James laughs, and winces. “I’m not scared of you either, which is a first for me with a stranger in quite a while.”
“I didn’t just tell you I murdered someone.”
“I didn’t say I murdered anyone. I said I was wanted for murder.” He glances at her for an instant before he catches sight of a road sign. James changes lanes abruptly and turns off Hwy. 50 on to Hwy. 5 heading north. He takes the first exit, then drives back under the freeway, then takes the next right into Old Town Sacramento.
It’s like stepping back two hundred years as they cross the train tracks into the old western town. Streets are lined with wide wood boardwalks, covered by decorative balconies supported by slender wood columns every few feet.
“Damn if I remember where the hell it is...” James pushes the stereo off hastily.
“What is?”
He doesn't answer. She’s not sure he heard her, his attention focused on navigating the narrow streets.
Buildings are all gold rush era, with lavish Victorian facades, crammed right up against each other, each with their own intricate designs. All the shops are closed for the night, the tourist town virtually deserted. Though the roads are paved it feels as if they’re not. James slows the Blazer almost to a crawl to get around several horse drawn carriages meant for tourists along the side of the street.
He turns off the main drag, back under the freeway into modern downtown Sacramento, then into the large parking lot of an Amtrak train station. He parks near the entrance, turns off the engine and headlights but leaves the keys in the ignition, then looks at Kate.
“You okay?”
“You’re asking me?
“You okay to drive?”
“Yes.” No. “Don’t go.” She hears herself whisper. “I’ll take you to Tiberon—”
He shakes his head, looks around at the almost empty lot, then back at her. Sighs. “Thank, you, Kate.”
“Right. I wrecked your car and you're thanking me?”
He smiles. “Thanks for helping me out tonight, after the accident. For taking me to Martin and John's. Giving me a lift here. We're square. You did all you could. Thank you.” James stays fixed on her. “You take good care, Katie McConnell.” He takes her hand and kisses her palm, his warm, thick lips tingling, spreading warmth up her arm, through her chest, belly, right down to her crotch. He looks at her a moment longer, gives her a soft smile, then looks back out at the lot again. He does not meet her eyes again as he gets out of the SUV, nor glance at her as he moves to the front of the Blazer holding his side, then stops and puts both hands on the hood for support.
Kate gets out and joins him at front of her car. “I’m an idiot for listening to you. You’re not okay.”
“I’m just a bit off balance. Give me a minute.” A moment passes and he straightens, then runs his hand through his hair as he eyes the parking lot again.
“James, get back in the car. We can go back to your friends. You can come home with me, just until you’re well...” She sees the cop car as it crosses the intersection bordering the lot.
James sees it too. He slides his arm around her shoulder and pulls her into him, hugs her, holds her tightly, and for a second she feels him with her. She buries her head in his chest, breathes in his musty, masculine scent.
He speaks softly into her ear, “Godspeed, Kate.” Then he gathers her face in his huge hands then kisses her, on the forehead. He lets his hands slide from her face, holds her captive with his eyes another second, then glances at the cop approaching the parking lot and walks away, towards the train station, and a moment later disappears inside the building.
And James is gone.
Cop enters the lot and cruises slowly toward the front of the station. Buzz cut, stern expression, he eyes Kate suspiciously as he approaches. She’s done nothing wrong, but he still intimidates her. She glances at the station, then goes around her car, gets behind the wheel and waits for the cop to leave the lot before she drives away, onto I-5, toward home.
“Kiss him goodbye, Katie.” She speaks aloud to no one. Then loneliness sucks her in. She’s become so isolated, with most of her friends getting married, moving on. She rarely hangs out with Z, her newly wed secretary, anymore. And bar hopping in the Castro after work with her boss, Ed, (who renamed himself Fred, ah la Freddy Mercury) is great for eye candy, but not much else. It's been easier to hide in a novel at night, and get swept up into more exciting lives than living her own. Fall for the hero, always the archetype of a knight with a bit of bad boy thrown in, saving the heroine from a life alone.
Then she flashes on James. ‘There are no white knights, Kate. You don’t need one.’ She smiles with his memory. He's right, of course. No one, nothing can save her—but her. And beyond just meeting someone, she’s going to have to risk committing to someone, loving someone, actively participate in creating ‘happily ever after,’ instead of living vicariously in fiction.
Chapter Six
The doorbell rings with the sunrise. Even through the distorted peephole view, Steve recognizes him. It’s hard to mistake him for someone else, looking like he does. Great. James is just about the last person he wants to see. But Steve always knew the man would come back to haunt him. He puts down the bat, decodes the alarm behind the potted palm and opens the door.
“Hey Stephen.”
“How are you doing, James?”
“Been better. Sorry about the hour.”
He stands aside for James to come in. Stephen knows what he’s come for. And the hour might just work to his advantage. It’s possible James could be in and out before she wakes up, and we were up late last night…
“You know why I’m here?”
“I’m assuming it’s not for the killer waves at Maverick’s.”
He smiles. He looks exhausted. His face is thinner, the wild-child look even more pronounced with his hair longer and hanging in his eyes. She’ll see him. She’ll want him, and want to save him. And Steve will be screwed.
Send him away. Arrange it for later. Hide him in the office. “There’s something you should know.” Damn me.
James’ eyes scan the entry, then up the stairs and connect at the top. Steve follows his line of sight to Julia, holding the balcony rail with both hands, wearing only his Stanford tee shirt over her lacy panties. She’s ghost white.
Just great.
“No… This isn’t happening.” James whispers as he stares up at her, then looks at Steve.
“I was about to tell you she was here, James…”
James looks back at Julia. They’re fixed on each other. Steve feels something tangible pass between them. His stomach tightens, like he’s been sucker punched.
“I know what you came for.” Julia says softly. “Get it and go, James, if that’s what you need to do.” She looks down at Steve. “It seems my holiday surprise was more than intended.”
“Wait a minute, Julia. I had no idea James was coming here this morning.”
“He didn’t, Jules.”
She looks back at James. “Whatever. Please don’t let me break up your little tryst. I’m sure Steve will be very accommodating.”
“Damn it, Julia. Don’t get mad at Stephen. Be mad at me.”
She glares down at him. “You lost the right to give me direction the day you left.” She comes down the stairs, her hand barely touching the handrail as she descends. “Where the hell have you been? How can you just show up like this?”
James watches her. “I’m sorry, Julia. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Why not? Did you expect me to wait forever? Besides, Stephen is one of the good guys. Isn’t that what you use to tell me? And what are you sorry about? Leaving me? Losing me? That I’m here? With Steve?” She’s trying to hurt him. Steve doesn’t know if she is, but it cuts him that she still feels the need.
She stops directly in front of James, not two feet away and examines him. “You look like shit, if that’s at all possible.”
He looks down, shakes his hea
d. “Julia, about the last thing I want to do is hurt you again. But I can’t deal with the fallout between us right now. I need to talk with Stephen for a bit then I’m gone. Okay? Like I was never here. If you can’t handle that, then I’ll go now.” James fixes his eyes on hers and they are together.
Steve feels the wall go up around them and can only watch from the outside. And he hates himself right then for just standing there instead of trying to sever their bond.
“Don’t go,” Julia whispers to James. She turns and walks toward the kitchen, then turns back to face him. “You’re timing just sucks, honey. I’m here maybe once a month. Most any other time and we would have never crossed paths. And you could have just stayed gone. And I could have kept pretending that you were dead.” She glares at him, then at Steve then leans against the swinging door opening it. “I’m going to make coffee.” And she disappears into the kitchen.
“This is bad.” James looks around the room as if he’s trapped, runs his fingers through his hair. “Damn it!” He practically shouts it then looks at Steve. “I’m sorry if I’m messing you up, Stephen. Say the word and I’ll go. We can do this another time.”
Steve believes he would leave, even though it’s clear he’s in dire straits and needs what he’s come for. “I figured you’d be back eventually, James. Assuming you weren’t dead.” He manages a grin. “Julia and I got together a few months ago. You were gone, she was wrecked, and I was here.”
He nods, acknowledging the words but doesn’t say anything.
“I’ve always been here, from the day you introduced us five years ago.”
“I know.”
“I was hoping when you did show up you’d no longer be between us. But obviously that’s not the case.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Fix it. I’ve been up against your ghost for the last year plus. Now that you’re here, and she is too, maybe you can take a few minutes to fill her in on why you left, so she can move on.”
He shakes his head. “Actually, I’d like to minimize her involvement as much as possible.” James looks at the kitchen door. “This sucks,” he whispers to himself, then looks back at Steve. “Look Stephen, I’m in trouble. A lot of it. And I don’t want Julia involved. I’m sorry for bringing you into it. But I need money. Do I have it? Is that doable?”
“You’ve got it. And it’s doable, James.”
“How long will it take?”
“Depends on what you need. We can go downstairs to my office, talk about what to pull and put it in motion.”
“Yeah. Okay. Can we do that now?”
Steve stares at him, bewildered. “No. You’re going to have to deal with her, James. She’ll be on me if you avoid her.”
James smiles, glances at the kitchen door again. “This is a mistake, Stephen. She’ll want the truth. And all that’ll do is hurt her more.”
“I don’t think it’s possible you could hurt her any more than you already have.” Steve means to cut, but feels bad when he sees how deeply his words hurt. James looks like he’s about to cry—his eyes fill and he looks away. “Come on. Let’s get some coffee and maybe some closure.” Steve moves toward the kitchen. James reluctantly follows.
Julia’s on him the moment they come through the swinging door. “Are you going to tell me what is going on and where the hell you’ve been?”
James stands at the end of the butcher block island, wraps his spider-like fingers around the two inches of aged oak and holds it as if to keep standing. Either he doesn’t hear her or he’s ignoring her because he doesn’t respond to her question.
“Damn you son of a bitch.” Her eyes fill but she holds back her tears. She goes back to filling the grinder with coffee beans. She blinks, and tears spill down her soft cheeks.
Steve feels his shoulders tighten, his ire rise. James could be such a heartless son of a bitch. “James has just informed me he’s in some kind of trouble, major trouble, and needs money. His money.” Steve ignores James’ piercing glare. “He needs my help, Julia. It’s my job. It’s that simple.”
“Don’t patronize me, Stephen.” She turns away, gets three mugs from the cupboard and sets them on the counter top. “You know I really hate it when you do that. I deserve better than that.” She stands with her finger on the switch of the grinder glaring at him, and with a heavy sigh flips the switch. No one speaks over the noise.
Steve leans against the cold granite counter top near Julia and folds his arms across his chest. She stands next to him not two feet away, but he feels the void between them. She’s fixed on James. She crosses her bare legs, her slender, curvaceous body rigid beneath her casual display. Her short dark hair is tousled from sleep, framing her striking oval face.
She’s shamed, and Steve doesn’t blame her. Choosing to remain silent, James is damning her to her self-effacing ego. When he disappeared, she’d come to Steve, true to form. And they’d just begun closing the distance, tearing down her walls and replacing them with foundation. He’d been enamored, even smitten from the day he’d met her. Brilliant, beautiful, passionate and accomplished, but until about a few months ago, Julia had insisted on only friendship. That fantastic night on the deck of Liquid Asset finally set them on course together. And Steve was sure he had her this time, until James showed up.
“You have fourteen million dollars.” Steve speaks the moment the grinder stops. He knows it’s the only way to break their connection. James looks at him. “Give or take a few hundred thousand. At least, you did the last time I checked, which was about a month ago.”
A barely perceptible smile creeps across James’ thick lips. “Can we cash it out right now?” James looks at Julia, as if asking for permission.
Again the intimacy of their exchange bothers Steve. “How do you want the money? Can’t really transport a suitcase of cash anymore. You setting up accounts? How many? Where?”
“I’m going to have to be moving around quite a bit. At least at first.” He grimaces, grips his ribs with his huge hand as he paces a few steps.
“What’s wrong with you?” Julia sounds concerned for the first time. “Are you hurt?”
James fixes on her. “Yeah.” He glances at Steve then stares at the floor. “No. I’m okay. I’m just tired. It’s been rather hellish lately.” He looks at Steve. “Can you set me up an account in Rome with a few hundred grand? And a couple million in a Swiss account. And back that up with the rest in the Caymans or something? I speak French, and passable Spanish and Italian. I should blend okay if I stay out of the mainstream.”
Who’s he kidding? James isn’t exactly the blend-in type. “Whatever you want to do, James. It’s your money.” Steve glances at Julia, she and James fixed on each other again. Looking at the two of them together, he’s sure he doesn’t stand a chance with her. They are the beautiful people. And Steve—isn’t. Then Julia turns his way but she doesn’t look at him, not even a glance. She loads the coffee maker with the fresh ground. Was she consciously avoiding him? Did she want him gone? James was right. This meeting is a mistake.
“The quicker we can set this up, the quicker I’m out of here.” James looks at Steve, then slides onto the bar stool as if to avoid falling. “I need you to put everything under a new pseudonym.” He rests his elbows on the butcher block and his forehead in his hands and stares down at the oak island. “If you get together the signature papers, I’ll back them with I.D.”
“What is the matter with you?” Julia studies him. “Are you on something?”
“Give me a break, Jules. I’m not on anything. It’s not the same as before. Clearly.” He glances at Steve then back at her, and they’re connected again.
And Steve wants to bash James’ head into the hard oak. He swallows back his humiliation and releases a deep breath. Somehow James always manages to make him feel inept. “Your I.D. better be solid. We start moving a lot of cash around, and I guarantee someone’s going to notice.”
Julia fills the mugs with coffee and passes them aroun
d.
“The I.D. is good. I’ve been using it for a few weeks now.” With effort, he shoves his hand in his back jeans pocket and takes out a thin black billfold, then takes out a driver’s license and social security card and put them on the butcher block.
Julia gets the sugar tin and slams it down in front of James.
He looks up at her. “Thank you.” Then he turns back to Steve. “This is all I’ve got for right now.” He pours close to a half cup of sugar directly from the tin into his coffee. “My birth certificate and tax I.D. papers kind of got…well…burnt up. I’ve contacted my source to get duplicates, but it’s going to take quite a bit of cash to get them.” He holds the mug to his lips, blows the steam off, then takes a sip and closes his eyes as he drinks the hot liquid. For a minute Steve thinks he might pass out. Julia still watches him. It feels to Steve like she’s forgotten he's in the room.
“I can overnight the signature cards with copies of what you have here as long as you can produce the hard copy they require the first time you access the accounts. But the money won’t be available for at least three days.”
“Three days?” James puts his mug down and winced as he stands abruptly. “You can’t be serious. This is the electronic age for Christ’s sake. I don’t have days. I thought we were talking about a few hours here, Stephen.” He holds his ribs as he moves from the island. “What the hell happened to the internet?”
“James, I can sell all the stock you want in real time at a key stroke. But standard practice is T plus 3-trade day, plus three business days to settlement of cash. I can’t open the accounts without the cash, and it will take a minimum of three days to get it. This is going to take the better part of a week. That’s just the way it is.”
He stops pacing. “This is a bad idea.” He speaks to himself. “I should have watched the house a while. I just assumed you’d be alone. This is a mistake. I should leave.” Then he looks at Julia. “I had no idea you’d be here. Why the hell did you have to be here, Julia?” He practically yells.