Finding Mr. Wrong Page 5

  "Listen," Jax said, doing his best to remain calm. "I can get you the money, but I need a little time."

  Thankfully the man relaxed. He rounded his shoulders, his fingers uncurling. "I gave your old man a month to get me the money. That month was over a week ago. My boss wants what he's owed now." The guy looked him over, and Jax peered at him. What exactly was he trying to figure out? "Look," the man said with a sigh. "You seem like a decent enough guy. I'm sorry your old man dragged you into his shit, but you gotta understand that the people I work for don't play games. They will kill him. I've bought him as much time as I could. It was originally two weeks. I can't do any more."

  Jax swallowed hard. He wasn't sure why the guy was being so damned nice. In all his years of dealing with men like this, not one had ever given a shit about him or his dad. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

  "Sure. And I'm sorry about roughing him up. It's nothing personal. I can't let him think there's no consequences to his actions. He knew what he was getting into. I made it clear to him."

  Jax eyed him warily. "I really do appreciate this and all, but why are you telling me this?"

  The guy shrugged. "When your old man first approached me, we had lunch. He talked about you a lot. How talented you were. I dropped by the studio one day. You were at lunch, but Dale showed me around. He was right." He held Jax's gaze longer than necessary, and Jax nodded.

  "Thanks, um...."

  The guy reached into his jacket, and Jax took a step back.

  "Relax," the guy said, one hand up. "Just grabbing you a card." He pulled out a black card and handed it to Jax. In the center of the card in simple white font was the name Rai Santos, and beneath it a cell phone number.

  Why was the guy giving him his number? As if reading his thoughts, Rai shrugged, his lips tugging at the corners.

  "I know it's kinda ballsy for me to ask, considering, but if you ever want to get a drink.... Like I said, it's nothing personal about your old man, and I wasn't going to hurt him, just scare him."

  This day was just getting weirder by the minute. First his childhood sweetheart shows up out of the blue, and then a mob enforcer or runner or whatever the hell Rai was, was asking him out. "And if I politely decline?"

  Rai shrugged, his smile easing Jax's nerves. "Then it's a shame, but what's a guy to do?"

  Under other circumstances, Jax might have taken the guy up on his offer, but getting involved with the kind of guy Jax had spent most of his life avoiding wouldn't be smart, no matter how good the sex might be, and Jax had no doubt that sex with Rai Santos would be hot. The promise was there in Rai's eyes. Regardless, Jax nodded.

  "Okay." He slipped the card into the back pocket of his jeans. "I need to go to the bank. I don't keep that kind of cash around."

  Rai headed for the back door of the studio. "You go. Your old man stays."

  "Sure." Jax followed him inside, refusing to meet his father's gaze. "I'll be as fast as I can."

  "I'll be right here," Rai assured him, looking around the studio.

  An hour later, Jax was handing over everything he had left to Rai. He clenched his jaw as Rai counted it. With a curt nod, Rai placed the envelope in the inside pocket of his jacket. His brows furrowed, and he let out a heavy sigh.

  "Sorry, man. Piece of advice? Do something about your old man before you end up on the streets or worse." He started for the front door, then paused to look at Jax. "I can keep him out of my boss's place and warn off some of the lowlifes, but other than that, there's not much I can do."

  "I really appreciate that. Thank you." And Jax was thankful. Rai didn't have to care. He didn't have to do anything other than collect his boss's money. Jax considered himself extremely fortunate. It wasn't every day he met a man in Rai's position with a conscience. The guy could have easily seen Dale for the easy mark he was and exploited him until it was time to get rid of him.

  "And if you change your mind about that drink, just give me a call." Rai winked at him before leaving. After closing the door to the studio, Jax locked up and flipped over the Open sign. It wasn't like he was going to miss any customers. Before the Hart & Home job, he hadn't had a commission in almost a month. The only thing that had kept him afloat was the last large commission from an Irish pub. And now that money was gone, and the Hart & Home project money was spent before he'd even started the damn thing. Fucking fantastic.

  Jax locked up his studio and set the alarm. He wouldn't be back down there tonight. Until Hart & Home sent in a new project manager, there wasn't much Jax could do. As soon as he opened the apartment door, Dale was there, sporting the same expression he always did after he'd royally fucked up.

  "Jax, I'm so sorry."

  "I don't want to hear it, Dad." Jax slammed the door and headed for his tiny kitchen. He opened the fridge and sighed. They were out of everything. Again. Grabbing the orange juice, he poured himself half a glass.

  "Maybe I should have just gone with your mom," Dale muttered quietly. "You would have been better off."

  "No, you fucking don't." Jax rounded on his father. "You don't get to fucking guilt-trip me, Dad. None of this 'I should have died' bullshit. You fucked up, now you own up to it." He hated when his father did that. He'd fuck up and then make Jax feel shitty about being mad at him. For years it had worked. The fear of losing the only family he had, the only person who gave a fuck about him had terrified Jax, and he quickly forgave his father, but not anymore. He loved his father, but accepting this bullshit wasn't going to happen. How much longer could they keep doing this?

  Dale dropped down onto one of the two dining room chairs belonging to a small wood table Jax had rescued from his neighbor's garbage a few months ago. He'd cleaned it, sanded it down, painted it, and varnished it. It looked good as new.

  "No, you're right. I'll--"

  "Please, stop." Jax shook his head. "Don't tell me you're going to find a way to make this right. That you'll make it up to me. That you're sorry you disappointed me. Again. Just... don't." He couldn't meet his father's gaze, couldn't stand to see the shame in his eyes. "We were lucky this time, Dad. If Rai had been like the others...." Jax couldn't even bring himself to finish his sentence.

  "Rai?"

  Why did his father sound so surprised? "Yeah, the guy who came to collect the money." This time he did look at his father, who was eyeing him. "You had lunch with him or something."

  "Yeah, I know who Rai is. He told you his name?"

  "Yeah. Gave me his card. I think he wanted to hook up."

  Dale cursed under his breath. "No wonder he seemed so interested in you when I was talking about you."

  "Thanks. I think."

  "I mean, I had no idea he was bi."

  "Whatever. I'm going to lie down for a while. Please try not to get mixed up in anything while I'm asleep."

  His father frowned but nodded. After some hesitation, he looked up at Jax. "What about the studio?"

  "I don't know. I'll figure something out."

  Dale opened his mouth, but Jax didn't want to talk about it anymore. He returned what was left of the juice to the fridge, closed the door, and left for his room. Their apartment was tiny, but it was clean. His father slept on the fold-out couch, and he had a small closet to himself for his clothes and things. Jax had the bedroom because Dale had insisted on it. After all, Jax was the only one who worked. Dale's VA benefits were barely enough to cover things like food and health care.

  Jax locked himself in his room and sat on the edge of the bed. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hold back the tears stinging his eyes. When was he going to catch a fucking break? His entire life had been spent trying to claw his way out of debt and despair.

  Every time he tried to do something with his life, he'd soon find himself back to square one. For a moment, he thought he'd found his home here, thought he'd be putting down roots. It was the first time in his life he felt stable, where he'd managed to start up the studio he'd always wanted. Granted, it was a struggle, had been for years, and his spi
raling debt kept him up at night, but he had a bed, a clean comfortable one, that was his. The tiny apartment was about the same size as his studio, and he didn't own it, but it was his space. He wasn't moving from place to place every few months, sneaking off in the middle of the night, leaving what scant possessions he had. He was tired of living out of a beat-up backpack. Tired of going hungry. Of working shit jobs for shit pay only to get fired because his dad had somehow fucked it up for him again.

  Jax rubbed his sore eyes and wiped at his tearstained cheeks. He was staring down the darkness again, and he hated it. What the hell was he supposed to do now? There was no way he could recuperate that money in time, and a loan was out of the question. His credit was shit now. The banks wouldn't touch him.

  He was so fucking tired.

  Jax opened his nightstand drawer and smiled. He pulled out the worn album. It was only a cheap plastic thing, but he'd taken exceptional care of it over the years. No matter how many times he and his dad moved, Jax always kept the album close. Inside were old Polaroid photos of him and Matthew. He chuckled at one picture of them pulling funny faces, their cherub cheeks flushed, tongues sticking out, and eyes crossed. Matthew had received a shiny new Polaroid camera for his birthday. He'd brought it to school, the excitement on his face when he'd shown Jax the camera had been infectious, and--as tended to happen whenever he was around Matthew--Jax's troubles faded away. They took lots of pictures, and then Matthew split them so they'd each have some to put in their albums. Did Matthew still have his?

  Jax had been dumbstruck when he realized the beautiful, elegant man dressed in the expensive suit and coat was Matthew. His heart had slammed into his chest, and he was pretty sure he'd stopped breathing. He'd know Matthew anywhere. Matthew hadn't forgotten him. Had he thought about Jax much over the years?

  Jax returned the album to the nightstand. It didn't matter whether Matthew had thought about him or not. Matthew hated him, and he had every right to. In truth, Matthew could have been a dick and had the commission pulled, but instead he was sending someone else over. Maybe once the project was done, Jax could try approaching him again, talk to him, explain why he had to go all those years ago, and why he had to again. It was inevitable. Unless his luck miraculously changed, which was unlikely considering his track record--lady luck had a habit of being a real asshole--then he'd soon find himself having to bail. He was so tired of running.

  "I CAN'T believe this."

  Matthew flexed his fingers as he paced from one end of his office to the other. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. He'd had his chauffeur drive him around the city so he could calm down. He even managed to keep his cool when he called Adam and asked him to please ask Martin to come to the office as soon as possible. Now that he had both men in his office, Matthew was livid again.

  "Matthew, please don't be angry with Adam. I was the one who brought him in on this."

  Matthew spun toward his father. "And he went along with it behind my back!" He shook his head. "You both knew about Jax. How could you do this to me? The man ripped my heart out. What exactly did you expect would happen? Did Dario even commission him, or was that just some elaborate ruse to get me over to Jax's studio?"

  "The commission is real," Martin said, his eyes never leaving Matthew's. "Everything I told you about that was the truth."

  "With one tiny glaring omission. That the artist you hired conveniently happens to be Jax Foster, the guy responsible for your son having to see a therapist for months." Feeling exhausted, Matthew dropped down into his chair behind his desk, his voice quiet when he spoke. "How could you do this to me?" He moved his gaze to Adam, whose eyes were glassy.

  "I'm sorry, Matthew. I thought at best, maybe you'd be happy to see him, and at worst, you'd at least get some closure."

  No. No. Adam was not allowed to make Matthew feel bad about this. Matthew had every right to be angry. Damn his good intentions and sad puppy eyes. Matthew could feel his anger melting away.

  "Adam's right," Martin said softly. "This is a chance for you to put it behind you. Besides, you know how important this commission is, Matthew. You need to be the one to oversee it."

  Matthew crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not working with Jax Foster." He sounded like a petulant child, but for Christ's sake, he never asked for this.

  Martin sat forward, his voice gentle but stern. "Matthew, look at me."

  Reluctantly, Matthew did.

  "You're stronger than this. It's time to face up to your past and do what needs to be done. You've never shied away from a challenge. Never."

  Matthew wrinkled his nose. He hated that his father was right. He'd faced plenty of challenges throughout his career, traversed the murky and perilous waters of the corporate world. In his lifetime, he'd faced far greater obstacles than Jax Foster, and he'd conquered them all. This was one of their most important clients. The job had to be perfect, and no one would make more sure of that than Matthew.

  Maybe his dad and Adam were right. Maybe this was his chance to move on. To finally put Jax Foster behind him once and for all. Was he really going to cower in front of the man who'd hurt him so deeply? Shame washed over him. He'd come face-to-face with his past, and instead of holding his chin up, he'd turned tail and ran. Was he really going to give Jax Foster more control over his life? Matthew jumped to his feet, his body thrumming with renewed purpose and determination. This was his company and his life.

  "You're right. I have a job to do, and that includes something I should have done a long time ago. Jax Foster was my past. It's time to leave him there."

  Chapter Five

  YOU can do this.

  Matthew squared his shoulders and stood tall. He'd overseen hundreds of projects over the years, each one resulting in great success. When sharks and charlatans attempted to get one over on him and his business, he faced bitter court battles and came out the victor every time. Through economic strife, Hart & Home continued to thrive, because everything he did and said was thought through, every scenario and possible outcome taken into consideration. Impulsive was not a word in Matthew's dictionary, and neither was cowardice. He hadn't made it as far as he had by cowering before any man. He wasn't about to start now. All he had to do was approach this like any other collaboration and keep things strictly professional.

  Classic rock filtered out through a set of speakers somewhere in Jax's studio, and Matthew stood, watching as Jax maneuvered a large panel of glass. It was secured in some kind of harness attached to a type of pulley system, allowing him to move it this way and that against a furiously spinning stone wheel. The sturdy wood rack on the wall across from him held similar wheels in all sizes and materials.

  Even from this distance, it was mesmerizing to watch Jax work. He was a picture of focus and beauty, his profile too tantalizing for Matthew to ignore. The faded threadbare jeans were covered in paint splotches, as was his white T-shirt, which was caught in his waistband at the back, showing off the curve of an exceptional ass. The shirt's sleeves hugged the man's bulging biceps, his forearms corded in muscle, and his large hands moved deftly as he worked. He had clear protective goggles on, and his long hair was pulled back and tied up in a man bun. Jax Foster could have easily been in the midst of a photo shoot. All he needed was a motorcycle to straddle, or a lagoon to walk out of half-naked with rivulets of water rolling down his muscular chest.

  Oh my God. Really? You are not off to a good start. Matthew was stronger than this. And yet, he was still ogling the man. Stop it! Clearing his throat, he tapped the little bronze bell on the counter. The whirring of machinery stopped, and Jax looked up, a smile lighting up his handsome face. Damn him and his blasted dimple. Ignore the dimple.

  Jax moved his goggles to the top of his head, then wiped his hands on his jeans before he walked over, his smile wide. "Hey, Matty."

  Matthew kept his expression schooled. "I apologize for earlier. It was... unexpected. Mr. Esperanza is one of Hart & Home's oldest and most loyal clients. It's
extremely important he's satisfied with the final product. I'm here to offer any support you may need to ensure that happens."

  "Oh." Jax's smile faltered. "Right. Of course. I understand."

  Was that disappointment in Jax's voice? Regardless, Matthew ignored it. "If there's anything you need to complete this project, please don't hesitate to ask. You have Adam's contact details. He can get ahold of me anytime. I'm not here to micromanage. My job is to support you, make sure questions get answered, problems get solved, and everything remains on schedule."

  Jax nodded. He cocked his head. "Why you?"

  "I'm sorry?"

  "Why are you personally overseeing this project? I'm sure you have people for this sort of thing."

  Matthew nodded. "Like I said, Mr. Esperanza is one of our top clients. Your work is very impressive, but as we've never worked with you before, my father assured Mr. Esperanza that I would personally oversee the project." Which was true. Matthew wasn't about to mention he was also here to give himself some closure. "I was told you had some preliminary sketches?"

  Jax nodded toward his studio, and Matthew motioned for him to lead the way. He followed Jax inside to a section of the wall with a large floor-to-ceiling smooth flat board attached. Several long wide sheets of sketch paper were clamped securely in frames at the top in two columns.

  "I received photographs of the interior and exterior of the restaurant and came up with some options that I sent in to your assistant, who forwarded them on to Mr. Esperanza. He specifically asked for them to be done in the style of Alphonse Mucha, and narrowed it down to these three sets. He wants two very distinct works, one for each glass pane, but have them create one larger design for when the doors are closed. Originally he wanted a Paris scene but agreed this style would better suit the restaurant's new look. He's decided to go with a floral motif as well, now that the panels inside the restaurant have been installed. I enlarged the remaining sets so we could get a better idea of what they'd look like. Mr. Esperanza already approved the color palette for each one, depending on what we go with, and the shadowed-in parts are where the gold leaf would be applied."