Page 66 of Just Business

“It’s not like it was before.”Lie.Even his mother heard it.

“Oh,honey.”

“I’m being careful, Mom. I’m not going to vanish again.” Justin glanced over at the suit that hung from his bathroom door, perfect its plastic bag. Finely tailored to his measurements, bought with Eli’s money for him to wear this weekend so Eli could take him to dinner and a show in the Cultural District without being embarrassed.

His gut felt full of rocks and pins. Bile rose.

“I know you need to live your life,” his mother said into his ear. Justin closed his eyes when his stomach tumbled. “But please be careful? And call. Or e-mail. Mercy loves hearing from you.”

Keep in touch. Don’t become trapped again. Don’t become athingagain. Justin swallowed. “I will, I promise. He’s not like the other guy, Mom. I swear.” Dusty words. He barely heard them over the pounding of his heart.

“I hope so.” The sounds of pots and pans resumed. “I should go. Your sister will be home soon, and I need to get this in the oven.”

Justin opened his eyes. The suit was still there. “I love you, Mom. Thank you.”

“Love you, too, honey. And we’re here for you, you know that. Anytime.”

For anything. He shivered again. Was the apartment cold, or was it the ice in his blood? As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t turn away from the suit. “I know.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

“Bye, Mom.” He didn’t turn off the phone until he heard theclickon the other end. Even after, he stared at Eli’s suit. A gift, Eli had said. Justin had trusted that.

Fuck.He was doing it again, wasn’t he? Justin set down the phone and dropped his head to his hands. Hook, line, sinker. He’d been caught.

***

Conference calls must have been created by a bastard who actually got off on people being truly miserable. Eli rubbed his temple to abate the growing headache and stared across his guest table at Sam, whose creased brow gave away his annoyance.

At least he wasn’t the only one.

“Mind if we take a bit of a break? Say five minutes?” The smooth voice of Gerald Cunningham slithered from the speaker like a snake over rocks.

“Not at all.” Sam’s cheerful tone didn’t match his haggard expression.

“We’ll start again at ten ’til.”

“Great.” Sam hit the mute button on the Polycom. The false joviality fell away. “They’re toying with us.”

Sanhex still hadn’t signed the deal. They’d been working on their shit anyway, in good faith. “You think?”

“Eli,” Sam snapped. He rubbed his forehead. “Sorry. I shouldn’t...”

He waved it away. “No, I’m being a prick. I thought we had this all worked out.” They even had an unofficial e-mail from Sanhex’s CEO saying they planned to sign today. Now this hellish call to explaineverythingagain. When Sanhex did commit, the money—and the references—would be more lucrative than gold. It was a gamble, but one Eli had agreed with.

“One of us is going to have to go out there.” Sam leaned back in his chair and blew air, puffing out his cheeks. “Or both of us. Jen and Fazil weren’t enough.”

“If I go, I’m taking a crop and using it on Gerald’s ass.”

Sam gave him a look that could peel paint from walls. “Not funny, Eli.”

It wasn’t. But the quirk that had always gotten him into trouble at every other company, very much wanted to rail at the executives of Sanhex until they submitted to him and listened. “I wouldn’t do that. I’m just—”

“Frustrated.” Sam glanced at his watch.

Only a couple more hours and he’d be off to dinner and a show with Justin. “At least it’s Friday.”

“Amen to that.”