Paying The Piper - 20. Chapter 20

Cale slumped in the chair next to Drew and tried to blink the exhaustion out of his eyes. Slowly, he rolled his head in the direction of the coffee pot. Drew recognized the craving and leapt out of his seat to pour him a cup. When he handed the steaming mug to Cale, they smiled at each other. Drew took his time letting go of the cup.

Quent watched the exchange. When he felt the urge to smile himself, he bit the inside of his cheek. "I’d like a cup myself, Marcus," he snapped. He congratulated himself when Drew snatched his hand away from Cale’s mug.

Drew shrugged. "Help yourself."

"Help myself to my own coffee? Why, thank you, you mannerless brat, I think I will," Quent grumbled under his breath as he prepared his own cup. He returned to his seat and studied his friend, noticing how exhausted Cale looked. "Why are you here, Cale?" he asked as they sat in tense silence, gulping coffee.

Cale took a deep breath before answering. He recounted the conversation with White quickly, but with a startling amount of composure. He was clearly shaken. Quent, on the other hand, was thrilled. Had it been Cale's father who'd had picked up the phone, White would have been paid post haste. That’s not to say Angus McCoy was a coward. He simply lived his life by the cost/benefit rule. White’s meager price was probably cheaper in the long run. Thankfully, Cale was cut from a different cloth.

"Do you think he’s telling the truth?" Cale asked.

Quent snorted. "The man doesn’t know the meaning of the word. Don’t worry. This is a ploy for money. Nothing more. I’ll deal with it." The last was said with evil glee. Perhaps a bit too much glee. When he looked up again both Drew and Cale looked alarmed.

Drew set his mug down and cleared his throat. "I’ll go with you," he said. Cale nodded enthusiastically.

Quent didn’t know whether to feel warmed or annoyed. "I won’t be in any danger."

"That’s not what I’m worried about."

"I know." Quent flashed an evil smile and stood. Drew rose as well. Quent gave him his most evil glare, and Drew lowered himself back into his seat.

Quent nodded in approval. "You’re learning, Marcus." He swept past the other two men and out of the office.

They didn’t move for a long time. When Drew stood up suddenly, Cale jumped. Unthinking, he reached out to touch the other man as he passed, but Drew dodged his hand and went to stand by the window.

Cale watched him warily. "It’s amazing how things can go to shit so quickly, isn’t it?" he asked.

Drew cleared his throat. "Yeah."

"I’m sorry about last night. I overreacted. Actually, I had no right to react at all. I apologize." Cale’s last words trailed off into a whisper. He tried to swallow against his suddenly dry throat. Unable to stop himself, he got up and followed Drew to the window. He stood directly behind him. Close, but not touching.

Drew gave a shaky sigh. "I can feel you."

"Good." Cale reached up and trailed his fingers down Drew’s back. Drew shuddered and swayed backwards. Their bodies brushed and they both caught their breath. Abruptly, Drew stepped away.

"I’m sorry," Cale said. He laughed bitterly. "I’m usually better at following the rules."

Drew turned around. "I never follow the rules."

Cale’s eyes roamed Drew’s face. "Really?"

Drew nodded. His eyes drifted to Cale’s mouth. When he licked his lips, goose bumps broke out all over Cale’s body. He closed his eyes, reaching for his self-control. "Drew—" he said. He heard Drew step closer and warm breath drifted over Cale’s face. His heart began to hammer in his chest. Cursing himself, cursing Drew, he stepped back. He opened his eyes and his resolve nearly crumbled. Drew was standing less than a foot away. Cale could feel the heat radiating from him. Could see his chest rising and falling – hear his noisy breathing. Shit, he could even smell him. Coffee and musky arousal.

Cale groaned and retreated across the office. He pointed an accusing finger when Drew had the gall to look hurt.

"This was your idea," Cale reminded him. "Stay away from each other, that’s what you said. Don’t you fucking dare look at me like a kicked puppy." He felt his anger building, replacing his aching need.

Drew was angry as well. He didn’t appreciate being toyed with. Even though he suspected Cale wasn’t purposefully being cruel. In all likelihood, Cale had no idea how deeply his presence affected Drew. His frustration with Cale, with the situation, finally reached a breaking point. "What did you want me to do?" he spat. "I’m sorry you’re not happy, but I’m not interested in nursing you through your marital crisis." He grabbed his jacket and yanked the door open. "If you ever have the balls to leave her, feel free to give me a call." He slammed the door behind him.

Cale’s legs barely got him across the room. He collapsed into a chair and pressed a hand to his chest. It was so tight, he could barely draw a breath. He sat quietly and waited for the pain to pass. Eventually, it lessened. But it didn’t go away.

**********

Drew met Quent in the parking lot. "That was quick," Drew snapped. "Where did you hide the body?"

Quent took in the red cheeks and clenched jaw. He completely ignored Drew’s question. "Have another lover’s spat?" he asked.

Drew wasn't up for the snide banter. Without answering, he turned his back on Quent and headed toward his jeep.

"Where are you going?" Quent inquired.

"Home. To bed."

"In the middle of the day?"

"I’m on vacation. I can do whatever the fuck I want."

"Yes. So it seems." Quent watched until Drew had unlocked the jeep and slipped inside. "You’re a study in opposites, Mr. Marcus." He threw the comment over his shoulder as he headed toward the building.

"What are you talking about now?" Drew sounded exasperated. His head hung out the window of the jeep.

Quent shook his head. "I’ve never known anyone supposedly so brave do so much running away." Without looking back, he pushed through the glass door and disappeared.

**********

"He wasn’t there?" Cale asked when Quent came back in. "Everybody knows Braden never leaves that place. He’s always there."

"Well, he wasn’t today. Our little meeting will have to wait until the bar opens tonight." Quent threw his car keys onto his desk. He couldn’t hide his disappointment at the aborted confrontation.

Cale frowned, then shook his head. "I’m leaving town. For the afternoon," he clarified when Quent looked at him oddly. "I have some meetings in the city. I’ll give you a call when I get back."

Quent quelled the irrational urge to forbid him to go. "Fine. Be careful," he added before he could stop himself.

Cale gave him a curious smile. "Of course."

**********

Cale’s visits to corporate headquarters were exhausting on a good day. Today was not a good day. People twice his age smiled at him, shoveled bullshit in record levels, all the while making rude comments behind his back. Apparently, it was the general consensus that Cale would never be his father. Well, thank fucking God for that, he thought to himself. He finished his rounds in record time, spoke to whom he needed to and escaped just before eight o’clock in the evening. It was a ninety minute drive back to Farther's Run.

The weather was horrible. Late spring storms flared up, forcing Cale to drive in blinding rain. Thirty miles from home, Cale dialed the house. After four rings, the machine picked up. He frowned and redialed. The ever-cheerful machine answered again.

Cale tossed the phone onto the seat next to him. A second later, he picked it up again. He called Directory Assistance. In a few seconds the operator had located Rob Skinner's home phone number. Cale instructed her to dial it for him.

A man’s sleepy voice answered, "Hello?" Cale didn’t say anything. "Hello?" the voice demanded again. Cale was about to speak when he heard Elizabeth’s voice in the background.

"Who is it, baby?"

Cale hung up. For long minutes, he just drove, his face a blank mask. After a while, a tiny smile appeared on his face. When he stopped at the next intersection, he pulled his wedding ring off his finger and tossed it into the ashtray.

**********

Quent hated The Tin Man. Some of it had to do with White. Mostly, though, it had to do with the people. He detested some, was indifferent to others, but was disgusted by most. At least he had the decency to get drunk at home.

He made his way to the bar and inquired after White.

"Took a few days off, I guess," Schmidt, the bartender, said. "He wasn’t in when I got here."

Quent looked disbelieving. "With the exception of the years he was wasting my tax dollars in prison, White has only left this bar unattended a handful of times. Why would he do so now?"

Schmidt shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"I doubt that."

"Maybe he felt like a vacation."

"I do hope he bathed first."

Schmidt laughed. "I wouldn’t know."

"Apparently you don’t know much of anything. Where’s his office?"

The smile slipped from the bartender’s face. "It’s in the back. But…I’m not sure I can let you back there."

"I’m sure you can. In fact, I insist. That way?" Quent pointed toward an unmarked door back by the bathrooms. Reluctantly, Schmidt nodded.

Quent started back through the throng of people. The music was ungodly loud. He could barely think from the racket. As he pushed past people on his way to Braden’s office, his cell phone rang. He never heard it.

***********

Cale sighed and snapped his phone closed. Quent wasn’t answering. Lord only knew what that meant. Cale doubted it could be good. He knew Quent was going to see Braden that evening, and he suspected the meeting would be explosive.

He flipped the phone open again and ran his fingers over the number pad. He thought about calling Drew. He knew the number by heart, and had in fact dialed it a number of times this week, but his courage had always failed before the third ring.

He was deep in thought when a gust of wind nudged the Mercedes toward the shoulder, causing it to hydroplane. Cale dropped the phone with a curse. He barely avoided sliding into a ditch. He cursed again and pulled over to the side. Safely on the berm, he picked up the phone.

Without giving himself time to think, he dialed Drew’s number. It rang three times before Drew’s machine picked up. After the beep, Cale panicked for a second, but recovered quickly. "It’s Cale. Listen, I know with all that’s happened, with Cynthia and Marci, it’s been…crazy." The wind gusted again and the cell phone began to cut out. Cale sighed. "I need to talk to you. I’ve…finally figured things out." He swallowed hard before continuing. "I’m on my way back to town. It’s nine o’clock. I’ll be home in about thirty minutes. Please call. I really need to see you." The static became unbearable and Cale ended the call.

He pulled back onto the road and continued the long trip home.