by Kylie Scott
We didn't talk much. It was nice just having the company.
The last thing I remembered was being spread out on my half of the big couch, watching some cool old black-and-white movie about gangsters in the '40s. I woke up in my own bed the next morning, carefully tucked in. So carefully, it was a struggle to get my arms out at first from beneath the blankets. Jimmy had obviously carried me up and put me to bed. When I tried to thank him, he just ignored me and changed the subject.
Same old, same old.
CHAPTER FIVE
Three weeks later ...
"Lena!"
My head shot up, the mug of coffee jumping in my hands. Hot liquid scalded my fingers, stinging. "Shit."
Jimmy came pounding down the internal staircase. "Where are you?"
"In the kitchen." I snatched up a tea towel, dabbing at my pink skin.
"What the fuck?" he roared, striding into the kitchen, dripping with sweat.
I sighed as only the long-suffering can do and rubbed at the coffee stains on my green Henley. "What the fuck, what, Jimmy?"
Another set of heavy-assed footfalls followed behind the man in question. Ben the bass player came into view. Picture a sexy lumberjack with musical abilities and you'll pretty much have him down right. He was equally sweaty--fitting, considering they'd both just been for a run.
"Hey, Ben." I waved a hand and the big guy gave me his usual chin tip. But wait, was that a smirk lingering on his lips? He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, obviously settling in for something.
Whatever was going on here, I already didn't like it.
Jimmy tossed his phone onto the kitchen counter in front of me. "Why the fuck do I have some ..." He picked the cell back up again, squinting at the screen. "... Tom Moorecomb really looking forward to meeting with me about the new assistant position?"
My stomach fell. "Oh. That."
"Yeah. That."
"I've been waiting for the right time to tell you."
Brows drawn tight, Jimmy braced his hands on the counter. "Let's try now."
"Well, I've decided to leave your lovely employ," I said, holding my head high and speaking nice and clear in a friendly professional tone. Just liked I'd practiced over and over again in the shower, in bed, on the john. Pretty much anywhere and everywhere when I got a moment. No more excuses. "Not that I haven't valued the time we've spent together, but I feel I'm ready to move on to new challenges. Tom is who I would suggest you hire as my replacement. He has a background in counseling, but is--"
"You're quitting?"
It'd never been so hard to meet his eyes. "Yes, Jimmy. I am. It's time."
"You organized all this behind my back." Not a question, a statement, and a very angry one at that. His usual cool gaze fell to well below sub-zero. It was pure luck I didn't snap freeze on the spot.
Instead, I nodded, goose bumps breaking out all over my skin.
"When?"
"When did I organize it or when do I finish?"
He jerked his chin. I took it to mean 'yes' on both counts.
"The last couple of weeks, and in a couple of weeks," I said. "Thought I'd spend a few days settling Tom in before I left, making sure everything was okay. Of course there were other candidates, it's your choice whether or not you hire him."
"Big of you."
"But you will need to find someone to replace me."
"When were you going to tell me, Lena?"
"Soon."
He raised a brow.
"This weekend ... sometime, I was going to give notice. I mean, definitely well before Tom arrived for his interview with you on Monday. You would probably want a chance to prepare, so ..." I gave him my most charming smile. No matter what, never actually admit to flailing. "Monday morning at the very latest."
Color suffused Jimmy's face.
I cleared my throat. "Back to Tom's previous experience, which I think it's important to note, unlike me, he actually has some in a relevant field--"
"No."
I blinked. "What?"
"No. You're not quitting."
"Ah, yes. I am."
He shook his head just the once, but it was a fierce shake, brutal even. I'm surprised he didn't give himself whiplash. And while I'd known he probably wouldn't embrace my decision, I hadn't expected this level of obstinacy. "I'm a secretary, Jimmy. Not an addiction counselor. Fact is, I never should have taken the job in the first place. I'm not qualified, nor am I particularly good at it."
"I think I'm in a better position to make that call. Hell, Lena. This is ridiculous, what is it you want me to say?"
I shrugged, surprised by his response. "Goodbye, I guess. And if you wouldn't mind, a letter of recommendation would be nice."
For a moment he said nothing, just let his head fall back so he could stare at the ceiling. The muscles in his neck were thick, veins stark beneath the skin. "What's the real issue here? You want more money?"
"No. To be honest, you're probably paying me too much as it is. Not that I'm volunteering for a decrease."
"Then what?" His gaze bored into me, eyes a lighter shade than his brothers. Jimmy's eyes were like a cloudless sky, the perfect blue. They were beautiful, but rarely serene. And God help me for even noticing, let alone getting poetic.
"Why do you want me to stay so badly?" I threw up my hands. "Most days you barely tolerate me. Last week you stopped speaking entirely and just grunted at me for three days." Suddenly you can't bear for us to be apart? Come on."
Ben chuckled. "She's got a point."
"Later, Benny," Jimmy said without taking his eyes off me.
"Right. Have fun, guys." The big man ambled on out, not particularly bothering to hide his smile.
"I just ... I got a bit moody last week." He crossed his arms and said in a rush, "But it wasn't nothing to do with you."
"No, of course not. But I have to live with you. So when you get into these moods, it affects me. "
Further scowling.
"Not that this is about us." I shook my head. "I mean, there is no us. I don't know why I even used the word. This decision is just about me. It's time for me to move on."
Jimmy's jaw clenched. "I don't like change."
"We'll make the handover as smooth as possible."
"I'm used to you being around. We get on okay. Why the fuck should I have to go through all the trouble of breaking-in someone new just because you've got your panties in a twist over something that probably doesn't even matter?"
My mouth opened, but nothing came out. I was officially stupefied. Over the breaking-in or panties comments I couldn't quite say, though really, neither should have surprised me. This was Jimmy in all his glory, rude as fuck and not a single social nicety to him. At least I was willing to pretend to get along with people the bulk of the time.
"Well?" he barked. When I took too long to answer he tugged his red sweatshirt off over his head, using it to wipe down his face.
"My reasons, which are personal, do matter. Maybe not to you, but they matter to me."
He looked off to the side, his lips drawn wide in a truly aggrieved expression. Had any man ever been quite so badly treated? No, I think not, according to that face.
"I've made up my mind," I said.
"I'll pay you twenty percent more."
"Were you even listening? This is not about money."
"Fuck's sake. Fifty."
I screwed up my nose. "Jimmy--"
His hand sliced through the air. "Enough. I'll double it. You cut the shit and we don't talk about it again, understood? Now I got stuff to do."
"Stop!" I yelled.
He stared at me, unblinking. Hostility seemed to ooze from his very pores.
"I'm leaving."
"Why?" he asked, through gritted teeth. "C'mon, you at least owe me an explanation, Lena."
Outside, it started to rain, the heavy grey clouds finally giving it up. And still Jimmy waited. I squeezed my eyes shut against the sight of him. Oh god, I couldn't. I just could
n't. This wasn't going at all like I had planned.
"I know we're not best friends, but I thought we got along okay," he said.
"We do, basically."
"Well, then?"
"I'm not right for this job."
"Look at me."
I opened one eye, he actually looked reasonably calm. His big arms were crossed, sweaty shirt plastered to his buff chest, but otherwise, he didn't seem too angry. So I opened the other eye, too. Brave of me, I know.
"Unlike the other sobriety companions, you don't completely piss me off," he said.
"I know. I'm mostly useful." I laughed. Not that it was particularly funny. "Gah! Why are you fighting me so hard on this?"
"Because the record company and Adrian would still like someone around to keep an eye on things. I happen to agree it's not a completely bad idea," he said. "I don't need you counseling me and messing with my head, giving me your version of whatever philosophical bullshit turns you on. I just need you to be here. How is that so hard?"
"It's not. But it doesn't explain why you're so hell-bent on that person being me."
"Look, you're basically the best out of the bunch, okay? Someone else might be far worse. I'm not going to risk it. You have to stay."
My nose wrinkled up, I could feel it.
"Hang on, is this about what happened before the funeral?" he asked.
My mouth opened but I had nothing. He didn't mean when he clung to me, but thanks to my guilty conscience, it was all I could think of.
"It is." His forehead furrowed. He shoved a hand into his hair and grabbed a fistful, tugging on it. "That was ... there were extenuating circumstances. You were never in any physical danger from me, Lena. Not ever."
"I know."
"Do you? I get that I freaked you out," he said. "I know I trashed that room, but I would never--"
"It's not about that."
"So what's the problem?"
I turned away, mind scrambling for a plausible lie of an excuse. There must be something I could use, letting him think I was physically afraid of him wasn't tenable. He had more than enough issues to contend with.
"It is the problem." He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. "Fuck."
"No. It's really not. I get that you were in a bad place that day."
"Then what? What do you need here, an apology?" Irritation filled his eyes. "Fuck's sake. I'm sorry, okay?"
My jaw fell slack. "Wow. You are breathtakingly bad at apologizing, aren't you?"
His cell buzzed on the counter. We both ignored it.
"Jimmy, for future reference, when you apologize to someone you might want to sound like you actually mean it. Consider not sneering or swearing at them, perhaps. Hmm?"
He kicked his scuffed his foot against the floor looking for all the world like a schoolboy being scolded. "Okay. Sorry ... and stuff."
"Slightly better."
"So we done here? We good?" he asked, already moving toward the door.
"Can I tell Tom Monday suits you?"
"Lena! Shit." He made a noise of sheer exasperation. "Why?"
The words stuck in my throat. I could have choked on them which was probably a better fate than letting them out, all things considered. The tension coiled inside of me, huge and horrible. If only I could have disappeared into thin air.
"WHY?" The ass shouted, the sound reverberating around the room.
"Because I have feelings for you, alright! And don't yell at me."
Silence.
Absolute, pure, silence.
Little lines appeared beside his nose. "What did you say?"
"You heard me."
"You have feelings for me?" The way he drew out the word, rolling it over his tongue like the taste disgusted him and belittled us both. I might never recover.
"Yes."
"You're fucking with me."
"No," I said, my heart on my sleeve. Actually, forget the sleeve, my chest felt like it had been ripped wide open. I stood there completely exposed, everything on display. Quite gross really. But it didn't mean I had to like it. "Well?"
He just stared at me.
"Say something!"
The bastard burst out laughing.
Great big belly laughs filled the room, the sound circling me, battering at my head. I couldn't get away from it. There were knives on a rack on the kitchen wall, many shiny bright knives all in a row. It would be so easy just to throw the odd one at him and see what I could hit. I might not be in any physical danger from him, but him being in danger from me was a distinct possibility. I imagined him bloody and beaten, bleeding on the floor. It kept me from immediate violence, despite my clenched fists.
"You see now the wisdom of my not wanting to tell you," I said, mostly for my own benefit. No way could he hear me over his insane cackling. The man stood hunched over, actually wiping tears from his eyes. I prayed fervently for god to strike him dead but nothing happened, Jimmy just kept on laughing.
"And the strongest feeling I have for you right now is hate," I said. "Just in case you were wondering."
Ever so gradually (about a century later) his laughing slowed and then eventually ceased. It wasn't an easy battle for him. He'd look at me, at the floor, out the window, the strain lining his face. All I could do was wait.
And make snarky comments.
"Okay, that's great," I said. "Glad you could get that out of your system."
"Sorry." He rubbed a hand across his mouth. It didn't hide the grin at all. "Christ, I just figured all those times you were looking at me funny, you either had some kind of attention disorder or you needed to get laid or something. I had no idea ..."
"Excellent." I clapped my hands together, pasting on a smile. "So, back to our discussion. Clearly this crosses a professional line. Therefore, I'll be leaving."
"No, you're not. Don't be dumb, Lena."
"Are you happy there, Jimmy, living in denial? Is the weather nice this time of year?" I stared up at him. "You see I've had my heart broken by assorted asshats in the past and I swore never again. So I'm not doing the unrequited love thing with you. That just doesn't sound like my idea of a good time, sorry."
My smile might have been a touch brittle, but his was brilliant. That smile, it could move mountains. It could also break hearts. I could feel the organ fading away inside my chest. Rejection stung, not that I wanted him to throw his arms wide open to me, I wasn't any more impressed with my misplaced feelings than he was. But did he have to dissolve into hysterics?
Fancy falling for someone you didn't even particularly like half the damn time. Who did something so stupid?
I mean apart from me, obviously.
"What'll happen is this," he said, voice absolute and a bit bored, even. "You'll get over this dumb crush you've got on me and I'll do us both the immense favor of forgetting this ever happened, okay?"
"You're an idiot." God, he was. He truly was. I gave him a look that hopefully conveyed this fact tenfold. "Don't you think if I could just switch it off I would have done so by now? Do you think I want to feel this way about you?"
"It's not about me, Lena. It's the whole fame thing. Once you realize that, you can just get past it and move on."
"That's the problem. It is about you. And that's why I can't move on," I said, pointing in the general direction of my bosoms which were, incidentally, heaving on account of my being worked up.
Jimmy's gaze dropped to said cleavage before darting back to my face. His lips thinned in anger, like I'd tricked him into checking me out. As if.
"I happen to like this job," I said. "It paid well even before you started throwing more money at me. I get to live in your palace rent free and for the most part, the work is easy. It's all good. But the thing is, sometimes, when you're not being a jerk, I like you so much it hurts. I like the way your true self comes out when you think no one else is looking."
"Lena ..."
"But it's the little things, really. Like the way you pretend not to remember whose turn it is to
pick what we watch on TV so I get more turns than you. And the way you sit up with me sometimes when I can't sleep."
He grabbed at the back of his neck. "God, Lena. C'mon, that's crazy. That stuff's nothing."
"You're wrong. It's something. I know you don't take praise well, but you're not half as horrible as you make yourself out to be."
"Yeah, you're right. I'm a real misunderstood sweetheart. Shit."
"I'm not saying you're perfect. We both know you're a long way from that, and hey, so am I. I'm just saying ..." I searched for the words and frustratingly came up empty. Hell, what a conversation. "Gah! Again."
"So, what? You're worried your ..." He made quotation marks with his fingers. "... feelings, for me are going interfere with you doing your job?"
"What if for some reason you flip out again and I can't go all hard-assed and say no to you because I'm too busy feeling bad for you? What if I give in? It's too big a risk."
"That's not going to happen." He wandered around the counter and past me, grabbing a glass out of a cupboard and filling it with water. Without pause he downed the entire glassful, his Adam's apple working overtime. The scent of his sweaty, buff self filled the air. Had I not needed to speak, I'd have been tempted to hold my breath. I didn't need the smell of him intoxicating me, things were difficult enough as is.
"It could," I said. "You're not taking this seriously. Also, you should go shower."
"This is my point."
"What?"
"You shouldn't make any rash choices until you figure out what you want. In the past five minutes you've admitted to having feelings for me, then said you hated me. You've told me I'm an idiot and now you say that I stink."
"Of course you stink. You're dripping sweat."
Amused gaze never leaving me, he leaned back against the counter. "Yeah, and if you were so overwhelmed by these supposed feelings of yours for me, you wouldn't care. You'd still want me all over you. In fact, most women would want me more."
My mind basically exploded, trying to encompass what having him all over me might entail. No, no, no, bad thoughts, horrible, wrong carnal thoughts. "That so?"
"Yeah. Women that are into me, they don't mind a bit of sweat. What do you think happens after we've been in bed for hours? Sweat, that's what. And those other women, they don't make all those sarcastic comments like you do either. They sure as fuck don't insult me every two minutes." He gave me a slow looking over. It wasn't appreciative. "I mean, I thought all the weird looks were about what happened in Idaho. Always kind of figured you were into pussy. Thought it was a damn shame, frankly, so there you go."