and collapse onto the back seat before his legs gave out and the headache won. He vomited into one of the handy paper bags the cabbie stocked in the back of the cab.

* * * *

The miserable morning dragged into a dreary afternoon at a snail's pace for James. He divided his time between staring at the phone waiting for Dunn's secretary to return his call and grant his request to see the man as soon as possible, and staring at it wanting to call Bram just to hear the man's voice. He had a sure feeling he wouldn't be hearing it much longer, if ever again.

Between bouts of righteous indignation, telling himself he had done the right thing breaking it off with Bram, and paralyzing moments of fear that he had just thrown away the best thing he ever had, James glanced through the original plans for the project. He dabbed at the corner of his mouth where the cut had split open from his vomiting and tried to will his stomach to keep down the handful of Motrin he had swallowed on returning to his office.

By five o'clock the waiting took its toll on him and James headed off to Dunn's office to see if he could catch his boss on the way out the door. All he needed was five minutes to explain he couldn't accept the project without Wheeler's input. He had tried to find Art, but his usual secretary was out. All her replacement knew was that Wheeler hadn't been in today. She didn't know when he was scheduled to return.

James felt a new pang of guilt, certain his being given the job out from under Wheeler's nose was the reason the man wasn't at work. He didn't think he'd be able to face his coworkers right away if he'd lost a huge project to a junior member of the firm.

When he reached Mrs. Allen's desk, she was busy filing folders in a series of tall, sleek filing cabinets beside her desk. They were brushed metal and matched the walls exactly, blending in perfectly to disguise their form and function in the streamlined office area. She stopped working when James approached.

"Good evening, Mr. Justin. I'm sorry I haven't been able to get in touch with Mr. Dunn to let him know you needed to speak with him today."

James glanced toward the closed office door. “Is he in now? Could I get five minutes, maybe?"

"I'm truly sorry. He's left already and I don't expect him back until tomorrow.” She sounded genuinely sympathetic.

Rubbing a hand over his face, James gave a deep sigh and hung his head. This was really shaping up to be one of the worst days of his life. A gentle touch to one shoulder made him raise his head up.

"I know he dropped a lot of work on you unexpectedly this morning, James, but he didn't have a choice. The project needed someone who knew the designs and was already up to speed on the specs. He didn't have time to waste.” She sighed and sadly added, “Not under these circumstances.” She patted his shoulder in a motherly gesture that surprised James. “He has confidence you're right for the job."

James frowned and asked, “What circumstances?"

"The project didn't have an architect anymore as of this morning."

"What? Did Art quit? I know he's been pretty quiet lately and he looked upset at the dinner party Friday night, but I didn't think he was going to leave."

"He didn't."

"He got fired?"

"No."

James stared at her, searching for another valid reason for the man to be gone and coming up with nothing. He shrugged and waited. Eventually either his silence or his lost look got to her.

Mrs. Allen stepped closer and lowered her voice. “I suppose you have the right to know since you inherited Art's problem with this.” She glanced out into the open lobby behind James then locked earnest gazes with him. “Art didn't leave, but his wife left him about a week ago."

"Then why isn't he still on the project if he's still here?"

She studied James for a moment then quietly confided, “Because he tried to commit suicide last night."

"What? What happened? Why? I mean ... Jesus!"

"The details aren't important. He's still alive. He's in the ICU at General."

She picked up a pile of folders and walked them back over to her desk. James absently followed her. “That's where Mr. Dunn is right now. He spent the morning finding Art's wife, Amy, and getting her back in town and now he's at the hospital with her. It's going to be a rough road for them."

A sickening thought pushed through all the confusion and shock, suddenly dropping the bottom out of James’ stomach. He stopped walking and jerked his head up to look at Mrs. Allen. “When did Mr. Dunn pick me as Art's replacement?"

"First thing this morning. And I do mean first thing.” She dropped into her chair and began to put away her personal items for the day from the desktop. “He had me here by six o'clock gathering up all the paperwork and plans you were going to need. Darn good thing I'm an early riser
and
a workaholic or he'd have been on his own.” She smiled to take the sting out of it, but James barely noticed.

"Thank you for telling me. I appreciate everything you've told me and Mr. Dunn's trust in me. I don't need to see him urgently anymore. Whenever he has time will be fine. Good night.” James walked away without looking back.

This day just got better and better.

The call to Dunn from Bram had nothing to do with his getting the project. Once again, he had allowed his impulsive urges to control him rather than confront his own convoluted fears and misgivings about being in a lasting relationship. Being in the comfort and security of a loving, committed relationship was the one thing James wanted most in life and he had just shut the door on the one man who could have given it to him. James felt the nausea rising again.

* * * *

There was complete silence in the hallway as James passed the Ellwood's apartment door. He almost made it past Macy's door as well, but at the last minute it popped open and the blonde bombshell tiptoed out on her feathered, pink-heeled slippers.

Speaking in an exaggerated whisper, Macy wiggled her fingers at James. “Hi ya, Jamie.” Macy glanced meaningfully at the neighbor's apartment door and tiptoed closer to James’ side. “How are you? I could get you some ice if you want?"

Her soft, breathy words puffed over his cheek as she invaded his personal space. James realized he didn't even mind now. Macy was a harmless, ditsy, sweet caricature in stilettos and hot pants. A pin-up girl with a heart as big as her cup size. If he forgot about the fact that she'd tried to hit on him, James thought it was like having a super sexy Barbie doll for a big sister.

"Head still hurt?” She ran her hand over his hair and twirled a strand of curls around one finger before dropping it to lean in closer and examine his sutures. “Wow. That's going to leave a mark, isn't it? Alone tonight?"

"Yes, it'll probably leave a scar for a while.” He ignored her other question, thinking the answer was obvious.

"That's a real shame. You're cute. I suppose it will make you look rugged. Poor baby."

Exhausted, both mentally and physically, James let Macy coo and fuss over him until she decided to stop. It didn't take long. He knew he looked like crap. He felt like it.