Phoenix

Slowly, I rise from the bed. First, I check the bedroom door, that it's still locked. James is asleep, sprawled out on the bed. I stop and stare at him a while, my heart pounding at the sight. I wonder, would the sight of his bare body ever lose this excitement? I don't see how it could. Even as I harden, I rush into the bathroom and turn on the shower, then throw myself under the hot water, leaning on the wall.

The last twenty-four hours have been a rollercoaster. This is no longer about protecting me, if it ever was in the first place. Pressing my forehead to the cold wall, I let the heat soak into my muscles. After I stand up and grab the soap, lathering my body, James tugs open the door and steps into the shower without a word, brushing past me to step under the water.

I can't stop staring at him. My whole body throbs, as if my heart isn't enough to move all this blood. I switch places with him and rinse, then step out. Every time I move I feel his eyes on me, watching me from the shower.

When I look back, he reaches between his legs and tightly grips cock, running it through his grip to clean off the soap, and I almost faint. Rushing back to the bedroom proper, I towel off and grab the clothes I snatched last night, even though I'm still a little damp and my hair is wet.

Once James is dressed, I open the door and step out into the house proper. I walk lightly, as if I'm liable to step on a mine secreted under the carpeting. James follows behind me, a little impatient.

"Nothing is going to jump out at you," he says.

I swallow hard and jog down the stairs to the kitchen. There, I open the fridge and stare at Luis's selection of prepared foods, and my stomach turns, churning cold as if I'd swallowed a clot of blood. I slam the fridge door and step away, rubbing my arms.

James considers this for a moment.

"What's say we get something to eat on the way? Just grab a bite somewhere."

I don't say anything irrational about poison or tampering with my food, I just agree.

This is horrible. If I don't trust my own house, how can I ever be comfortable?

"Today, I want you to make arrangements for a real security system to be installed, not my hacked together job," I say. "I want it installed today. I don't care what it costs."

He nods. "I'll take care of that."

Outside, the warm air is refreshing, and I relax slightly. Except, now that I'm outside, I'm acutely aware of all the people around us, on the sidewalks, moving about on the streets, everywhere. Everywhere.

"You alright?" he asks me.

"No," I confess.

"Come on, I know a good place."

We cross Fifth over to the international district, around the United Nations. It's out of the way, but James leads me into a diner and gets us a table.

This...is not what I normally eat. The menu has nothing healthy, and perhaps five vegetarian options out of a hundred dishes. James orders a cup of coffee, orange juice, cranberry juice, and something called a Lumberjack Special that has more food than I eat in a week.

Looking at him, he needs it. His arms are thicker than my legs.

I just get an egg white omelet with spinach and broccoli with a side of confused derision from the waitress.

James isn't one for conversation over a meal. It must be a military thing. He eats ravenously and quickly, finishing a plate five times the size of mine in half the time before we move on.

A walk after eating always does good. I woke up earlier than usual, before my alarm, and so we arrive at the office no later than usual.

Amanda is there to greet me.

"Come up to the office with us," I tell her.

She joins James and myself in my private workspace, the loft above the rest of the workstations.

"Sir," she says, "you're expected in Pennsylvania for the tour."

"Right, right," I say. "The arrangements are made?"

She nods, smiling.

"Good. Amanda, who has access to my calendar and itinerary?"

"I do," she says, not a hint of concern in her voice. "Jessica from accounting, a few others. Why?"

I wonder if I should answer that, but James handles that issue for me.

"Someone broke into the house Phoenix rented in California," he says. "That person knew where he'd be and when, and was watching us. That's a short list."

Amanda nods, as calm as ever. "Yes, I follow your logic."

"I want to speak to everyone who has that information available to them. Starting with you."

Only a brief flinch and a glance at me indicates that she's concerned by that.

"So you understand," he says, "I don't have a suspect, and I don't think it was you. In the interest of fairness, I'm going to clear everyone."

I nod. "Besides, if you start with my assistant, whoever it was might catch wind of it and make a move?"

He glances at me. "Very good. Shake things up and see who runs. That's the idea." He turns back to Amanda. "Can you make sure I'm notified of any sudden changes by an employee after this? Unexpected vacations, odd behavior? If we're lucky they'll quit and walk out the door with a giant 'I did it' sign hanging off their back."

"What exactly are we looking for?" Amanda says. "Do you think someone here is stalking Phoenix?"

James shakes his head. "No, not at all. Probably just passing intel along to whoever is."

"Who would that be?" she asks calmly.

"I don't know yet," James says, sharply, without looking at me. "Do me a favor. Make that list, and a schedule. Start with yourself. I need a half hour each, in the conference room, in private. After you're done, get me access logs for the calendar software. I assume there are some."

"Everything we do is enterprise grade," she says proudly. "Anyone who accessed it will leave a record of their login details and location."

"Good," he says. "Phoenix, when this is done, I'll get on the other thing. You good here?"

"I'm good," I say.

"Buzz me if you need to leave."

"I'll be here all day. Lots of catching up to do."

That's no lie. Once they're gone, I dive into my work. It's all the maddening kind, the guts of running a business, all the decision making. It takes me all morning just to handle the backed up reports and send directives to my department heads. Huffing, I turn to look at the travel itinerary. In northern Pennsylvania, across the border from New Jersey, our actual production facility is underway. I'm scheduled to visit on Friday and see how things have progressed, meet with the department head, and...blah blah blah.

Rocking in my seat, I turn around and look over the stacks of papers, then glance at my computer. There's nothing I do here that I can't do elsewhere with my remote terminal. Part of me wants to go, and now. Make the travel arrangements myself so no one knows exactly where we'll stay, and...make it a vacation.

I've never taken a vacation in my entire life. Yes, I live in the lap of luxury, and no, I'm not complaining. Still, I essentially never stop working. There's no particular reason I need to keep working here, and after last night, I'd rather get away for a while.

Plus, some alone time with my...bodyguard would be nice.

When James returns, I'm working on that very thing. He waits by the desk until I turn around.

"Well?"

"I checked out everyone on her list. They all seem clean to me."

"You don't sound happy."

"It muddies the waters. Amanda has the access logs for me, but it'll take a while to review them."

"Want help?

"I can deal with it. You're busy."

I nod.

"So, no leads?"

"No leads," he sighs, folding his huge arms. "This isn't sitting right. Think hard, Phoenix. Is there any way someone could have known where you were going besides that calendar?"

"I doubt it," I say. "Unless they could track my phone, or perhaps the car company or the charter service that provided the jet?"

"I'll get with Amanda and track those down," he says, turning. "I'll be leaving this afternoon to supervise some security installation at the house. I've quietly contacted a friend of mine on the NYPD to arrange for some discrete drive-by's. No one will know it has anything to do with you. I'm owed a lot of favors."

I nod. "Sounds good to me. I have some things to review with you, when you have a moment."

He puts his hands on his hips. "Such as?"

"We have to travel. I'm making the arrangements myself."

"Where to?"

"Pennsylvania. I have to visit the production facility."

"Right," he says, "sounds good. Keep me in the loop."

We look at each other for a few heavy seconds, an unspoken pressure in the air between us. I lean forward and rest my chin on my hands. He shakes, as if pulling himself out of some deep thought and jogs down the staircase.

Amanda appears a half hour later with more reports for me to review. Everything we do is on secure iPads, all encrypted and carefully handled. I modeled it on the way the president's daily briefings are delivered.

"How was the interview? He wasn't too difficult, I hope."

She shrugs. "No worse than when you hired me, really. He just asked about my background, how I feel about the company, how I feel about you. I have nothing to hide."

I hope she doesn't. Amanda came with me when I pulled some of the top talent from Breslin Industries to start up my own firm. She's a year younger than I am but had already been tapped for a high profile assistant position by the time I took an interest. I recruited her from a sizable pool of candidates and brought her along when it was time to strike out on my own.

I'd trust her with anything.

"Did he say anything about the others?" she asks.

"Everyone checked out. I suppose you'll still keep an eye on vacation requests and the like, the way he asked?"

"Of course. There definitely hasn't been anything so far. Nothing much has changed, really. Just the usual."

I stop and put down my fidget cube.

"Usual?"

"People have been a bit nervous since the first...incident. I made sure the staff is aware of their obligations via the NDA, but you know how things can go. They're concerned. About you, about their jobs."

"I'm not going anywhere," I say, "and once everything checks out down at the production line, we can start preparing for the public offering."

She swallows. "Did you want any help with arranging that?"

"No. I'm not so helpless I can't book a trip," I say, playfully.

She smiles. "If you say so. I just don't want to end up obsolete."

"You're fine. It's getting late. You can go, if you like. I'm waiting for James to get back before I leave."

She nods. "Thank you."

I'm one of the last in the office—this is more normal for my routine.

James returns at almost seven.

"I had some work done," he explains. "I had to stay to supervise. I set this up."

He produces his phone and shows me.

"I only did the first floor and some external cameras for the entrances. Anything moves, I get an alert and recording kicks in. No one can get in or out when we're not there, and every angle of the interior is covered. Then I had motion sensors put in on every window. The only area I didn't cover is the basement. I couldn't get in without you, and I figured it'd be best if I just left it alone. I know you have your own camera setup down there."

"Right," I say, sighing. "Sounds good. So I can go back and sleep in my own bed tonight?"

"That's right," he says.

We both look at each other for a too-long moment.

"I had something else taken care of for you. Luis will be back next week to replace all the food. I know it was bothering you."

"What about tonight? It's too late for him."

"We can eat out. Come on, I know for sure somewhere that won't poison us."

I eye him and follow him out of the building.

It's an unusually brisk night tonight. I almost wish for a jacket as we walk down towards the Village, past my home and further down Bleecker Street to that pizza place. James takes a spot in line, and we wait.

I enjoy moments like this more than I should. I'm glad I'm not really famous, only financial paper famous. I don't understand how other CEOs and business figures can plaster themselves all over social media and appear on podcasts and all that. Besides being too busy, I could never stand all that attention.

Here I'm just another New Yorker, awaiting that most New Yorkian of activities, eating a pizza pie.

It takes nearly forty-five minutes before we're wedged into a table in the corner and James orders a pitcher of draught beer, with two glasses.

The waitress cards me, but not him. She also eyes me hungrily, though I'm not sure why. Maybe she thinks I give big tips?

James pours me a beer, and I sip it gingerly. He stares at me.

"Don't tell me you've never had a beer."

"I've only been old enough to drink for a year."

He blinks.

"Seriously? I had my first beer at twelve."

After he knocks back half a glass, I ask, "How'd that happen?"

"My dad. He said if I tasted it, understood it, and got used to it, I wouldn't kill myself later trying to experiment with all the other dumbass kids. His words."

I blink a few times.

"You okay?"

I shift uncomfortably.

"I never had a drink with my father."

He casts his eyes down. "I didn't think of that."

"It's alright, it's been a long time and things are scabbed over."

"But never really healed," he says.

The pizza chooses that opportune moment to arrive, and the waitress puts it on a metal rack that holds it above the table. It's huge, and I don't know how he expects me to eat more than one slice. When I look around the table, he stares at me.

"Don't tell me you're looking for a knife and fork."

"Um," I say.

He demonstrates folding his pizza.

"I thought you grew up in New York."

"When we ate out, it was at Michelin-rated restaurants and I wore a tie," I explain.

"That's child cruelty. How did you stand it?"

"My mom would occasionally take me out for a slice of pizza or a hot dog, but I used a knife and fork."

"You mean for the pizza."

"No, both."

He gapes at me.

"Are you an alien?"

I shrug.

"Well, we'll fix that. Eat your slice."

I shrug and dig in.

After we've eaten and drained the first pitcher, and another, I feel a little...loose, but James seems none the worse for wear. He stops outside a store on Bleecker and stares at the guitars behind the glass, sighing.

"You play?"

"It's been so long I doubt I'd remember," he explains. "A little. My dad...yeah. I sold his guitar a long time ago. Needed the cash."

"It must have been difficult. You've made it, though."

"Yeah. I guess."

He moves on without another word and leads us home.

Once there, he shows me how to enable the new system and takes me on a brief guided tour to show me where everything is. He never says so, but it's to reassure me. A sense of dread coils in my stomach as he wraps up explaining the new security.

I'm not going back to his bedroom. Should I invite him to mine?

"It's getting late," he says.

"You could come upstairs."

To show him what I mean, I trace my hand over his broad chest, like reading an inscription.

"Not tonight. I need some time."

"Alright. You checked out my bedroom?"

"Everything is fine. Whoever was in the courtyard was never in the house, and they can't get in."

I nod.

"Fine. I guess I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah," he says.

For an awkward few moments I think he might change his mind, then he walks awkwardly into his suite and leaves me to head upstairs. Once there, I sit on the bed and brood for a while, fiddling with my phone. I like to anonymously browse social media sites and blend in a little, sometimes make dumb arguments just to entertain myself. There are lots of people out there with terrible opinions to entertain me.

Then, after a shower, I roll onto my vast empty bed and lie there. Why did I get such a big bed? This is what I get for just telling a designer to set up the house, so I don't think about it. I should sleep in the basement.

Jesus, Phoenix. Really?

Sleep is fitful and uneasy. I don't feel much more rested when I wake than I did when I bedded down. James greets me in the kitchen.

"After we get you in your office, I need to go out for a few minutes. I just want to check on something."

"Good. Are you ready for a little rustic retreat?"

He raises on eyebrow at me. "Rustic retreat?"

"I thought it would be fun, since we'll be in the area. Oh, I had a question. Do you, ah, do you drive?"

"Of course."

"Good," I say, grinning.