Now the accounts that Jason typically managed on a day-to-day basis suddenly doubled. After his quick orientation and safety training, he was knee-deep in numbers all the time. Not only that, but he was also tasked with preparing a presentation about company expansion by the end of the month. When he accepted the job to move out to a sister plant in the Yukon, he figured he’d be doing much the same thing, except with a higher pay grade and maybe slightly more work.
Now he realized how silly that thought had been. All of that extra money meant extra responsibilities, like theorizing a future budget if the company took on oil fracking. Without even starting the research yet, Jason already knew his number crunching wouldn’t matter. The company would go and frack, because that’s what every company was doing now. It was the only way to get ahead and out of the recession. Even if the practice gave Jason a sick feeling in his stomach every time he googled what fracking did to the environment, he couldn’t focus his time or energy there. That wasn’t his job. That wasn’t what he was being paid a lot of money to do.
When he couldn’t stand staring at numbers anymore, he rose from his desk. It was only 10:30 a.m., but his stomach was already rumbling. He hadn’t had time to eat much of a breakfast before carting Micah off to day care at Miss Betsy’s, one of the most highly recommended places. He’d dropped Micah off on Tuesday morning, giving himself an hour before he had to be at work. He’d been relieved he did, since leaving Micah had been so much harder than he’d braced himself for. Micah had started to cry as soon as Jason left and Jason had to take fifteen minutes in his car to calm down. The next day the crying (for both of them) had only been for ten minutes. Now three days later on Friday, Micah was a rock star and loving Miss Betsy’s place.
Jason, on the other hand, still wasn’t used to it. If he’d been told at age nineteen that he’d be bawling while listening to The Lion King soundtrack in his car because he missed Micah and Micah hadn’t cried when Jason left him with Miss Betsy, Jason would have shaken his head, unbelieving. Even if someone told him at age twenty-seven, the same age when Alison had told Jason she was pregnant, he still would have thought the prediction was ridiculous. But that’s what life is like sometimes. It only takes five minutes for everything to change.
Jason poured himself another cup of coffee and rubbed his eyes. One of his coworkers, a tall guy with brown hair and dark eyes named Bobby, walked inside shortly after Jason and gave him a wave.
“Long night?”
“Long morning,” Jason said.
“I think it’s about to get even longer.” Bobby got himself a cup of coffee and lingered, leaning against the counter.
“What makes you say that? I didn’t think our budgets needed to be done until the end of the month. And payroll not for another two weeks.”
“No, but you see the freak show in the parking lot? It looks like things are about to get extra interesting. We should grab a front row seat.”
Jason furrowed his brow. When Bobby motioned to the window, Jason peeked through the blinds. The window looked out on the parking lot, which was only half-filled with vehicles. Two red vans were parked across handicap spots and several people spilled outside with signs, fliers, and a megaphone.
“Oh God.” Jason’s stomach sunk. “What are they doing?”
“Protesting about… fur or global warming or whatever else high school kids get mad about.”
“None of them look like high school kids,” Jason said. One guy was short, wide, but definitely sported a beard that would take most twenty-somethings months to grow. A couple other people seemed to have gray or white hair, but it was hard to tell. So many signs were paraded around that Jason’s vision was cut off.
“Maybe they’re older. But their minds are still in high school if they think changing the world matters. Or can be done with simple signs.”
“Why bother coming here, though? We’re hardly anything special,” Jason said.
“Yeah, and most of the execs left already or never even came in today because of the long weekend. There’s literally no point in protesting.”
“Does it happen a lot?”
“The protests? Hate mail? Umm… not too often. But enough that I think I know this group. Environmental Nation? Green Pieces? I think they jammed our cars full of fliers a few months ago. Not a big deal.”
The crackle of the megaphone sounded. Jason turned away from the window, cursing under his breath. His supervisor, Mr. Napier, ran past the cubicles to one of the exec’s offices. Bobby had been right; almost no upper management or anyone who had any real authority was here on a Friday before the long weekend. It was only paper pushers like himself or Bobby or low in the pecking order supervisors like Arnold Napier.
“Well, let’s head back,” Bobby said. “Before the real circus begins.”
Bobby and Jason both took their coffees back to their desks. Jason cast a couple furtive glances toward Mr. Napier through the large glass doors to the conference rooms. Mr. Napier picked up an office phone and presumably dialed out to get the police. Jason stared at his computer screen and tried to look busy. When the numbers all seemed to blur together and the tension of the room got under his skin as the chants outside became more than a dull roar, Jason typed “native birds of Yukon” into Google. Micah had been asking about his chicken the past two days at breakfast but Jason hadn’t been able to find it either time. Knowing the name of the bird would help, and then maybe Jason could get a book out about the bird for Micah. When Mr. Napier darted back toward the cubicles, Jason tried to sink down into his desk. He’d only witnessed one protest at his former office, and if their protocols were the same, Mr. Napier would need to send someone else out to deal with the crowd and make sure there was no property damage until the cops came. Looking for arctic birds online gave Jason some purpose and allowed him to look busy so maybe, just maybe, Mr. Napier wouldn’t need his help diffusing the crowd.
Don’t be me, don’t be me…. Jason’s heart sunk when Mr. Napier paused by his desk.
“Hey… new guy, right?”
There were several new employees, but Jason swallowed, knowing Mr. Napier only wanted him. “Yes. I’m Jason Flores.”
“Right. Mr. Flores. Will you be so kind as to….”
Jason nodded before Mr. Napier could even finish. He grabbed one last swallow of his coffee before sauntering to the elevators. At least this meant he wouldn’t need to look at numbers for the next hour or so. There were small favors.
By the time he’d reached the foyer of the building, the admin at the front was panicked.
“I’ve called the police,” she stated. “Are you stopping it?”
“No, no. Just making sure they’re not within thirty feet of the building. Any chance you have a tape measure? In my experience, visual demonstration is needed.”
The admin nodded, seeming to trust Jason’s limited experience right away. She dug around in her office drawer and emerged with a blue tape measure. “Will this do?”
“Perfect.” Jason held on to it like a charm as he stepped out the glass office doors. Most of the protestors held signs over their faces. They were all dressed in very similar dark gray or black clothing, with similar satchels that held pamphlets strapped on their sides. Jason knew it was silly, but he checked visually for guns. Most protestors like this weren’t armed—but Jason wanted to be sure.
Once he was, he stepped closer. The man with the beard held the megaphone in front of him. His voice was too loud and too garbled, but Jason saw clearly what they were protesting. NO MORE BIG OIL! KEEP THE YUKON GREEN! And finally, Jason’s favorite sign, which simply read FRACK IS WACK.
Jason shoved away his smile and donned his professional voice as he stepped forward. “Everyone. I wanted you to know that the police have been called.”
“We’re not hurting anyone,” a woman with brown skin and dark, straight hair like Pete’s said. Their similarities made Jason pause before speaking.
“I know you’re a peaceful protest. Thank
you for that. But you’re still on private property. I have this to be sure you stay thirty feet away from the building, but I don’t want to have to measure. I’d much rather trust you to stay behind until the police come. Alternatively, you can leave under your own volition and save everyone the trouble. I assure you we’ve—”
“We’re not going anywhere,” the man said into the megaphone. He turned his words into a chant. A few others joined in with fists in the air. Jason realized his words weren’t going to do much. He walked over to a pillar by the front area and decided to wait and watch until the cops came. As long as someone was around, it didn’t matter how proactive he was being.
As he turned around, the flash of a yellow button over a protestor’s shirt caught Jason’s eye. ASK ME ANYTHING. It was the same kind as from the museum. When Jason glanced up, he realized he stared directly at Pete.
And Pete stared directly at him. He held one of the signs reading FRACK IS WACK, his brows furrowed as he assessed Jason’s work suit and polished leather shoes.
“Are you….”
“Are you?” Jason echoed. He examined the sign, Pete’s proximity to the van, and how he seemed to stand in front of one of the women protesting, almost like a protective shield. “Oh.”
“Oh.”
Repeating one another seemed to be the only thing they could do for a long time. Jason could barely hear anything over the roar of Pete’s friend on the megaphone. His friend. Pete was part of the protest—part of the Environmental Nation or whatever they were called—and now he knew that Jason was part of the Eakon Oil Company. There was no easing into it, no denying it. The evidence struck them both in the face, as brightly colored as the protest signs themselves.
“Shit.” Jason ran his hand through his hair. Pete was so sweet with Micah and utterly adorable with his dark eyes and heart-shaped face framed with black hair. But he was also apparently a punk. Small bits of a tattoo were now visible beneath his short sleeves. And as attractive as that was to him, Jason couldn’t get over the sinking feeling in his gut. It’s all over now, isn’t it? We’re done before we began.
When the blare of a siren sounded from the road close by, Jason let out a breath. “You should go, Pete. I don’t want you to get arrested.”
“I won’t. We’ve done nothing wrong.”
“I know. But….”
Pete nodded after a moment. “Yeah, okay. I’ll still go.”
Jason’s heart tugged. The police arrived within seconds, but all their attention was on the guy behind the megaphone, allowing for the rest of the protestors to fold their signs in the back of the van. Pete was about to get into the passenger side when Jason called out.
“Wait. Pete?”
Pete turned around, his brows fixed in an ugly stare.
“Are we still on for dinner? Tonight?” Jason asked, surprising himself. “I mean, I understand if you don’t want to… now that you know I’m a big greedy oil man. But I think dinner could be good.”
Pete seemed shocked by the offer. His silence ticked on for longer than three seconds with the commotion happening all around them. No one was being arrested, only talked to sternly, and again, it was only the man with the megaphone who was bearing the brunt of it. Pete glanced from his friend to the building, then back at Jason. “I don’t know.”
A police officer came over and stepped between their conversation. “Son, I’m going to have to ask you to drop everything in your hands. Or be searched.”
“But I’m not even holding anything,” Pete said. He opened his fists, bearing nothing inside of them, but the officer still seemed unconvinced.
“Will I have to search you?”
“No, officer,” Jason said. “Don’t worry. He’s fine. Not part of this.”
The officer gave Jason a long, hard stare. When a disruption from the guy with the beard distracted him, he left Pete and Jason on their own.
“I am a part of this,” Pete mumbled to Jason. “But thank you. Cops here can be vicious.”
“I kind of figured.”
Pete sighed as he met Jason’s gaze again. “Shit. I had no fucking idea, man….”
“Hey, me either. But like you said, you didn’t do anything wrong. So…. Are you still up for dinner?”
Pete’s brows were still furrowed, but now he nodded. “Yeah, sure. But I have a feeling we’re going to need to talk more. About, you know.”
“Oh yeah,” Jason said with a laugh. “I suspect we will.”
Chapter Six
OF ALL the fucking men in this fucking territory and I have to pick the fracking exec. Of course. Just my goddamn luck. Pete thought he’d learned his lesson years ago when dating off the reserve. There were certain types of men to avoid and there was a screening process before anything but a kiss could happen. Sure, the men on the reserve had their issues, but at least they understood that nature was important. Community and that connection to the earth was what allowed a sustainable future, not just for the next generations, but for relationships. Men outside the reserve rarely understood that, unless they were from The Environmental Crew.
But Jason had seemed okay. He had a son. He was responsible and sweet to his kid. Now, though, the designer jeans and nice car made sense. He was raking in oil money and spending it without a care for what was going to happen next.
Pete had no idea why he’d agreed to go to this dinner, other than that his mother and sister always said he had to honor his words. Not everyone else did, but that only made it more imperative that Pete always kept his promises. So here he was, in front of his bathroom mirror in a collared shirt that he hated. The restaurant Jason wanted to go to was expensive. Nice. Maybe even a place where he’d need a dinner jacket. Pete wondered if he could wear a punk T-shirt and still get in.
He shoved away that impulse and buttoned up his shirt in a huff. He didn’t need to be lectured by two people today.
After the cops had cleared the crew away from the parking lot, Pete tried desperately to ignore everyone’s eyes on him. Marla had finally been the one to break the silence and ask how he knew Jason. Pete mumbled something about the museum, but no one really bought it. And no matter what, Cameron was still pissed. He’d laid into Pete for a couple minutes about being disappointed before Joe changed the subject and Cameron had stopped. Honestly, Pete was surprised he wasn’t lectured more, but that probably had to do with the fact that Cameron’d been slapped with a citation for using a megaphone without a permit. Even if Cameron called incidents like this “candy” (it’s not bad, but certainly not good if you have too many of them), he was still upset by the practical world barging in on his utopia. Cameron muttered a couple more platitudes about protest and peace on their way back to the abandoned train station, then told everyone to take Saturday off from the meeting place so they could rest.
“We’ll figure out our next protest spot in our subsequent meeting,” Cameron said. “Keep fighting the good fight.”
Everyone hugged and said good-bye, seemingly forgetting about Jason and Pete’s indiscretion. But hours later, Pete was still racking his mind, over and over again, while fighting the good fight with his reflection.
“Fuck.” Pete ran water in the sink and splashed some on his face. Maybe I shouldn’t go. Maybe I should…. He thought of the way Jason defended him from the cop. He’d said Pete wasn’t a part of this group, which angered him, but he knew the intent was good. He wanted to protect you, even after he found out. Maybe he’s not so bad. Pete remembered the flecks of gold in Jason’s eyes and sighed. Fool’s fucking gold indeed.
He dressed for the rest of the night without another thought of backing out. The restaurant was about fifteen minutes away on foot. Once he arrived, the maître d’ seated him at a small corner table near a window. Jason was already there. He rose from his seat as soon as he saw Pete and extended his hand in a friendly shake.
“Thank you so much for coming,” Jason said, as if they hadn’t seen one another in years. He gave a small nod to the maître d’
before sitting back down.
“No problem. I said I would and I like to keep my word.”
Jason nodded, unbuttoning his jacket as he shifted into his seat. Pete caught the glimmer of the candlelight in his cufflinks. Jason wore a nice Oxford collared shirt with a charcoal jacket over top, adorned with a silk pocket square. He seemed freshly showered and shaved, since the noticeable scruff was gone from his chin.
When the waiter came over, Jason ordered them a bottle of wine and an appetizer. Once the waiter returned with the bottle, he opened it up for Jason to taste and waited for his pronouncement. Jason thought for a moment after his sip, nodded, and thanked the waiter once again.
Already, Pete felt far too out of his depth.
“Do you drink?” Jason asked once the waiter had gone. “I should have asked before I ordered.”
“I do, but not much. I’m worried the wine will be wasted on me.”
“Nothing’s ever wasted if you enjoy it.”
Pete wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he took a sip of his wine. It was dry but good. Or at least that’s what he thought. He’d really only had box wine to compare it to. The small spike of alcohol rushed to his head right away. When the waiter brought out the pesto arugula wraps as an appetizer, his stomach growled.
“I confess,” Jason said, “I haven’t eaten very much today. I hope you don’t mind if I go a little overboard right now on these wraps.”
“Not at all. I’m pretty hungry myself.”
Jason gave another weak smile. The tension between them was getting bigger with each passing second. But Pete didn’t know what to do. Now that he was in front of Jason, and those gold eyes that glimmered in the light, with this fancy food and good wine… it felt like all the things of which dreams were made. Pete thought of the small TV in the cramped quarters of his grandmother’s place on the reserve, watching romantic comedies with his sister in between commercial breaks and good reception. As a kid, he’d known he was gay when he wanted to date the men in suits and ties who brought flowers and big paychecks, but he’d always settled for men more like himself, watching TV and drinking from boxed wine, wondering if they’d ever get out of here. Now everything that stood in Pete’s way had been cleared. For a second, he saw himself as Skookum Jim spotting gold in the bottom of a stream and realizing his life was about to change.
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