by Tara Lain
“Shit, Ian. I’m trying to do what’s right.”
“And who gets to say what that is?”
“I’m your boss. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“Even though I asked you to?”
“Someone has to have respect for you.”
Ian actually slapped a hand over his mouth. “Do you believe—?”
“Hey, you two, how are Audrey’s changes going?” Max stood in the doorway.
Braden turned his head and his eyes followed. “Great. Ian came up with another terrific idea for the collaboration centers.”
He thinks it’s a great idea?
“Fantastic. Show me.”
Braden explained Ian’s idea better than he could have and added a few additions that enhanced it. Ian tried to rescue his brain from some pit. Braden thinks I don’t have any self-respect. He thinks I’m a whore. Sweet Jesus.
Max beamed. “Great solution. I’m betting she’ll love it. So how about you leave Ian in charge of getting the renderings done, since we need to leave for Hong Kong?”
In charge? Did he say in charge? Hong Kong? “Uh. You’re leaving?”
Max nodded. “Yeah, we have a big client meeting in Hong Kong on Friday. It takes an assload of time to get there, so we leave tomorrow night.”
Braden looked at him, color staining his cheekbones. “Think you can oversee renderings on the changes we made?”
“Hell, yes. But the question is, do you think I can?” His eyes bored into those Braden blues.
“Yes. Yes, I do. I’ll see you after Hong Kong.”
Chapter Eighteen
Braden packed his lightweight suit and a tie. More formal in China than the US, which was a damned shame, since the humidity there set new records in sticky. He glanced at the clock. They’d fly all night and arrive tomorrow night, sleep, and then attempt to function. His cell rang. Taylor. Good. Maybe the kids calling to say good-bye.
He clicked it on. “Hey there.”
“Bray?”
“Oh, hi, Taylor.”
“Something important’s come up, and I need you to take the kids.”
“Uh, I told the kids, I’m leaving for Hong Kong.” The phone practically froze in his hand. “But no problem. Just send Elena over and we’re good.”
“Elena’s going to be with me. I need you to do this, Braden.”
“I’ll call you back after I talk to Regina.”
“I’m driving there now. I need to leave.”
His hand tightened on the phone. Just sound calm. “Fine.”
She hung up, and he scrolled through his numbers. “Just be there.” He dialed. One ring. Two.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Regina, it’s Braden Lord.”
“Oh, hello, Mr. Lord.” She coughed.
“I’m so sorry to do this, but I’m supposed to leave for Hong Kong tonight, and my wife had, uh, an emergency. Is there any chance you can look after the kids for a few days? I’ll pay double time for nights.” Hell, he’d pay triple for days if he had to.
“Oh dear. I’m available, Mr. Lord, but I’m still recovering from the illness I had. I’m not quite myself.”
“Are you contagious?”
“Oh no. I’m sure I’m past that. I’m just still a bit under the weather.”
“I’m really desperate. I’m sure the kids will entertain themselves if you’ll just cook. Heck, get carryout every day if you have to.”
She laughed. “Okay, Mr. Lord. I’ll be there in an hour.”
“Perfect. Just perfect.” He raced to the kitchen to pull out the emergency numbers and leave cash for incidentals. She had her own credit card to use when she stayed with the kids.
The front door opened. “Dad?”
“In the kitchen, Jo-Jo.”
Mireille ran in first and hugged his waist. “Hi, Daddy.”
Jo-Jo followed at a more dignified pace. “Sorry, Dad. I tried to tell her you were going out of town, but she’s got some big weekend party she wants to go to.”
Fuck! He forced a smile. “Fun is important too. So Regina will be here in a few minutes.”
Jo-Jo delivered the long-suffering sigh but said nothing.
“I told her you’re really in charge of taking care of Mireille. She’s just to be here in case you need anything and to be sure you’re fed. I didn’t leave the refrigerator full since I thought the house would be empty, so plan to go shopping and buy lots of junk food.” He laughed. Had to make this better for the kids somehow.
“Daddy, do you think I can go see Anderson?”
“Uh, no, honey. Ian is really busy, and you can’t see Anderson unless he’s there.”
Her face fell.
He hugged her. “I’m really sorry.” He wouldn’t tell her that now that he’d made the whole situation ten times worse with Ian, she might never see her beloved cat again.
Braden rushed back to the bedroom, threw in an extra-light leather sports coat, and closed the bag. The kids hung in the doorway. “I’m going to a place with great presents, so I’ll bring you something, okay?”
“Will you bring me a cat like Anderson?” She knew better but had to test.
“You know I can’t bring a cat on the plane. He’d hate me forever. But I’ll find you something really good.”
The doorbell sounded, and he carried his light suitcase to the living room and let in Regina. Stocky and usually robust, Regina looked like death, sporting circles under her eyes and a grayish tinge to her skin. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, sir. I just had a bad time getting well.”
“I really appreciate you doing this for me.”
“Always happy to stay with my little ones.” Behind her, Jo-Jo made a gagging face, and Braden had to stifle a laugh.
“Okay, you guys, be good for Regina and have a fun weekend. I’ll see you next week.” To Regina he said, “All the emergency numbers are out in the kitchen. I left some extra money. You have your credit card, right?”
“Oh yes, sir.”
“Excellent.” He hugged the kids tightly and ran to his car. Man, talk about feeling off-balance. Nothing seemed to be the way it should.
Ian stared at the rendering of the collaboration center. The artist sat across from him, looking anxious. Who’d ever believe anyone would look anxious about his judgment on something? “This looks good, Harry.” He slid the drawing across the desk. “One thing. Am I crazy, or is the shadow off here? I mean, the rest of the room appears to be in afternoon light, but this looks like morning.”
Harry glanced up, and his eyes said it all. He hadn’t expected Ian to catch it, and changing light sources was fucking hard. “Uh, yeah. I see what you mean. I’ll correct that.”
“Thank you. I know Braden will love your take on this. It’s great.”
“Hey, thanks, Ian.” He gathered his drawings and left the cube.
Ian sat back. Whew. Almost the end of the week, and no disasters he’d seen yet. Of course, disasters had a sneaky way of hiding.
“Want to go for drinks after work, Ian?” Ted grinned from his favorite spot by the cubicle opening.
Did he? Things felt pretty much in control. Maybe Braden wouldn’t be too disappointed with him. Maybe he’d respect him. Shit. “Yeah, that’d be great. I have a couple things to finish up.”
“Okay. I’ll hang in my office. Come get me when you’re ready.”
“Will do.”
He pulled up the CAD drawings he’d been working on as a surprise for Braden. Maybe he could be a little further along when Braden got back than expected. Almost done. He could put the last touches on Monday. He reached for his phone and wallet—and the phone started buzzing. He didn’t recognize the number. Should I answer?
He picked up the phone and clicked. “Hello?” He probably sounded suspicious. Damned telemarketers.
“Ian?”
“Yes. Wait, Jo-Jo? Is that you?”
“Yeah, man. Hey, I hate to bother you.”
“Jo-Jo, what’s goi
ng on? Are you okay?”
“Dad’s out of town.”
“Yes, I know. Where are you?”
“I’m at home. I mean, I’m at Dad’s home, with Mireille. It’s just that we had a sitter—you know.”
“Rat Face?”
He chuckled, but it sounded way strained. “Yeah. Anyway, she’s really sick. I called her family, and her sister’s coming to get her. She’s trying to find someone else to stay with us—when she’s not barfing. It’s not looking good.”
“Hey, don’t even think about it. I’ll be there in about half an hour. Tell her not to worry. I’m a designated sitter.” He laughed to make Jo-Jo feel better.
“Shit, man, I really appreciate this.”
“If her sister arrives, tell her to go ahead and take Regina home.”
“Thanks, Ian. Mireille’s gonna be so relieved. Regina’s been getting worse and worse. We’re taking care of her more than the other way around.”
“No worries. We’ll get through this together. I’ll be there soon.” He hung up and ran down the hall to Ted’s office. “Sorry, man, I’ve got a family emergency. I’ll take a rain check.” Before Ted could even respond, Ian retraced his steps, raced to the lobby, and hit the button for the elevator. “Come on.” When it arrived, he hopped on. The kids needed him.
In the car, he called Jim. No answer. When the beep sounded, he said, “Hey, Jim. I just got word that the Lord kids need some help. Their dad is out of town. Apparently their mother is tied up, and the babysitter got really sick. I’m on my way there. I’ll probably be with them a couple of days. I’ll call. Bye.”
When he pulled into the driveway at Braden’s, the door opened, and both kids came out. Mireille looked a little freaked, and Jo-Jo appeared to be standing strong for her.
Ian hopped out of the car. “Hey, guys, did the babysitter get picked up?”
Jo-Jo nodded. “Yeah. Man, she was so sick. She says it’s the flu. More like the bubonic plague.”
“Okay, let’s assess the situation.” He walked into the house, holding Mireille’s hand. Oooookay. Plates and glasses lay all over the coffee table. In the kitchen, food sat on the counters, along with some dirty plates, with more in the sink.
Jo-Jo made a face. “Sorry for the mess, but I spent most of my time taking her stuff to drink and holding barf bags.”
“Not a problem. We’ll clean it up together.” He opened the fridge. Slim pickings.
“She didn’t have time to go food shopping before she got sick. I’ve been ordering pizza for me and Mireille. Dad left some cash, but she was supposed to use her credit card to get more food. That didn’t happen.”
“Did you call your mom?”
He stared at the floor. “Uh, no, she’s away. I didn’t want to bother her.”
“What about your dad? What did he say?”
Jo half smiled. “I didn’t call him. I figured he’s so far away, he couldn’t get back much sooner than he’s supposed to anyway.”
“Not entirely true. The time difference works in our favor coming back. But I’m here now, so we don’t need to bother him.”
He really smiled. “Good.”
“Okay. Let’s clean up the mess, then hop in the car and go get food.”
Mireille finally looked happy. “Can I have chicken nuggets?”
Ian laughed. “You can have anything you want—as long as it’s organic.”
Jo-Jo threw his hands up. “Yep, that’s just what Dad would say. Hey, while we’re out, can we go to my mom’s house? I was in such a hurry to leave, I forgot my game console.”
“She won’t mind?”
“Nah. It’s my house too.”
“I assume you’ve got a key and know the entry code?”
“Yep.”
“Okay. Done deal. Let’s get to work.”
At the prospect of a good meal, even Mireille got very productive. It only took a few minutes to get everything loaded in the dishwasher and the crumbs vacuumed off the rugs. Ian scrubbed all the surfaces with high-powered cleaner, pulled the sheets off the guest bed, and threw them in the washer on hot. “You guys wash your hands really well, okay?”
They went to Trader Joe’s in Crystal Cove and stocked up on goodies, and then Jo-Jo directed Ian to his mom’s house in Newport Beach. It was gate guarded, but Jo-Jo knew the code, and Ian ferried them through the upscale neighborhood. Talk about houses with anti-Braden style. Here they were. Big homes with pseudo-French and Italian design, all pillars and pilasters. Ian shuddered.
“It’s up there.” Jo-Jo pointed to a large French country home at the end of a cul-de-sac. Several cars were parked on the street near the house.
“Are you sure your mom is away?”
“Yeah. She said so.”
“Do these cars belong to your neighbors?”
“No. Somebody’s probably having a party.”
Ian pulled up in front and parked at the curb. He turned to Mireille, who was buckled in the backseat. “Are you okay here by yourself for a couple of minutes? I won’t go far, okay?” No point in having them both running around their mother’s house.
She held up the book she’d brought from Braden’s. “I’m fine.”
“Okay. We’ll just be a minute. Jo-Jo, you know where it is, right?”
“In my room.”
“Okay. Let’s go.”
Jo-Jo hopped out and hurried toward the front door. Ian rushed to be sure he didn’t set off the alarm. He caught up just as Jo opened the big wooden door.
No beeps. “Would your mom leave the alarm system off?”
“Oh yeah. She forgets all the time. She says she pays a bundle to be sure this is a safe neighborhood.”
Ian tried not to think about how Braden was paying the bundle.
Inside the entry, a huge staircase swept up a floor directly in front of them. Jo-Jo took off up the stairs, and Ian waited.
The house looked neat and—pretentious. Big, sweeping valances above the windows and heavy fabrics on the chairs. Sort of mixed eras. Braden’s face popped in his mind, laughing about Neanderthals and Tyrannosaurus. Whoa. That hurts. He stuffed the thought.
A noise came from somewhere behind him, like a muffled snort and a moan. What the fuck? Was somebody here? Hurt?
Stepping softly, he walked through the dining room and rounded the corner to the huge great room—and stopped. Holy shit! He dove behind the wall, gasped for breath, and grabbed for his phone. A couple of seconds later, he heard Jo-Jo’s footsteps on the stairs. He took off like a bat, grabbed Jo-Jo and the Game Boy, and powered out the door, closing it softly behind them. What exactly was he going to do about this?
A half hour later, his heart was still pounding as he parked in Braden’s drive and the kids helped unload their goodies. He got them both in showers, then pajamas, and fed them some of TJ’s prepared turkey and mashed potatoes, which Mireille declared better than nuggets. About halfway through a viewing of Frozen, she fell sound asleep, and he tucked her in.
When he came back to the living room, Jo-Jo looked up from his game player. “She must be really tired. She never falls asleep during Frozen.”
“You two have been through a lot. Funny, though, she didn’t even ask for Anderson.”
Jo-Jo kept playing while Ian switched to a showing of Groundhog Day, a film he’d seen a hundred times and never got tired of.
Jo-Jo succumbed to the lure of Bill Murray and dropped the games, scooting closer to Ian. “This is funny. I never saw it.”
“It’s old, but I like old stuff.” The words echoed through him. “It’s about how we have to repeat our mistakes until we correct them—get it right.”
“Man, that chick is hot.”
“Her name’s Andi McDowell. She’s pretty, isn’t she?”
“Smokin’.” After a couple of minutes, Jo-Jo’s head lolled against the back of the couch. His eyes closed, and then he snapped awake. “Sorry.”
Ian put a hand behind his head and pulled him down. “Here. Rest awhi
le.”
Jo-Jo didn’t even protest. He slid down and rested his head on Ian’s leg. Yeah, he misses his dad. Maybe I should call Braden after Jo goes to sleep. He should know what happened. Still, worrying the shit out of him when there probably wasn’t too much he could do about getting back didn’t seem fair. He needs to know about his ex. Ian sighed. There’s not much he can do about that until he gets back either.
“Ian?” It was just a murmur.
“Yeah.”
“Is being gay hereditary?”
Shit to the tenth power. “No. It’s not. Interesting, huh? Think about how many straight people have gay kids. I mean, most gay people come from straight couples. Right?”
“Yeah, that makes sense. So where does it come from?”
“I don’t think they know for sure, but I heard something about epigenetics.”
“Epi-what?”
“Epigenetics is how genes express themselves. It’s how genes can be turned on and off by outside forces, like in the environment. That can change the way an organism expresses, without the actual DNA being changed.” He grinned. “I pretty much memorized that.”
Jo-Jo stared up at him with big eyes.
“Yeah, I know, I don’t understand it either. Plus, the study that supposedly showed being gay is epigenetic isn’t accepted by a lot of scientists, so don’t worry about it. Bottom line? Nobody knows yet.”
“Oh.” He shifted his head. “So it’s not because a guy has a weird mother or a, uh, wacko wife or something?”
“Nope.” Ian smiled. “If that were true, hell, there’d be a lot more gay men.”
“Shit yeah.”
They watched the movie for a few minutes, but questions hung in the air. Ian glanced down at the brown hair. “Have you been thinking about you being gay? Because I don’t think you are.”
He sprang up like a scalded cat. “You don’t?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“You first. Do you think you are?”
He shrugged. “I kind of like girls.”
“Yeah, that’s one of the reasons why I don’t think you are. You notice girls, like on the beach and in movies. Gay guys might think they’re pretty, but not in quite the same way.”
“But there are a lot of girls I don’t like. In my school. Man, some of those chicks are mean.”