3. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Justin
My life went back to normal after returning to Kansas City. I went back to work, and the voice in my head that I feared was going to develop into another personality quieted down, thankfully. I must have let that visit to Madame Stella get under my skin too much. Hearing voices isn’t my style.
I had a new client coming into the office for a consultation, and I was actually looking forward to it. It was the polar opposite of how I usually felt about meeting clients: anxious and nauseated. Speaking to people I didn’t know was a huge deal to me, but for some reason, not this time.
“Uh, Viviana, do we have coffee available for Mr. Fines? He should be here in a few minutes.” Viviana was the assistant I shared with Eve. She was fantastic, and we both adored her.
Eve had returned to Kansas City a week after me—without Tommy Herbst. She was now a single woman. She and Herbst got into a fight that she’d refused to discuss with me, so I immediately jumped to the conclusion their fight had something to do with me.
I still hadn’t taken Kirk’s advice to talk to a therapist, and I hadn’t called Kirk to talk because it seemed awkward since Eve and Herbst had broken up. As far as I knew, Herbst was still his client.
Viviana leaned closer. “He’s already here, Justin. I got him a bottle of water while you were on the phone. Coffee’s set up in Conference Room B. You want me to go get him?” Viviana handed me a binder we’d prepared for Mr. Fines’ meeting.
“I’ll go get him. Thank you, Viviana.”
I pulled on my suit coat and straightened my tie before heading to the waiting room.
When I opened the door, I did a double take.
Alone in the room was a very attractive man in a pair of dark jeans and a gray western shirt with white pearl snaps down the front and on the chest pockets.
The black cowboy boots on his feet and the black felt hat resting on the chair next to him had me tongue tied.
Holy fuck! He was something out of a damn western movie!
My throat seized, making my greeting stick in my throat, so I cleared it. “Pardon me, Mr. Fines. I’m Justin Watkins. How do you do?”
He stood from his chair and grinned, walking closer to me with his hand extended to shake. “Clay Fines. Nice to meet you.”
We shook hands and I held the door for him. “Please, call me Justin. We’re set up in a conference room back here. Mr. Korr didn’t have time to give me much information about your financial goals, so let’s sit down and discuss them, shall we?”
I guided him to the conference room and closed the door. We sat at the small glass-topped table, and Mr. Fines hung his cowboy hat on the back of the chair to his right.
“Can I get you some coffee?”
Mr. Korr, the owner and president of Korr Financial Services, had referred the man to me because Korr had a family emergency out of town.
I wasn’t sure if Mr. Fines would still be my client when Mr. Korr returned to the office, but if he wasn’t, I’d make sure I had a detailed picture of Mr. Fines’ financial goals for Mr. Korr to pursue.
“Uh, no, but thanks. I drank enough coffee on the way here to drown a dog. The lady who came to tell me you were on the phone got me a bottle of water. Steve—uh, Mr. Korr—said it was okay if I brought you pictures of my financial documents instead of making copies. Is that right?”
Mr. Fines pulled his phone from the pocket of his western shirt and unlocked it, scrolling for a moment before turning the device toward me. I saw pictures of his financial documents on the tiny screen.
I smiled at the man. “Oh, uh, that’s great. May I send these to my assistant so she can make them a little clearer and print them? It’ll be easier to see the numbers if the documents are more focused.”
“Sure,” Mr. Fines answered before he propped his elbows on the armrests and scanned the very bland, beige conference room with the glass top table and mahogany credenza that held supplies.
A black coffee carafe was sitting on a tray with four beige coffee mugs, a small pitcher of cream, and a sugar bowl.
It was all very mundane and boring as hell.
I quickly sent the ten documents from his phone to my phone before forwarding them to Viviana. I returned his phone and pulled out the information Mr. Korr had provided for me, along with a pad of paper to make notes.
“Okay, Mr. Fines. Should we get started? I see that you inherited a thousand acres of land with two houses and six outbuildings. Will you tell me about your property?”
He’s good looking, isn’t he? You oughta take him out for dinner and see if you can get into his pants. I mean, that’s what you want, right? You still never said if you’re a pitcher or a catcher, you know.
Holy shit. Not again! Shut the fuck up. Stop saying things.
Mr. Fines’ mouth was moving, but I couldn’t hear anything he was saying because of the voice in my head. I thought that fucking voice was gone, but no. It was back, right in the middle of a client meeting when I needed it the least.
I snapped out of my fog in time to hear Mr. Fines say, “The land was passed down from my great-grandfather to my grandfather and then my father after them. Now it’s mine.
For generations, we’ve grown corn, sorghum, and hay on the farm.
I rotate the crops like my forefathers did.
We don’t want to degrade the soil to the point that it won’t produce crops any longer.
That’s always a danger in our business.”
I nodded. “I’m sure it is. Where’s your place located?” I asked.
“Sterling City. It’s about eighty miles northeast of here. Not much of a town, but it’s where the farm is located, so...” His smile was dazzling, highlighting his strong jaw and those incredible eyes.
His skin was still tanned from the summer sun, probably spending a lot of time riding a big green tracker to plow his land. His biceps looked as though they could rip through his dress shirt sleeves. I had to reach up to be sure my mouth wasn’t hanging open.
Damn. This man? He was straight out of a fantasy I’d had more than once.
“Uh, Mr. Watkins. Did I say something to upset you?”
I swallowed again. “No, no. Something just occurred to me. Will you excuse me while I get my laptop to take better notes?”
Getting the hell out of that closed conference room where his scent was making my head spin was job one. I didn’t wait for an answer, and I nearly mowed down Viviana when I opened the door and rushed into the hallway.
“Justin?” I turned to see Eve staring at me as if I was nuts.
“Oh, god. Help me,” I gasped.
Eve took my hand and dragged me into her office. “What the hell is going on? You’re white as a sheet, Justin.”
“I’m with a client. He’s...” The words weren’t forming fast enough.
“Did he threaten you or something? I’ll kick his fucking ass.” Eve’s voice carried and she had the office next to me just down the hall from the conference room.
“No, no, no. He didn’t threaten me. He’s very nice, as a matter of fact, but I can’t make my brain work when I look at him. Steve gave me this client to do background on while he’s in St. Louis for a funeral. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
You want to fuck him, plain and simple. Or maybe you want him to fuck you. Where do you come down on that? Pitch or catch?
That voice was going to make me gouge out my eardrums. What the hell was it doing in my head?
“Okay, uh, let me come in with you.” She started toward the door when I grabbed her hand.
“Get your laptop. I said I was coming to get my laptop. Bring yours.”
Eve hurriedly ejected her laptop from the docking station. We both entered the conference room where Mr. Fines was standing by the window looking out on downtown Kansas City.
“Mr. Fines, this is my associate, Eve Murray. Eve, this is Clay Fines.”
Eve’s eyes roamed over the man like a hungry jackal. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring her into the room?
Man, you gotta find out which way he goes, so let’s see how he reacts to her. You never answered me regarding pitching or catching.
Fuck if I wasn’t losing my fucking mind at twenty-fucking-four. What the hell did I have to do to get that voice out of my head?
I was finally able to calm myself by the time Eve and I finished the meeting with Clay Fines. It was noon, lunch time. “Clay, would you come to lunch with us? There’s a nice barbecue restaurant down the street that serves a great brisket sandwich. Their babyback ribs are really good, too.”
Clay grinned, his cheeks flushing. “I wish I could, Justin, but I’ve got a little more business to look after here in town this afternoon. How about dinner tonight? I’m staying in town to take care of something in the morning before I head home. I wouldn’t mind a good steak.”
Eve, bless her beautiful hide, spoke first. “I’m sorry, Clay, but I have another commitment. Justin, you have nothing going on, right?”
See, she’s got class. I like her. You ever hit that?
I bit my tongue as Eve lifted an eyebrow at me in a move that said she dared me to contradict her. Her revenge could be quick and deadly.
I rolled my eyes. “No, Eve. I don’t have other plans.” I gritted that part out.
“Where are you staying, Clay?” My hands started to sweat at the realization that I was going to have to shake the man’s hand in a minute, so I shoved my right hand into the pocket of my suit pants to dry it.
“I’m about half a mile from here. Is there somewhere nearby where we can sit outside to eat? The weather’s still pretty decent.” Clay grinned at me.
“I know a great place. I have your number, so I’ll text you the address. How’s seven o’clock?”
Maybe you bring an overnight bag so we can get this done. He looks like a man who knows things. Again, pitch or catch? I’m ready to get your issue fixed so you can help me with mine.
I almost said, “fuck you”, out loud. I needed to get a grip on my mental ramblings before I started responding out loud. That therapist idea sounded better and better.
“Sure. That works. See you later. Eve, it was a pleasure to meet you.” Clay shook her hand before he turned to me, and I removed my clammy hand from my pocket.
“Very nice to meet you, too, Justin. Thanks for all your help clarifying a few things. I look forward to dinner.” I walked him out to the elevators and rode down with him.
“Me too, Clay.”
He stepped out of the building, gave me a quick wave, and walked down the sidewalk. I was ashamed to admit that I plastered my face against the glass door to watch him walk away.
Instead of taking the elevator back up to my floor, I went to the stairwell and checked to see if anyone was inside.
When I was relatively sure I was alone with my psychosis, I growled.
“What the fuck is going on? Justin, you’ve been through shit in your life without having a strange voice in your head playing devil’s advocate. ”
Yeah, well, kid, the clock is ticking for me, and I don’t know how long I’ve got left. You dragging your feet on this ain’t getting me any closer to solving my problem. Just accept that I’m on board now and let’s move on.
“No! No fucking way am I going to sit back and let—I’m not crazy. I don’t need this shit right now. I have a newish job that I need to keep. This bullshit going on in my head has got to stop!”
Yes, I was in an empty stairwell at my place of employment, shouting at a voice only I could hear in my mind. Maybe this was when I went over the cliff, mental health-wise? Was I too young for a midlife crisis?
Kid, it’s gonna be fine. Let’s get to work.
Oh, god...