Chapter Nine
A week later I was rethinking the Sean diversion. It had to be better than what I had done the past seven nights. I was on the couch beside Patricia pretending to watch something and praying she’d go to bed soon.
Though soon didn’t really matter. I usually just went shortly after to my room, sometimes whacked one off, but most times I didn’t. Mom sleeping in the same house was an erection-destroyer and all.
Fuck, there couldn’t possibly be this many chick-flick movies in existence. Is this how middle-aged women passed their nights? Every night? This was torture for me. Seriously, I needed a life—or in the very least, a job—real soon.
What the hell was taking so long finding me another assignment? Jared knew I was ready to go out on the road again. Why hadn’t he called yet? The economy wasn’t bad for the super-rich; it only sucked for the other ninety-nine percent of the country.
It had only been eight days. It just felt like eternity.
I could always move to a hotel.
Why the fuck hadn’t I?
No, that would have hurt Mom’s feelings. In spite of how irritating it was, it was kind of sweet how much of an effort Patricia was making this time to get to know me and grow closer.
“Are you OK, Graham?”
I shifted my gaze to find Patricia watching me, smiling.
“I’m great, Mom. Just zoning out. It takes me a while to decompress after I’ve come off the road. You’ve got to get used to me just being a human vegetable sometimes.”
She laughed as she shook her head at me. “Doesn’t sound like you enjoy your work.”
“I love being a bodyguard. I can’t wait to get back on the road.”
Something flashed in her eyes—fuck, why did I say that?
She nervously gashed at her lower lip as if trying to figure out what she wanted to say to me. “You haven’t told me what you want me to do with the things Zac shipped to the house. We can’t leave them in the entry hall forever.”
My eyes fixed on the UPS boxes. They were still sitting by the front door where the driver had left them. For some reason, seeing my pitiful pile of junk was disturbing. Not the substance, but rather the lack thereof. Five years I’d lived with Zac; it should have amounted to more than three small boxes.
The minuscule stack of my personal possessions brought sharply to mind Zac’s comment about my being good at coming home and not being good at being home. Or maybe I was making too much of this. I wasn’t a pack rat, and filling Zac’s condo like a hoarder wouldn’t have made a bit of difference about anything.
“Don’t worry about my junk, Mom. I’ll move it to storage before I head out on the road again.”
Her brow puckered fretfully. “You don’t need to do that. Why hire storage? You can keep your things here permanently. In your room. It is your house, son.”
She sounded so hopeful I felt like an asshole for not being thrilled about that arrangement. “No, really, Mom. I’ll find my own place. I just haven’t decided where I want to settle.”
She hit the pause button on the DVR and I tensed since she only shut off a movie in the middle when she wanted to talk.
“You need to go out,” she suggested. “Mingle. Circulate. I want you to find someone. Have a family of your own. Don’t you want that? I’m not going to be around forever, and you’re the only hope I have for grandchildren.”
Grandchildren? Not happening, Patty. Your Sean plan already is a failed mission. “Mom, I go out.”
“You need to start dating—”
Oh no, not again.
“So Sean isn’t your type. Find someone else. I sort of like that young man, Skyler. He is cute. Why not see him? You’re not going to be young and gorgeous forever. Trust me. It goes fast.”
Skyler—every nerve in my body suffered an electric zap before it tightened. Somehow Patricia had got access to my phone when it was unlocked, read a few texts, and now she was iPhone buddies with my stalker. There wasn’t even a point in commenting on that one. Without a doubt no good would come from talking about him.
“I’ll remember that, Mom. It goes fast.”
She rebuked me with her eyes. “Don’t make fun of me. I know what I’m talking about. It’s hell trying to get laid at my age. You don’t want to be single in your mid-fifties. Nail down that sucker now.”
Oh fuck, not again. It was deliberate. No one could make that many verbal double entendres unintentionally. Patricia was messing with me for her own amusement while being suffocatingly maternal. Yep, no doubt about it. Not an accident.
I needed to kill this conversation ASAP. “I already nailed Sean. My second night home. After you went to bed. Are you happy, Mom? Can we not talk about this, please?”
Her eyes flew wide—shit, why did I let my mouth say that?—then she erupted into gleeful laughter. Oh no, she was happy. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you didn’t like Sean. I thought you weren’t interested in him.”
I’m not. “I shouldn’t have said that, Mom. I’m sorry. It was inappropriate. I don’t like to talk about my personal life.”
“Oh.”
Fuck, why does everyone always say oh like it is a fully formed, logical comment?
“What does oh mean?” I could have kicked myself for asking that one.
Her brows puckered. “Did you guys break up already? I’m sorry, sweetheart. That must be rough. Going through that again so soon after Zac. I’m sorry.”
I was aggravated. “Mom, there was no breakup. We weren’t together. We can’t break up.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened in a curious and mischievous way. “Are you a player? Is that what you’re trying not to say to me here? Are you a bad boy like Larson?”
Damn it, my face was reddening. “Larson? What are you talking about?”
“The book I lent you. Black Balled.”
“I didn’t read the book.”
“Yes, you did. I noticed. It was lying open on your nightstand. Are you a player? Are you more into—what is it they call it? Hit it and quit it? Is that why it didn’t work out with you and Sean? Or you and Skyler?”
Groaning, I dropped my face into my hands. Patricia put so much wrong in that one comment I didn’t know what to tackle first. “Mom, no one says player anymore.”
Her eyes widened as she leaned in to me eagerly. “What do they call it, then?”
Nope, I wasn’t about to send Patricia out into the world armed with that one.
“Can we not talk about this, please?”
“I think we should.” She stared at me hopefully. “I know a lot more about things than I did when your dad was alive. I’m interested in your life. You’re the only son I have. Sean talks about his personal life to me. I don’t understand why you won’t.”
Just fucking great. And no, not giving details, Patricia. Not ever.
She held her lower lip in her teeth, making a sucking sound that ran my spine like a nail. “When you were young we didn’t talk very much about things. It was the way your father was, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be more open now, does it?”
I kissed her on the head. “No, Mom. But I think we’ve been open with each other enough for one night. Definitely enough for me.”
I gathered the dinner dishes from the coffee table and took them into the kitchen. Instead of washing them, I headed for my bedroom and grabbed my cell. I hit Jared’s number.
As soon as it was answered, I pounced. “Why the hell haven’t you called me with a job yet?”
“I told you I would call when I had one—”
“Fuck, what are you telling me, Jared? That you haven’t found me anything yet? I’ve been high demand for seven years.”
“It’s not like I can snap my fingers and have a job for you. You are not the easiest bodyguard to book. You have an entire shit list of what you won’t do. No criminals. No druggies. No drunks. No foreign governments. No children. No women—I should probably add no mothers to the list, right?” He took a few moments to laugh at his own joke. “I’ve already told you I didn’t line anything up for you because I wasn’t expecting you to come off the road and immediately want to go back on it. You always pencil in on the calendar a few months downtime with Zac before you accept a new assignment. I need a few weeks to find you something.”
A few weeks? That was unacceptable. “Are you telling me there is nothing you can send me out on?” I countered heatedly. “I need out on the road ASAP.”
Oh fuck, only silence through the phone followed by the sound of something tapping, maybe on a desk. Then he said, “I have one thing. One contract I haven’t filled yet. Just one, Graham.”
“Fine. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“You won’t be interested. I wasn’t even going to suggest it—”
Oh fuck. It must have been some kind of winner of a contract if it was taking Jared this long to get to the point.
“Just out with it, Jared.”
“I’ve got an assignment in Mexico City. Starts in thirty days. A two year contract. And the client doesn’t want anyone unwilling to commit to the full term. It’s the best I can do if you want something quickly.”
“You’re not telling me what the job is or why you didn’t mention it before when I asked. Mexico City, huh? I don’t work for fucking drug dealers, criminals, or cartel members—”
“No, it’s nothing like that!”
My gaze narrowed. “Then why would you think I wouldn’t want it? And why wouldn’t you tell me about it first thing?”
“It’s a prominent, respected American businessman. One hundred percent legitimate. The contract just landed on my desk this morning. In fact, Alan Manzone referred them to our company and recommended you for the position.”
Alan? I waited for Jared to explain, knowing something wasn’t adding up here by his level of apprehension and how long he took dragging out giving me the details. A referral from Alan always involved something extraordinary and high-powered. What was I missing? Why would Jared think I wouldn’t want this? It was right up my alley—corporate security—the type of assignments I’d done frequently before I’d started working for Alan.
“What’s the job?” I asked again, growing impatient. “It’s got to be more than protecting some corporate fat cat south of the border for you to think I may not want the gig.”
Jared sighed. “It’s not protecting the client. It’s protecting his daughter. 24/7 for two years. Take her to school. Watch over her. Pick her up. That kind of drill. The client is in a tricky negotiation with a competitor and they are not a completely ethical gang of people, if you catch my drift. You know the risks in Mexico City. He’s afraid someone might try to gain leverage by kidnapping his daughter. The job is the daughter. That’s why I didn’t mention it.”
“Oh shit, you’ve got to be kidding. Are you telling me the only available job you have is guarding a little girl and that Alan recommended me for it?”
Un-fucking-believable.
“I told you that you wouldn’t want it. It’s all I have, Graham. I can hold the job for you for a few days since it doesn’t start until October and, in the meantime, I’ll try to line up something better.”
Not what I wanted to hear, not by a long shot. “Hold the contract for me, but you had better find me something better than this. I’m the best of the best in personal security. Elite protection. I don’t care if this is a referral personally from Alan—” Oh, blow me. My jaw tightened as I shook my head. “Don’t turn me into some high-priced nanny with a gun.”
“Technically, I think the term is ‘manny’ since you’re a dude.”
Jared rolled with laughter over that one.
“Fuck you, Jared. Find me something acceptable within a week or I quit.”
That stopped the laughter.
“Seriously, Graham, you’re losing it. Why don’t you focus on moving out of your mother’s house?”
“It’s not Patricia’s house. It’s mine. And I don’t want to move. I shouldn’t have to bother with that. Get me back on the road. What I want is a job. I want one now. And I don’t want it with children. Are we clear, Jared?”
“Crystal. Hey, you know what you could use? Why don’t you go out with Bree and me? We could go to The Kettle. Eat. Drink. Laugh. Like old times. What do you say? Let’s just go out and have fun? Good idea? Yeah? Doing it?”
I exhaled heavily. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you get off your lazy, overpaid ass and find me a job?”
Jared laughed. “Fucker, I already offered to you the only available job I have. You turned it down, remember? So I’m making a reservation for Friday at seven. We’re having dinner. Be there.”