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Even if they didn’t end up firing him, his company was circling the drain. There would be no more business coming his way from Breckenridge, and without it, he wouldn’t have enough work to keep the money coming in.
After the shoe dropped, Katie had pushed him out the door, insisting he go see what was happening on Burgess.
Everything was happening on Burgess, same as yesterday. Three-fifty or four hundred people waiting for Callahan to show his face or the mysterious Carly to come out and wave to the crowd. He’d run himself ragged keeping it all under control, and when he turned up at home around dinnertime, Katie had put the casserole in his hands and steered him right back out.
“Your turn to take Carly her supper. Try to be cheerful. Whatever Ellen did to you, it can’t be as bad as what Carly’s doing to Jamie.”
It was worse. It had to be worse, because Carly loved Jamie, and she’d take the guy back eventually.
Ellen didn’t love him. She didn’t even want to try.
I want my life back. She couldn’t have made it any clearer that she didn’t need him in it. He’d become an inconvenience, a complication, and Ellen didn’t like things complicated—didn’t like anything she couldn’t keep firmly under her thumb.
He’d known that. It was his own damn fault, the whole mess.
Nana peered at his left hand, which didn’t look so hot. He’d cleaned it out, but he hadn’t bothered to dress his knuckles, and they kept closing over and then cracking open again. His fingers were bruised, blue-black. His hand looked about as unsightly as he felt.
“You really clocked him, huh? I wish I’d seen it. Richard has had that coming for years.” She tugged his arm. “Come on in. I’ll put something on your hand. It must sting.”
It did sting. He was ignoring it. He’d ignored a lot worse.
Inside, Nana disappeared into the bathroom, probably searching through her store of ointments. Jamie was sitting at the piano playing something slow and bluesy, but he stopped when he saw Caleb.
“Hey,” he said, hopping up off the bench and walking over to meet Caleb in the middle of the room. “You’re the man of the hour.” He stuck out his hand, and Caleb shook it awkwardly with his right, puzzled. “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for punching that worthless crapsack in the face. If you ever get another chance, I hope you’ll take it. I’ve been wanting to punch him for years, but he’s never given me a good enough excuse.”
Caleb managed half a smile. “You ever punch anyone?”
“Does stage fighting count?”
“I doubt it.”
“Then no. Is it worth the busted knuckles?”
“If you’re busting them on Richard’s face, absolutely.”
Jamie grinned at that, rocking back on his heels. “So what’s this I hear from Breckenridge about them sending in a new guy?”
“I’m being demoted.”
“I don’t get it. What are they knocking you down for?”
“You name it, I’ve probably screwed it up.”
Jamie frowned. “They weren’t real happy about the concert, huh?”
“Nope. Or the fact that I came out of your sister’s house half-dressed at five in the morning and got into a brawl with her ex-husband in front of the press. Your guy called that ‘ethically questionable, at best.’ ”
“But you did what they hired you to do.”
“My idea of what they hired me to do is different from theirs.”
Caleb didn’t want to talk about it. He was still coming to terms with this version of himself—the one who failed to follow orders, failed his family, failed to win Ellen over.’
“What’s up with Carly?” He looked upstairs at her closed door.
“She won’t talk to me.”
For a man who was getting the cold shoulder, Callahan had a strangely satisfied expression. Caleb raised his eyebrows, and Jamie explained, “I’m making progress. She’ll cave eventually. I’ll be here when she does.”
