“He can’t quit!” Sam hissed, letting me go. I stood where I was, arms hanging at my sides, feeling abandoned, while Sam paced and processed the news of Ben’s unexpected resignation. His blue eyes blazed with anger, adding to my increasing anxiety. I struggled with everything I had left to not give in to the tears welling up.
“Talk to me. What the hell happened?” he demanded.
“Please hold me,” I whispered. Something in my desperate tone penetrated his frustration, and Sam stopped pacing and pulled me close again. I clenched both hands to his t-shirt and fought for control, burying my face into his chest. He rubbed my back and shoulders and made soothing sounds.
“It’ll be okay,” he said. No…it wouldn’t, but I appreciated his attempt to paint a brighter picture.
Swallowing, I looked up into Sam’s deep blue, troubled eyes. “He said it’s all too personal for him. He feels very unprofessional and unable to do his job.”
Sam grabbed my arms in his strong hands, squeezing them. “What? Why?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t understand that part, really. He kept saying he’s too close, he can’t focus on what he needs to. Stuff like that.”
“Is this about Peggy, and us moving?” asked Sam.
I shook my head. “He says no. He and Peggy worked it out, and she was okay with seeing him when she could get to St. Louis. I told Ben she could fly back and forth with the Smyths, or whatever else worked. He said that wasn’t necessary.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Me either.”
“I’ll go talk to him,” said Sam, letting me go. I grabbed his arm.
“Don’t. He asked that we leave it alone for tonight. I told him to think about it some more, then we could all talk. He agreed.”
“Well…fuck, Jack.”
“Exactly.”
***
Sam and I ate our dinner alone at the kitchen table. Ben didn’t join us, even though Maggie had made one of his favorites — lasagna. Normally the smell of her red sauce had him salivating in two seconds flat. Tonight even the smell of warm garlic bread didn’t entice him downstairs.
I pushed my half-eaten lasagna around my plate while Sam scarfed a second helping. He looked sexy in his jeans and white t-shirt, biceps bulging out the sleeves. Sam caught me looking and gave me a half-hearted grin. I tried to match it, but I didn’t have it in me. I set my fork on my plate and sat back with a sigh. I needed to get my mind on something — anything — besides Ben.
“How did you and Charles make out on the bathroom today?” I asked.
Sam held up a finger while he swallowed his last bite of bread. “Wall tile is finished. Just needs grouting. We can start on the floor tomorrow maybe, and then get the new toilet and vanity in place. It’s coming along.”
“Simon is supposed to be organizing a crew to help. I’ll let you know what he comes up with. How is Charles?” I picked up my fork again.
“He seems fine. No health scares or anything. We worked pretty steady until five. Maggie called us out to lunch around noon, and he went over to their apartment for something. Before you ask, I don’t know if it was for his meds or not. I figured I would ask him tomorrow, casual like.”
I smiled around a bite of lasagna. “Like there’s a casual way to talk to him about his health. Hey, Charles, can you hand me that tile? By the way, how’s the BP, man?”
Sam smiled. “Hey…whatever it takes. I’ll stay on him whether he likes it or not.”
“Good luck with that,” I said. He grinned.
We finished eating and together we cleared the table. Sam knew I was hurting. He herded me around the room, never more than a step or two away, his hands touching me in little ways. I loved him in my space. He held me from behind while I rinsed the dishes and piled them on the counter next to the sink, his stubbly chin chafing my cheek.
Sam put the leftovers away in the fridge while I loaded the dishwasher. I wiped up the water from the counter and Sam was back in my space, gently taking the dish towel from my hands and hanging it up over the rack on the wall.
“What do you want to do tonight?” he asked.
I shrugged. I felt numb. Having Ben say he didn’t want to work with us anymore really hurt, more than I cared to admit. Sam pulled me into his chest. He was my safe place, but even his warm, hairy chest was not much comfort for my sad heart.
“We’ll talk to him. Convince him to stay,” whispered Sam.
“I don’t want him here if he doesn’t want to be with us.” My voice cracked and a tear fell. Sam brushed it away with a thumb.
“I know. Me either. We both want him to want to be here.” Sam held me tighter.
I nodded against Sam’s chest.
“I can’t imagine Ben not around, can you?” Sam whispered.
I leaned back and looked into his eyes. “I remember when we were going back and forth, trying to decide if we needed security 24/7. Ben…he just…fit.” I sighed and ran my hand across Sam’s abs through his t-shirt.
Sam chuckled.
“What?” I said, taking my hand away.
“Nothing,” said Sam, grabbing my hand and putting it back on his abs. “I’m just remembering Ben’s face when he barged into our hotel room that first night. Classic.”
I smiled. “He was so embarrassed.”
“He was the only one in that whole crew who really understood us and what we needed. He’s not leaving immediately, is he?” asked Sam.
I sighed, the magnitude of our loss sinking in. “He promised he won’t leave us empty-handed.”
Sam squeezed me tightly, then lifted my chin and kissed me. “Come on, let’s go veg out in front of the TV and forget all this for tonight.” I gave him a thin smile, grateful he made the decision of what to do. I was tapped out in that department.
I changed out of my suit and put on jeans and a t-shirt, sans socks and underwear. We spent the next hour watching a couple of silly comedies from the living room couch. He sat at one end and I lay down across the leather cushions with my head in Sam’s lap. He had one hand on my head and the other resting casually on my ass. At some point, I shifted my legs and felt my jeans slide down, exposing the top of my crack.
“Did you do that on purpose?” he asked with a chuckle.
“What?”
“Don’t give me ‘what’. You just flashed your ass at me.”
“I did?” I twisted to try and see it, but nearly tumbled to the floor. Sam grabbed me and held me up on the couch. His blue eyes twinkled.
I sat up and his eyes followed mine. “Will you do something for me?” I whispered.
“Anything,” he whispered back, stroking my cheek.
“Take me to bed, please.”
He smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”
In our bedroom, shrouded in darkness, Sam took me with an urgency that surprised us both. It was physically intense, an exquisite mixture of pleasure and pain, as I pleaded with him to fuck me harder and harder, desperate to banish the ache in my soul.
Sam was angry, and I felt it with each thrust. I did my best to absorb his frustration. Later, our bodies spent, we laid on our backs and looked up at the ceiling, catching our breath. We held hands and didn’t speak. Darkness wrapped us up and carried us away.
***
I jerked awake in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, disoriented and panting for breath. The wispy tentacles of a nightmare faded from my consciousness. Holy crap! In my dream, the psychotic Arnold Turner had been pointing a gun at me and I kept waiting for Ben to shoot him, but Ben wasn’t there. I woke up when Turner’s finger pulled the trigger.
Being careful not to wake Sam, I slid from between the sheets and tiptoed to the bathroom – the one not under construction. At the sink, I splashed water on my face and focused on slowing my breathing. My face looked like I had aged ten years.
I grabbed a clean hand towel and wiped as much sweat off my body as I could, shivering in the darkness. I put the lid down, sat on the toilet, and held my head in my hands.
What the hell was happening to me? First I had the small freak out at work, now this. Ben’s symbolic failure to protect me in my dream was obvious. What disturbed me more was having Arnold Turner in my head at all. Why now? Were these anxiety attacks some unresolved angst over what happened in Texas? It didn’t make sense. I thought all that was behind me.
I downed a half-empty water bottle I found sitting on the sink. I felt a little calmer. I stood up and ran my hands through my hair, rubbing my head for clarity. None came. I quietly put myself back to bed, doing my best to ignore the sweat-damp sheets. Sleep came and sucked me back under.
***
I woke up in a surly mood. Sam was still half asleep and grumbling when he dragged me into the shower. He cancelled my pending pity party, his touches gentle and affirming. I dried his back for him with a smile and a pleasant tingle in my butt.
“Feeling better, little man?” said Sam to my reflection in the mirror. I smiled around my toothbrush and nodded.
“Good. Now that we have that sorted, what are we going to do about Agent Hastings?” he asked. I frowned and spit toothpaste into the sink.
“I have no idea. I don’t even know if he’ll be down for breakfast.”
Sam kissed my cheek. “Only one way to find out. Move your ass, Schaeffer. Day’s a wastin’.”
He snapped his hand towel on the side of my leg and I yelped, then chased him into the bedroom. He caught me in his arms and spun me onto the bed, then landed on top of me, laughing. I took one look into his smoldering blue eyes and grabbed the sides of his head, burying my tongue in his open mouth. He sighed into me, and time passed as we kissed, our naked bodies entwined on the bed. My anxiety faded into the shadows.
***
Maggie was humming happily around the kitchen when Sam and I arrived for breakfast.
“There’s my boys. Have a seat. Sam, there’s coffee in your mug on the table. Jack, here’s your juice,” she said, handing me a tall glass of fresh squeezed orange juice with a splash of cranberry, just the way I liked it.
Ben was not present. “Did Ben already eat?” I asked.
“No, I haven’t seen him. It’s not like him to miss breakfast. I hope he’s feeling okay,” said Maggie, carrying a platter of scrambled eggs to the table. Sam’s eyes widened in pure delight.
I hung my suit coat across the back of my chair and sat down. If Maggie was seriously concerned about Ben, she hid it well in a flurry of activity. A stack of buttered toast appeared on the table two minutes later, and I scooped a small portion of eggs onto my plate.
Charles popped in and crossed to the coffee pot to refill his mug. “You boys know anything about the construction crew that showed up at the gate this morning?”
I gulped. “Oops. That was me. Sorry, I didn’t realize Simon would have them organized this fast.”
“Guard down at the gate called up and said they were for me. I don’t remember asking for help,” said Charles in a low growl
Charles was peeved with my interference. No surprise there. I looked to Sam for support. He shrugged. I sighed and sank back into my chair. No good deed goes unpunished.
Before I could explain, Maggie stepped in. “Stop your grousing. I think it’s very nice Jack’s called in additional help,” she said. “The family will be here before you know it, and you still have the whole second bathroom to finish. Don’t forget, I also need your help pulling down the draperies in the upstairs bedrooms. You promised you’d help.”
Charles gave me a look and grunted. He drained his mug, set it in the sink, and kissed his wife on the cheek. “Say the word, Mags, and we’ll get them down for you. Sam, when you’re finished stuffing your face, we’ve got to figure out what to do with all this so called help.” He left the kitchen and headed toward our bedroom.
I looked over at Ben’s seat at the table, wistful for the rustle of the pages of his newspaper. Weird how you get used to things.
“You okay, little man?” asked Sam from across the table.
“I don’t know,” I said with a deep sigh. “I’m missing my shadow. I don’t want things to change. Is that selfish?”
“What are you mumbling about, Jack?” asked Maggie from somewhere behind me.
“Nothing,” I said.
“It can’t be nothing. You haven’t eaten a bite of food and your face has no color. Are you not feeling well?” she asked. She walked over and put her hand on my forehead like my mother used to do. Sam grinned.
“You don’t feel warm. Do you have a headache?”
“I’m fine, Maggie, I promise.”
“So why aren’t you eating?”
“I guess I’m just not hungry,” I replied.
“You’re sure that’s all?”
“Yes…I’m sure.” Sam opened his mouth to say something but I shook my head. I didn’t want to involve her yet in Ben’s departure, in case we could change his mind at some point.
“Well drink your juice. It’s good for you. You want any more sausages, Sam?” He shook his head. Apparently six links were enough today. I pushed two more bites of egg in and finished my juice so Maggie wouldn’t worry.
I waited in silence while Sam finished his breakfast, looking at my work email on my phone as a way to distract myself from the elephant not in the room. Nothing needed my immediate attention. When Sam stood up and moved his dishes to the sink, I joined him.
“Walk me out?” I asked. He nodded and followed me to the mud room out of earshot of Maggie.
“It’s going to be okay,” said Sam, putting his arms around me.
“I wish I believed that.”
“We have to respect his wishes,” said Sam.
“I know. But I don’t have to like it,” I said.
“Nope. It totally sucks, but if he isn’t happy here, we have to let him go.”
“How do you let go of family?” I asked.
Out of the corner of my eye I caught Ben’s shadow moving down the back stairs. He rounded the corner with a serious expression. I couldn’t tell by his demeanor if he heard us talking about him or not.
“Morning, Sam,” said Ben stiffly, straightening his shirt cuffs underneath his jacket sleeves. “Ready, Jack?”
I nodded. Sam leaned over and kissed me, his blue eyes tinged with worry.
“Let me know how the crew works out,” I said. “Maybe they can get the other bathroom squared away by next week?”
“I’ll let you know, assuming Charles doesn’t drive them out with a hammer.”
“I love you, big guy.”
“Love you back, Jack.”
I turned and followed Ben out into the garage.
***
Another quiet ride to the office. The silence today was different. Ben was less moody and more thoughtful, though what caused the variation I had no clue. I was just glad he stayed on our side of the road.
Margie wasn’t at her desk when I arrived. I spied Robbie on his computer, sitting at his desk outside Todd’s office, and walked over to say hello.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Morning, Jack,” he said, looking up at me with a smile.
“Enjoying things so far?”
“Yeah. Things sure do move at a frantic pace around here, but I love it. No time for boredom.”
“Do you like the office work?” I asked, thinking it was a far cry from agricultural science.
“I do. It’s different from a lot of my studies, but I figure it’s a great way to learn how a business operates from the ground up. You know, stuff they don’t teach you in school.” I did know. That’s how I learned as well.
“Is that something you want to do in the future? Run your own business?”
He tensed and swallowed hard. “Well…yes, actually, that is the plan. Not anytime soon, though.”
I smiled. “Relax, you’re entitled to your dreams.” I caught sight of Todd rounding the corner. “You know, Robbie, Todd’s a pretty good teacher. Ask him a ton of questions, the more inane the better. Oh hi, Todd,” I said as he stepped up to us, coffee mug in hand.
“Are you trying to ruin my assistant?” asked Todd with a grin. “I’ve just about got him the way I want him. Leave him alone. You have your own.”
Robbie laughed and I smiled. “Fine, have it your way. I’m going.” I turned back to Robbie. “Seriously, ask him to explain net present value to you. He gets really worked up about it.”
Todd pointed toward my office. “Out! Go spend some money, would you, and leave the staff alone.”
“Did you make us any money yesterday?” I asked.
He smiled. “As a matter of fact, yes.”
I chuckled. “Nice. I knew there was a reason I keep you around.”
Todd rolled his eyes and pointed again. I got the hint and took my leave.
***
As far as I knew, nobody needed my help with anything, so I spent the morning watching videos online about the MBA program at Wash U. I already had a student account — the login information was in my acceptance letter. After studying the course descriptions for the full-time, two year program, I selected classes for my first semester. Not that they gave me much choice. Incoming first year MBA students were essentially thrown into the deep end and expected to sink or swim. I set my sights on not drowning.
I completed all the intake forms online and filled out a survey regarding my study habits and other interesting personal preferences like favorite foods, favorite music, and even my favorite Star Wars character. The stated intent was to organize students into study groups from day one as a way to meet people and get a leg up on the material. It did make me wonder what else R2D2 fans had in common.
A short while later, Margie caught me staring out the windows, thinking dark thoughts.
“Whatcha doin’, boss?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“How’s that working out for you?”
I sighed and swivelled my chair to face her. “The truth is, I’m feeling guilty, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
She made a face and sat down in front of me, dropping her notebook on my desk and popping her plastic pen in her mouth. It looked like tiny pieces were missing from the end.
“Talk to me,” she said, her eyes intense.
“Have you spoken to your doctor about not getting enough plastic in your diet?”
She pointed her pen at me. “Don’t change the subject. Guilt. Spill it.”
I frowned and looked down at my hands. “I was filling out the forms for school, and a lot of the questions were about financial aid and budget planning. I don’t know, it made me feel bad.”
“Why?”
“Because I remember what it was like in college, struggling to make ends meet. Studying and working and living by the skin of your teeth.”
“But you don’t have to worry about that now, so what’s wrong?”
“It feels so unfair. Do you know I could probably pay for every other MBA student’s tuition and not put a dent in the company coffers – well, maybe a small dent. But you see what I mean?”
“Not exactly,” she said.
“Don’t you think it’s unfair I’m gonna be sitting in class with not a care in the world, while my fellow students are struggling to pay their tuition and still have money to eat?”
“You feel guilty because they have to live on a budget and you don’t?”
“Sort of, yeah. I hated all that pressure, wondering what to do after my meal plan was exhausted for the week. If I hadn’t had my library job, I would have gone hungry plenty of times. There were a couple of guys in my dorm that didn’t get to eat on Sundays at all, unless we shared our pizza with them.”
“Which you did, I’m sure.”
I smiled. “Yeah, we did. Six of us pooled our money every week to buy two extra large pizzas. Then all eight of us could eat, and we’d play cards and listen to music and just chill. Those were good times.”
“Did you feel guilty then?”
“No.”
“Then why now?”
“Because I was one of the them. The have-nots. I was the only one with a car, a total wreck on wheels. It had a habit of not starting. Now I’m moving into a multi-million dollar home with live-in help. It’s…embarrassing. I’m starting to understand why Sam struggles with the money.”
She sat back and looked at me, tapping her pen against her bottom teeth.
“You aren’t seriously thinking about paying everyone’s tuition, are you?”
I shrugged.
“You can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because one, it’s a bad idea, and two, Todd will kill you. Besides, it won’t really help anyone.”
“I don’t know, it helped me a ton when Todd paid off my student loans.”
“But you could have, right?”
“Could have what?”
“Paid off your loans.”
“Eventually, yeah. It would have taken another eight years of pinching pennies.”
“But you were doing it just the same, right?”
“Yes. What’s your point?”
“My point is something my grandfather was fond of saying. ‘Character is forged in the depths of adversity’. Sometimes hard things in life are necessary for us to become who we were meant to be. If you make everything easy for people, you might feel better, but they won’t in the long run.”
I gave her a look. “You make it sound like helping people is a bad thing.”
“What I’m saying is sometimes there’s a fine line between help and harm. You have to know which side of that line you’re on.”
I exhaled with a deep sigh and ran my hands through my hair. I stood up and walked over to stare out the windows. Margie stayed seated behind me.
The city stretched out below me all the way to the mountains on the horizon. From twenty floors up, it looked like some artist’s masterpiece. But my current view didn’t tell the whole story. Underneath the layers of color and textures, street-level life was a struggle for most. It was gritty and hard and often dangerous.
I imagined standing on the roof, throwing every dollar our company made into the wind, watching it slowly descend to ground level, only to be fought over tooth-and-nail by desperate people. Margie was right. Pure giveaways could cause more harm than good. I needed a targeted approach to assuage my guilt, if that was even what I was feeling.
“May I make an observation?” asked Margie. I turned to face her. She was standing up next to my desk.
“Sure. Always,” I replied, stepping over to her.
“Have you thought about the fact that most of the students in your MBA program are probably more well off than you think?” she asked.
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, it’s not like undergrad at a public university. My guess is family money or company money is paying for most of it. And those earning their own way must want a degree from Wash U very badly to pay such a high price for it. You can get an MBA for a lot less money from many other decent universities.”
“So you’re saying my guilt is not based in reality.”
She shook her head. “I don’t have any way of knowing for sure, but it seems reasonable, don’t you think?”
“I guess so. Ugh. This whole thing is making me crazy. I feel all this pressure to help people, and now I’m imagining needs where maybe there aren’t any.”
She touched my arm lightly for just a second. “You have a big heart, Jack. You’ll figure it out. And we’re all here to help.”
“Thank you. And thanks for letting me whine about it,” I said with a sheepish grin.
“Of course. Actually, I came in here to see if you had time to meet with Will this afternoon?”
“You know my schedule. I have nothing on it today, so…yeah, whatever he needs.”
“I’ll pencil him in for two o’clock.”
“Thanks. Anything else?”
“Not at the moment.”
“I’m gonna go out for lunch. I’ll be back by two. If anybody needs me, tell them to call or text.”
“Will do. Enjoy your lunch,” she said with a smile, then she returned to her desk.
I called Sharon to invite her to lunch, but she declined, saying she had to work on some contracts Clyde needed for an afternoon meeting. We chatted for less than a minute, then she had to go. I hung up the phone, frowning.
Walking over to the windows, I thought about just going home. Despite Todd and Margie’s insistence to the contrary, I still felt useless. Now that the flurry of getting the company off the ground had settled down, there wasn’t much for me to do. I had people to cover all the bases. I could stick my nose into anything I wanted, and I did want to learn more about investing and real estate and all the rest, but I also didn’t want to hamper my team’s productivity with a million questions.
My stomach rumbled. I had pretty much skipped breakfast and now I was famished. I saw something down at street level, and suddenly I knew where I wanted to get lunch.
I sighed. It would require Ben.
***
I found him sitting by himself at a table in the kitchen, texting someone on his cell phone. He looked up when I sat down across from him.
“I was thinking about going for a walk. Should I ask Lydia to go with me?” I said, aiming for an upbeat tone.
He glanced once more at his phone, frowned, then looked back at me. “She’s on the desk downstairs today. I’ll go.”
“It’s okay. If you’re busy, I can stay in.”
“I said it was fine. Where are we going?”
“Not far. I just need to get out of here. Grab something to eat and clear my head.”
He nodded and put his phone in his pocket. We stood up, and he adjusted the gun under his shoulder, then slipped into his sport coat to hide it.
“After you,” he said pointing toward the elevators. More frosty silence on the ride down.
Outside it was warm. The morning had been cool, but now it had to be approaching ninety. I strolled toward the small traffic circle adjacent to our building, with Ben, my shadow, walking a couple of steps behind me.
Traffic was light as we walked down Syracuse Street. Our destination was two blocks away. Ben caught up with me as I pressed the button for the crosswalk at Union Avenue.
“Where are we going?” asked Ben.
“To get food. Over there,” I said, pointing to the parking lot just on the other side of the intersection. There were two ten-story buildings on the far side of a sprawling parking lot.
“From those?” asked Ben, pointing toward a collection of food trucks parked on one side of the lot.
“Yep. Pick your poison. Lunch is on me,” I replied, stepping into the crosswalk. Instantly I was yanked backwards by a mighty pull against my suit collar. I stumbled but managed to stay on my feet as a white van with no markings screamed past, blowing the red light.
“You okay?” said Ben, letting me go.
I nodded, trying to breathe again. “I think so. Wow, I didn’t see it coming. Thanks.”
Ben nodded. His eyes were following the van as it swerved around a couple of cars further down Union Avenue. He took out his phone.
“Who are you texting?” I asked.
“No one. Just making a note.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Let’s grab your food and get back.”
I had been around Ben long enough to know when he was on high alert. He tightened up his position next to me, and I knew his eyes were darting back and forth, sizing up every person on the sidewalk around us, as well as any car that approached on the street. We were also walking faster. He was almost pushing me to hurry up.
Once in the parking lot, he slowed down, but in no way did he relax. My stomach was beginning to knot up. I eyed the food trucks, each with a long string of people stretched out in front of them. I felt queasy.
“Um…maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” I mumbled.
Ben stopped and turned to me. “Why? You said you wanted lunch. We’re here, so get something to eat.”
“You’re making me nervous. I can’t eat when I’m nervous.”
Ben leaned in. “What’s with you, Schaeffer?” he hissed.
“What’s with you? You’re acting like we’re in some kind of danger or something. I slipped up. I didn’t see the van in the street. You don’t have to make a federal case out of it.” I folded my arms in a childish pout.
He grabbed my arm and more or less pushed me over to a bench facing the street and out of earshot of the people in line at the food trucks. He nodded for me to sit down. I didn’t appreciate being manhandled, but I took one look at his face and sat. He looked in all directions and sat next to me.
“This isn’t going to work between us,” he started.
“What did I do?” I asked.
“Nothing and everything. I can’t do my job and worry about your weak stomach. I have one job to do — to protect you and keep you alive. And I can’t do it like this.”
“Like what?” I whispered.
He glanced sideways at me, then directed his gaze forward. “I’m too close.”
“Ugh! You keep saying that, but I still don’t understand what it means.”
He looked at me, his eyes pinched at the corners. “Seriously? How hard can it be for you to understand? I live in your house. I eat at your table. I’m dragged into all the family drama. I’m starting to feel like I’m in some made-for-TV movie.”
“Of course, you’re one of us,” I said, still not understanding.
“I’m not supposed to be part of the family, Jack. I’m your bodyguard, dammit, not your big brother.”
That stung. “So…what? You don’t like us anymore?”
“What? No. I mean..no that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying I can’t do my job if I’m too emotionally involved with my protectee.”
“That’s not what you said. You said you didn’t want to be a part of our family.”
He sighed. “I can’t be.”
“Can’t…or won’t?”
He didn’t answer, but his temples bulged in and out and the veins in his neck pulsed.
I swallowed the hard lump in my throat and squared my shoulders. “Regardless of how you may feel about it, or how hard it makes your job, you are family, at least to Sam and me. You can say it’s a bad thing, but if you didn’t care about us, you wouldn’t be here right now.”
He raised his eyes like he was going to object, but I pressed on. “Don’t even try to deny it. I know you care. Those other guys, Hector and the rest of his crew, they didn’t care. They had a job to do, and they failed. I know Hector was all pissed at himself and the team when Turner got past them, but that was just professional pride. Turner made him look bad. Do you know he never apologized to me for Ft. Hancock?”
Ben glanced at me, surprised, but said nothing.
Looking off into the distance, I said, “I’ve never said this to anyone, not even Sam, but I’m pretty sure Hector had a serious issue with me being gay.”
“I doubt that,” said Ben.
“Oh, he never outwardly said anything, but I definitely felt like he didn’t try very hard to protect me. Who knows, maybe he wasn’t that concerned about the safety of a gay protectee?”
“That’s a little unfair, don’t you think?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. But why do you think Sam insisted on you being the head of our security and not Hector and his crew?”
“I figured it was because they screwed up.”
“Exactly. They screwed up, twice. But it’s more than that. Sam knew that you cared about us. As people. You don’t see us as expendable unfortunates, people the world would be better off without.”
“You being gay has nothing to do with it,” said Ben.
“It has everything to do with it!” I hissed, jumping to my feet. “Where am I supposed to find someone as qualified and as committed to their work as you, AND doesn’t give a fuck that I’m gay? Where? Because I’m telling you right now, people in your line of work, I’m not convinced they’re going to be okay if I want to kiss Sam in the backseat of my own damn car!”
“Jack, calm down.”
“No! I won’t calm down. I’m sick of this. Every time I let myself care, every time I let my guard down enough to trust someone, this is what happens. They fucking bail on me. Well guess what? Get over yourself. You don’t get to quit on me. I won’t have it.”
I stood up and started fast walking back toward my building. I didn’t cry. I didn’t vomit. Ben didn’t shoot me in the back. It’s the little things.
I pushed through the revolving door into my building and walked past the security desk. Lydia looked up, then glanced behind me as Ben entered. She sensed something was up and rose, hand on her gun. I ignored her and stabbed the elevator button three times fast.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ben whispering to her, no doubt about me. The elevator dinged its arrival, and I stepped in. Ben walked toward the open door and I held up my hand. He surprised me and stopped, giving me a slight nod. The doors closed and I rode up alone.
***
Thankfully Margie had taken advantage of my absence to get her own lunch, so I made it to my office unimpeded. I shut the door behind me and leaned back against it, closing my eyes. The fast throbbing of my heart wasn’t helping to calm my queasy stomach. I slid down the door and sat on the floor, legs stretched out in front of me, as my emotions ran their course.
My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I sighed. Why couldn’t Ben just leave me alone? I ripped it out to tell him off a second time. It was Sam.
I took a deep breath. “Hey,” I said as calmly as I could. He wasn’t fooled for a second.
“Hey, little man, you okay?” asked Sam.
“I’m fine. Did he call you?”
“Did who call me?”
“Ben,” I replied.
“No. Why? What’s going on?” Crap. I have such a big mouth sometimes.
I sighed and picked at a thread on my pants leg. “We got into it at lunch. I sort of told him off. He’s mad at me. At least I think he is. I don’t know.”
“What happened? Do you need me to come over there?”
“No, no. I’m fine, I promise. Last I saw, he was downstairs talking to Lydia. Nothing happened, really. He just pissed me off.”
“About what?”
“All his crap about how he’s too close and he can’t do his job if he’s emotionally connected. It’s all bullshit.”
“Woah. Sounds like it really didn’t go so well.”
“I told him to get over himself.”
Sam chuckled in my ear. “Bet that went over well. What did he say?”
“I don’t know. I left.”
Sam was silent for a moment, then said, “So…what now?”
“I have no idea, as usual.”
“We’ll figure something out. I’ll try to talk to him tonight, after he’s had a chance to calm down.”
“Good luck. It’s like talking to a blockhead.”
“Well…we need that blockhead.”
I sighed again. “Yeah…I know.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Tell me about your day so far. Did Charles let the crew in to help?”
Sam laughed. “He wasn’t thrilled at first, as you can imagine, but once he saw how fast they worked, he’s now a believer. All the tile work is finished, and the vanity and shower doors are going up as we speak. We might be finished in a day or two.”
“Wow, that is fast. Are you satisfied with the work?”
“Absolutely. Charles even commented on how detailed they are. He thinks we might be able to knock out both bathrooms by the end of next week.”
“Cool. Just in time for your birthday.”
“Yeah…about my birthday,” said Sam.
“What about it?” I replied, hoping he wouldn’t push me for details.
“You aren’t going to throw some big elaborate party or anything, are you? We’ve got my family coming the next week, and then the wedding in Chicago the week after that.”
“Nope. You said you wanted something small. Speaking of which, you still haven’t told me what you want for your birthday.”
“Time with you, Jack. That would be the best present in the whole wide world.”
I smiled, finally calm on the inside. “That I can do, big guy. That I can do.”
***
I didn’t have time to fret about Ben any further, as Margie knocked on the door, then tried to open it and only succeeded in bruising my back as I tried to move out of the way. With a loud grunt, I pulled myself to my feet, and stepped back to allow her entrance.
“Why are you sitting on the floor?” she asked.
“Why are you beating up on me? Ow, that really hurt,” I whined, rubbing my lower spine.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you to be acting like a doorstop. Do you need ice?”
I shook my head. “I’ll live. What’s so urgent?”
She frowned. “I’m not sure. Nelson Weaver is on the line, with that charity you went to in Oklahoma? He says it’s urgent he speak with you.”
“Huh. Does he want another donation?”
“He said emphatically that it is not about a donation. Something about a break in?”
My eyebrows lifted. “Put him through. And come back in here. I may need you,” I said, slowly walking around to my desk. I remained standing and grabbed the handset as soon as the call was transferred.
“Mr. Weaver, how may I help you?” I said.
“Mr. Schaeffer, thank you so much for taking my call. I apologize for the intrusion, but I’m calling all of our contributors to let them know their personal information may have been compromised.”
I made a face at Margie as she sat back down in front of me. “Nelson, I’m going to put you on speaker. My assistant Margie is here with me. You were speaking to her earlier.” I pressed the necessary button and replaced the handset. “Margie said you’ve had a break in?”
A heavy sigh came through the speaker. “Yes, I’m afraid so. It happened over the weekend. Our office door was jimmied and the place ransacked. No one was here, thank God. The only thing they took were the two computers. Thankfully we have off-site backups, so we didn’t lose our data. I apologize again if I was pushy on the phone. I’m trying to be as discreet as possible. This was the only phone number we had for you.”
“That’s quite alright. Have you notified the police?”
“Oh, yes, right away. They came with their forensic people and they’ve promised a full investigation. I thought it prudent to notify everyone on our list, just to be above board. We can’t be sure if the thieves can access the data on the computers or not. Everything was password protected, but these days, who knows?”
“I appreciate that, Mr. Weaver. Is there anything we can do to help?” I asked. Margie smiled at my offer of assistance.
“No, no. Not at this time. Thankfully nothing of real value was taken. It will take a bit of time to replace the computers and clean up the mess, but the equipment was old and we had budgeted for its replacement next year. We’ll just do it a little earlier than we planned.”
“Did the police give you any ideas who might have done this?”
“They’re suggesting it’s drug related. Someone might have assumed we had pharmaceuticals on the premises.”
“All from your name? I mean, Salus Society is Latin for medical society, isn’t it?”
“Close enough…and I see your point. Not likely a drug addict off the street would put that together, is it?”
“I wouldn’t think so. Any other offices in your complex robbed?”
“Not that we know of. A few of them are only occasionally occupied, so it’s entirely possible those tenants haven’t been in yet. I know they sent several police officers around to check windows and doors. Nothing else looked amiss.”
“Well, I’m very sorry for your loss. After the dust settles, please feel free to reach out and we’ll see if we can help in some way.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it. And I do apologize if your information inadvertently got into the wrong hands. We pride ourselves on discretion, as you know. I feel just awful about this.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. Leave the guilt to someone else,” I said, giving Margie a look as she pointed her pen at me from across the desk.
“Well, I’ll leave you alone now. Thank you again for taking my call,” he said, and hung up.
“That’s really odd, his being the only office burglarized,” said Margie. “Poor guy. I hope this doesn’t dissuade his regulars from supporting the organization.”
“Nelson is a straight shooter, and a trustworthy guy. I think they’ll be okay. But you’re right — it’s very weird they were the only office broken into. I hope it was just a random thing like he said, and not something deliberate.”
“Why?”
“Because if it was intentional, someone went to an awful lot of trouble to get their hands on a donor list.”
“I wondered about that,” said Maggie, chewing harder on her half-eaten pen. “Are you worried?”
“Not really. I can’t imagine it has anything to do with us.”
Just then Todd poked his head around my door. “Hey, boss. Can you meet us in the conference room?” I checked my watch. It was after two.
“I’m late for a meeting with Will. Can it wait?”
“He’s with us.”
“Oh…okay. Give me a couple of minutes.”
“You got it.” He left, and Maggie followed him out.
***
I used the bathroom, then made my way to the large conference room. Todd, Simon, Danny, and Will were all standing at one end, talking. Ben was lurking in the opposite corner. I was a little less pissed at him. Talking with Sam has a way of centering me. Ben gave me a slight nod, and I nodded back. A temporary détente, but things were far from settled between us.
Todd saw me out of the corner of his eye and broke up the confab. “He’s here, guys,” he said to the others.
We distributed ourselves around the table, and as I sank into a soft leather chair, I realized no one was smiling.
“What’s going on guys?” I asked, looking at each person for clues. Only Todd looked me in the eye. “Spill it, Todd. Why is everyone so glum?”
“We have a…situation,” he replied.
“What kind of situation?” I asked, sitting up straighter. I glanced at Ben. He was watching me with intense eyes. My stomach tightened up.
“We received an anonymous letter, addressed to you. It was hand delivered downstairs about an hour ago,” said Todd. He reached into a folder and pulled out a letter-sized piece of paper inside a clear plastic sleeve. Even from across the table I could see jagged letters of different sizes and colors, probably cut from magazine headlines.
Todd turned it around and held it up so I could read the message:
StAY OuT oF TEXaS!
“What the…who sent it?” I asked, turning to Ben, my stomach churning. Good thing I skipped the food trucks. He stepped forward to the table.
“Lydia said a man dropped off the envelope this morning. She thought he was just a courier. No red flags,” said Ben.
“So that’s it? We don’t know who sent it? Did Lydia open it?” I asked.
“No, I did,” said Todd.
I stared at him. “Why you?”
“All mail addressed to you comes to me, which isn’t much. Most of it’s junk. If it’s personal I give it to Margie who gives it to you. This was different.”
“I’ll say,” said Danny. “Clearly someone is pissed about what we did in Ft. Hancock.”
“We don’t know that,” said Simon.
“What else could it be?” asked Will.
“Guys, there’s no way anyone would know it was us. We buried those deals so deep even Mason couldn’t find them. There’s no way to trace it back to Jack,” said Simon.
“Um…there’s something else,” said Will. “I received a notice from our security service this morning about a possible attempt to hack our network.”
“What the hell, Will?” yelled Todd. “Why wasn’t I told about this?”
“Because I only confirmed it fifteen minutes ago. I wasn’t going to go around alarming everyone if it was nothing.”
“You call that nothing? Someone hacked our data?” asked Todd.
“No, they didn’t get past the firewall, but I consulted with AtomicWall, and they said it was a fairly sophisticated attack. Thankfully we have the best security system money can buy. Nothing was compromised.”
“You’re absolutely certain?” asked Simon, his face ashen. Even Danny looked green around the gills. If I had been standing, I would have fainted for sure. I thought about putting my head between my knees, but I couldn’t move.
“The note and the hack have to be related, right?” asked Danny. Nobody wanted to answer that question.
“Can they trace the hack to its source?” Todd asked Will.
“They’re working on it. It will take time,” said Will.
“Can you find out who sent this note?” Todd asked Ben.
“Doubtful. The guy signed in with a fake name,” Ben replied.
“How is that possible? I thought everyone had to show ID?” said Danny.
“To get on the elevators, you do. But not to drop off packages at the desk,” said Ben. He was hiding it from the others, but I could tell he was troubled by the weakness in his security plan. I felt bad for what I had said to him earlier.
“Can’t you dust it for prints or something?” asked Danny, running his hands through his perfect hair. It looked like he had a little more gray in it today. I probably did, too.
“How many of you touched that letter?” asked Ben. Every hand raised but mine. I wished I’d never seen it. “So no, my guess is we won’t find any prints on it but yours. Plus, if it is connected to the hack attempt, we aren’t dealing with total amateurs.”
“This is all very far fetched, isn’t it?” said Simon. “I mean, even if…and it’s a very big if in my mind…even if they discovered Schaeffer & Associates was behind the purchases in Ft. Hancock, how did they know to address the note to Jack? His name is not on any of the documents, I made sure of it. There’s no way.”
“Yes there is,” I said. My hands shook violently as the dots connected in my mind. Where was Sam when I needed him?
“Jack…you okay? You’re white as a ghost,” said Todd.
“No…not really,” I whispered.
“What’s wrong? Ben?” said Todd, glancing his way.
I shook my head. “He doesn’t know. I just found out. Holy crap, this is bad.”
Ben was next to me in a split second. “Talk to me, Jack.”
I looked up at him, searching his eyes. I looked down at the table. “Why should I?” I whispered. “You’re leaving, remember?”
“What?!?!” came a chorus of voices around the table.
Ben stood up straight and spoke in a commanding voice. “Everybody, settle down. I’m not going anywhere,” he said, then looked into my eyes. “And Jack knows it. Now talk to me…please.”
I sighed and told them about Nelson Weaver’s phone call. The feeling in the room sank fast.
“Well, shit,” said Todd, throwing up his hands. “Now what do we do?”
“So you’re saying this charity group had your information, and someone out there just happened to know you gave them money, and they just happened to connect that to Ft. Hancock?” said Danny. “I don’t get it.”
“Me either,” said Will. “That’s a big leap.”
“Not really,” I said. “Think about it. The trouble with the clinic in Ft. Hancock started with a lack of funding from the charity. We learned a specific person was behind the attempt to shut them down, and he was removed from the charity’s board. At the same time, we gave Salus a big check, and I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm, but the director probably put my name into his computer along with the donation, never dreaming anyone but him would see it.”
“So who’s behind the break in?” asked Todd.
“The guys we snookered into our real estate deals,” said Will. “Am I right?” he asked me.
I shrugged. “I think so. My guess is the break in was just a fishing expedition. But if I can connect the dots, so can they. The clinic was on its last legs financially. Then I show up and give a large donation directed at the clinic and foil the plan to shut it down. I have a clear interest in its survival. Maybe I did more than make a big donation?”
“The timing does fit,” said Will.
“But I still don’t see how they can connect Schaeffer & Associates to those deals,” said Simon.
“They don’t have to,” said Ben. “This is about intimidation. People who send anonymous notes like this are one of two things: cowards, or not sure they have the right guy. I’m betting on the latter.”
“Great. And what happens when they decide I am the right guy?” I whispered, rocking back and forth in my chair and squeezing my hands together to stop the shaking.
“Jack, look at me,” said Ben, lowering himself to eye level next to me. I turned my head to face him. “You were right, I do care. And I promise, I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I give you my word.” He gave my bicep a comforting squeeze, for him an extraordinary breach of professional protocol.
I looked into his eyes and nodded. “Thank you,” I whispered, as a single tear fell.
“Let’s get you home to Sam,” said Ben.
Yeah…he knew me very well.