“What voice?”
“When you try and sound like my therapist. You’re not, so cut the shit.”
With there being no right answer, I kept my mouth shut.
Veins stood out in stark relief on the side of his neck and a sheen of sweat outlined the musculature of his back. Despite the anger, however, his pose was one of defeat. The man could be more than an occasional arrogant dick, but Jimmy Ferris was strong and proud. In the couple of months since I’d become his babysitter I’d seen him in all sorts of moods, the bulk of them bad. Never, though, had I seen him beaten. It hurt. And the pain was as unwelcome as it was surprising.
“I need something,” he said, voice guttural.
“No!”
“Lena … shit. I can’t—-”
“You can.”
“Just get me something,” he snapped.
“I won’t do that, Jimmy.”
He surged to his feet, face tight with fury. Every survival instinct in me screamed to step back, to run and hide. Dad had always said I was too stubborn for my own good. Even in my heels Jimmy towered over me, and the man’s favorite new pastimes were jogging and bench-pressing weights. The adrenaline surging through my system made sense, but Jimmy wouldn’t hurt me.
At least, I was pretty sure he wouldn’t.
“One fucking drink,” he roared.
“Hey—”
“You have no god damn idea with this is like. I just need one fucking drink to get me through. Then I’ll stop again. I promise.”
“No.”
“Pick up the phone and order it.”
“You smashed the phone.”
“Then get your ass downstairs and get me a drink.”
I shook my head.
“You work for me! I pay your salary. You answer to me.” He jabbed himself in the chest with a finger to emphasize the point. “Remember?”
“Yes. But I will not get you a drink. Make all the threats you like.” My voice wavered but I didn’t back down. “That is never going to happen. Never.”
He growled.
“Jimmy, you need to calm down now.”
His jaw tightened and his nostrils flared.
“I don’t want to bring anyone else into this. But I’m reaching that point. So please calm down.”
“Fuck!” The war he waged to control himself played out over his perfect face. With hands on hips, he stared down at me. For a long moment he said nothing, his harsh breathing the only sound in the room. “Please, Lena.”
“No.” Shit, I did not sound convincing. I balled my hands up against my stomach, summoning up some strength. “NO.”
“Please,” he pleaded again, eyes rimmed red. “No one needs to find out. It’ll just be between you and me. I need something to take the edge off. Lori was … she was important to me.”
“I know and I’m sorry you lost her. But drinking isn’t going to help,” I said, scrambling to remember all the wise words I’d read on the Internet. But my blood pounded making it impossible to think straight. I might not be scared of him, but I was terrified for him. He couldn’t fail. I wouldn’t let him. “Drinking is a temporary fix that’ll only make things harder in the long run. You know that. You can get through today. You can.”
“We’re going to put her in the ground.” His voice cracked and he slumped back onto the chair. “She fed us, Lena. When there was nothing at home, she sat Davie and me down at her table and she fed us. Treated us like we were her own.”
“Oh, Jimmy …”
“I-I can’t do this.”
Apparently, neither could I. And to prove it, I stood there utterly useless, my heart breaking for him. I’d wondered what had happened to make him so hard. Of course I had. But I’d never imagined anything like this. “I’m so sorry,” I said, the words not even beginning to be enough.
Truth was, Jimmy needed a therapist or a counselor or someone. Anyone but me, because I didn’t have a fucking clue how to handle this. The man was cracking before my eyes and watching him come apart felt like torture. I’d been so careful the last few years, sticking to the fringes and keeping to myself. Now suddenly, his pain felt like my own, tearing up my insides, leaving me raw. The room swam blurrily in front of me.
What the hell was I still doing here?
When I took the job, my instructions had been scarily simple. Glue myself to his side and never, on pain of death, dismissal, and whatever else his lawyers could think to throw at me, let him consume a drop of alcohol or an ounce of drugs. Not a single pill could be popped. Given he’d been clean of his own volition for almost half a year, it hadn’t seemed such a hard task.
Until now.
“I’m going to go find your shirt,” I said, blinking like crazy, doing my best to pull my shit together. Qualified or not, I was all he had. “We need to finish getting you ready and then we’re going to go.”
He said nothing.
“We’ll get through this, Jimmy. We’ll get through today, then things will be better.” The words tasted sour. I just hoped they weren’t lies.
Still nothing.
“Okay?”
“Why did I say I’d talk at the funeral? What the fuck was I thinking?” He scowled. “The guys should have known this wouldn’t work out, not to put me in this position. I’m in no god damn condition to do anything. But Dave is all like ‘you say a few words, I’ll read some poetry. It’ll be fine’. What bullshit.”
“You can do this.”
“I can’t.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “If I’m not going to fuck up the funeral of the best person I ever knew, then I need a drink. One drink, then I’ll stop again.”
“No.” I faced him down. “They asked you to speak because as much as they’d probably hate to admit it, they knew you’d do it best. You’re the front man. You don’t need a drink. Shining in the spotlight is what you do. It’s who you are.”
He gave me a long look. So long, it got harder and harder to meet his eyes.
“You can do this, Jimmy. I know you can. There isn’t a single doubt inside of me.”
Nothing. He didn’t even blink, just kept staring at me. The look wasn’t unkind, I’m not sure what it was, apart from too much. I rubbed my clammy hands against the sides of my pants.
“All right,” I said, needing to escape. “I’ll get your clothes.”
Strong arms suddenly wrapped around me, pulling me in. I stumbled forward, only to be stopped by the hot face pressing into my stomach. His grip was brutally tight as if he expected me to fight him, to reject him. But I just stood stunned. His whole body shook, the tremors passing through into me, rattling my bones. He didn’t make a sound, however. Something dampened the front of my shirt, making it cling.
It could have been sweat. I had the worst feeling it wasn’t.
“Hey.” None of the last two months had prepared me for this. He never needed me for shit. If anything, I inconvenienced him. We clashed. He tried to cut me down. I cracked a joke. The modus operandi had been long since been established.
The man clinging to me was a stranger.
My hands hovered over his bare shoulders, panic bubbling up inside. I was most definitely not allowed to touch him. Not even a little. The one-hundred-and-twelve-page employment contract had been quite specific on the subject. Prior to this, he’d gone out of his way to avoid any and all contact, but now his arms tightened, fingers digging in. I’m pretty sure I heard my rib cage creak. Damn, he was strong. Just as well I came from sturdy stock, otherwise, he might have squeezed the life out of me.
“Jimmy, I can’t breathe,” I wheezed.
The grip eased a little and I stood there panting, my lungs working overtime. Thick arms remained around me. Clearly, I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Maybe I should get Sam,” I said in a stroke of genius once I’d caught my breath. Their Head of Security most closely resembled a thug in a suit. But I bet he gave great hugs.
“No.”
Crap. “Or David. Do you want your brother to come back in?”
His face shifted against me, moving first left and then right. Another no. “You can’t tell them.”
“I won’t. I promise.”