Making Changes Page 2

  “It’s okay. I’m, ah, I’m gay,” he blurted, and I watched his cheeks heat before his palm thumped his forehead.

  A laugh escaped me from his outburst. My palm came up to cover my mouth. I found myself thinking how it was a pity the man before me liked penis.

  He removed his hand and smiled down at me. God, he was tall. My head came up to his chest. He wore a designer suit and, as I glanced down, he had on shiny shoes. I supposed most gay men dressed really well, or was that something someone made up? I wasn’t sure, but the man before me certainly seemed to take pride in his looks. Even his dark brown hair was gelled to perfection.

  “Did I do something?” I asked.

  “No. Not at all. In fact, I couldn’t help but overhear—”

  My eyes widened, and I interrupted, “Were you the one to call my husband a fuckhead?”

  His brows dipped, guilt flashing across his features, and then he ran a hand over the back of his neck. “He was being a fuckhead at the time. But that’s not why I stopped you. I heard you may be looking for work.”

  My head jerked back in shock. “And you followed me to offer me a job?” I guessed.

  “Well, yes. Sort of. Actually, it’s my brother who’s looking for an assistant.”

  Leaning in, I whispered, “Why would you ask me?”

  Did he pity me?

  “The truth, my brother goes through a lot of assistants and when I heard you had a business degree, I thought you may have more brains than the rest and end up lasting longer.”

  Straightening, I studied him. He looked as if he were telling the truth, his expression serious, his posture tall. No deceiving hunched shoulders in sight. Still, I couldn’t quite believe he would come after me for an assistant job; admittedly, I wasn’t really good at reading people.

  “I’m not sure,” I said, and shifted back a step when I saw my Corvette coming around the corner.

  “Wait. Just take my card. Think about it, and if you change your mind, call me.” He pulled a card out of his jacket pocket and thrust it out toward me.

  Looking from the card to him and back again, I slowly reached up and took it, placing it in my bag.

  “Thank you.” I shrugged, because maybe thanking him wasn’t the right thing to say. “Um, I better get going.”

  “Right.” He smiled. “You are sick after all.”

  A laugh escaped me. “Yes, I am,” I said before getting into my car and driving off, without another look at…. God, I didn’t even ask his name.

  Shaking my head, I put the chance meeting with the handsome gay guy out of my mind; I had other pressing matters to attend.

  The restaurant wasn’t far from where we lived. So soon enough, I was driving into our long driveway and up to the two-story, four-bedroom brick home. When I parked, I didn’t move. My belly churned. Maybe I was coming down with something, and what I was about to do was actually an act of feeling ill.

  Stop it, Makenzie.

  It was time to grow some lady balls, big ones that dangled down to my knees.

  Grabbing my bag, I flung the door open and climbed out of the car. My heart raced the closer I got to the front door of our house.

  A house I had lived in with my husband for four years.

  Yet, I found myself thinking there wasn’t really anything in the house I would miss. Shouldn’t I be crying with what I was about to do? Shouldn’t I be devastated at the thought of my marriage ending?

  Clarity was a funny, fickle bitch.

  My phone buzzed as I walked into our room, my eyes landing on the bed. No good memories were held in that bed. Only hurtful words.

  My shoulders slumped. I took my phone from my bag and looked at it. A smile pulled my lips up when I saw a message from my father.

  I should have listened to my dad from the start. He always said that the most important thing in life was to be honest, and he’d stood by it when he’d told me Robert was a dick and he wished I wouldn’t marry him.

  Even after I’d cut my dad and my sister from my life and moved away from my family home, I still received a monthly text from my dad.

  It was funny how it had come that day of all days.

  Unlocking my phone, I pressed on messenger to open it. It always read the same: What ’bout now? He was asking if I had finally come to my senses and left Robert. In the past, I had deleted it out of respect for Robert. He was too foolish to know my father loathed him.

  That day, I kept it and with a laugh, I replied, Yes.

  I squeaked when my phone rang in my hand. Dad. Smiling, I answered, “Hi, Dad.” Tears suddenly filled my eyes and my bottom lip quivered, so I bit down on it. It had been years since I had spoken to my father. Years. Hurt bombarded my senses from the pain I’d put all of us through.

  “Puddin’, tell me I didn’t see things? Tell me I’m not conjuring up my own answer?”

  I snorted and then hiccupped a sob back. He’d always called me his puddin’ and my sister Taylor, who was Lori to me, was his jellybean.

  I missed him. I missed my sister. Before Robert, they were my world. I’d let them go, let them down.

  “I-I’m sorry,” I whimpered.

  “No. Don’t you say you’re sorry.”

  “I am sorry. I should have listened to you.”

  “Did that little dick hurt you?” he clipped roughly.

  “No, Dad.” I smiled.

  “So? You didn’t answer my question. Was I seeing things, Puddin’?”

  “No.” I smiled.

  “Jesus Christ.” He sighed. “You need help? I’ll get in the car right now and come get you. Jellybean would love to see you. I’ll even take her out of class to come with me.”

  Laughing, I said, “No, Dad. Really, I need to do this on my own. But soon, I would love to see you both.” Tears welled. “Really soon.”

  My dad’s voice softened. “Nothing will keep us away. Where are you?”

  “At the house. I’m about to pack and go to a hotel.”

  “You good for money?”

  My bottom lip trembled. After what I put him through, he was still willing to help me out. “Yes, for now… and, I may have a job soon.”

  “Good.” I could hear the smile in his voice. He was happy, and I was finally the cause of it. “My puddin’s getting back on her own feet, and soon she’ll be giving me hell and winning at cards once again.”

  “You bet your sweet bippy on it.” I laughed. “Love you, Dad.”

  Silence on the other end, and then my breath caught with his next words.

  “Always love you, Makenzie. No matter where you are, how long it’s been, who you’re with, you’ll always have my love.” His own voice was thick with emotion.

  I sniffed and wiped my eyes. “Give Lori my love.”

  “Will do and we’ll see you soon.”

  “Yes. Bye, Dad.”

  “Bye for now, but not forever.”

  Quickly, I hung up as another hiccup sob tore out of me. He’d always said that at the end of every phone call or even when I was living at home and was leaving the house.

  I had missed it.

  Taking a deep breath, I went to the closet and grabbed my suitcase.

  It was time to start my life, and no matter what, I would never be beaten down again.

  I was strong, I was brave, and I was doing the right thing.

  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 s
ince 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.