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A man is defined by his actions. It doesn’t matter who you want to be, if you do the things that a person you don’t want to be would do. I don’t want to be my father, but what the hell am I doing? A damn good impression of him, that’s what.

“I don’t mind being a little distracted for once,” she finally replies. “You make me nervous.”

Good instincts. Somehow, I can’t believe she doesn’t see right through me. It would almost be easier if she did. Pushing Reginald’s agenda is going to cost me in the end, whether I succeed or not. But if she could just get her head on straight and see me for what I am… she could come out on top. She could win, and I could go back to Reginald in disgrace, but only because I fought and lost instead of refusing to follow his orders. I’m honestly not sure which would be worse in his eyes.

At least if I lost fair and square, I could point out that he’s lost before as well. Not often, and less as he’s gotten older and more experienced; more ruthless. But it’s not unheard of. Surely he couldn’t fault me for failing to seduce an intelligent woman who doesn’t fit his theory that women are inferior. No one who’s spent any time with Janie could think that.

“I’m nervous, too,” I text. It’s true, but that’s not all it is. Vulnerable — that’s the key. As much as it hurts, I have to open myself up to her if she’s ever going to sympathize with my position, and that’s what I need.

The next text comes quickly, and it’s the one I’ve been dreading. “When can I see you again?”

The question hurts me, physically, even though it’s exactly the one I need to see. “Soon,” I send her back. “Got things going on. Get that sauce line going; you’re gonna need some free time.”

She sends back a winking emoji and some chili peppers.

There’s a part of me that wishes we could just stay here, at this step, forever. Not that I don’t want to see her again — it’s like I’m having withdrawals at this point, and she’s the only thing I can think about — but once that happens, it means we’re that much closer to the end, whichever end we get.

Still, I can’t just stall her forever. We made memories at the beach house already, so I make sure the place is free for the next few weeks, just in case. Another one of Reginald’s nuggets of tainted wisdom — find a place and make it special, make it positive. People are more susceptible to suggestions they might otherwise reject when they’re in a place like that. Christ, he’s done it to me plenty of times.

Yeah. It’s a damn fine impression. How far do you have to take it before it’s not just an act anymore?

I’ll probably find out.

Chapter 47

Janie

Mama finally gets to go home, and when I get the call I take a break to go see her. Not a long visit, but I feel bad that I wasn’t able to pick her up. At least George managed to come through in this particular instance. That’s probably the extent of his utility for the next several months. Spend it wisely, right?

“I wish you all hadn’t gone to the trouble,” Mama says about the bill, which the hospital kindly sent her home with. “I didn’t know it would be so expensive.”

“Don’t worry about that right now, Mama,” I tell her. George looks uncomfortable. Good. He should be. I just hope he can manage not to treat Mama poorly for long enough that she can get used to being home again. The new meds seem like they’re working well, but there’s no telling when she’ll stop taking them, or whether George will re-fill the prescription when it runs out.

All of that, though, just has to be carefully monitored. Trying to predict and plan for it is pointless.

My phone chimes, and I take a quick peek in case it’s trouble at the restaurant, but instead it’s Jake.

“Want to get a drink?”

In the mix of emotions that well up, the more carnal ones are the loudest, and my cheeks heat up. A smile pulls the corner of my mouth up before I can suppress it, and when I put my phone away I see George watching me curiously. He drops his eyes when he meets mine, though. It’s refreshing that he hasn’t quite gotten back into full asshole mode just yet. Probably hard to do that when we both know he wasn’t able to take care of his own wife.

I’m sure it will pass, though. It always does.

A few minutes later, I can’t bring myself to wait anymore. So I kiss Mama on the forehead. “I have to get back,” I tell her. It’s a lie, but a small one, and she seems tired anyway. I look up at George. “Make sure she gets plenty of rest.”

George looks momentarily offended, but it gets smothered quickly before Mama can see it. “Of course I will,” he says quietly.

Mama’s watching us both, and she looks concerned. So I force myself to give George a brief hug — it isn’t pleasant for either of us, I can tell — and mutter a goodbye.

“Yes,” he says stiffly. “Have a… good afternoon.” It’s somewhere between a well-wish and an order, but maybe that’s as good as it’ll ever get.

On my way to the car, I text Jake back. “I’d love to. Can’t stay all day. One drink. Busy busy.”

I get back a winking smiley face from him, and can’t help but wonder if there’s some part of this plan I don’t know about. I kind of hope there is, and can’t help smiling the whole way back downtown.

I manage to make it almost a full fifteen minutes in the bar. At that point, Jake springs the surprise.

“So… I realize you’re busy but… the beach house is free for the next month or so.”