Sixteen #2
I was forgotten. The women were all over him. Ipo found him mesmerizing, and Tetsuo’s wife, Judy, and Randy’s wife, Maile, could not stop smiling at him. When he showed Maile that he could lift and easily carry the cooler full of food that she had packed for her son, she made Bambi eyes at him.
I was shaking my head as Kawika joined me in the kitchen.
“Ho, Jory, Sam get all the wahines check him out, eh?”
The noise of disgust I made sent the man into peals of laughter.
When we got back after a day away, Sam carried the cooler back to the room while I went to the front desk to make arrangements to check out the following morning and for the shuttle to take us to the airport.
“Jory.”
When I turned, I saw Aaron sitting out on the veranda alone.
After I finished speaking to the clerk, I jogged over to him. “Hey.”
He cleared his throat. “You changed the billing on your room.”
I squinted at him. “Of course.”
“Of course,” he sighed, looking out at the water.
“So, we’re leaving tomorrow, but I wanted to thank you for a—”
“It’s fine,” he said, cutting me off, still not looking at me.
I sat down beside him, hand on his thigh, and he turned and looked at me, leaning close, like he had been waiting for me to do exactly what I had.
“Tell me what I could have done to keep you.”
“Aaron”—I smiled at him—“we both know you have not been pining away for me all this time. It’s crap.”
“Like I said before,” he told me, moving my hair out of my eyes with his long fingers, “you, I never got bored of, and apparently, keeping my interest is pretty damn hard.”
“I like Jaden.”
He nodded. “I do too.”
“But?”
“Not enough to keep, J,” he told me, his eyes no longer on mine but instead on my mouth. “When I get home, it’s gonna be done.”
I cleared my throat, and his eyes flicked back.
“He wants to go to cooking school.”
“Done.”
“And a place to live?”
“What are you, his lawyer?”
“Aaron.”
He rolled his eyes and leaned back. “Yes, J, where? Downtown? Lincoln Park? What?”
“Just let him choose, okay?”
“Anything else?”
“It’s not because of me, is it?”
“Yes, and no,” he said, tipping his head, looking at me. “I just—I don’t get how I’m supposed to date someone and not end up taking care of them.”
“You—”
“And a guy who will let me, I’ll get bored of them, and I won’t want them because they’ll end up waiting on me to do things because what other choice will they have?”
He had a point.
“But a guy who won’t let me”—he gestured to me—“that’s the guy I do want, but he doesn’t want me because he doesn’t want me to own him.”
I started to smile.
“It’s not funny. It’s a terrible mess!”
“You need a guy as rich as you.”
“Yeah, not happening.”
“There are no gay oil sheikhs?”
“You’re so funny.”
“I thought I wasn’t funny.”
He groaned and leaned forward, hands on my knees. “That detective is not that hot, you know? I’m much better-looking, smarter, younger. My job doesn’t include getting shot at. I don’t have—”
“Stop.” I reached up and patted his cheek. “He’s it. You know he is.”
“Yes, I know.” He sighed heavily, turning his head to kiss my palm before he suddenly stood up. “I see how you look at him, and it kills me just a little.” He smiled suddenly, and it was very evil. “Poor Hayes—I’ve at least seen Detective Kage before.”
“Don’t cackle. It’s mean.”
“He’d had no idea that the man in your life could bench-press him.”
I smiled wide.
“You know, you gave up on that business of yours without much of a fight.”
“What?”
“Oh, sorry, I’m changing topics. Try to keep up.” He baited me.
Usually, I was the one jumping from one thing to another.
“It sounds like, from what Hayes said, this Synergy thing was not your idea of fun.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“And since maybe working for anyone but yourself is a bad idea, if you decide you want to start your own company back up again and you need capital or a loan or investors, please allow me to help you bankroll your dream. You can pay me back, J. It would only be a loan.”
I reached for his hand, and he took it.
“Or not,” he told me. “I would love it not to be a loan. I would love it if you finally, for once, took something from me.”
“It’s a very kind offer that I promise to keep in mind.”
His face brightened. “How about a million dollars to sleep with you, like that movie with Robert Redford and Demi Moore?”
I rolled my eyes at him as I stood up.
“I want to have lunch with you when I get back into town, all right? Can we do that?”
“You wanna try to be friends?”
“Yes.”
“It didn’t work the last time.”
“Because I didn’t want it this badly.” He gave me a bittersweet smile.
“Okay.”
He nodded, leaned forward, and stopped before our lips touched, a hairbreadth away. If I wanted the kiss, I would have to take it.
I gave him one on the cheek instead.
“You’re exhausting,” he said before he walked away.
I felt good as I ran back to the cottage through the rain. The downpour was amazing—torrential, but not cold. But I was from Chicago, so cold was relative. Inside, I realized I was soaked and was laughing as I looked around.
Sam was on the porch, sitting in a chair.
“Hey, did you get wet?”
Nothing.
“Sam?”
He didn’t move, didn’t turn, and did not even acknowledge that I was there. I moved fast, and when I stepped in front of him, only then did I realize that he was out cold. His head was tipped forward, his chin against his chest.
“Jory.”
My blood froze, and I turned to see a man dressed in black with a ski mask on. He had a gun with a silencer on it, pointed at me.
“Don’t worry, Jory,” the stranger said softly. “It’s just chloroform. He’ll recover in no time.”
“Who are you?” I asked as I stepped between the man and Sam, shielding him.
“You think that will save him?”