4. James
CHAPTER 4
JAMES
While my thoughts on the drive from the vineyard to my workshop were consumed by Hallie and that kiss, once I park in the small lot behind the shop and get out of the truck, I only have one thing on my mind. In my truck bed is a twisted tree branch from a California live oak that I found on a hike near Mendocino yesterday. I try to be intentional with the wood I use in my work, not wanting to take something from the world just to turn it into something else. So, when I find a branch or even a whole tree that has fallen in a storm or from rot or disease, I make use of as much of it as I can.
The live oak branch is thick enough to cut on my saw, but the curves and bends are going to make it difficult to turn into a traditional piece. Whatever I create from this wood is truly going to be one of a kind. With the heavy branch tucked in my arms, I make my way into the workshop, turning my body to fit through the doorway. My arms are already straining to keep a grasp on the branch as I finally set it down on the counter, pausing for a moment to look at and feel the wood, caressing the bark, silently asking the oak what it wants to be. When I don’t hear a clear response, I get to work splitting and then sanding the wood, waiting for inspiration to come to me. I usually get a feeling from my pieces as I work, but this morning, as I run my sander over each of the newly cut boards, I’m not getting anything. After a while, I realize that I’m not thinking about the wood at all. In fact, all I can think about is Hallie.
I’m still stunned by the way she caught me off guard. I certainly wasn’t expecting her to lunge at me like that, grabbing hold of my shirt and pulling me towards her. I think the surprise of it was half the fun, though. I usually see a woman making a move on me from a mile away and there’s no anticipation, no thrill. Just a jolt in the crotch and the eventual release. Feeling Hallie’s lips on mine reminded me how hot a kiss can be. No expectations of anything else to come, just the pure, sensual pleasure of kissing a beautiful woman. And the kiss was hot—that’s for certain. From the look of her with her power suits and tight ponytails, I would have imagined Hallie would be stiffer and more pursed. That wasn’t the case at all. She was warm and open and maybe not passionate, but definitely intense. If we hadn’t been right outside her office, I might have been inclined to take things further inside my truck—but even I have standards. Plus, there is no way my uptight neighbor is the type to have sex in a truck parked twenty feet from where she works. I still can’t even believe she kissed me at all. The woman has made it blatantly obvious that she can’t stand me—so what the hell is going on?
My only guess is that it has something to do with the guy who passed by, the one she was watching as he went into the building. She denied that he was an ex-boyfriend, but I keep wondering if she was trying to make him jealous. Whoever he was, he didn’t seem to me like Hallie’s type. I can’t see her going for an expensive haircut, puffy vest over a quarter-zip, messenger bag across his chest kind of guy. On the other hand, what do I really know about her? Maybe a former frat boy with no personality is what she’s into. All I know for sure is that she’s not into me…but then again, she did seem to be into that kiss.
When the boards are sanded smooth, I take a step back and gaze down at the wood, still not knowing what to make with it. Sometimes inspiration comes when I’m not looking for it, though, so I decide to take a break and try again later. I have plenty of other projects that need my attention, including a custom mantle for a wealthy client who is building a new home in Pacific Heights. I’m removing my goggles and dusting off my shirt when I hear the bell chime from the storefront.
“I’ll be back,” I tell the oak boards. “Try to come up with some ideas in the meantime, okay?”
Tossing my goggles onto the workbench, I head out to the shop to see who just came in. The floor to ceiling windows at the front of the room let in long streaks of afternoon sun, backlighting the man standing in front of a set of teak Adirondack chairs. Oblivious to my presence, he turns his back to me, looking around the store at my work. He steps towards a secretary’s desk and runs his hand over the surface, leaning in to admire the grain of the wood. It’s only when the man feels me watching and looks at me over the shoulder that I realize it’s not a customer, but my older brother, Trey.
My stomach lurches and I breathe in slowly, knowing something’s up. I don’t see my brother very often and it’s not a good sign that he drove out here from San Francisco without giving me any warning. Immediately, my thoughts go to my mother, who has always been healthy and strong but is getting older.
“James,” my brother says with a nod of his head.
“Trey. What are you doing here? Is everything okay? How’s Mom?”
Trey looks confused at first and then he laughs, turning and walking towards me.
“Mom’s fine,” he says. “Don’t you think if there was an emergency I would call?”
“I have no idea,” I shrug. “I would hope so, but who knows.”
“Trust me,” Trey says, looking into my eyes. “Everyone is fine. Can’t I come see my little brother without there being some big family emergency?”
“Of course you can,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “But you rarely do. So, what’s going on?”
Trey lets out a quick burst of breath, knowing that I’m right.
“I guess I’ll cut to the chase then,” he says. “Dad’s birthday is coming up, as I’m sure you’re aware, and Mom is putting together a party. We would really like for you to be there.”
I study my brother for a moment, his dark brown hair that he wears shorter than mine, the two inches of height he has on me, though we’re both over six feet. I raise an eyebrow at him, silently wondering who we consists of, because there’s no way my father requested my attendance at his birthday party. We’ve barely spoken in years.
“Sorry, Trey,” I tell my brother, standing up a little straighter. “I think you made the trip for nothing. The answer is no.”
“Come on, Jimmy,” Trey sighs, making me cringe at my childhood nickname. “Hasn’t this gone on long enough? You were worried about Mom, but you didn’t even ask if Dad was okay when I showed up here unannounced. Don’t you even care about him anymore? This is your father we’re talking about. He has his faults, but he still loves you.”
“Does he?” I ask.
Trey sighs again, longer and louder this time, letting his frustration be known.
“Look, we both know he doesn't want me there,” I tell my brother. “He made it very clear I’m no longer part of the family.”
“He was angry,” Trey says. “He didn’t?—”
“He did mean it,” I insist. “He meant it, Trey.”
“Fine,” Trey seems to give up. “Then don’t do it for Dad. Come because it would make Mom so happy to have you there.”
“If Mom wants to see me, I’ll get together with her another time,” I reply. “She knows I’m always happy to spend time with her.”
Trey puts his hands on his hips and looks at me with exasperation and resignation in his eyes.
“Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”
I silently shake my head in reply.
“Fine,” Trey says. “Well, since I’m here, do you want to grab lunch?”
With a smile, I grab the keys to the shop and gesture to the door.
“That I can do.”
Watching Trey fumble with his chopsticks over lunch is both hilarious and painful as it sends a pang of regret through my heart. Our parents have been taking us out for sushi all our lives and my brother never mastered the fingering to make the chopsticks work. It’s a stupid thing, but it hits hard how close we used to be and how wide the gap between us has become. There was a time when Trey was my best friend, my role model, the one person I truly looked up to. But while I was looking up to my big brother, he was looking up to our father, quickly falling in with the company line, no matter what the line might be.
The admiration goes both ways between my father and brother, of course. Trey married the right kind of woman—a beautiful Stanford graduate with a degree in psychology who runs her small therapy practice from their home while raising two insanely gorgeous kids. Meanwhile, I have done nothing but disappoint my father at every turn in my life.
“Are you seeing anyone?” Trey asks, giving up on the chopsticks and using his fingers to lift the sushi to his mouth.
I try not to roll my eyes, but I should have known the question was coming. I know my brother means well, but to him, I’ll never be happy until I’m working for our father and married with a couple of kids.
“Nope,” I reply, taking a sip of sake. “And that’s the way I like it.”
“Come on, man,” Trey sighs. “How long are you going to do this to yourself?”
“Do what?” I ask, feigning ignorance while I bristle on the inside.
“Put up a wall just to avoid getting hurt,” he says. “Look, I know what happened with Simone devastated you, but?—”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I quickly shut him down, glaring into his eyes so Trey knows that I’m serious.
He looks back at me, deciding whether to keep pressing the issue or to back off. Holding his gaze, I can see how much he cares and that, deep down, he’s just trying to help, but I don’t need another lecture on “healing and moving on.” All I need is to be left alone to live my life the way I want.
“James, I know you don’t want to hear this,” he says softly, “but I’m saying it out of love. You have to get it together.”
I break eye contact, motioning to the waiter for the check.
“I’m doing just fine.”
The twists and bends of the oak boards are still perplexing me when I get back to the shop after lunch with my brother. I thought I could use my frustration over Trey’s interloping to lose myself in my work, but I still don’t have any inspiration for the new piece. I stare down at the boards, hoping I didn’t make a big mistake by splitting the wood. Maybe I should have kept the branch whole until I knew what I was doing, but there was something telling me to make the boards. I just wish that same voice would follow through with some more decisive instructions. Until then, this project is going to weigh on me. This has really been a shitty day.
Reaching for my phone, I open my contacts and scroll through the names and numbers. There is always one thing that can turn a bad day around, helping to clear my thoughts and get my head on straight. I find the number I’m looking for and hit the button, feeling an urgency already building up inside me.
“Hey, you busy?” I ask.
In fewer than thirty minutes, I have Tristin Henley, my no-strings-attached, friend with benefits, pressed up against my workshop wall, my hands on her thighs under her skirt, her tongue in my mouth, kissing me deeply. Tristin got married to a total asshole when she was too young to know better and was divorced before she could legally drink. She’s sworn off men, preferring the company of women these days, but she still loves some hot hetero sex from time to time. We’re both well aware of the boundaries of our relationship, which is why Tristin’s the only woman I’ve slept with more than once since my last relationship blew up in my face.
Lifting her up onto the work bench, I lean in close, sliding my hands up underneath her blouse as Tristin wraps her legs around my waist. I’m already hard and don’t need much coaxing at this point. But as Tristin reaches for my belt buckle, I open my eyes and, for a split second, I flash back to kissing Hallie at the vineyard. My breath hitches in my chest and I pull away, giving my head a shake.
“What’s wrong?” Tristin asks, her eyebrows knitted together with concern.
“Nothing,” I say, taking a breath as I unzip my pants, trying to push Hallie out of my head. “I’m good.”
With a sultry grin, Tristin reaches into my jeans, wrapping her hand around my dick.
My 4:00 appointment is right on time—a repeat client coming into the store to arrange delivery for a wall piece I designed and made for him. Sal Brunswick is the definition of an outdoorsman, excelling at any number of outdoor activities and sports. He owns a mansion in the mountains that he calls The Lodge and while he doesn’t believe in killing animals for decoration, he wanted a piece that mimicked the majesty and strength of a buck with a full set of antlers. It took some time, but I was finally able to find the right branches to achieve the look Sal was going for.
“Wow,” he sighs, shaking his head as he examines the piece from every angle. “If I didn’t know better, I’d assume you took the antlers off a whole herd of deer. It’s incredible. And the way the wood is woven together…”
He lets out a booming laugh, shaking his head again.
“You outdid yourself. No one in the state does work like this—maybe not anywhere. I’ve never seen anything like it. You are truly an artist, my friend.”
“I was just following your vision,” I tell him, though it couldn’t be farther from the truth. While Sal knew he wanted the look of antlers in The Lodge without actually using the real thing, he was otherwise vague about what he wanted.
Once Sal leaves, I decide to call it a day. It was a bit slow in the shop, but at least I got started on the new piece, finished the mantle, and made a very wealthy repeat customer happy. Hopefully tomorrow will be more productive.
I’m locking up the back door when my phone buzzes and I look to find a text from an unknown number. Hi, it’s Hallie . Can you please give me a ride home?
I feel my eyes go wide as I stare at the message in disbelief. I didn’t see that one coming.