CHAPTER TWENTY

Jay

There was mail in my inbox, but I didn’t want to read it.

It was Wednesday afternoon and the office was still. I had just met with Deon and the guys were in the coffee room. I could hear them chuckling even from this distance. I hadn’t quite managed to restore the mood to equilibrium between us.

Just as well. I guess they’ll think I was dumb too. And maybe I’m just not good company.

I sighed. I wanted to move on, but I couldn’t.

My whole world had gone cold.

“Jay, read it,” I told myself.

I should just be brave and read Margo’s mail. I knew she’s called me, but I hadn’t replied to it. I felt hurt. I felt betrayed. I knew that if I said something I’d be angry. And I didn’t want to shout at her—I forgave her. I was mad at myself.

I sighed. Closed Gmail and opened a browser. I still needed to figure out the optimal nutrition for an experienced polar swimmer.

I need a challenge right now, so I might as well. Anything to take my mind off misery.

“Jay?”

I looked up to see Birnam. He looked at me with a soft smile on his coal-dark face.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” I nodded. “What?”

It wasn’t like him to just stand there, like a peaceable granite outcrop. I sighed.

“Man, I’m concerned,” he said.

I sighed. “About what?”

“We miss you. You’re not yourself.”

I snorted. “Maybe you do. I doubt the other guys notice.” I felt savage—I wanted to share the hurt and pass it on.

“No, they do,” he insisted gently. “We all notice how sad you are. Can I help?”

I sighed. I was touched. “I don’t think anyone can.”

He huffed a sigh. “Pity, that,”

“Mm,” I said, noncommittal. I reached for my coffee. I took a swig, knowing I was using it to try and evade my thoughts. If I was alert and working all the time, Margo slipped to the back of my mind. With any luck, I could go a couple hours.

“Well, if you wanna talk,” he said, shrugging. “Talk, man.”

I sighed. “I don’t know where to start. I feel…I’m ashamed of myself.” I looked around. If I started talking and the others arrived I’d feel exposed. I trusted this guy, but the others weren’t so attuned. I shrugged.

“Well, it’s not very productive. Shame, I mean,” Birnam said. “Useless thing.”

I chuckled. “I guess. But anyhow. It’s what I feel—ashamed and stupid.”

“Well, you’re not stupid,” he said. “And no one’s shameful. So you can forget that stuff now.”

I pulled a face, amused. “That’s my telling off for the day.”

He chuckled. “You need one.”

“I suppose so.”

We were quiet for a while. Birnam sighed.

“I know girls can make a person sad,” he said. “In my experience, it’s all that can be freaking you out this bad.”

I laughed. “You’re right, man.”

He smiled. “Well, you know what usually works?”

“What?” I asked.

“Listening to them. Let them talk. I know what they do can confuse you—but if you just listen, you’ll understand. And chances are once you’ve understood, it’ll clear up.”

I blinked. As a mountainous, muscled baseball player, Birnam sure was wise. I nodded.

“You know, that might work.”

He chuckled. “You bet it does. What do you think I’ve been doing with Aliyah for years?”

I chuckled. “Well, you should know better than all of us.”

“I got scars, man,” he said with a grin. “That lady don’t take nonsense from no one. Not real scars—scars in here,” he said, tapping his head. “But listening’s all you need to do—if you listen you’ll understand.”

I sighed. That was exactly what I wanted right now. To understand.

“Thanks,” I said, “I’ll try it.”

“Don’t try it—do it.”

I chuckled. “Yes, chef.”

He pulled a face. “Fine. Do that.”

I laughed. I felt better after chatting with him. He was not the oldest of us, but in many ways he was the wisest. Polite and peaceful. And he was the only one of us who had a stable girlfriend—Aliyah had been in his life since way before he started working here two years ago. They went back to his college football days.

“I will.”

“Good.”

I considered reading her mail. I was about to. But the boss arrived.

“Hey, Jay.” He looked tense.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“Well, we just got a big order. Really big. How d’ you feel about teams.”

I stared. “You want me to do the nutrition thing for a team?”

“Yeah. A college sports group.”

I whistled. “Wow. That’s a big deal.”

“It could be.” He nodded. A well-built wiry guy, he was a free climber and a bit of an addict for extreme sports. The drive and enthusiasm carried over to his career. “If we can get this, we’re good for the next ten years.”

“Wow.” I nodded. “That’s big.”

“Well, yeah! And breaking the college ground…if we can get more contracts like this, we’ll establish ourselves as a top consulting group. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

“Very.”

We chatted for a while and then he left. When he’d gone, I stared at the mail a while longer. The office was full of excitement and I knew the guys were just itching to ask me about the boss and what he’d discussed.

The mail would be better read at home, I decided sensibly. Where I could give it my attention. I was going to do this properly.

“Jay!”

“Yeah, Nilsson?”

“That news was good news?” he asked.

I nodded. “Serious news. You got news from the boss too?”

“Well.” He frowned. “He wants me to fly to Kenosha to talk to the rep for our vitamin powder. But no. Not really.”

I hesitated about telling them about the contract. It was because I was a football player that I had been given it. I was worried that maybe they’d be jealous of me, but they seemed pleased.

“Hell, man. Great!” Jacks said.

“More for the rest of us, if it works,” Nilsson agreed.

“No pressure.”

That was Birnam. I chuckled.

“Thanks. Man, I need to remember that.”

We all laughed. The air in the office felt lighter and I was glad that our equilibrium was restored. All the same, it didn’t help me to understand my own situation any better.

I decided to read the mail when I got home.

I had just walked through the door when I got a call from my father.

“Dad. Hi!”

“Hi, son. I just wanted to check in. How’s life?”

“It’s…okay,” I said guardedly.

I told him about the contract and he was reservedly impressed. We chatted for about an hour—mostly about work, but with some news about family stuff thrown in. By the time we hung up it was almost eight o’ clock.

“Damn it. Dinner…”

I got embroiled in making dinner—or, rather, reheating pasta and trying not to burn it and make it congeal in the pan—and by the time I was finished dinner it was nine pm.

I answered a mail from the boss and then started doing some research so I could tell him my angle on the new project tomorrow morning.

At some point I must have dozed off because when I woke up it was dark and the clock said it was nearly morning.

I sighed and dragged myself to bed.

It was only on the way to work tomorrow that I remembered what I was supposed to do. Read the mail. I would read it at work.