Chapter Two
PACING BESIDE THE BED in the hotel room that evening, I glanced down at the card laying on the bedspread for the millionth time. On the card was his name and number, and that was all. It didn’t give me any information about what his job was or if he even worked for his brother as well.
Dylan Jackson.
It was a nice name.
Growling in frustration, I picked up my cell for the millionth time and pressed in his digits. I knew I had to call Dylan before I heard from Robert, because then at least, I could tell Robert I had a job lined up. I could tell him exactly what the situation was. Even if it terrified me.
Was I chickenshit for leaving the way I did and not facing him? Yes. Did I care? No, well, not right then.
Having a job offer fall in my lap was something I couldn’t pass up. Unless my employer was a mob boss, hit man, or even a gigolo, then I wouldn’t let the chance at my first job in many years slip by. I did have some standards.
Though I could perhaps work for a gigolo. I could pretend his appointments were for women with suffering needs. I knew all about those. He was doing his manly duty to help ease their suffering. He was—
“Dylan Jackson.”
“Is your brother a gigolo?” I blurted. My eyes widened as my hand slapped over my mouth. Hell, I should have cleared my mind before calling.
“Sorry?” Dylan asked with humor in his voice.
“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry. This is Makenzie. You met me today at the restaurant and offered me a job?”
He chuckled. “The offer still stands, and you calling me tells me you’re interested. Also, don’t worry, my brother isn’t a gigolo.”
Sighing, I offered, “I’m sorry again. Your card didn’t say anything, so I thought if you worked for your brother, and then I thought what type of business he runs. Sometimes my mind overthinks things, and I blurt it right out.”
Still, with a voice where he sounded like he wanted to laugh, he said, “It’s fine. Would you like me to tell you about the job and what it would entail?”
“Yes, please.”
“You would be helping him keep his women, who work the streets, safe and you’ll also be making their appointments with their clients for them. You just have to approach the cars first.”
My body froze. Dylan had to be messing with me.
I sat on the bed and said, “Dylan, I think I’ll hang up now. I don’t want to chance it where a client may think I’m a hooker as well.” I didn’t end the call though. I waited for his laugh, and it came loud and long.
“Makenzie, I think I like you.”
Smiling, I knew I liked Dylan. “The feeling could be mutual if you don’t mess with me anymore.”
“I’ll try my best not to. Really though, you’ll be handling calls, running errands, helping to organize his clients. Don’t worry, your business degree will come in handy. Also, you’ll have to wipe his butt.”
I snorted out a laugh. “You’re terrible, Dylan Jackson. What does your brother actually do, and do you work for him?”
He snorted. “You really don’t know who I am?”
“Should I?”
“Kenzie, I can call you that, yeah?”
“Yes.” I grinned. My old friends and sister called me that always. Not Robert though. He didn’t like to shorten names.
“Great. Now tell me, you ever heard of D. Jackson?”
“Um,” I said while I thought, “no.”
“Oh, man. I’m a singer, honey. At least I used to be. I haven’t done shit for a while now because I was sick of being in the spotlight.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He laughed. “Promise I’m not messing with you. Started out when I was sixteen. My brother pulled me out of the shit when I was twenty-one, and I’ve been out of the game for eight years now.”
“Wow.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, wow. Never thought I’d meet a woman who didn’t know me.”
“Do women still, ah, try something even though you’re gay?”
“Ah—”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.”
“No, all good. No one really knows I, uh, prefer men. Anyway, let’s get back to your job. My brother is a music producer. He’s pretty big. You heard of Grayson Jackson?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Honey, have you been living under a rock? How old are you?”
Snorting, I said, “I guess you could say that, and I’m twenty-eight.”
“Okay. A year before I finished up, Grayson became my producer. He was thirty at the time. He took over everything when our parents died five years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“We’re not. They weren’t very nice people.”
“Again, I’m sorry.”
He chuckled. “You’re cute. I suppose I better tell you what will be involved in the job.”
I leaned back against the headboard. “Yes, please.”
“There is a chance to live on his property because he’ll keep you so busy all you’ll have time for is sleep…. Shit, but you’re married, and your husband doesn’t seem like the man who’d like you staying away for hours on end.”
I liked that Dylan swore. Robert had always hated people who cursed, yet I thought it a way to express yourself more. Dylan also seemed like a person I could trust. After all, he did tell me his story.
“I’ve left my husband,” I whispered into the phone, gripping it tighter to me. It felt strange saying it aloud, and to a person I hardly knew. Regret suddenly flipped my stomach, wishing I could take my words back. I shouldn’t have said anything. Robert had always told me no one should know our personal business; that it was better left between the two of us.
“Are you okay?” His voice was low, holding concern.
“I think I will be,” I said and left it at that.
“I guess our chance meeting today was fate. I was supposed to offer you that job.”
I laughed. “I guess you’re right.” Only time would tell if my life improved and I regained my sass back.
“Now, will you be moving into my brother’s place?”
“What?” I whispered.
“I said there’s a chance to live there because he will be working you hard. Kenzie, there’s plenty of room. There’ll be times when you probably won’t even see him, but it will be better to assist him being close. Stick with him for a year at least, and I’m sure he’ll give you a stellar report for when you move on.”
Moving in with another man hadn’t been on my cards, but then Dylan said there was an ample amount of space, so I found myself liking the idea. At least then I wouldn’t have the hassle of finding a place and forking out a lot of my money on rent. Hell, it all seemed perfect.
“I think that would be okay.”
“Grayson can be a bit… cold, but I’m sure you’ll be fine with him. Just don’t let him walk all over you.”
Like you did your husband, I felt was left off the end of his sentence.
“When should I start? Wait, doesn’t he need to interview me first?”
“Leave that up to me, and you can start Monday. In fact, I’ll have a car come by to pick you up. Where do you live?”
“I’m staying at the Chardour Hotel on Prim Street. But I don’t need a car. I can drive myself. Thank you though.”
“Okay.” His voice was soft. “I’ll see you at 8:00 a.m.”
“That early?” I whined.
Dylan laughed. “Yes, Grayson loves to start early, but usually you wouldn’t need to start until nine. I thought you’d like to make an impression on your first day.”
“I think I’m kind of scared to meet your brother.”
“Don’t be. Well, not too much.”
“You’re not helping.”
His laugh was deep. “Sorry, I can’t help it. I like talking to you, Kenzie.”
“And I you, Dylan. I feel we’re going to be good friends.” The observation warmed my heart since it had been so long since I’d had a friend.
“Hmm, so do I, which will piss Grayson off even more.”
“Dylan,” I snapped. It seemed he liked to get my nerves rattled speaking about his brother that way.
Once his chuckle died, he said, “Sorry, it’s really brotherly love. Okay, I’ll text you the address and meet you out front on Monday.”
“Sounds great. I guess you do work with your brother if you’re going to be there?” I asked.
“No. But I don’t live far from there, so I do like to stop in and annoy him. We’re both bullheaded.”
“Great, so my boss is stubborn as well.” Damn, I probably shouldn’t have said that since Dylan’s brother was going to be my boss. “Sorry, I shouldn’t say that sort of thing. Sometimes things fly out and I can’t seem to stop them.”
“It’s refreshing. I like it, and I’m sure you’ve got what it takes to stick around. You’ll be fine Monday.”
Did he think that because I could accidently shout something I shouldn’t to his brother, which no doubt Dylan would get a kick out of it, or did he actually think I’d be fine? Either way, I still replied, “Thank you, Dylan. For this and everything.”
“My pleasure,” he replied before ending the call. I placed my phone back into its cradle and stood from the bed. I went to the balcony windows and looked out.
The day was meant to be mine.
It truly seemed as though an awful chapter in my life had ended with another exciting one just about to begin.
A wide smile crept onto my face. I clasped my hands together in front of me, only to throw them up in the air while I let out a shriek of happiness. I skipped from one foot to the next and did a silly jig.
As my heart raced, I came to a stop and again looked out into the fading sun.
Suddenly a frown replaced my smile.
Guilt burned my insides. I was happy, yet Robert would soon be arriving home to the note I left him saying I couldn’t do it any longer. I needed to find myself, the person I used to be again. He’d be hurt, and I’d be the cause of his pain. I’d left a Dear John letter for God’s sake
After six years, I was willing to give it all away. I could only hope I was making the right choice.
God, you can’t do the simplest things, Makenzie.
What do you call this? I can’t eat it. It’s full of fat, and you shouldn’t eat it either.
I like curves, darling, but don’t you think yours are getting a little too big?
You look pretty, but maybe put a little more makeup on.
Maybe you should cut your hair like Trish’s.
Yes. I was making the right choice, damn it. Because I was smart, I was good, and I wasn’t worthless.
Walking back to the bed, I moved to the table beside it and took a bite of the cheesecake I’d ordered earlier, and I also took a swig of the scotch.
I was my own woman again, and I could eat and drink what I wanted to without anyone questioning it. A sense of calm settled over me. I could do it. I could find myself again.
That was until my phone rang. Quickly I picked it up off the bed and looked at the caller ID. Robert. Suddenly the cheesecake and scotch in my stomach seemed like the wrong idea.
No. I wouldn’t back down.
I could do this. I could talk to him.
Shakily, I answered, “Hello?”
“I thought you loved me,” were Robert’s first words.
“I did.” I think. Sighing, I shook my head at the lie because I was worried about his feelings. I didn’t love my husband. It only occurred to me a few days earlier when I questioned my love for him and realized it was gone.
“Can’t you see how this has hurt me? My wife decides it’s time to find herself when I never thought she’d lost herself.”
“Too many times I’ve been hurt—”
“How? I’m not some drunk who spends all his time at a bar and then comes home to beat you. I’ve given you everything, and this is what you choose to do.”
“All you see in me are bad things, things you think need fixing. I’ve changed so much for you, and it will never be enough.”
“Why haven’t you said anything earlier?”
Tears welled, and I let out a frustrated breath. “I’ve tried.”
“No, you haven’t, or else I would have fixed things, and you would be home where you belong right now.” He sounded annoyed, like all of it was an unnecessary bother. It hurt, but it also pissed me off.
Shoulders sagging, I dropped to my knees to the floor and leaned my upper body onto the bed. “I have tried, Robert. You don’t like to listen,” I told him.
“You probably didn’t try hard enough. You know how busy I’ve been with work. How stressed I can get, and all I want to do is come home to eat a nice healthy meal and rest. But when I get home the house is usually messy, yet I don’t say anything.” I clenched my teeth together. It was the same old rant, yet the house, to me, was always clean. God fucking forbid there was a dust bunny under the stupid heavy couch I couldn’t pick up. “Then you’ve cooked something that we really shouldn’t eat most nights, and still I don’t say anything.” I snorted. The ass did say something, and even if it was the healthiest meal, it wasn’t good enough. Robert ignored me and went on. “I’ve asked you to entice me more in the bedroom, and you don’t listen to that either. You forget to do the banking and again, do I say anything about it? No.” He sighed. “Maybe a break is good about now. I have to head out of town for two weeks anyway. I’ll put some money into your account to stay wherever you’re staying, and when I get back, we’ll talk then. At home, where you belong.”
I never got to reply. He ended the call, which was always Robert’s way. He wanted the last word and liked the conversation to go his way. I didn’t get to tell him about the job, about how I didn’t want his money. I knew he called for a time away because he thought I wouldn’t be able to cope without him.
He was being an asshat. I had tried on many occasions to talk to him, to tell him how I felt. He never listened, and even if he had, he would turn it all around to make everything my fault.
Not this time.
Guilt would not play a part in my decision. I was doing the right thing for my sake. Absently, I wiped away the tears that had fallen, drew in a deep breath, and stood from the floor.
Nothing would change if I went back there. Robert would still be the same, and I’d still be thinking day in and day out that all the problems we had were my fault.
If I just changed.
If I cleaned better.
If I did everything he wanted just to make him happy, then we would be happy.
Marriage shouldn’t be like that.
It was a partnership, two people working out their problems together. Not one blaming the other or one causing the other to think she was to blame for everything that went wrong.
When Robert realized I was serious about the fact I was leaving him—no, that I had left him—then it would be time to pull my shoulders back, tug up my pants, and throw my big girl balls over my shoulder and stay strong. Backing down was no longer an option.
Sitting on the bed, I ate another few bites of the cheesecake, took a large gulp of scotch, and then I ran myself a nice hot bath. With bubbles and all.
It wasn’t until later, when I lay in bed and my mind ran a mile a minute, that I let myself cry. I allowed myself to feel like a failure because no matter what I did, I couldn’t get my marriage to work. I tried everything, changed who I was, yet nothing worked.
Six years was a long time to walk away from.
Still, it was time to end six years of self-doubting and hating.
So even through the tears, the heartache, I knew I would never go back. I couldn’t. It was time to find the person I was again.