Knave of Broken Hearts (16 page)

“Oh man, I don’t think that’s a good idea today.”

“Please, Jim. I own the building you’re working on, but my father has much bigger projects, and I think you’d be a great resource for him. I’ve been telling him about you.”

Holy blessed shit.
“I don’t own the company, Constance.”

“Well, obviously you’re very important to it or Mr. Ballew would never have left you in charge.”

Jesus, he was slipping into some hole and he sure hoped the walls weren’t going to collapse on his head. “Okay. If you think it’s wise.”

They walked into the club with its nautical paintings and blue-and-white furnishings. The maître d’ barely looked at Jim’s attire, he was so busy smiling at Constance. “Welcome, Ms. Murch. So delighted to see you. Your father is waiting in the dining room.”

“Thank you, Frederick.” She smiled at Jim. “This way.”

Jim didn’t want to tell her he could have drawn a map of the club from memory, including the kitchens where he used to love to hang out and get treats when he was a kid. In the big dining room, Constance walked toward the back center booth, usually considered the most desirable place to sit. The fact that Constance’s father was in this booth meant
his
father wasn’t there—but he didn’t say that either.

A white-haired man, medium height and stocky, waved at Constance.

“Hi, Daddy.” She walked over and kissed his cheek.

Her father’s wide smile dimmed a little when he stared at Jim. Yeah, he probably looked pretty ratty. Hadn’t even managed a haircut. His stomach flipped and his heart pounded. Would her father persuade her to take the jobs away from Jim, meaning away from Billy?

“Daddy, this is Jim Carney, who I’ve been telling you about. Jim, my father, Alex Murch.”

Murch’s forced smile remained, but his eyes narrowed. “Carney?”

Jim shook the man’s firm hand. “Yes, sir.”

“No relation to our James Carney here at the club?”

Sigh.
“He’s my father.”

That inspired a real smile. “Well, I’ll be damned. Connie, you didn’t tell me your friend was Dr. Carney’s son.”

She looked at Jim with a little frown. “I didn’t know it.”

What the hell could he say? “Uh, my father and I are not in very close touch, so there was no reason to mention it.”

Murch motioned for him to sit and then slid back into his side of the booth. Jim took the inner seat on the other side, and Constance sat beside him. Murch sipped his drink. It looked like Coke. “You’re the prodigal son, right? The one who left home early?”

“That would be me.”

“He told me you were in construction.” Murch laughed. “Of course, he probably thinks that’s a bad thing, but since I started as a hammer jockey and made all my early money in construction, I thought it sounded pretty damned great.” He smiled, and Jim smiled back.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Hey, call me Al.”

The waiter came over, and they all ordered. Jim asked for the club’s famous hamburger. This meeting was going so well, he might even be able to eat it. “And I think I’ll try the sweet potato fries. Constance converted me.”

She giggled and the waiter smiled. When he left with the order, Al leaned back in his seat. “So you’re working for Constance?”

“Yes, sir. Just some TIs.”

“Hey, TIs are important to building owners. We’ve got to keep the tenants happy without giving away the store.”

Constance put her hand on Jim’s arm, which got a smile from Murch. “Jim really came through for me, Daddy. I have this tough new tenant who wanted something different, and Jim suggested this unique design—on a moment’s notice.”

“How long have you had the business, Jim?”

“It’s not my company, sir. I work for Ballew Design/Build as a construction supervisor.”

Constance tightened her hand. “But Billy went away for two weeks and left Jim in charge, so obviously he has big plans for him.” She smiled. “At least, he better if he wants to work for me.”

Murch rocked back. “Whoa-ho, woman in charge, Jim. Never underestimate the power of that female beside you. I taught her everything I know.”

Constance beamed. “Yes, you did.”

“And she’s made the best of it. Do you know this woman owns ten properties on her own and she’s not even forty yet?”

“Dad-dy! Please.”

“I love bragging about my girl. She’s a killer in business.”

Food came, and eating wasn’t quite as easy as he’d hoped. Why did he feel like he was standing on the edge of a whirlpool about to fall in? He took a bite of hamburger and tried to chew.

Murch pointed at Jim with his fork. “So Constance thinks you’d be good at doing some work for me too.”

Jim swallowed fast. “I’d be happy to give you a quote on any job.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you would.” He grinned.

“My boss, Billy Ballew, has great design ideas and is really good at sourcing product, so he can generally save you money.”

He bounced the fork again. “But it’s you Constance believes in. And your name is Carney.”

Jim took a deep breath. “Sir, you can’t base anything about my work or our company on my family. I have no connection with my father, and I’m sure he wouldn’t ever recommend you deal with me.” There. He said it.

“Okay, that’s impressive. See that, Constance? He knows I’m connected with his father, but he doesn’t try to trade on that. I like you, Carney.”

Constance smiled so big, her face about split. “I knew you would, Daddy.”

Jim smiled too and took a huge bite of his burger. He wiped Thousand Island dressing from the corner of his mouth.

“I thought you were going to stay away from junk food.” The lilting voice had an edge, and Jim’s head snapped up so hard, he about broke his neck.

Ken Tanaka stood at the edge of the table with Gene Willings. Shit, was Tanaka his angel of nutrition? The architect smiled snarkily, which made Jim want to smack him, but that feeling warred with so many others—embarrassment, anger, and a batch of other unidentifiable things. “I never said I’d stay away from junk food. You just suggested it.”

“I wasn’t talking to hear myself pontificate, Jim. You need to watch your diet.” He looked up. “Excuse me for interrupting, Alex. Just a recalcitrant patient.”

Al raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Jim having some trouble with his heart? Seems too young.”

“Yes, he is. And he won’t live to get old if he doesn’t take some steps.”

Constance grabbed his arm. “Jim, that’s awful.”

Jim gritted his teeth. “It’s no big deal.”

Ken gazed at him. “Oh? Thanks for letting me know.” He looked at Murch. “Excuse me again. Come on, Gene.” He walked away with Willings beside him. Jim wanted to run after him to bash his meddling head in—or something.

Constance was in full hysteria. “How can you have heart problems at your age? You look so healthy.”

He put a hand over hers. “I just have a weird mitral valve. Lots of people have it. Even Tanaka says it’s no big deal.”

“He didn’t make it sound that way.”

“He just wants me to do what he says. A little hamburger never hurt anybody.”

Al nodded. “I couldn’t agree more. Sounds to me like you need a different doctor.” He stared at the door where Ken and Gene had disappeared and spoke under his breath. “Fucking fag.”

Jim dragged his eyes from the door and looked at Murch.
What did he say?
Constance was petting Jim’s arm and making motherly soothing sounds. His heart beat way too hard, like it wanted to prove Ken right, and all he could think about was running out the door and bashing Gene Willings in the supercilious fucking smile.

“Jim, you’re pale. Drink some water.” Constance held the water glass to his lips. Shit, he hadn’t gotten mothering from the woman who birthed him; why should he take it from someone else?

Murch leaned forward. “I don’t know why they ever agreed to let—him on the board. Jesus, that’s taking equal rights about a hundred steps too far.”

“Daddy, please.” Constance just kept up her petting. He couldn’t breathe.

“Excuse me. I really appreciate lunch, but my guys will be looking for some direction. I need to get back.”

Murch nodded. “Good man. After all, you’ve got a tough client to please, right?”

“Yes. The toughest.” He slapped a smile on his face.

Constance looked back and forth between them like she wasn’t really ready to let go. “Of course. Uh, Jim. Did you think about Saturday?”

The play.
Shit.
“Uh, I haven’t had a chance to check on my brother yet. I’ll do that.”

“Good.” She curved a sweet smile. “I hope you can come.”

“Yes, uh, me too.” He glanced at Murch, who was watching them with a half smile. “So I’ll let you know.”

“Good.” She didn’t move and he couldn’t exactly push her out of the booth, but that was becoming an option. He was sweating, his pulse pounded so fast. “Thank you again, Mr. Murch.”

“Al.”

“Al. Good to meet you.” He looked again at Constance. She finally seemed to realize that she was the obstacle to forward movement and slid out of the booth. “Thanks again.” He held out his hand.

She looked at it, then leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “See you later.”

“Uh, yes, great. Bye.” Like some animal being freed into the wild, he hesitated, then sped across the dining room to the entrance. The same one he’d seen Ken Tanaka leave from.

K
EN
PUSHED
open the door to their building.

Gene ran a couple of steps to catch up. “Hey, slow down. Your patients won’t die in five minutes.”

Ken frowned and glanced at his watch. He actually had half an hour until his next appointment, but he wanted out of the club and nowhere near Jim Carney. “If I get behind on one appointment, it screws up the whole day.”

“Speaking of patients, weren’t you kind of hard on Jim Carney?”

“No.” He crossed his arms.

Gene shrugged. “You as much as told him he was going to die. And in front of Alex Murch. Jesus, man, that’s tough duty.”

Ken puffed out his cheeks as he blew. “He will die if he doesn’t shape up.”

“Seriously? What’s he got?”

“Mitral valve prolapse.”

Gene’s eyes widened. “Wow. I didn’t think you’d tell me.”

Jesus
. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have. Forget I said it.”

“But you told me he wasn’t serious, right? Hell, the guy looks more than healthy. In fact, I’d call him delicious.”

Ken stared at the black tile floor of the lobby, then glanced toward the suite where Jim had been working. “Yeah, but his problem is more severe than a lot of people. He’ll be fine if he takes precautions.”

“Precautions like kale and wheatgrass juice?”

“Maybe not that far, but he needs to eat a reasonable diet, reduce stress, moderate drinking, shit like that.”

Gene flipped his hand. “Yes, well, I’ve got to admit I didn’t believe you when you said he was straight until today. That was one happy family scene there at the club. The blue-collar dude and the billionaire’s daughter. Who’d have guessed it?”

Ken gritted his teeth. “He works for them.”

“That may be true, darling, but clearly he slept his way to the top.” He laughed. “So are you taking me to dinner tonight to celebrate my getting into the club?”

Ken pulled his eyes away from the door to the suite. “What? Oh, I suppose so.”

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic, darling, but do pick me up at eight. See you later.” He looked up at a man about to step on the elevator. “Hold it, please.” He glanced at Ken. “Coming?”

“A minute.”

“See you tonight.” Gene jogged into the elevator, and the door closed.

Ken breathed in deeply through his nose.
Slept his way to the top.
Was that true? Had Jim been banging that woman the whole time Ken had known him? God, why should that be hard to believe? Why should he even care? Jim made him crazy. He’d done two wholly unprofessional things, both brought on by that damned blue-collar guy. He sighed. What had Gene called him? That delicious man.

Movement outside the lobby glass made him glance up to see Jim running toward the entrance. He looked really upset. God, Ken wanted to go smooth the wrinkles in Jim’s forehead and tell him to reduce stress. Or maybe hit him for being a straight player.

Tanaka, you’re cracked
.

He raced to the stairway and slipped inside before Jim made it to the front door.

J
IM
STOPPED
outside the suite and braced his hands on his knees, breathing like an old racehorse. A couple of men walked in through the lobby doors, their business casual attire mocking Jim’s dusty work clothes, and one of them stared at him like he’d done something wrong just by living. Jim slammed against the suite door with his shoulder and pushed inside. Charlie whipped around from where he held a piece of drywall in place, Raoul stared down from his ladder, and to top it off, Ian looked up from where he sat smiling over the plans with Rico. Just when he’d like a few minutes alone, the fucking gang was all here.

Raoul called, “Hey, man, you okay? You look like some ghosts are chasing you.”

Ghosts?
Yeah, probably his own from what Tanaka said. “I’m fine. Sorry to take so long.”

Charlie shook his head. “No worries. We got this. What did the boss lady want?”

Way more than he was prepared to give. “She wanted to introduce me to her father.”

Ian looked startled, and Raoul laughed. “Taking you home to papa already?”

“I told you she was interested.” Charlie snorted.

“No, not like that, you assholes. He’s this big developer, and she thinks we could do some work for him.”

“Hey, man, that’s big.” Raoul sounded impressed. “Billy’s gonna be way happy.”

Charlie nodded. “You going to call and tell him?”

“Nah. Nothing’s for sure. Billy’s only got another week. I don’t even want him to think about work.”

Charlie asked, “Has he called?”

“No. Texted a couple times, and I just replied things were perfectly boring.”