Chapter 17
Phones rang around him, more jarring than his old school’s blaring bell that signaled the end of recess—which he’d always spent reading and hiding away from other kids—and grated on his nerves.
The hum of conversation was usually easy enough to ignore once Jensen got into a flow of working, but not today.
Though he was physically back at work, his thoughts were over a thousand miles away.
What was Daniel doing? Was he all right?
Had anything changed since he’d last texted Jensen an anguishing four minutes ago?
Maybe Jensen should take a break and call him.
Even better, perhaps he could reserve one of the conference rooms and sludge through his to-do list while on a video call with Daniel.
The seven hours he had left to endure of his workday would be easier to get through with Daniel’s face a glance away and his voice in Jensen’s ear.
“Jensen.” His boss’s brusque shout and the hand that slammed down on the top of the cubicle had him jolting in his chair. “What are you working on?”
He turned his attention from Mendes’s hand to the firm’s logo that was bouncing around his screen.
He couldn’t remember what he was working on before he’d started daydreaming about Daniel.
Or how long he’d been daydreaming. He used his pointer finger to push the mouse a few inches, hoping the documents would pop up.
Evidently it had been longer than a few moments since the screen had gone to sleep and the log-in screen stared back at him.
“Just thinking through some possible complications with the floor plan for the Garner project.”
“The thinking stage should have passed months ago. The client is getting worried because they haven’t seen a revision in a month and a half. It should have been on their desk weeks already.”
Jensen scratched his jaw, finding he really didn’t care that he was behind. He’d been adding and deleting little details from the lobby’s floor plan for a couple of weeks now, completely ignoring the three floors of offices, break rooms, bathrooms, and utility rooms he was supposed to be designing.
Wyatt had been able to ward off all the other departments that needed his input and updates on the designs so they could do their job, but Jensen knew they were getting impatient.
It wasn’t like he didn’t know he was missing deadlines.
The emails from the client, project manager, and procurement department wouldn’t let him forget.
And still, he couldn’t muster up an ounce of motivation to design the bank’s new headquarters.
In hindsight, he should have shoved the whole thing off to one of their teams of junior associates or interns weeks ago, but this was the only thing he had to work on.
He hadn’t been working on it though. It’d sat on his desk without any progress, and now it was too late to bring anyone else on without the entire office knowing not a single piece of the floor plan was done.
“The latest revision is almost ready for the client, right, Jensen?” Wyatt cut in, trying to save his ass like always.
“We’re a little bit behind, but Jensen always pulls through and gets it done on time.
We won the bid due to our quality, and I’m sure the executives will appreciate it not being rushed. ”
“I’ll appreciate it when I don’t have them calling my personal line to ask what’s happening,” Mendes said with a hard edge in his tone.
Most of the typing and chatter had quieted in the open office, further amplifying the loudness of his words.
“You have thirty minutes to gather all the work you’ve done and present it to me in the conference room. ”
The weight of the situation would usually have Jensen’s stomach swirling and his shoulders pressed against his ears. A few months ago, Jensen would have broken out in hives and scrambled to meet the demands of his boss. Jensen wasn’t that person anymore.
He sat back in his chair, finally making eye contact with Mendes, whose light-brown skin was reddened. Picking up his coffee mug, Jensen took a long sip while he watched his boss’s eye twitch. After carefully setting it back down on his coaster, he said, “No.”
Wyatt’s inhale was audible even over the bark of a laugh Mendes let out.
“This is your job; you can’t say no.”
“You say no all the time,” Jensen pointed out. “How many years have I worked here? And how many times have you promised I’d be working on historic projects, and not just to tear them down?”
Besides a printer slugging out a ream of paper, the office was silent.
“Look around you, Jensen. This is an architecture firm that does office buildings. We have to be competitive in order to stay in business, and there isn’t a single company in San Francisco that wants a dated building.”
“What about the project you promised to assign me to after the Garner one was finished?” he asked, already knowing in his gut what the answer was.
Mendes looked around the floor, no doubt clocking that everyone had stopped working to listen in. “We can discuss this later. You now have twenty-eight minutes to get your notes in order.”
Jensen stood, his chair slamming into the cubicle wall behind his desk. “What about the other project?”
“How about we focus on your current project before getting ahead of ourselves?” It wasn’t a question.
“All right, let’s go. You don’t need to wait; I can tell you right now I haven’t done any revisions since the conference, and I don’t plan on doing anymore. When can I start working on the other project?”
With clenched teeth and a pulsing vein on his forehead, Mendes looked like he was about to explode. “There never was another project.”
Though his voice was quiet, it held no regret or guilt for lying to Jensen.
And why would it? Jensen had allowed his boss to lie to him year after year, and he just went along with it.
He allowed himself to be led around like a show dog, doing tricks whenever asked, and getting awards that were shoved in the faces of potential clients.
Jensen had signed off on his own exploitation for so long that it wasn’t even surprising that Mendes would take advantage. It was just sad.
But Jensen could grieve for the years he lost and the frustrations he’d allowed later.
“I think I came back from PTO too early. I’m going to take the rest of the day off.” Without waiting for permission, he grabbed his phone off the desk and left, abandoning his laptop, his very pissed-off boss, and a shocked Wyatt.
Mendes did call Jensen’s name as he hustled to the stairs and blew through the heavy fire door without a backward glance. His heart pounded in time with his feet hitting the steps that would take him out of the glass prison.
The stairwell spit out directly into the parking garage, where he fast walked in the humid air until he reached his trusty sedan.
He threw himself into the seat, elbow smacking the center console as he flailed around and locked the door behind him.
Then he hit the lock button two more times just in case.
That had been a shit show. A certified, multiact shit show that could have premiered at the Razzies.
Jesus. Jensen hadn’t freaked out that bad in public since grade school, and this time he couldn’t even blame puberty hormones and purposefully broken dioramas.
Though, even he could admit this outburst had been a long time coming.
Sure, it had been unprofessional and a bit of an overreaction in the moment.
But it had been born from years of broken promises and slights and being treated like a child who wouldn’t stand up for himself.
Because he hadn’t stood up for himself until now.
Adrenaline was slowly draining from his system, leaving him tired but also relieved.
He was out of the office, at least for the rest of the weekend.
He didn’t even have his laptop, so there was no reason to think about work.
The only thing he planned to do was call Daniel, vent about his day, and listen to his boyfriend talk while he drove home.
Maybe he would pour himself a glass of wine and take a bath.
Or turn on a show or try taming the bushes in his front yard.
Or he could just talk to Daniel until bedtime.
Of course he chose the last option. After putting on his seat belt, he tugged his phone out of his pocket, ready to give Daniel a dramatic reenactment of him maybe losing his job. But the notification lighting up his screen stopped him. It was a missed call and voicemail from Eric Larsson.
Elation soared through his body so fast he became lightheaded.
Was this karma working double time? Did finally standing up to his boss and calling him out for his continued lies open the floodgates for other good things to happen?
He couldn’t possibly wait until he was home to find out, even if it meant pushing off his conversation with Daniel.
He quickly typed in his password and clicked on the voicemail, then sat back with his eyes closed, ready for his life to change. Ready to storm back into the office and tell Mendes he quit. Ready to pack up his house and start over in Sevier.
“Hey, Jensen, it’s Eric Larsson giving you a call back.
Sorry it’s taken me so long, you know how it goes.
Listen, we loved the work you sent over, the client went crazy for the ideas you suggested.
We hoped this initial project would kick off a ton more, but there just isn’t the demand right now for the firm to justify a position.
And between you and me, our quarterly forecast reports just came in, and they’re lower than I had hoped.
If I could offer you something, I would in a heartbeat.
But hey, if anything changes, you’ll be the first person I call.
It was good to hear from you, Jensen. Take care of yourself. ”
The ending click of the message punched Jensen in the chest, forcing the air and hope from his chest.
Jensen threw the phone on the passenger seat. Heat overtook his body, and he slapped his hand against the steering wheel, the threaded leather cutting into his palm as he grasped it with white knuckles. On his next exhale, the anger left him and was replaced with the sicklier feeling of defeat.
Everything seemed to be slipping through his fingers.
His relationship with his boss was becoming more strenuous, made worse by his embarrassing outburst, and there was no way he’d be getting any concessions from the man.
Daniel was back in Sevier, trying his best to not worry about money, and there was nothing Jensen could do to help him.
He couldn’t even hold him and offer reassurances while he voiced his fears.
And the last thing holding Jensen together had been the hope Larsson would offer him a job in Sevier so he could uproot his entire life, bulldoze all his safety nets and comfortable places so he could, what?
Move in with a man he barely knew in the grand scheme of life?
Go through the horrific process of selling the home he’d carved out for himself and buy another property that would be all white walls and harsh angles?
Be so far away from his mother’s rich tomato sauce and soft noodles and endless patience and warm hugs?
Jensen had really thought for a moment that he could be a brave man that took risks and forced the world to part for him.
But that wasn’t him. That would never be him.
He would always be small and misshapen. He would always be forced into boxes and roles by men with more power than him, and the only way he was going to survive the world was to accept that.
It was becoming more and more clear that he couldn’t have the dream job and the dream man.
At most, he could have a job that paid him to do things he was good at and a long-distance relationship with a person that was so out of his league that he should be grateful to hold his attention for even a few months—which he certainly was.
He knew he was privileged for having steady employment and a close family and an incredible boyfriend. How could he ask for more? It was insulting that he had tried, really, when so many people had such worse lives.
Jensen would swallow down the disappointment of not getting everything he wanted.
He would stop trying to ask for more than he deserved.
The hand he was dealt in life was okay. It was fine.
He wasn’t going to cry about his dreams being so tangible for once in his life just to be slapped out of his hands like the thick books he liked to read while walking down the halls in school.
It was fine.
He didn’t even want to leave the home he’d spent a decade decorating and lovingly working on. That would be silly, and Jensen had grown out of silly notions many years ago.
With a shaking hand, he slotted the key into his ignition and turned on the car.