Chapter Nineteen
ADAM stared out the window as the plane descended through a thick layer of clouds. Ahead, San Francisco Bay looked cold and bleak. It never snowed much here, but right now, he would have welcomed the white stuff. The rain just seemed to amplify his sense of loss.
Jonah.
Adam had thought things were going well between them. And then they’d ended up in bed and it had been unbelievably good. He’d felt so comfortable with Jonah. And Jonah’s tanned skin beneath his fingers….
It was just a fling. Let it go. He’d gone to the island to dive and relax. He hadn’t planned on a hookup, and he certainly hadn’t counted on finding someone as interesting—and hot—as Jonah. Why did it bother him that Jonah had left without a word?
When he knocked on Jonah’s door after sunrise, there was no answer. The shades were open and he saw no one inside. Jonah’s scooter was conspicuously absent from the parking lot behind the building. No one had seen him leave. Adam had gone down to the dive shop as soon as they opened but was told Jonah had called in sick. He’d barely made it to the airport in time for his late morning flight.
In spite of Jonah’s explanation about why he’d hid his amnesia, Adam still wondered. Now, even more than before, it felt wrong. Why hadn’t Jonah tried to retrace his steps? Contacted the press? He’s afraid of something. Adam worried about Jonah. He’d looked terrible when he left Adam’s room, but he’d been fine until they’d talked about his past. Had he remembered something?
It’s just as likely he’s avoiding you. He’d known all along that a week wasn’t long enough to solidify a friendship, let alone something more. Why are you so surprised that he’d run? He’s making it easier on you. No sad good-byes.
If he were being honest with himself, he hadn’t expected to find Jonah. He also hadn’t expected the ache in his chest that accompanied the memories of the evening they’d spent watching the moon over the water.
He did everything he could to find Jonah until he ran out of time and the taxi arrived to take him back to the airport in Punta Cana.
ADAM glanced up at the monitors and saw the baggage claim carousel number listed to the right. He’d asked Karen to arrange a car to take him back to the house in Napa. He’d have preferred the relative safety of his small apartment in the Castro, but with three weeks before the Entech meeting, he needed to assess the situation with his family. He hoped his mother was doing all right, living at the family home after such a long absence.
This led Adam to think of Jonah again, and how Jonah had listened when he’d gone on about his family and the Entech deal. He regretted not being able to help Jonah when Jonah had helped him so much. Time to let it go. He needed to focus on the future.
He shook his head and walked toward the exit. He was too tired to think too much about it now. Maybe in a few days, with a little distance, he might make some sense of why he’d grown so attached to Jonah so quickly.
He passed a gate full of people, all of them with eyes glued to the large screen TV overhead. “…shocked and surprised,” a man told the reporter. “Ten years is a very long time. Word is that Entech had begun legal proceedings to have Jackson Roth declared dead. But the current CEO of the company, Phil Langham, confirms that Roth has reappeared and is apparently fine.”
Jackson Roth? Entech’s CEO, the Silicon Valley wunderkind, reappeared after being missing nearly ten years? Adam wondered vaguely if the meeting to discuss Prestco would be canceled. He wanted to get it over with, but rescheduling would mean he’d have more time to prepare. Who knew—maybe Roth would nix the deal entirely and leave Prestco in peace.
“We’re going to cut to LA, where a private plane carrying Jackson Roth landed about ten minutes ago,” the anchor said, bringing Adam back to the here and now. “Our own reporter Martin James is on hand with a first look.”
“Mr. Roth,” the reporter shouted as a man made his way through the crowded airport terminal. “Is it true that you lost your memory?”
“No comment.” The camera focused on the man’s face. “I’ll be making a statement later.”
Adam stared at the screen, dumbfounded. “No,” he said aloud. “It’s not possible.” But the face on the screen was unmistakable. The sun-kissed skin. The tiny wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. Jonah’s face.
The sounds of the airport faded, and Adam put a hand on his suitcase to steady himself. Jonah is Jackson? They’d joked around about it that day on the beach. They’d both known it wasn’t possible, but the man on the TV was Jonah. Without a doubt.
Not Jonah. Jonah never existed.
Jonah was gone, a figment of a vacation fantasy. This was the man who held Adam’s future in his grip. Who could destroy Adam’s family if Adam let him. The man Adam had just given enough ammunition to blow Prestco out of the water.
This was Jackson Roth.