A Worthy Man

by Jaime Reese

  Vann shrugged off the comment. “About the diner. You mentioned this guy was your first house guest. I thought there was a rule about not being able to interact with another felon while I’m here. Isn’t that a parole violation?”

  “We’ve already got the paperwork in place for a special exception for this since the diner’s in the work program. So it’s not a problem.”

  Vann absently nodded. He figured they wouldn’t put him in a situation that would blow up in his face, but he didn’t exactly have the best track record with people. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Can I…call Drayton? I didn’t see a part in the book about phone calls.”

  “It’s often left up to the discretion of the house. He’s already filled out all the necessary paperwork for calls and visits. We have all his numbers on file and the approved numbers are already stored in your phone contacts. So there’s no issue with calls here or to your cell phone. He can call the house until ten and your cell until one o’clock am. Keep your focus on work during the day and save your phone calls for the evening. Okay?”

  Vann quickly nodded.

  “We respect your privacy. We don’t listen in on conversations.”

  Julian returned to the kitchen and crossed his arms. He raised an eyebrow as he stared at Vann as if silently waiting for some smartass remark. Vann crossed his arms, mirrored his expression, and leaned back in the chair to return his stare. He had mad stare-down skills and could sure as shit stare down the guy for however long he wanted to do this.

  “You’re starting at the diner tomorrow morning,” Julian said in a level tone.

  Vann’s eyebrow twitched upward in acknowledgment. That was fast.

  “Do you prefer more time to settle in a bit?” Matt asked.

  He shook his head. Sit in a room, twiddling his thumbs, left alone with his thoughts or staying busy to distract the negativity that always swirled in his mind? “I prefer to keep busy. Starting tomorrow is fine.”

  “They’re going to have you handling the inventory and making sure the place is clean. Are you going to sit there and give me attitude about that?”

  “One of the prior house guests had a problem with a cleaning job,” Matt interjected.

  Vann cocked his head, refusing to break the stare-down with Julian as he spoke. “Sounds like that other guy had a problem with honest work. I scrubbed toilets on Tuesdays and scraped the grease off the kitchen on Sundays to prep for the week.” He stood from his seat at the dining room table and walked toward Julian, stopping when he was facing the man who refused to break his stare. “I also handled laundry duty every first Thursday of the month. I’m not afraid of work.”

  “Good,” Julian said, his arms still crossed.

  Matt let out a loud sigh. He walked over to them and gripped Julian’s jaw, turning his head and forcing him to break the stare. “J, behave.” He turned to Vann and gave him a don’t-you-dare look Vann knew better than to tempt. “Lucy makes the best cookies in town. Bring Julian one every day and you’ll have him in your pocket.”

  Julian pursed his lips.

  “Chocolate chip?” Vann asked.

  Julian nodded once.

  “Fine. I’ll bring you one. Maybe two if I can sneak it by Matt.”

  Julian’s mouth twitched, trying to hide a smile. “Meet me out back. I’m going to take you over there to meet everyone and get the paperwork in order so you’re ready to go first thing tomorrow.” Julian grunted and grabbed the keys off the half-moon table in the hallway then headed toward the back door.

  “He likes you,” Matt said.

  Vann straightened, thankful he hadn’t said or done something wrong.

  “His mom had many jobs when he was growing up. Cleaning houses was one of them, so you just earned his respect.” Matt softly smiled, the love he felt for his partner screamed from every inch of his body as he watched Julian walk out the back of the house. “You’re going to do just fine here.”

  “I hope so,” Vann said under his breath.

  “And don’t bring him that second cookie if you want to stay on my good side.”

  Vann finished his lunch and sat out back on the porch, basking in the heat of the afternoon sun against his skin. He had yanked his T-shirt off a few minutes before and closed his eyes, enjoying the prickling on his skin. An hour in the yard didn’t give him a chance to soak up much sun during the last few years, and he was going to take advantage of every second he could steal outside.

  He jumped when something vibrated against his backside. He fished out his phone from his back pocket and smiled when he read the name on the screen.

  “Hey,” he said, answering the call.

  “So, how’s your first day going?” Drayton asked.

  Vann ducked his head and smiled, loving the familiar casualness between them. “So far, so good. I’m going to start work at a diner tomorrow. Julian already took me by there and I met the owners. Really nice couple. I just had lunch, and I’m sitting out back in the sun. How’s your day going?”

  “Better…now.” A comforting silence filled the distance between them, the only sounds those of the distant traffic and the rhythmic breathing filtering through the phone pressed against his ear. “Is it silly that we’re not talking but it doesn’t bother me because I know you’re on the other end of the line?” Drayton asked.

  Vann sighed. “I was thinking the same thing. You sound tired.”

  “I am. Working on the new model in the line has been…difficult.”

  He ran his finger along the seam of his jeans, enjoying the rise and fall of Drayton’s voice. “I miss you.”

  “I needed to hear that.” The strain in Drayton’s voice echoed through the line. “I’ve got a business trip I can’t get out of. And I’m really pissed about it because I can’t come by today to see you.”

  Vann squinted, turning his face up toward the sun. “It’s okay. Life didn’t stop because I got out. But…um…”

  “What is it?”

  “Just call me or send one of those text things. Matt said I can get both on this phone.”

  “You bet your ass I’ll call. Give me a second.” Drayton’s voice muffled as if covering the phone to speak to someone in the room about some jet being ready. A fucking jet? He returned to the line with a sigh. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Okay. I’ve got curfew times for calls and visits, but it’s not like I’m going anywhere. You know where I’ll be.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m already up on the rules and schedule. You’d be proud of my stalker skills.”

  Vann sunk his teeth into his bottom lip to hold back a groan. He remembered Drayton had a ton of skills.

  “I’ve got to go.” Drayton chuckled then lowered his voice. “And by the way…”

  “Yeah?”

  “I totally know where your mind went a moment ago when I mentioned skills.”

  Vann closed his eyes and sighed. “You’re still evil as hell.” He disconnected the call after their goodbyes and closed his eyes, clutching the phone to his chest. He exhaled a shaky breath and dared to hope that the fire still burned strong enough between them after all these years.

  ∞ ♥ ∞

  Drayton slowly returned the phone to the receiver, trying to extend the hint of joy that filled his heart. Thoughts of Vann always soothed his stress and grounded him, allowing him to focus on his tasks and ignore the looming deadlines and demands of everyone around him. The new visual of a thick-muscled Vann coupled with the melodic sound of his voice and teasing tone spurred on his happy mojo at a time when he needed it most. The stress of the last few months was taking its toll. He sensed it in every inch of his body but fought it, refusing to show any sign of weakness.

  “Mia told me she already informed you the jet’s ready. Something’s obviously slowing you down.” Taylor Hughes, his corporate lawyer and honest—sometimes too honest—friend of seven years gave him a firm stare as he pulled out the chair across from his desk.

  Drayton rubbed his
eyes harshly, fighting off the exhaustion that weighed his shoulders. “Is there any way you can do this trip solo? There’s somewhere else I’d rather be tonight.” He lowered his hand and crossed his arms on his desk.

  “Nope.”

  “What the fuck am I paying you for?”

  Taylor leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I know you prefer to be elsewhere tonight, but you’re the one who wanted this brake partnership. I’ll make sure the negotiated paperwork’s in place, but you need to make sure his prototype has the stopping power you need for the new motor specs.”

  “Timing’s bad.”

  “Erich returns to Germany first thing tomorrow. So you decide. A night or two now in the US or several weeks for an international trip later on.”

  “You’re stressing me out.”

  “Far less than most people. That’s why you pay me the big bucks.” Taylor chuckled. “How’s Sean progressing with the new model?”

  Drayton steepled his hands and tapped his fingertips to his lips. “It’s…slower than expected.”

  “You know the guy rocks a hard-on for you. Just fuck that son of a bitch and get it over with. That might unclog his creative juices and get things moving along.”

  Drayton slowly straightened his shoulders, taking a long, deep breath to level off the spike of anger at the comment. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

  Taylor waved his hand in the air, shooing away the seriousness in his tone. “People are salivating for a new model.”

  “I’m aware.”

  His friend looked at his watch and lowered his brow, pausing for a moment before he spoke. “It’s been almost two years since you launched the line.”

  “Did you have to look at your watch for that?”

  Taylor rolled his eyes. “We need to get on that plane to make the meeting.”

  Drayton stood from his seat and grabbed his keys and wallet from the top drawer. “Sean’s one of the best in the industry. He’s worked on this with the creative team for over a year and believes he’s close. So I’m…temporarily giving him the benefit of the doubt.”

  Taylor’s eyebrows slowly rose. “Or?”

  “He’s out.”

  Taylor stilled, any sense of humor evaporated from his entire demeanor in a split second. “Should you be giving him an ultimatum? Firing him now would throw everything off schedule. If he’s—”

  “If he’s heading up the team as he should be, then he should have made some progress after all this time.”

  “You’ve already said he’s one of the top guys in the industry. Everything will be stalled until you get a replacement. He’s got you by the balls.”

  Drayton walked casually toward the door, speaking with each confident step in his stride. “My employees are here by my choice. I respect them and their talents and I, in exchange, pay them handsomely for their contributions.” He reached the door and turned toward his attorney friend, still sitting with a shell-shocked expression on his face and a gaping mouth. “I want to make one thing crystal fucking clear. I don’t give a shit how much it costs and how much it sets me or the company back. Only one man will ever have me by the balls…and that is by choice. My. Choice. It’s a right he never asked for but earned years ago,” he said, punctuating his words.

  He gave his attorney a final, firm stare before walking out the door and ending the conversation.

  Vann paced his room at Halfway House for the millionth time. Sometimes, not having anything to do granted him far too much time to let his mind wander. And when his mind decided to take a stroll, it often bypassed Pleasant Avenue and went straight down Misery Road. He ran his fingers through his hair and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Five thirty. He had far too much time on his hands tonight. Maybe Drayton would call him again today, or maybe his call earlier was all he’d get for the day. After all, the man had a business to run and meetings to attend.

  Vann had to be downstairs in thirty minutes to have dinner at the designated time. But how the hell could he keep anything down not knowing for sure where things stood with Drayton? Maybe he’d get back tonight from the trip or maybe it was some international destination and he’d be gone for a week or something. Maybe there was some international hottie waiting for him with ripped abs and a foreign accent to whisper a ton of special words in his ear. And even if he did get back in time to make a call, knowing Dray, he’d probably be going through things, post-meeting, with a fine-tooth comb. He knew how quickly Drayton would get distracted when his nose was buried in a book or in some task.

  Then again, that was how Dray was when they were younger.

  Vann ran his fingers through his hair. Fuck. He hated this shit. This doubt. It was something he’d never felt with Dray. Ever. Being with him was the one true, solid thing he’d had in his life that never brought an ounce of doubt to his mind. He questioned his right to be at Drayton’s side, but never Drayton’s commitment or the strength of their relationship. It was the one thing he was able to do, effortlessly, without fucking up. But now, he wasn’t sure they could pick up where they’d left off or if things had changed so much between them to create a chasm too large to cross.

  He stormed out of his room and stalked downstairs. He looked to the left and immediately spotted his three fellow housemates.

  Ben was the quiet one. He sat in the corner with his arms crossed and an intense expression as he watched the other two argue, standing between him and the television. Ryan was the tall one with the inked sleeves and blond hair, trying to use his height to intimidate Frankie, the stocky one with the strip of dark hair at the top of his otherwise shaved head.

  “I have dibs on the fucking TV, not you, asshole. I was here first,” Frankie said, pushing his chest against Ryan.

  “I was here first, you son of a bitch.”

  Ben rolled his eyes and quickly gestured with his hands, then crossed his arms again with a silent huff. Ah, that’s why he’s the quiet one.

  Frankie and Ryan continued to argue, and Ben shook his head, craning his neck around the two guys to watch the program.

  Vann walked to the edge of the couch, ignoring his two housemates and waved to get Ben’s attention.

  Ben turned toward him and lowered his brow, probably wondering if yet another guy from the house was going to irritate the hell out of him.

  Vann bit the edge of his lip, trying to remember what he had learned years ago. “Who was here first?” he signed, hoping he had communicated the right ASL hand gestures.

  Ben’s features relaxed and a lopsided grin made an appearance. He pointed to his own chest.

  Vann thought back to the signs, hoping he wasn’t too rusty. “Who has the remote?”

  Ben held up the remote in his hand.

  Vann smiled at Ben then cleared his throat, catching the attention of the two bickering guys. “You know, there’s an easy way to settle this.”

  Frankie rolled his eyes. “What’s that, newbie? Flip for it? ’Cause that’s bullshit. I was here first. So I pick the show.”

  “How do we settle it?” Ryan asked, stepping away from Frankie.

  “Whoever has the remote has the power. First one at the TV usually grabs it. Unless you’re one of those weird peeps who actually stands up and presses the button to turn it on.”

  They both looked around and cursed when Ben triumphantly held the remote in the air.

  “What the fuck do you want it for? You can’t even hear it?” Frankie said, raising his hands in the air.

  Closed captioning, asshole.

  Ben jerked his hand forward with a raised middle finger. No way would either one of them misunderstand the universal sign for fuck you.

  “I’m guessing he just read your lips. Just because he can’t hear you or the TV doesn’t mean he can’t understand or follow a conversation.”

  Frankie slowly turned to face Vann with a deathly expression. “What the hell would you know? You’re the dumb fuck who got stuck cleaning the floors at that shit
ty diner.”

  Vann tapped his closed hand to the side of his temple with the thumb pointed outward.

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means asshole,” Julian said, interrupting the conversation. He crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchen entryway with obvious irritation in his expression. “I’m writing you up. Get your ass upstairs. You’ll come down for dinner then go back upstairs right after.”

  “What the hell for? You can’t write me up! I’m out of here in three days. He’s the one who called me an asshole!” Frankie yelled.

  Julian pushed off the wall and walked into the living room, leaning forward to grip the back of the couch. “House rules and you’re supposed to follow them until release day. You don’t use the word ‘dumb,’ ‘stupid,’ ‘idiot,’ or ‘moron’ when addressing anyone in this house. Upstairs. Now.”

  Frankie grumbled a few additional choice words and headed upstairs, deliberately bumping Vann’s shoulder as he passed him by.

  Vann sighed, trying not to let the sting of Frankie’s words settle in. Ben tapped Ryan’s arm and gave him a half smile, handing him the remote control. Ryan said a thanks then plopped himself on the couch next to him, settling in to watch the existing show.

  “Shaw, come to the kitchen, please,” Julian said, leading the way.

  He followed and took a deep breath, enjoying the mix of scents in the kitchen. He’d never get over how good food smelled outside of prison. He peeked past the wall and saw Matt stirring a few things within different size pots.

  “Ignore Frankie,” Julian said, pulling his attention.

  Vann crossed his arms, holding himself tighter than usual. “Trying to.” He’d heard it all from his father growing up and had a relatively high tolerance for name-calling, but he definitely wasn’t immune to the power some words had of digging into his soul.

  “You were very diplomatic in there. Well, until you signed ‘asshole’ to him,” Julian said with a chuckle and a headshake. “I was hoping they could resolve this on their own, but…well, Frankie prefers the path of most resistance. You worked on solving the problem without attacking anyone. And that’s a great skill. You forgot to mention that talent this morning.”