19. Jake #2
“I’m going to ask Logan, my boss, for more PTO,” Dalton said. “Lucas said it would be better to do it in person. I’d planned to send an email.”
He was prepared for confrontation, that was for sure, so I followed him, ignoring the surprised looks on the faces that popped up from behind cloth-walled cubicles like so many gophers.
He led me to a large office that was made of windows, beyond which I could see an expansive view of the downtown area. Two stiff-looking leather chairs sat right outside the door.
“You can wait here,” he said. “I won’t be long.”
I remained standing as he knocked and went in.
Dalton’s boss was a middle-aged fellow with a puffy face and a suit that he’d outgrown. As soon as Dalton stepped inside the fishbowl of an office and closed the door behind him, the older man was on his feet. His face was already getting red.
He snapped something like What do you want? Dalton’s reply, I could not hear. Then Logan’s voice got louder. He came around the front of his desk and jabbed his finger right in the middle of Dalton’s chest.
I counted heartbeats. One. Two. Three. Watching. When Logan moved even closer to Dalton, threateningly close,, I opened the door and went in.
“That’s enough out of you, I think,” I said as I stepped between the two of them.
In the back of my mind was the idea that if Dalton got more PTO, he’d be spending more time on the ranch. Which would be torture and pleasure at the same time.
But at that moment, I didn’t care if I screwed everything up. Nobody but nobody could treat Dalton that way. Poke him and advance on him, angry and shouting.
“Excuse me?” Logan’s mouth fell open as he looked me up and down. “Who the hell are you? Get out.”
“I don’t think so.” He wasn’t my boss. He had no power over me.
Dalton was looking at me wide-eyed. I couldn’t tell if he was glad I was there or pissed off.
But that was of no matter, because soon we could be on our way, and I’d have more time with Dalton. More time to undress him slowly and smother him with kisses. Stocking up for when he would be far from me.
“You don’t think so?” Logan blustered, raising his voice.
“He asked you for PTO,” I said, feeling a flash of pleasure at using the previously unfamiliar term. “So, are you going to give it to him or not?”
“No,” Logan shouted.
“No?” I asked at the same time Dalton said the same thing.
“No, because he’s fired.” Logan took a deep breath, pretending everything was under his control.
“You don’t get to come in here and make demands, Dalton.
Not when our numbers are low. Not when you’ve been on vacation for so long already.
” He looked at Dalton like I wasn’t even there.
“You’re fired. Jeannette will email you the requisite forms to sign.
You can mail in your company badge. Now get out of my office before I call security to escort you. ”
Fired? What kind of boss fired someone for simply asking for time off? But before I could say anything, white faced, Dalton opened the door and went out. I was right behind him.
Dalton led the way to the reception area, handed in his temporary card, ripped the guest pass off my shirt, said goodbye to the receptionist, and got into the elevator. Both of us were silent until we reached the ground floor and walked to his car in the parking lot.
For a long second he stood looking blankly at me across the car’s roof, like he was about to jump across a chasm, only he didn’t know the distance or what would be on the other side.
He drove us in silence to his apartment, a lovely old-fashioned building on a quiet street that had a few more trees than the other places we’d been in town. We rode an elevator to the third floor. When he unlocked the door, I held my breath. This was his life, and I was about to see it.
The place was only a little bigger than my bunkhouse. Large windows looked out over the street, and sunshine streamed in. The floors were wood. Baseboards white. Simple furniture, brown and cream, with touches of blue. And in the middle of it all, still looking lost, a little grim, was Dalton.
“Cute place, huh?” he asked, maybe looking to distract me or himself from his situation.
“Not as cute as the occupant.” Then I kicked myself, because the last thing he needed just then was compliments, no matter how truthful.
“I’ll need to fill out some forms,” he said, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. “But first, let’s go to the Center.”
He went into a room next to the small bathroom and sat at a sleek-looking computer setup on a flat desk facing the window. Way more modern than what we had at the ranch. He was going to get straight to work, but I wanted to stop him, just for a minute.
“Hey,” I said. His hands were on the keyboard, starting the thing up. I knelt down and turned his chair around to face me.
Eyebrows furrowed, he looked at me as though wondering what I was doing there. Who’d let me into the apartment, and what I wanted with him.
I could have tumbled him onto the bed. The bedroom was just down the very short hall. It was right there. But that wasn’t what he needed from me right now.
Problem was, I wasn’t sure what he did need. I could have said he wanted stillness and sense, but the right thing to do was to find out. And then give it to him.
Before I could ask, though, he spoke up. “Have you ever been fired?” He frowned, angry at the world. At me, even. After all, I’d been a part of what had just happened at Hadley & Maine.
“No.” My job at Snow Creek Ranch was the only job I’d ever had. And after working there twelve years, I was pretty much my own boss, only needing to check in now and then with Jesse, who trusted me to attend to whatever needed doing.
I had no idea what Dalton was going through, but it broke my heart to see the darkness in his eyes, the droop of his shoulders. His lovely mouth thinned with grim concentration.
“What’s it like?” I asked. My hands were on his knees, and he placed his hands atop mine, gripping tightly.
“Like I’m lost. Cut off from everything.
I have to call one of the admins to box up my stuff and send it to me.
I’ll have to sign papers and an acknowledgment of my last paycheck, which goes directly into my bank account, so whatever.
And after that—” He sounded like he’d just been flung into the ocean with nothing to hold on to.
“I shouldn’t have gone in like that,” I said. “But I thought he was going to hurt you.”
“He wouldn’t have,” Dalton said. “Mostly it’s poking and getting in your face.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You?” He looked at me, puzzled. “Why are you sorry? You’re the first person to ever do something like that for me. Rush in like a knight in shining armor.” He laughed, a small burst of sound, looking away like he was gathering memories. “Or like a hero cowboy in a movie.”
Unsure why he would find that amusing, I kissed his palms and watched him close his eyes, maybe so he could absorb the moment and keep it with him for later. When he needed it again.
“There’s so much to be done,” he said. “But I feel so jagged.”
“Then let’s do those things,” I said, trying to be sensible. “Maybe we do them later. After we pick up the kid. A few hours won’t make any difference.”
“No,” he agreed. Then he rallied himself, straightening his shoulders. Looking at me as though I’d just announced the direction from which the enemy was approaching. “We’ll pick him up and go to Dairy Queen. Get treats for the road.”
“You hate Dairy Queen.” I stood and pulled him to his feet.
“Yes, but you love it.”
We might have had a quarrel, then, our first, but he said, “Let’s let the kid decide.”
“Yes.” That’s when I gave in to my impulse to pull him into my arms. Push the hair from his face and kiss him good and solid.
Followed by a whisper-breath of a kiss on his cheek.
“I’ll help you.” I kissed his ear, talking low and soft.
“Let me help you.” Even though I had no idea what a man did after losing his job.
“I will.” His hands were on my chest, and he nuzzled my jaw. “You’re like gravity. Good gravity.”
I mulled over what that might mean as Dalton grabbed a small leather satchel, threw some envelopes and papers into it, and led me back to his car. He drove us to the Center, a nondescript building just north of downtown.
Was the social services building where the last mother dropped me off that final morning near here? I didn’t want to know. That was the past. Dalton pulling into a small circular drive was more important now.
An older man stood on the curb under a concrete awning.
Next to him was a young man with a shock of ill-kempt dark hair.
He was as pale as fresh snow, and he had a lip ring that glinted in the sun.
A black eye. Bruises on the left side of his face.
The black backpack on his shoulder looked empty, a deflated balloon.
“He needs rescuing,” Dalton said as he pulled up to the pair, sounding grateful to have something to focus on other than his own woes.
I agreed with him. The young man had a dazed expression, wide-eyed, his gaze constantly shifting, like he was watching for danger.
And oh, how that reminded me of myself in those bad old days of long ago.
Never sure if there was going to be yelling or a hot meal.
A swift blow to the back of the head or clean sheets.
“Is this what it was like?” Dalton asked.
It took me a moment. I didn’t want to lay my heavy memories on his sweet shoulders. But at the same time, Dalton wanted to know.
“It was a lot like this,” I said. I’d been younger, in my mind’s eye. The weather colder. Me all alone, waiting on the lip of a sidewalk, with the social services worker standing inside, watching from a distance. I looked at Dalton. “Only it was raining.”
It had been raining every time. Or snowing. Or windy. Though that couldn’t possibly be true. Surely the sun had shone a time or two. Hadn’t it?