Mr. Jaguar (8 page)

Mike saved him the trouble. “I’ll just wait in the lounge.”

“Sure,” said James with fake confidence. “You can order something to drink on me. And your key card is on the shelf by the door.”

“Nah, I won’t drink. I wanna be sharp,” Mike said, already walking out.

James opened his mouth but decided not to encourage him to at least get coffee. He dressed in a fitted gray suit with a pink and blue tie. He used to be dubious about being flashy but since he hired a stylist to help him shop, more people were checking him out. Men and women alike, and he appreciated that. He didn’t want to be old and boring like some of the salesmen at the conference.

He stuffed the few things he needed into his pockets and made his way to the elevator, already hating the idea of breakfast.

“Hey there, James!” he heard from behind him. He would always recognize the loathsome voice of Rich Carrington. “I was just telling the guys about your husband.”

James stopped mid-stride and turned around to look at three men in sharp suits walking straight at him like a pack of hungry wolves. He prayed not to sweat, that would betray him completely. “Ah, he’s my boyfriend. I don’t like making rash decisions,” he said with a smile, knowing Rich could read this as a poke against his hasty marriage.

Instead, he saw a tiny wrinkle on Richard’s forehead that would probably be a frown if his face weren’t infused with Botox. “Oh God, how insensitive of me. I forgot you still can’t marry in Texas.”

He saw the guys next to Richard smirk as if they were evil twins. They always followed Richard, like pilot fish, waiting for what scraps the shark would leave them.

“Give it a few years,” said James, trying not to sound as if it came through clenched teeth, even though it did. He wondered what excuse could be plausible enough to get away without making himself look like a coward. He couldn’t think of one.

Instead of stopping for the chat though, Richard walked up to James and embraced him with one arm, which felt more like getting strangled. “You should have breakfast with us, that’ll cheer you up.”

“Exactly, James. You’ll be able to give us all the insight into the new features of your invention,” said one of the other guys. James didn’t remember his name, but he could swear it was something like ‘Darby’, or ‘Harold’. He wondered whether they had been born with those names.

“I will be giving a presentation on it tomorrow. There is no reason for me to bore you guys with technical details first thing in the morning,” he said, forcing a smile.

“Nonsense, there’s nothing like coffee and engineering to wake a man up,” said one of Richard’s disciples. James actually wondered if they needed to reach a level-up by brown nosing to get teeth as paper-white as Richard’s.

“Alister is right,” Richard patted his friend on the back. “We want to be ahead of our game, James,” he said as they walked to the elevator. “What time is your presentation tomorrow?”

James straightened his back. He wouldn’t act as if he were in a cage with three sharks. Even though he was. He, a defenseless diver among the wildlife. “Noon in the main conference room,” he said, keeping pride out of his voice. It was the best slot of the day.

Alister whistled as the door of the elevator closed. The sound was piercing in the confined space. “Well done! If the upgrade of your car is anything to go by, it is going to be great.”

James closed his mouth. What was a smart answer to that? “It’s a great car.”

“Yeah, though I think you could do better. I can show you my new baby. Just got her last month,” said Alister with a smug smile.

“True, true, I can vouch for it. Gotta keep up with the times, James.” Richard chuckled with that fake laugh of his, and James had never been as happy that the elevator door opened as he was now.

“I don’t see a reason to buy something just because it’s new,” he said, bristling.

“Ah, that didn’t come out right,” said Alister, raising his hands in the fakest apologetic gesture in the history of mankind. It reminded James of a time in high school, when he publicly called Mike out on being homophobic, and all he heard was that ‘Lovelace’ was just a joke, harmless. And just as he thought of Mike, there he was, in the lounge, chatting to a group of women, and looking nothing like the hot and sweaty mechanic James was faced with yesterday. Okay, so there was still a hint of that in Mike’s rugged features, in his big hands and veiny forearms, but he looked more like a model who accidentally crossed paths with James.

“Anyway, I promised my boyfriend I’d eat with him, so I guess we could talk after breakfast.”

“Go on, go on.” Richard laughed. “I suppose you have to plan your tactic for paintball. Or is
he
your tactic?”

James had to press his nails into the flesh of his hand not to punch that tanned sonofabitch in the face. He knew the perfect comeback would eventually come, but it was not this minute. “So, is your wife playing this year?”

Mike noticed them and excused himself from the conversation at the table with a smile. James’s stomach tensed even more. He could only hope Mike wouldn’t find too much common ground with the sharks.

“Savannah? Gods, no! She’s too gentle for that. She’s more of a homey type, ready to soothe my battle wounds.”

Alister gently nudged Richard with his elbow. “And tend to all your needs, huh?”

“I prefer getting hurt together and licking our wounds together,” said James.

All he got from Alister was a deep frown, but Rich picked up for his fellow predator. “So you both lick out each other’s wounds? Or do you only lick Mike’s?”

James felt his feet freeze to the floor, while his mind went into complete chaos. Fuck. Why couldn’t he think of anything to say? But there it was, Mike’s strong arm wrapping around his waist.

“What’s all this licking I hear of? I hope it’s not about pussy, because that’s kinda gross.” Mike grinned and gave James a kiss on the cheek.

James melted into his fake boyfriend and looked up at him with a smile that came straight from his heart. “No. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

And for once, it was Richard without a snappy comeback.

Mike smiled back at James, but then looked to Richard. “Savannah was asking if you could bring her some jam for the pancakes. She told me you always make sure she has everything she needs. So sweet.” He gently nudged Richard’s arm with his fist and turned around, leading James away with him. Something James couldn’t manage on his own, simply walking away, achieved so easily.

Tension left James like yolk dripping from a soft-boiled egg. He looked up at Mike and squeezed his hand. “Thanks. I didn’t know how to break free there.”

“Yeah, you looked like you were under siege.” Mike snorted and led James along to the restaurant where all the delegates were having their breakfast. “Is there anyone you want to sit with?”

James let out a shaky breath. He did! But he didn’t have the courage to approach the president of the biggest pharmaceutical company in this hemisphere. And there was the man, at a table by the window, chatting with two colleagues over pancakes in a stylish breakfast room. “The guy in the corner, but I’m not sure if he’d want to be disturbed.”

“Let’s go find out.” Mike pulled James along without a hint of shyness. James forced himself to calm down and let out a long shaky breath, walking along. He couldn’t help but glance to the handsome face of his fake boyfriend. Why were those things so easy for Mike when James struggled with every move in such company? His thoughts were cut short when they reached the table, and all the men sitting by it raised their heads to look at them. Within less than a single minute, Mike had introduced James to everyone and they were enthusiastically invited to sit. Mike was smooth like that. And once they started their breakfast, James realized not all popular people at the convention were sharks.

****

Chapter 6

James hardly contained a shriek when red paint sprayed all over him the moment a bullet hit the side of the tree he was hiding behind. The yellow team was cornered behind a slope of terrain but fought on like they were in a trench, and this was the moment that would allow them to come home alive. Lying in the dirt, with the gun clutched to his chest, James was overwhelmed by the chaos around him. Everyone was shouting, both on their and the enemy’s side, bullets were bursting all too close. He was uncomfortable in the protective armor and rough coveralls, and he hated it all with a passion. The only thing keeping him in the game was the will to prove himself to the sharks, who were fighting behind enemy lines. At least he didn’t have to cooperate with them.

What he couldn’t quite understand was that Mike had been by his side at all times, as if yesterday’s argument had never happened. He was in his element, taking down quite a few guys from the red team. There was a silly sense of pride in James that it was his boyfriend who turned out to be the best shooter on the team, even if he was his just for the weekend.

Mike pulled at James’s arm and saved him from yet another red bullet, hugging him close to the plastic armor on his chest. “Keep looking around,” he huffed with that focused voice as if it was really life and death at stake.

James closed his eyes for a moment, melting into his warmth like a lump of butter tossed into a hot pan. It felt good to have someone at his back at all times, looking out for the things James was shit at, even if they were forced to crawl in dirt.

“It’s just… so much is going on,” he uttered, even though all he wanted to say was:
Don’t you want to go home?

“Hell, yeah.” Mike didn’t even look to James, breathing hard under his helmet. “Eyes around the head, like a spider.”

James cringed. “Thanks for the mental image.”

“Hey, guys,” hissed someone from the bush next door. “They ceased fire. Let’s go!”

“Do we even have a plan?” muttered James. They should take the enemy from both sides, not creep away in a group like a flock of sheep.

“The plan is, shoot the motherfuckers!” Mike yelled, followed by some enthusiastic cheers. God only knew when he got a chance to fraternize with all those people. Mike let go of James and ran first, looking like a character from Gears of War in his black plastic armor.

James realized he’d be left alone if he didn’t move so he pulled himself up and ran after the rest of his team, with the fogged up goggles taking at least a third of his vision. He bent in half and ran as fast as he could, eyes focused on Mike’s ass two yards ahead of him. His head was pulsing with heat and stress. He’d already scored a minor wound, and it hurt like fuck.

Suddenly, more red bullets exploded on the trees and on the ground around James, making him stumble. A choir of aggressive yells from behind them betrayed all. They’d been ambushed from behind by a small group of soldiers from the red team. It was the same tactic James had wanted to go with. Why did no one ever listen to him? He smashed right into Mike and fell into the dry dirt, with a cloud of brown dust blowing up around him. The enemy was approaching fast.

James fumbled with the gun and before he expected it to, a yellow bullet shot out of his weapon and burst on the hip of one of the attackers. The guy fell with a growl, but it didn’t stop any of the others. For some reason, James kept shooting everywhere but where he should. The one time he scored was apparently just a lucky coincidence. His body went more rigid and hot with every second as the soldiers in goggles came closer and closer. This was war. He would ‘die’.

James shut his eyes. There was a shot, a groan… but not his. Someone pushed him down, and when he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Mike, scowling underneath a big red splatter on his helmet.

“Fuck,” Mike groaned, falling to his knees.

Members of the other team were already rushing to squash what was left of Team Yellow.

James scrambled to his feet, fueled by rage that threatened to explode and burst a hole in his chest. He sent a series of bullets straight at the approaching group, which was enough to stop their progress, but his blood ran cold when the gun made a blunt sound, and James realized he was out of ammo.

“Fucking fuck.”

“Duck! To the ground!” Mike yelled at him as he himself fell.

“Shut up, man! You’re dead!” screamed one of the enemies from behind a tree.

James pressed his lips shut and ducked for a triangular shape on the ground. He picked up the stone and in one sharp movement pulled it across his neck in the gesture of throat slitting. He then dropped to his knees and fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, gurgling like his own blood was choking him. If one didn’t count the stones and other shit under his back, this was way more fun than shooting and trying not to get shot. He reached out to Mike’s helmet and gathered some paint, only to smear it all over his own armor. There. He was so done.

He rolled his head to the side and met Mike’s wide open eyes. “Why would you kill yourself?” Mike gasped and pulled up his red-stained goggles.

James stared at him, ignoring Team Red’s soldiers who ran past them in pursuit of remaining members of the yellow team. He swallowed. “Can’t live without my boyfriend?”

Mike stalled, but only for a second. “Pretty dramatic I suppose. Let’s get out of here if we’re done.”

James got to his feet first. “You’re not hurt, right?” he asked just in case. After all, Mike had given his fake life for him, and James still couldn’t quite get his head around it.

“Nah.” Mike rubbed his forehead as he got up. “Nothing to hurt inside there, right?” He snorted and knocked on his head.

James swallowed and picked up his gun. “Thanks for saving me, but aren’t you disappointed? You seemed to be having fun.”

Mike shrugged and led him along at a steady, slow jog. “I’d rather win, but it was an impulse. Not gonna regret it. What’s done is done.”

James sighed, following him without question. This day stirred all kinds of emotions in him. Had Mike Miller really changed? As promised, Mike had always been beside him throughout the day, helping him make friends and always ready for little tender gestures. This last move really wasn’t like something the guy James knew from school would do. He didn’t know what to do with the fact that he started feeling oddly at ease whenever they were together. He cleared his throat.