Brick by Brick (15 page)

“You both disgust me,” I said and left the room.

I didn’t carry keys to James’s truck, but he hadn’t locked the cab. He never did, joking that if anybody but him could get it to start, they were welcome to it.

I sat on the passenger side, fuming.

Chapter Twenty

The truck started immediately for him, but James shifted it into neutral, not first. “That got ugly. You think he bought it?”

“I don’t think anybody just gave him two thousand dollars’ worth of cocaine.”

“No, I mean did he buy that he came this close to getting his ass beaten over coke.”

Oh. “I think so.”

“Good. Not that I would.”

“You were acting?” I hadn’t known he was that good.

“Of course I was. If I hit people, I’d have decked Daniel every Christmas. And Thanksgiving. And any other time the family gets together.”

James didn’t especially envy Daniel’s success, but he resented his twin’s entitled smugness. “Even if I was a different kind of guy, I couldn’t hit Gage, not after what Stuart did to him. I can’t even imagine the kind of baggage that gives him.”

“The kind that lets you hurt him if it’s what you want, which I know you don’t. But does he?”

“Maybe not. Jesus, if I’d known I was rubbing him raw, I’d have stopped.”

“He really needs your approval.”

“I guess. Poor bastard. I never intended to come off like some sadist back there.” He wagged a hand at the hotel.

I considered my answer. “Maybe you’re being too alpha dog.”

“I think he’s all right, being my bitch,” James said and put the truck in gear.

“But he’s not. More like a puppy who loves whoever’s boss, even when you’re mean to him, because he wants to please you so much.”

Glaring at the road, my husband drove a half mile before he spoke. “He doesn’t know me like you do.”

“That you’re warm and fuzzy? Show him that side of you.”

The message light blinked in the kitchen’s darkness. It would be for James, probably, but I flipped on the overhead light, picked up, and punched in the password.

The phone line rendered Gage’s chocolate baritone tinny. “
Hi, it’s me. I just wanted to say thank you for, ah, setting me straight. Drugs straight, no pun intended. And for not hurting me when you could have and probably really wanted to. Hey, Natalie? Don’t cook tomorrow night, because I’m taking us out to dinner someplace fancy. Dress up. I’ll be in a suit when James picks me up. Five o’clock
.” He’d paused but hadn’t hung up. “
Really, thank you. Both of you. Maybe if somebody’d cared enough about Rowan like you care about me, everything would be different. I’m so goddamned lucky. I’m not going to forget this. Shit, I’m rambling. Shut up, huh? So thanks. And good night. See you tomorrow. Bye. Take care
.”

“He didn’t want to hang up, did he?” I said.

“Nope. But he’s good with how it went, even though I should have stopped sooner. I can’t believe he took his pants down for it. Listen, I’ve got to write up a couple invoices. I’ll be done in a half hour or so.”

He wasn’t, of course, but I caught him up on the medical drama I was watching. He sat close, and I snuggled closer and didn’t even mind when he took the remote from my hand at the next ad and switched to a cop show.

We headed to bed right at nine.

“Weird.” I pulled my shirt off. “With all the Gage business, I forgot we had the new bed.”

“He didn’t even see it, did he?”

“No.”

“It’s a big sucker. Looks good, though. I approve of your taste.”

“It’s impeccable. I chose you, after all.”

His smile was sunny, but I thought he forced it. “Will you still love me if I defer the test drive for another night? All this tough-guy adrenaline shit has worn me out. I’m really tired.”

“You dope. I’ll love you no matter what.” We slept nearer than usual, not leaving room for Gage so much as savoring our closeness. Married.

* * * *

Tucson isn’t a dress-up city. Unlike Phoenix, as Tucson boomed it acquired neither the sophistication of an eastern city nor the hipness of a western one. There were very few places James couldn’t go in a button-front shirt and decent jeans.

I had one fancy dress, but it was for cool weather, so I spent the day at two malls, trying to find something just as good but for summer. Every candidate broke the budget I’d assigned myself, none of them special enough to demand that I buy them nevertheless.

So I arrived home later than I’d hoped to, unenthusiastic about the natural linen shift with a matching jacket. I took a long, lukewarm shower, renewing the “personal shave” and taking my time with my hair until the water grew cooler, my signal to finish up before it was gone.

The shower had masked the ringing phone. I dashed into the super-heated bedroom because its phone was closest.

“You
are
home. Hi,” James said.

“I was in the shower. I’m still dripping.”

“Then I won’t keep you. Don’t shoot me, but I’m not going to get away on time. Is there any way you can pick Gage up?”

“Around five?” Still almost an hour away. “Sure.”

“Thank you. I won’t be as late as last night. I hope. But if you don’t want to spend that much time alone with him, just call him and figure out a time that works better.”

“I’m fine alone with him.”

“I know. I just didn’t want you to feel like I’d foisted him on you. Listen, I gotta go. Love you.”

He hung up before I had a chance to say I loved him too.

Gage seemed only mildly surprised to see me instead of James at his hotel room’s door. My jeans and tank top, and my still-damp hair, contrasted sharply with his suit.

“Hi. Three guesses where James is.”

“Come in. Work, work, and work?”

“Ladies and gentlemen, no more phone calls, please—we have a winner. So, how are you doing?”

“Okay, I guess. Tired.”

He looked it. “Did you get any sleep at all?”

“A few hours, I guess. Lots of tossing and turning, mixed with self-loathing and pocket checks to make sure I didn’t have one stashed someplace special.” The smile was bleak. “I didn’t.”

“We don’t have to go out tonight. There’s still time for me to buy something to cook at home. You change while I make a shopping list.”

“No. We’re going out tonight to a really nice restaurant like I promised. Doug and Cynthia mentioned this one, and the concierge says it’s good.” Gage turned toward the sliding glass doors. “I figure I might as well get dumped at the best place. You’re not as mad at me as James, but you’ll go along. You guys were fine without some cokehead adding more headaches than orgasms.”

“Oh, stop it. If James was going to dump you, he’d have said something to me about it. And he wouldn’t let you take us out so he could do it in public over a nice meal. He’s not that mean, even though he comes across that way some of the time. I think he’s trying to prove to himself he’s masculine in spite of what he does with you.”

“I know. Sorry. I get like this. Usually I go off by myself, not inflict it on other people.”

“You’re just sleep deprived. I get the same way.”

“Sucks, doesn’t it? It’s one of those days when a little coke would be really good, but as it is, nothing’s right.”

I set my hand on his sleeve, uncomfortably warm from the sunlight pouring through the glass doors. “Nobody’s dumping you, but you didn’t get any happier. What else is wrong?”

Gage was silent for long seconds. His voice was choking tight, too controlled. “My agent called. I got turned down for two roles, good ones.” His fake smile failed. “I shouldn’t let it get to me like it does.”

“Is that all? Gage, this must happen all the time.”

“Yeah. And I tried Rowan all morning and she’s not there.”

“So? Maybe she’s running errands.”

“She’s not a person who goes out and does stuff in the morning, not ever. More likely she got loaded and spent the night with some junkie who offered her free coke and doesn’t have any condoms. That’s what she does.”

“Wow.” I sat in the room’s only chair. “How long does she have to be unreachable before that’s not just the worst-case scenario?”

“I don’t know. A day? Two?”

“And it’s been, what, five or six hours?”

“About that.”

“You can’t conceive of any reason she wouldn’t be home on a weekday morning? None at all?” Ridiculous. Sometimes the dentist or gynecologist couldn’t see you any other time, or a friend needed a ride to the airport or work or a job interview, or you met someone for coffee. Didn’t everyone’s life take them out of the house some mornings?

“I don’t know.” He pressed his lips tight. “She’s all I’ve got, and I don’t really know her. I have no idea how she spends her time or what she likes to do when she’s clean. Some brother, huh?”

“Grab your cell. You can keep trying her at our house.”

Gage scooped up the little phone, plus its charger and the grocery bag that presumably held the paddle. My car interior had already heated so much we waited a minute with the doors open before we ventured in.

I left Gage in the living room so I could pour two glasses of iced tea, but he trailed after me and took one from my hand, oblivious to the kitchen chaos I’d intended to undo once I found a perfect little dress, cheap.

He sipped his drink. “You really think James isn’t setting me up for the boot?”

“If he wanted you out of our lives, this isn’t how he’d do it.”

“Okay, you know him better than I do.” He sipped again. “Good tea. You think I should be going to LAX instead of dinner?”

“Not yet. Try her again.”

He did. “Nothing. Where is she?”

Who knew? “Maybe she hooked up with someone at her meetings and is doing something with them.”

“I guess that could happen.” He turned his cell phone off.

“Or she went somewhere with a girlfriend and their car broke down, so they got a motel room. She didn’t call to tell you because she didn’t know you expected her to always be there for a bed check.”

“Yeah, maybe. I do expect her to be home unless she’s at a meeting.”

“You’re going to have to adapt, now that she’s clean. She’s a grown woman just living her life. It involves going out.”

“I’m probably worrying over nothing.” He yawned, covering his mouth. “Excuse me.”

“There’s time for a nap, if you want. I still need to get dressed and dry my hair. Maybe if I’m fast, I can catch a nap too.” A half hour of sleep would improve my mood, which was sliding nearer to Gage’s.

“Yeah? All right. I’ll leave you the couch. I’m good with the recliner.”

He was too. His head lolled almost immediately.

Chapter Twenty-One

“Wake up, sleepyheads. Come on, nap time’s over.” James towered over us, clearly amused.

I sat up, groggy and cross. “You’re already dressed for dinner. What time is it?”

“Six forty-five,” Gage said. “We’ve got to go. The reservation’s for seven.”

The sleeveless linen dress had wrinkled, but it wasn’t so bad, I decided. It was the boxy jacket that did me no favors, so I left it at home.

James drove my car, with Gage in the front seat. He adjusted the seat belt to allow himself to sit half sideways. “Excuse me for lecturing, but there’s a way that works, me going into restaurants and stuff. Natalie, you follow whoever seats us. I’ll be right behind you but with my head down. Don’t get so far ahead of me that I have to look up to follow you, okay? James, you’re in back.” His voice took on a bawdy tone. “Which is exactly where I like you.”

James grinned but said nothing.

“Anyway, Natalie will make the call on whether the table is okay, in terms of making me too visible. Off to one side, against a wall, is ideal. She makes sure I get the seat with my back to the room, even if the waiter pulls that one out for her.”

“You have to go through this every time you eat out?”

“Yeah. It’ll be second nature if we do it very often. Which I hope we will, because since I started making money, I’ve gotten to really like good restaurants. Not just the food, the whole thing. What’s the word?”

“Ambience?” I suggested.

“Yeah. I like linen tablecloths and crystal and silver and fresh flowers, the music, a wine steward, everybody dressed up—did I tell you how nice you look?”

“In this old thing?” James said in a falsetto, and laughed.

I was glad he’d listened to me instead of the salesman. The more fashionable suit from ten years ago would be fairly ridiculous now.

“Here it is,” James said. “We walk in from the parking lot the same way?”

I’d known Scapaletti’s was a fancy Italian restaurant out in the desert, although development encroached ever closer. However, I’d had no understanding of what fine dining and Italian in the same phrase might mean.

The
ristorante
was elegant, rendering me immediately uncomfortable. This was a place where the staff would know if I used the wrong fork. “Good evening,” a debonair man in a white shirt said. Was he the maître d’? I didn’t know.

He was just a man. “Hello. We have a reservation. Bedwell?” I asked Gage.

James scowled at me. Too late. I shouldn’t have drawn attention to Gage at all.

“Yes, table for three, as private as possible. This way, please.”

I held my head up and walked as gracefully as I could in my heels. Better that someone notice the clumsy woman in the frumpy linen dress than Gage.

The man pulled out a chair at one of the two better places. I sat, and he pushed me in. I smiled my thanks as James took the other “good” seat. Gage faced only us and the wall behind us, with a small waiter’s station where the staff could grab napkins, silverware, and water.

“Pasquale will be your server this evening.” The maître d’ gave me a menu, then handed one to each of the men. “Can I start you with a cocktail?”

“We’ll have wine with dinner,” James said.

“Excellent. Our wine list is on the table.”

“Thank you,” Gage said but did not raise his head.

Once the man had gone, Gage seemed to relax. “Perfect execution. Want to be my posse?” He opened his menu. “Uh-oh. Either of you happen to read Italian?”

“It’s not very different from Spanish,” James said.