Bitter Taffy (5 page)

“Hope you don’t mind—Dad got worried about your computer, and it was break time.”

Rico smiled at her uncertainly. “Uhm, thank you, uhm—”

“Mari. I’m an insufferable busybody.” She grinned pertly, and her resemblance to Finn intensified.

“And this is, uhm….” He gestured vaguely to the sandy-haired stranger in the other seat. The man had blue eyes, an oval face, a flirty little nose, and lips that leaned when he smiled.

The man stood, his tailored gray suit falling into neat lines around his trim form. “I’m Derek Huston,” he said as he extended his hand. “Adam sent me your way.”

Rico narrowed his eyes, trying to wrap his head around this. “Adam
knows
you?”

Derek looked affronted. “Well, not
biblically
—his boyfriend would
kill
me. But he’s done some artwork for me—in fact, I keep him on retainer. He’s an awesome artist.” Derek’s freckled nose wrinkled. “He’s a
horrible
businessman, but I guess that’s what Finn is for.”

Rico took his hand and shook it briefly. “Yeah, well, I’m glad he’s got Finn. Here.” He gestured to the chair. “Sit down.” He turned to Mari. “Uhm—”

“I’m outta here. I was only supposed to hold your spot until you got back.” She bounced away, and Rico watched her go, assailed by a pervasive sense of unreality.

“She’s married,” Derek said mildly, and Rico shot him a look of annoyance.

“I’m gay. I just….” He shook his head, not wanting to dump his business on a stranger. “It’s been sort of a weird week. Finn’s family is throwing me for a loop.”

Derek was looking at him in a combination of surprise and… interest? Whatever it was, it made Rico’s face heat, and he took inordinate pains finishing his coffee and eating the last bite of his beignet.

“So, uhm,” he asked after an uncomfortable moment, “you were here looking for something?”

“Your cousin says you’re in advertising.”

“Marketing—there’s a difference. But yeah. Got the degree in marketing, spent some years writing ad copy, just left an internship as a marketing director out in New York. Were you looking for someone like that?”

Derek nodded soberly. “I’m actually looking for
exactly
someone like that. But not for me, per se. Do you want to hear?”

“Yeah. Hit me with it—but whatever I do, I promised Finn’s family I’d help them with a campaign for their new franchise, so I need some time for that.”

That adorable all-American boy face lit up, and Derek said, “Actually, that makes you the employee I’ve been looking for all my life. Now here’s what I need you for….”

Rico leaned forward and listened, asking pertinent questions, and when he was done, he felt a reluctant admiration for this brash, compact businessman who would walk three blocks just to have a cup of coffee with someone’s cousin.

Derek Huston had a
vision
.

He ran a sort of consulting tank of various talents—from Adam, who worked as a graphic artist, to Miguel, an IT professional, to Stan, a gardener, and Maureen, an electrician, and Ted, a lawyer, and so on. His vision was to be the small business’s best friend. He paid everybody a modest retainer and provided insurance and proof of employment and other employee benefits, and in return he got a percentage when he lined them up with gigs. Derek’s talent was taking small businesses to the next level—by giving small businessmen access to high-end services that they might not normally have on a limited budget. Finn’s dad couldn’t really afford Rico—Rico had known that when he’d offered his services. He planned to work for a low fee per hour, and Rico wouldn’t short his employer for the world. So if Finn’s dad had gone to Derek’s firm, the Shopkeeper’s Friend, first, then Derek would have gotten a budget and given Rico the job—and Rico would have done it within the budget. The effect would have been the same—Finn’s dad got a top-notch professional—but through the business, Finn’s dad was protected, and because Derek was also drawing a fee from other clients who had bigger jobs and deeper pockets, Rico had a steady paycheck if Mr. Stewart decided to use another marketing exec.

When Derek was done, Rico found he liked this idea. He’d long since folded his laptop and was leaning on it, listening intently. “So I’d be my own boss,” he said thoughtfully. “And I could take companies up a level. So, like, premium work. None of that elitist bullshit, right?”

Because
God
, Kellerman’s high-handedness had rankled. Four months of kissing the old man’s ass, forced to walk on his fellow interns if he wanted even a crumb of approval or a hint that the job would last, and Kellerman had tossed Rico aside like a dirty come-rag?

Even if Rico hadn’t been heartbroken, he’d be pissed.

“No,” Derek said, looking pleased. “See….” Derek looked abashed, and Rico cocked his head. For the past half hour, the man had been nothing but self-assured and confident and no-nonsense. But now? In this moment? He almost looked shy.

“See,” Derek repeated, “the thing is, my dad ran a hardware store in Woodland for thirty years. You know where Woodland is?”

Rico nodded. “Yeah, I went to school at Stanford, lived here for a few years after. I know where it is.”

Derek nodded like he was reassured. “So you know Woodland—it’s like—”

“Pretty fuckin’ small,” Rico said with a smile.

“Right? So anyway, Dad ran a hardware store that his dad left him, and my older brother and soon-to-be brother-in-law are running it now. So this place—my family does the
best
carpentry, you know? We’re great workers, and this hardware store had all these special woodworking tools that only hard-core galoots—you know what that is?”

At Rico’s bemused negative head shake, Derek went on.

“A galoot is a woodworker who likes old tools, who hunts them down and finds them special. Anyway, my dad and now my brother and the in-law—they spend their days off hunting down old lathes and shit that nobody’s heard of, so they’ve got this really premium stuff. And they were
going out of business
because nobody knew. So the first thing I did as I was going through business school was hook them up with a buddy who wanted to build a portfolio and was in marketing. He did this small marketing job for them, took just enough of a fee to buy our dorm a keg, and my family’s business, it doesn’t have to go under anymore. And it hits me. Sometimes the little guy just needs
help
. Just, you know, five hours of a personal assistant, a part-time marketer—but finding someone reliable sucks, and making sure you’re not getting bilked sucks. I thought,
I
could do this, be that guy who matched people together and made it painless.”

He smiled when he was done like he’d just said something really personal. Rico guessed that he had.

“That’s awesome,” he said, meaning it. “It’s….” He grimaced, thinking about Kellerman and his security goons. “It makes business feel really human. I haven’t thought of it like that in a long time.”

Derek looked up and waved to Mari, who was filling up coffee cups around the café, and she smiled and got him a cup and then efficiently filled it while he talked. “What
do
you think about it? I mean, why marketing? Why advertising?”

Rico swallowed. He hated telling this story. But then, Derek was looking at him so hopefully, and it had been such a long time since he’d thought about what he did for a living and why.

“See,” he said thoughtfully, letting Mari fill his cup too, “it sort of all comes back to Adam. When he was a kid….” Rico swallowed. “Let’s just say his mom and our grandma weren’t going for Parents of the Year. And sometimes it seemed like all day, every day, they just yelled about what a shitty kid he was and how it was the other one’s fault. And he just….” Rico hated this. God, it felt like a violation, the thought of Adam, big brown eyes swollen with tears, hiding under the bed with a pillow and Rico’s teddy bear because his own mom wouldn’t have brought him one. “It wasn’t fair,” he said roughly. “And I thought that they just got it wrong. You know, nobody
told
them what a good boy he was, so somebody had to tell him. And he could always draw. So he’d draw a good boy with a halo, folding clothes, doing dishes, all the stuff he tried to help with but got yelled at for doing wrong, and then I’d write, ‘This is Adam, working. He’s a good worker.’”

“Did it help?” Derek asked seriously.

“Have you met Adam?” Rico asked back. He remembered his mom putting the pictures up on the refrigerator at their home, until his father got home and threw them away because they interfered with the décor in the kitchen.

Derek grimaced. “Yeah, uhm, he’s sort of guarded, isn’t he?”

“It’s how he walked away—right outta their lives and into Iraq. I think he was relieved. Anyway, so I always thought of marketing as telling the truth, but telling it
louder
. Making sure the people who needed to hear got the message.”

“So, not lying or backstabbing or smear campaigning?” he asked soberly, like it mattered.

“I swear,” Rico said, because after Kellerman trying to undercut his competitors to the extent of laying off his own people, Rico had done enough of that. “That is
not
what I’m in for.”

And then Derek did a terrible thing. All of that confidence, all of that goodwill, all of that force of moving forward—it all got balled up and thrown into Derek’s best smile.

He was
beautiful
.

“Oh my God,” Rico whispered to himself.

Derek didn’t hear him. He pulled out a business card and wrote a number on the top. “That there is my personal extension, and there’s my cell phone. I just got your card from Adam—if you don’t hear from me by next Monday, call me up. I want you to come in, do the orientation, and sign some papers and get started with the retainer and the bennies. You know Adam, but he’s not my only artist; I’ve got a few others. He appears to have no ego whatsoever, so it shouldn’t be a problem if you need someone else for artwork—we’ve got a portfolio if you need it. In fact, I need to get you a catalog of the services and employees so you can refer back to us if you need to. Half our business comes from, like, the electrician walking in to rewire the place and saying, ‘Hey, your plants are dead, do you need someone for that?’, so it’s important, you know?”

Rico nodded. “So that’s it? I got the job? Don’t you need to see my résumé?”

“You went to Stanford, you worked in advertising for a while, and you just got back from a failed love affair in New York—”

“Wait,” Rico snapped, voice hard. “How did you know that?”

A little smile flickered at the corner of Derek’s lips. “’Cause Darrin told me—”

“How did he know?”

Derek shook his head. “That’s not what matters, you know that, right?”

Rico rubbed his chest, feeling that miserable ache returning when he’d almost managed to forget it all morning. “Yeah, so what matters?”

Derek leaned forward, looking very sober. “What matters is that… damn. You are one of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen in my life. And I’m going to try really hard not to make you uncomfortable with that, but I thought it needed to be said. And I’m not going to put any pressure on you. I’ve had my heart broken, and it sucks. But… you know.” He looked away, and that shy man who had talked about his family surfaced for a moment. Rico got the impression Derek didn’t let that guy out a lot. “When you’re ready? You just let me know, okay? ’Cause if you… if you even think I’m cute, I’ll be so all over that.”

“And if I don’t, ever?” Because hello, sexual harassment.

Derek managed to look sheepish. “Well, no harm, no foul. Just… you know. If, say, you wake up one night and go, ‘Holy wow! I’m ready to date again and that Derek guy I work for might be receptive!’ Yes. Yes, I am. Say the word.”

Rico grimaced. “That’s sweet,” he said, pretty sure no relationship would be on the table forever. “But right now I’m planning on being single for a very long time.”

Derek laughed, a growly, happy sort of sound that did confusing things to Rico’s stomach. “Darrin said that’s what Adam planned. Adam needed Finn more than any man needed anyone in the history of ever.”

“I don’t need anyone,” Rico said stubbornly, and Derek laughed more and louder.

“It’s
so
cute that you think that,” he said, looking sincerely joyful. Then he sobered. “We all need someone, Rico. I mean, you have your cousin and his new family, and that’s awesome. But people want to find someone to let in their hearts. Give it a little while, you may find I’m that guy.”

Rico scowled. “For all you know I am a
complete
asshole, you realize that, right?”

“Oh my God—you and Adam, I could swear you were twins. If you don’t hear from me by Monday, that means I got drunk at my sister’s wedding and can’t move. Wake my lazy ass up and remind me.” He stood and offered a hand.

Rico took his hand again, but this time Derek squeezed a little tighter, lingered just a moment, and rubbed the back of his hand with his thumb.

“I promise, no harassment,” he said softly. “I meant it when I said you have space and choice and no creepy boss man groping you. That’s not the business I want to run. But don’t ever think I’m backing off because I’m not interested. I’m just waiting until you know if you are.”

And then he released Rico’s hand, dropped a couple of bills on the table, and sauntered off, doing everything but whistling.

Rico sank down into his chair, looking at the sharp, clean lines on the front of the business card and Derek’s numbers on the back.

Damn.

Rico really sort of wanted to work with that man.

J
ET
LAG
/
TIME
difference smacked him in the face about an hour later, and he was
just
about to impose on this family of complete strangers for the promised apartment upstairs when Finn’s minivan careened around the corner, Finn at the helm.

Rico stood up, bussed his table a little, and was ready when Finn tapped on the horn.