Knave of Broken Hearts (26 page)

“Good. That’s good.” He walked toward the apartment, and Ian fell in beside him.

Ian kind of skipped. “I do wonder what made him change his mind.”

“Yeah.”

Ian stopped and smiled at his brother. “Maybe—maybe he doesn’t hate me as much as he said.”

Jim put his arm around Ian’s shoulders and kept walking, but he wanted to sit on the apartment stairs and cry.

K
EN
LEANED
forward in his office chair and stared at his phone. The one that didn’t ring. It didn’t ring even after he’d broken down and called Jim to ask how his hand was and to be sure his brother was okay. No answer. He’d left a message, which was a first for him. Still no answer. Not much reinforcement from the fucking universe on caring about somebody.
Shit.

He turned back to the patient file on the computer.

The phone rang, and he practically turned over the chair grabbing it. “Jim?”

Dead air.

“Hello?”

“Kenji, who is this Jim?” His mother.

“He’s a patient of mine, mother.” He sighed very silently. “I’m glad you called me. I wanted to apologize for my behavior at dinner. I was impolite to you and your guests. I’m very sorry.” Hell, what was he fighting for anyway?

“That’s good, Kenji. I was sure you’d reconsider your rudeness.”

“Yes.”

“So you’ll come to dinner tonight and make amends.”

Why the hell not?
He wasn’t doing anything more important. “What time shall I be there?”

Five hours filled with patients and pain later, he dragged himself out of the car at his parents’, staring at the blue sedan parked at the curb. The Okuwas’s car. He wanted to pick up a rock and break the window—or better yet, climb in his Lexus and drive until he didn’t recognize a person or a landmark. But no, he was Dr. Kenji Tanaka, second son of an honorable family, brother to a glorious ghost to whom he owed his life and future because his mother’s tears could never be dried—but he had to keep trying.
Shit.

He watched his feet move up the walkway.
Why are you doing this? Because Jim made me brave, and now Jim’s gone.

Inside the house, five pairs of eyes stared at him as he entered. He bowed slightly. “Good evening.”

Mickey gave him a big smile. “Hey, bro, thought I’d never see you again. I’m really glad you’re here.”

That’s nice to hear—I guess.

For three hours he made polite conversation while everyone else seemed to tiptoe around, trying not to piss him off. Finally the evening was over and he walked out with Mickey, the parents staying inside to give them space, apparently. Jesus, was he back in high school?

Mickey looked up at him. Cute, no doubt. Rakish grin, longish hair that stuck out in many directions adding to the wild-guy look, and that adorable ass. Why did it add up to nothing? No tough guy broken nose, no uncut blond hair, no crinkly green eyes that always looked wary.

Jesus H. Christ.
When had he fallen in love with Jim Carney?

Cosmic joke. The player gets played. He’d finally cracked open his heart for a man he couldn’t have.

Mickey added a little more sass to his smile. “So are we doing this or no? I’m interested. You’re the holdout.”

“I’m not sure I’m up for this happy-ever-after shit, Mickey, no matter what my mother wants.” He sighed.

“Me either, man. Hell, I just want to have some fun, and if that means pretending to be a little more serious than we are, who does it hurt? Let’s go someplace and fuck.”

Ken stared. Had it come to this? He couldn’t even fall in bed with some guy for the fun of it? He was that wrecked? “I’ve got to go to this charity event at my club Friday night. How about you come with me? It’s black tie. We’ll see where it leads.”

“I’d settle for a fast poke behind those bushes, baby.”

“Black tie or leave it.”

Mickey laughed. “What time will you pick me up?”

J
UST
FOCUS
on the circuit. The circuit. Don’t think.
Jim twisted the wires and connected the lighting. Around him, the sound of hammers drowned out conversation. Finally he couldn’t do one more thing at the top of the frigging ladder, so he climbed down to move to another location.

He could sense Charlie’s eyes on him. His back felt hot.
Ignore him.
He made a big production out of moving the ladder, then climbed up again and pulled out his cutters.

“Jim?”

Well, hell, not Charlie. Billy. He looked down and forced a smile. “Hi. You’re not due back until Monday. How come you’re not honeymooning?”

“The suite looks great.”

He really smiled this time. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? I gotta make sure Ian sees it before the tenant moves in. He did a great job.”

“You’ve done a great job.”

He ducked his head. “Thanks.”

“Can I talk to you?”

Oh hell.
Jim turned on the ladder step so he half faced forward. “Sure. Shoot.”

“Come down.”

Double hell.
Slowly he climbed down the steps. At the bottom Billy pointed toward the door. Jim followed him out in lead boots. In the hall Billy walked him into the stairwell and closed the door. “I got a call from Constance Murch to set up the conversation with her father for next week.”

“Yeah.” Maybe Billy was just excited?

“She mentioned that you’d be seeing her father at the fundraiser you’re attending—with her.”

Jim swallowed.

“I thought we talked about this? I don’t expect you or even want you to date Constance as a benefit to this company.”

Jim stared at his shoes and shook his head. “That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

Jesus, his father said not to tell anyone. What would happen if he told Billy? Billy would try to make it better. Shaz would be worse. He’d go charging in with his freak flag flying. Meanwhile his brother would lose his ride to Berkeley. “I just like her.”

“Yes, she’s a nice woman. What does that have to do with anything?”

“I don’t mind dating her.”

“Crap, Jim, do you think she’d be thrilled to hear that ringing endorsement?”

“Maybe not, but there’s no reason not to date her and if it does the company good too, what’s the big deal?”

Billy leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “If you don’t know, then I guess I can’t tell you.”

Jim’s heart pounded.
I can’t help it!
The words screamed in his brain but wouldn’t come out his mouth.

Billy sighed. “I’m going to tell Constance that it’s probably best if we don’t meet with her father.” He pushed off from the wall. “You can do what you want.” He opened the door to the hall and was gone.

Shit.
What just happened? All he’d wanted was to make things better for Billy and Ian. To help the company.
Only you could make it come out the opposite, Carney.
The tight stairwell spun and his knees turned to water. Down he went on his ass. The first sob echoed in the small space. Another. He dropped his head in his arms and cried.

J
IM
STARED
out the window as they approached the Pacific Crest Club in Constance’s Mercedes. She’d offered to drive. Probably figured he’d drink too much.
Good guess.
He’d let everyone else run his life pretty well so far; why should tonight be any different?

She cleared her throat. “Did you know that Billy Ballew called me?”

What should he say? “He said he might.”

“He doesn’t want to meet with my father.”

“Yeah. He thought more about it, and I guess he’s afraid your dad will find out and think we tried to pull something on him.”

“How would he know?” She slowed as the cars ahead stopped at the valet.

“For one thing, Billy’s husband is pretty high profile. But that’s not the issue, really. He doesn’t want to lie.” Right, Jim could do all the lying for the company.

“It’s possible Daddy likes you so much, he won’t care about Billy at all.”

Jim’s jaw tightened.
Right.
Murch liked Jim dating his daughter so much. “Maybe.” But Billy wouldn’t take the business anyway. How the hell would he explain that to Constance? Crap, was there a hole big enough to hold him and all his lies?

She stopped in front of the club, and the valet pulled open the door. He stared at his shiny shoes as he stepped out onto the pavement. Constance walked around the car, tucking her parking ticket in her little purse. He sighed and offered his arm.

She smiled up at him. “Thank you, sir.”

“If I didn’t tell you, you look real nice.” That was true. Her deep blue evening gown set off her blonde hair and showed her killer figure. A figure he still hadn’t checked out undressed.

“You too.”

He shrugged.

“You got a haircut.”

“Yeah. Once a year whether I need it or not.”

“You feeling okay? How’s your hand?”

He held it up. “Bruised but functional. I’m fine.” He glanced up at the subdued façade of the Pacific Crest Club. Could you hate a structure? Really hate it? He was practicing.

Inside, the host greeted Constance effusively, and a number of other people said hello. She left her shawl that looked like it was made from some very pricey sheep with the coat-check girl, and they walked into the dining room. Fancy. The room had been arranged with large round tables decorated with tall flower arrangements in the center, with long, rectangular tables around the perimeter of the room. Glass bowls stood on those in front of big baskets for the drawings.

Constance nodded toward the display. “Let’s check out the drawings and the silent auction, shall we?”

“Have they got a bar?”

She nodded to the far corner of the room. “Over there.”

“Why don’t you start looking at the stuff and I’ll get us some drinks?”

“Okay. I’ll have champagne.”

He set off skirting between the tables to get to the bar, where he joined the end of the line.
Come on. Come on.

“Well, well, look who’s here. Mr. Blue-Collar Loverboy.”

Jim didn’t even look at the sneering voice. “Hello, Willings.”

Willings stepped up beside him so Jim couldn’t pretend he wasn’t there. “Where’s Ken? I wouldn’t have expected him to let you out of his sight. Never know when he’s going to brush off another guy and need you to protect him.”

Jim clenched his fists and bit his tongue.

Willings nudged him, pushing his luck. “Really, where is he?”

Jim stared at the heels of the guy in front of him. “I haven’t seen him.”

“What?” Gene started to laugh. “Don’t tell me he left you too? Perfect. There’s no way he’d have spent much time with a Neanderthal like you anyway. I love it. He blew you off.” He laughed.

“The only one I remember doing any blowing around here is you.”

“Don’t let him break your heart, Lover Boy.”

“Don’t suck any wooden cocks, Willings.”

Willings’s eyes widened, but he walked away. Jim’s heart beat so hard he could pass out. The guy in front of him finished his drink order, and Jim stepped up. “Jack on the rocks and champagne.” He held the edge of the bar tight. When the bartender set the highball glass in front of him, he grabbed it and tossed it back. The hot/cold flash seared down his esophagus and hit his empty stomach like a bonfire.

The bartender set the champagne beside the empty glass. “Another, sir?”

“Yeah, thanks.” He tossed bills with enough for a tip on the bar and grabbed the fresh Jack and champagne.
Breathe.
He sipped his drink to try to make his heart stop pounding.

Balancing the two glasses, he started back across the dining room toward the raffle baskets. He skirted a table and turned left. Ken Tanaka stood a few feet in front of him with that pretty, pretty boy attached to his side like a barnacle.
No.
Like a step back in time, Jim’s foot caught the chair leg, he flew forward, champagne and whiskey flying, and landed in Ken’s arms.

“Got you.”

Jim looked up into the beautiful black eyes. Weirdly, heat flashed in his head, and he blinked against the tears pressing behind the back of his eyes.

Constance hurried up. “Jim, are you all right?”

Ken looked at her, then back at Jim. He kind of shrugged. “I guess I don’t have you, do I?” He set Jim away and back on his feet.

Jim’s heart tried to run after Ken as he walked away with that boy beside him.

Constance brushed liquid from his sleeve as two busboys hurried over with rags to wipe up the disaster. “Did you hurt your hand?”

“No. Just busy making a fool of myself. Sorry I dropped your champagne.”

“Good God, that doesn’t matter. As long as you’re okay.”

Was he okay? Hell to the fucking no. “Let me go get another drink—for you.” He looked in the direction Ken had gone. Maybe he’d never be okay again.

She grabbed his arm—still warm from Ken’s hands. “I’ll come with you this time just to keep you safe.”

Safe. Right.

K
EN
WALKED
straight toward the door of the club with Mickey practically running to keep up. “Hey, man, how come everywhere we go, that fucking hunk shows up?”

“Just lucky, I guess.”

Mickey sidestepped a white-haired matron. “Where are we going?”

“To get some air.”

Outside, he gulped breaths. A couple on their way into the club stared at him. He must look sick or desperate.

He stopped beside a tree and stared at the grass. Mickey stepped up beside him. “So how do you know that guy again?”

“He was a patient.” The lie in those words rattled in his brain.

“That must be his rich bitch girlfriend, huh?”

“Yes, I suppose she is.”

“Those tough blue-collar dudes get all the girls.” He glanced to the side and grinned. “Even you.”

“Fuck off.”