by Con Riley
“Eric needs some help with his interns. He has to get them out of the department they’re in right now. I wondered if you could help with that.”
“Because?”
“Because all they’re getting to see right now is a clusterfuck.”
It’s worth being truthful when Carl lets out a bark of laughter. “Is that right?” He’s delighted.
“Sure is.” Jon sips and then says, “It’s likely only teething issues where the departments have merged since moving into one building, but the interns are caught in the crossfire right now.”
“Teething issues. You think?”
“I do.” Jon nods before taking in Carl’s expression, which has an edge of skepticism. “Wait. You don’t? You think it’s more than that?” The small shrug Carl gives doesn’t give away a whole lot, but the statement he makes next certainly does.
“It’s none of my business.”
“But if it was?” This is the most open Carl’s ever been with him. Jon leans forward, unconscious of his change of position until Carl mirrors his movement. “Tell me what you’d do if this was your business.”
Their heads are much closer when the older man says, “You want to know what I would have done if I was the big boss?”
Jon nods, sure he’s about to get some kind of confirmation that something around here’s fucked up.
“If this was my business,” Carl says, his tone quiet but fierce, “it would’ve folded in the 80s. You learned about boom and bust at that fancy business school you went to, didn’t you?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Well, you’re looking at someone who would’ve gone bust. It’s Stan Hallquist who made it grow by taking big risks. Stan Hallquist’s the man who built this place from the ground up by putting it ahead of everything else in his life. I’m just a guy who’s good with a hammer, so I’m not about to criticize how he manages people out of his organization when he’s finally done with them.”
“He’s managing someone out?” Jon sits back. “In the accounting department?” That would explain the mixed messages the interns were getting. “Why doesn’t he just fire whoever it is he wants gone?”
This time Carl’s shrug is more apparent. “You tell me, Jonathan.” There are white lines at the corners of his eyes like he’s more used to smiling in sunshine than toiling indoors. “I’ve known the man for more than twenty-five years. I still couldn’t tell you what makes him tick. But,” he adds as he stands, “I do know one thing for certain. He sure has a way of making people walk away and leave him. I….” His hesitation is momentary, then he rushes ahead, like he’s decided he might as well go all in on his confession. “I wouldn’t make it easy on him. If Stan wanted me gone, he’d have to man up and tell me himself.”
Jon thinks it over later as he cuts back ivy in Peggy’s garden. The sound of her chatter washes over him as he snips. He only notices she’s stopped speaking when the buzz of bees takes over, their drone drowning out everything else. He turns, gleaming shears in hand, to check what’s caused her sudden silence.
She sounds serious, for once, when she speaks. “I know something’s wrong, Jonathan.” Her head tilts, the evening sun setting her red hair aglow. “You could tell me what’s bothering you, if you wanted.”
“You’d want to hear about my work?”
“Yes.”
It’s a one-word answer. A single syllable that slices through all his internal reserve. “I’m trying to figure out some stuff, I guess.” His head scratch is literal. “I feel like I jumped to some conclusions at work. Now I’m not sure what to do next.”
Peggy sits sideways in her seat when Jon takes the one next to her. He talks in starts and stops, elbows planted on his knees, gaze fixed firmly on the uneven stones that make up the paving. There’s no telling how long they sit, side-by-side in chairs faded by years of seasons, hand-built by her husband, but she listens quietly the whole time, supportive when he describes the errors he now sees in his first impressions.
There are real people caught up in whatever’s going down at Hallquist Holdings. Humans his textbooks never mentioned, powered by real emotions that shape all their decisions, even if he doesn’t understand why.
Peggy’s gentle encouragement reminds him at first of phone calls made home while away at college, only his mom hadn’t been half as restrained when he’d tried to figure out his shit. Nope. She’d reminded him to stay focused on his game plan and to keep his eyes on the prize so he’d have a better future. When he looks up from the uneven stones he’s shocked it’s Peggy next to him instead.
It’s a moment of loss that lingers while his chest aches.
He’d so wanted to make her life easier and thought he’d have years to do just that before she was gone in a heartbeat.
He finally settles back in his seat and picks up where he left off. Peggy smiles when he describes Eric—so full of ideas and enthusiasm, only held back by a community college associates degree from getting accepted into a prestigious program like him. And she almost coos when he describes how Anthony manages his team with smiles and praise and donuts. Maybe he describes him too well; Peggy’s gaze turns thoughtful. By the time he moves on to tell her all about Carl, she asks some questions of her own.
“You thought he was bad at his job?”
“He really is.” His team still isn’t putting in numbers anywhere close to Anthony’s.
“But you said he worked there a long time?”
“Yup. Right from the get-go. Construction’s his whole background.” Those photos in the office lobby suggest he still loves working with his hands, as did finding him purchasing supplies to rebuild a shelter when most people used their weekends to goof off.
“So how come he works out of an office now, doing something he’s terrible at if he’s so much better working outside?”
That’s exactly what Jon wonders.
Maybe Peggy notices his frown. She changes the subject, and her tone reverts to teasing. “How about you tell me more about Anthony. He sounds fun, Jonathan.” She leans closer and lowers her voice, as if the bees might overhear them. “Is he handsome?”
Jon’s surprised into nodding, heat crawling up his throat like the ivy he just cut back.
“Do you think he likes you?”
He nods but then shakes his head, decisive. “I’m not going to date him.”
Peggy jumps in. “But you do want to date someone?” It’s more a statement than a question.
The heat reaching the tips of his ears is as good as agreement, but his quiet “Maybe” is reluctant. He’s glad that they’re alone and that it’s getting darker. “But there’s no point.”
“Why not? If you’re interested in someone, what’s stopping you from asking them out?”
“Because I won’t be here for long.” It’s the truth, and they both know it.
“Jonathan.” She’s suddenly stern. “How long do you think it took me to fall in love with my husband? There’s always a point to a summer romance.”
“I guess. But… but the person I’m interested in….” He closes the shears with a loud snick, like the conversation’s over. “I’ve blown it with him already.”
“How come?”
“We didn’t exactly get off to the best start.”
“It’s someone you’ve known for a while? Maybe you could try again. Make a better impression on him. If it’s….” She squirms in her seat and then bursts out, “If it’s who I think it is, I know he always gives second chances.”
They both turn at the sound of the garage door screeching open.
Peggy lets out something close to a squeak when Tyler appears at the backdoor.
He’s not wearing pale-blue scrubs this time or the red and black of the diner serving staff. Instead he’s dressed up. The slim cut of his dress shirt draws attention to his torso like it’s made to measure, and his pants cling in all the right places in a way that looks expensive. It’s yet another uniform, Jon guesses, for work he had no idea sucked up so much time when they
first met.
Back then he’d taken one look and jumped to a conclusion. Now, just like at the office, he’s starting to know much better. There’s nothing deceitful about the way Tyler smiles as he crosses the lawn between them. All Jon spies on his face is honest pleasure at finding Peggy happy. When Tyler turns that same smile his way, Jon sits up taller.
He stands, as Tyler gets close, and speaks without thinking for once. “You said you knew some good places to eat around here.”
Tyler’s steps falter, small stones on the path skittering, and Jon wonders if he’s forgotten his offer. He made it weeks ago, after all, the first time Jon went to the diner, and turned him down flat.
“Uh. It doesn’t matter,” Jon backtracks. “I was asking for a friend.”
Tyler’s smile catches the last of the light.
It’s way brighter than Anthony’s.
“You have a friend?” he teases, and Peggy smothers a giggle. “You sure about that, Jonathan? You do know that talking to tomato plants doesn’t make them your buddies, don’t you?”
“I’ve got plenty of friends here,” Jon lies and crosses his arms.
“Sure you do.” His grin widens. “But I’m not sure you can count the spinach either.”
Jon covers his mouth with his hand. It’s so ridiculous that he can’t help smiling.
Then Tyler frowns like he’s thinking. “Good places to eat? Hmm….” He pauses while bending to greet Peggy with a quick kiss before taking a sideways step to sit in the seat Jon just vacated. His sigh as he takes the weight off his feet sounds genuine and bone-deep. “Yeah, I know a few, only I’m real busy.”
Peggy lets out a small sound of disappointment, but when Tyler adds a quick, “I guess I can make time for one date,” she claps her hands, delighted.
Chapter 14
BY THE next Saturday morning, Jon would rather do anything than think about Hallquist Holdings. No matter how he analyzes the data, his stats paint a very different picture than the one Stan suggested. He’s now sure Acquisitions aren’t the problem; the team leaders might have very different skill sets, but the department should still make its target. The accounting department, on the other hand, seems willfully mismanaged. Staring at the stain on the ceiling over his bed at seven doesn’t make anything any clearer, so he rolls out of bed to shower.
He almost misses the knock at the door, and his hair still drips when he pulls it open.
Tyler stands in the doorway, and for once he’s not wearing any of his usual uniforms.
Jon stares until Tyler raises his brows and asks, “What? I told you I’d make time for a date, didn’t I?”
“It’s a little early.” Jon’s towel slips some until he clutches at it. “Uh. Come in.”
Tyler hesitates, like he’s not so sure he’s really welcome. He pauses, one foot on the stairway, the other in what passes for Jon’s foyer. “Listen, I do have a couple of jobs today, but I thought you could come with me to the first one.” He shrugs, as if expecting Jon to say no. “We could grab some breakfast.”
“At the diner?” Jon blames almost losing his grip on his towel one more time on the fact it’s still early. “You mean I get to watch you scramble eggs again?”
“Nope.” Tyler finally enters and takes a seat on the couch. “Go get dressed and I’ll show you.”
Jon’s hair is still dripping when he returns, struggling to pull a shirt over his damp shoulders. He’s sure he’s getting laughed at, but Tyler rearranges his expression into something much more neutral when he asks Jon a question. “How are you with dogs?”
“Good, I guess.”
“Okay.” Tyler stands and shoulders a small backpack. “Let’s go.” He stops by the door when Jon scoops up his car keys. “You won’t need those.”
Tyler leads him down sidewalks, through a neighborhood that’s largely leafy. Some residents even grow vegetables in their front yards, like they’re way out in the country instead of somewhere central. Jon admires them as he walks, listening as Tyler makes conversation.
“Have you gotten to see much of the city?”
Jon shakes his head. “Not as much as I wanted. I’ve been too busy.”
“Yeah, I heard that weeding sucks up all your spare time.”
“Hey, I like it. It clears my head.”
Tyler stops outside a house with pretty shutters and shakes his backpack from his shoulders. He rummages inside it and asks, “You always been into it? Gardening, I mean? It’s not exactly….”
“It’s not exactly what?”
“What I’d expect from anyone under sixty.” Tyler winks and then says, “But you’re not exactly what I expected either.” He swallows and seems to come to a decision. “None of this is.”
“This?”
“You’re some high-flying exec from New York City, and you spent your first few weeks here looking at me like I was worse than shit on the sole of your shoe.” It’s a harsh assessment, if accurate. Tyler continues before he can admit so. “I’m not certain someone like you would usually date someone who washes dishes or who busses tables.”
“I’ve waited plenty of tables.”
“And then you moved on.”
“I’ve seen you cook. You’re good. Did you go to culinary school?”
“Nope. I’m just a really quick study when I need to make rent.”
“But you’re a nurse,” Jon insists.
“No.” Tyler’s gaze is honest. “I’m a home health aide. A caregiver,” he adds. “I watch people, mostly in their homes, when there’s no one else to do it. Danny wasn’t wrong. I wipe a lot of asses. But I also spend my nights talking to senior citizens who are too scared to sleep in case….” He puffs out a long breath and abruptly changes the subject. “Tell me, what were you doing five years ago?”
Jon flounders for a moment. “This time five years ago?”
Tyler’s nod is decisive. “Yes. What were you doing?”
“I was on an internship for a firm in London, England, as part of my undergraduate degree.”
“Sounds nice. I’d just gotten thrown out of my home, and Danny spent my life savings on a clunker that got us from Saint Paul to Seattle. We had no jobs, no cash, and no one here who knew us when he promised he had friends here and a job already. He also promised I’d go back to school just as soon as we got situated. Turns out lying to me was the only thing he was good at, and going back to school is for people who don’t need to spend every minute busting their ass to make rent.” He sounds somewhat embarrassed. “Things started to work out for me last year. I could fit in night classes around shifts at the diner, only Danny emptied the register one night when I was closing.”
“Oh, no. He didn’t.” That accounts for why Candice watched Danny so closely.
“Oh, yes. He did, only no one could prove it. And I’m almost certain that’s not the worst thing he did. I was only lucky Candice believed it wasn’t me who took it. So that was last year.” He raises his brows as if to say, and you?
“Last year….” This time last year, Jon had packed up his mom’s house, sifting through binders of loan statements and copies of real tight budgets that he’d eventually tipped, unread, into crates that now stood in Peggy’s garage. Maybe some of that memory shows on his face.
Tyler’s expression softens.
They’re outside a stranger’s house in the middle of a city thousands of miles from a rented apartment he had to pack up all on his own, but Jon might as well be right back there, turning the key in the lock one last time. He finally chokes out, “This time last year? I just got started with Bettman.”
“So we’re very different people.” Tyler’s tone is gentle rather than resigned. He’s stating facts, not making excuses. “You spent your time in school, and if you aren’t earning big bucks right now, you will any minute. I’m making it too, only like I said before, on a different level.” He tilts his head, smile gone, line of his jaw describing determination. “But every single one of my shit-on-the-sole-of-your-shoe
jobs matters.”
Jon doesn’t know where to go with that. “I know. You already said.”
“That’s right. I did. But I need to know you heard me. People like you are on the way up, like Danny said. I get that. You invested in yourself. And other people did too.” Tyler reaches into his backpack and busies himself by pulling out a key chain. “People like me sometimes tread water for a while. Sometimes forever. It’s all good,” he insists, “when doing that’s a whole lot better than sinking.” He rubs his arms, like the morning isn’t warm and sunny, then says, “So this is the thing I’ve been thinking about all week.” His chin lifts again. “You just want to hookup while you’re in town. I get it.” The indent at the side of his mouth deepens when he smiles, but Jon’s chest suddenly tightens. “I’m down for that,” Tyler adds. “I’ve seen you in your underwear; I’m not about to say no. Besides, it’s not like I get time between jobs right now to even open Grindr. But”—he takes a step forward until they’re chest-to-chest—“you’re definitely not doing me a favor, okay? If anyone’s going to be grateful, it’s you.”
Jon nods. Jesus. Tyler could give all the negotiators at Hallquist Holdings a run for their money, and he isn’t even done yet.
“There’s one other thing,” Tyler says. “Peggy must never—” A dog barks nearby, distracting him from what he’s saying. “Hold up. I need to go get my girlfriend.” Jon watches as he jogs up to the front door of the house they stand outside of. The barking reaches a crescendo as he unlocks the door and tapers off as he crouches. Less than a minute later, he’s back with a pug.