Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
GREG
I stretched and rubbed my eyes before silencing my alarm.
I turned over to find Tony’s side of the bed empty.
I sat up slowly, the memory of the previous night slowly returning.
Toward the end of the workday, Tony’s office had gotten a call for a personnel extraction in Indonesia.
Tony had to work late to get it all set up, so I went to his place to make dinner for him.
Considering I was spending most nights there anyway, it was no hardship.
To be honest, I really did feel safer there.
The wedged-open inner door in my building’s lobby seemed to be becoming a daily occurrence.
I’d emailed the management company, but they only sent back a placating email saying they’d send out letters to all the tenants—again.
Needless to say, Tony was livid when he heard that.
He wanted to call the company and lay into them.
I told him I was still living there and had to deal with them for at least another eight months.
I could honestly say I’d never heard a man growl like that before.
I knew Tony wanted to ask me to move in with him. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. It seemed like it was too soon. At the same time, I hated sleeping without him, so most nights, we ended up together at either his place or mine.
There hadn’t been any strange flower appearances and, as far as I could tell, no one had tried to break into my apartment again.
I had gotten the door jammer bar and asked Michael to install a peephole camera.
It might have seemed excessive, but the memory of the violent way the azalea flowers had been strewn in my hallway stuck with me.
Tony was concerned, and I was going to heed his warnings.
I had ignored my friend’s concerns about Randy and paid a steep price.
I wasn’t going to let that happen a second time.
I wandered out into the living room, where Tony was seated at his desk in sweatpants and a tight-fitting black T-shirt. He looked incredibly edible. I wrapped my arms around him from behind and kissed his cheek. “How is it going?”
“They left JFK at nine last night. They’re about halfway there,” he replied.
“It’s a twenty-hour flight?” I asked in surprise.
“Twenty-two,” he corrected. “And that’s only because they’re going by private jet. If they were flying commercial, it would be closer to twenty-eight.”
“So they’ll get there somewhere around seven p.m. our time.”
He nodded. “That’s about right.” He swiveled in his desk chair and grasped my hips. “I’m going to work from home today. What are you up to?”
“I have a new character art commission to work on. I promised the author I’d get her a concept picture by this afternoon. I also have a request for an estimate for creating a website for a new restaurant set to open in Midtown.”
“Nice,” he said with a smile. He pulled me closer, sliding his hands down to cup my ass. “Sounds like you have a little time to get dirty before you get cleaned up for work.”
I ran my fingers through his thick, dark hair and smiled coyly. “I might.”
He hooked his fingers in the waistband of my briefs. “Why don’t we see what comes up?”
An hour later, we stumbled into the shower, where washing each other turned into mutual hand jobs. As I watched our combined spend wash down the drain, I started to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
I grinned up at him. “I haven’t had this much sex since I was a teenager.”
He drew me close and kissed me. “I guess it’s true what they say about being in love.”
I rested my head on his chest while the warm water rained down on us. “I guess it is.”
After breakfast and coffee, I finally got down to work. I got my tablet out and started working on my concept for the character art, referring to the rough sketches I’d made during my conversation with her and after reading the scene she wanted me to capture.
While I was working, an email came to my business address.
I huffed in annoyance. It was from the guy who’d insisted he’d wait three weeks for me specifically to revamp the graphics on his website.
Except he’d never sent me the link to his website or even given me the name of his company.
When I’d emailed him about getting together, he kept putting me off.
Part of my to-do list for today was to tell him to find someone else.
“Let’s see what he has to say,” I muttered.
Mr. Hayden,
I apologize for the delay. I had a bit of a crisis at work and couldn’t get away. Would you be able to meet this afternoon at two? I’ll leave the choice of the place up to you—as long as it has outdoor seating. It’s a beautiful day today.
Sincerely,
Paul Jameson
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“What’s up?” Tony asked.
I rolled my eyes. “Just a potential client being annoying. Mr. Paul Jameson has been hard to pin down all week, and now, at the last minute, wants to meet today at two to discuss revamping the graphics on his website. But he never sent me the link. He seems to be incredibly disorganized.”
“You know you don’t have to take the job,” he said.
“I know,” I replied. “I’ll go meet with him today, and if he’s too much, I’ll politely decline.”
“Where are you going to meet him?”
“I’m going to tell him Café Roma. At least I know the coffee is good.”
Tony nodded. “Truth.”
It took another hour for me to be satisfied enough with the first draft of my character art to send it to the author to see if I was going in the right direction.
After that, I pulled out my laptop to read through the restaurant owner’s requirements for their website.
They wanted something simple and elegant that was easy to navigate.
They’d sent me an example of their menu and pictures of the restaurant’s interior to give me ideas for the graphics.
Restaurant websites weren’t all that complicated, so it didn’t take me long to put together an estimate of time and cost.
I stood and stretched, cracking my neck, “I should get a keyboard to keep here,” I said contemplatively.
Tony swiveled in his chair to face me. “You’d want to do that?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. That way I don’t have to leave to practice.”
His face lit up with a broad grin. He came over to me and wrapped me in a tight hug. “I would love that.”
I clung to him, breathing him in. I loved that he didn’t use a heavy cologne.
It was just his shampoo and something that was essentially him.
Reluctantly, I stepped away from him. I checked the time.
It was already after twelve. “How about we have lunch so we can spend some time together before I have to go uptown.”
He headed toward the kitchen. “Sounds good.”
We ate leftover bolognese, and Tony told me about the town in Italy where his parents were from.
The way he described it made me long to see it in person.
After we finished eating and cleaned up, I really wanted to take a nap.
Instead, I slid my tablet into its case in preparation for my meeting.
“Hopefully, Mr. Jameson isn’t too long-winded. I’ll text you when I’m done.”
He pointed at my tablet case. “Why aren’t you taking your laptop?”
“He wants graphics. I’m not redesigning the website.”
“Got it.”
I kissed him. “I’ll see you when I get back.”
“I’ll be here.”
I took the subway uptown from Penn Station and made it to Café Roma with five minutes to spare.
It was then that I realized I’d never asked Mr. Jameson how I would identify him.
I shook my head. This job was weird from end to end.
I’d almost decided to say, “fuck it” and head back to Tony’s when I saw a man seated at one of the half-dozen black wrought-iron outdoor tables waving his hand at me.
“Damn,” I muttered.
For a moment, I wondered how he’d recognized me, then I remembered I had my picture on my website. Maybe I should take that down. With a sigh, I headed toward him.
Paul Jameson rose when I got to the table. He was of average height, with dark hair and faded blue eyes. I held out my hand. “Mr. Jameson. Thank you for meeting me here.”
He took my hand in a rather limp shake that made me want to shudder. “It’s no problem at all. And please call me Paul. May I call you Greg?”
“Of course,” I said with a wan smile. Something about this guy was off, but I couldn’t figure out what. I shook off my unease, trying to be professional. Noting the mug of coffee on the table, I gestured toward the door of the café, “I’m going to get some coffee. I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time, Greg.”
I smiled when I saw Brendan at the counter. “Hey, Brendan. How are you doing?”
He returned my smile. “Really good. I sold a few paintings at the show, and I got the attention of an artist who wants to mentor me.”
“That’s great. I’m happy for you. I’m sorry we had to leave so suddenly. Tony’s father had a heart attack, and we had to get down to Jersey.”
He nodded. “I heard. I hope his dad is okay.”
I smirked. “He’s getting there. He’s stubborn and doesn’t want to listen.”
He huffed a short laugh. “I know what that’s like. What can I get you?”
“I’ll take my usual.”
“Do you want that in a to-go cup?”
I shook my head and pointed to the table outside where Paul was sitting. “I’ll take it in a mug. I’m meeting with a client. I’ll bring it back in when we’re done.”
Brendan looked to where I was pointing, and I saw his brow crease into a slight frown. It was gone a moment later. “Sure. It won’t be long at all. Do you want me to bring it out to you?”
I shook my head. “I’ll wait for it here.”
As Brendan said, it didn’t take long, and then I was left with no excuses not to go back outside. Paul had a tablet out on the table when I got back. He looked up at me with a smile. “Welcome back. I realized I was a complete idiot and didn’t include the link to my website in my email to you.”
I set down my coffee and sat across from him. I put my tablet case on the table in front of me. “If you tell me what it is, I can pull it up on my tablet.”
He shook his head and held his device out to me. “I already have it open on mine.”
I took it from him and got my first look at his website.
It was…awful. He was trying to advertise his services as a freelance programmer, but the graphics he’d used didn’t make any sense.
I clicked through all the pages. The graphics didn’t get any better.
It reminded me of when Tony had told me about Michael’s lack of artistic talent. Maybe that was a programmer thing?
When I finally looked up from his tablet, Paul was gazing at me expectantly.
I hoped, for his sake, that he was a better programmer than graphic artist. I drank some of my coffee, wishing it were something stronger.
I got a notebook and a pen out of the zipper pocket of my tablet case.
“I can certainly help you. How about you tell me what you’re looking for and what kind of clientele you’re targeting. ”
He went into a long-winded explanation of his area of expertise—data analysis or something like that—and what types of organizations he wanted to work with. I drank more coffee as his droning tone was threatening to put me to sleep. When he was finally finished, he asked, “What do you think?”
I blinked. What did I think? I looked down at my notebook and saw that my handwriting had gotten progressively worse toward the end. “What’s happening?” My voice sounded strange to my ears. I met his gaze and saw the cold, calculating gleam in his eyes. No. Oh god. No. “What did you do?”
He gave me a shark-like smile. “It’s just a little something to relax you. You’re so uptight, Greg.” He rose and came around to my side of the table. Taking hold of my arm, he said, “Now we’re going for a ride.”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Yes,” he countered through clenched teeth.
He pulled me to my feet, where I swayed, unable to keep my balance. I tried to pull my arm from his grasp. “Let go,” I slurred. I knew I couldn’t let him take me.
I managed to hook my foot around the leg of the chair, so when he pulled me away from the table, the chair toppled over, making a lot of noise. I heard him curse as he roughly yanked me toward him.
I looked inside the shop and saw Brendan staring at me. He started to come around the counter, but it was too late. A taxi pulled up to the curb, and Paul hustled me into the back seat. As the car pulled away from the building, consciousness slowly slipped away and everything went black.