Chapter Thirteen

Chris stormed through work for several days, biting heads off when he normally would have taken a deep breath and counted to ten. His employees kept their distance, unless they absolutely needed to check with him about something. Fine by him. Jasmine hadn’t even made him coffee this morning.

Furious Beth would expect him to hold certain political views and not vote for whoever he damned well felt like voting for, he deliberately turned on the talking heads when he got home from work, and tuned the radio to a political talk show while he was in the truck.

It didn’t help much that what passed for political news was so outlandish he finally shut it all off. When had reporting the facts from both sides devolved into biased talking points broadcast to rile everyone up and to hate their political enemies? What had happened to this country? Where were the traditional politicians with their polite doublespeak? Now, they were constantly on the attack against their rival politicians, or attacking their own people. Attack, attack, attack. It was exhausting and unpleasant.

He'd been letting the shitstorm of the political news play in the background for years now, rarely giving it his attention except during the elections, when there was no way to avoid it. To be honest, as a white guy, nothing that happened touched him much, so why should he get involved?

He had a business to run. He avoided political conversations at the club, and the few times anyone tried to engage him on the topic of conservatives versus liberals, he’d held up his hands and claimed to be an independent. That shut people up and they moved on to talking about the next ride or the latest game. Whatever happened to Bush’s compassionate conservativism? Reagan’s supply-side economics? Now all they talked about was social issues.

Chris didn’t give a shit if someone was gay, or wanted an abortion, or a guy liked to dress up like a chick. He didn’t care if people were religious or not, or what church they went to or what color skin they had. He cared about politicians wasting taxpayer money on pointless projects and over-regulating business for stupid reasons. He also cared about illegal immigration. Not because he wanted a wall to keep them out, but because it affected his business. Unlicensed builders and construction workers drove down what he could bid on projects. His company’s good reputation kept the work coming in, even if he cost more, because he had long-standing business relationships, and his work was guaranteed. Also, his customers liked knowing his guys were skilled at what they did and his projects rarely ran over budget. He never left a job until it was finished.

He never forgot his mother had been an illegal immigrant. When his parents met and fell in love, she’d had to cross back over into Mexico without being discovered, apply for a visa, enter America legally, and then get married to his father in Vegas. She’d been pregnant with him at the time. Her stories about crossing the border, and the steps they’d had to take to get her legal citizenship, had scared and stressed her such that she still talked of it today.

Personally, he knew a bunch of guys who’d entered the country illegally at some point, and eventually found a way to citizenship. Some of them worked for him, and they’d learned on the job working for the illegal contractors. As a businessman who needed good workers, he didn’t have the luxury of never hiring someone who had once been illegal, or who once worked for his competitors.

But he also knew plenty of drug dealers and out-and-out criminals came across the border illegally. Some of them tried to set up marijuana farms locally. Some succeeded. Those immigrants were dangerous and unwelcome, though no more so than America’s homegrown dealers. He also worried terrorists from the Middle East would enter the country through the southwestern desert. As a state bordering Mexico, residents saw a fair share of fresh illegals regularly. Even as he frowned over the threat, he wasn’t so ignorant that he didn’t know white supremacy threatened America’s peace, even more than foreign extremists. His sister’s crazy ex was an extremist and member of a group in Albuquerque, even though the guy was Hispanic. It made no sense.

But the immigration issue was fucked, and he didn’t honestly believe either party was going to fix it. The wall was pointless. Walls could be scaled, knocked down, circumvented, one way or another. And, to his thinking, being caught and kept in an air-conditioned, temporary holding area, even inside chain-link fences, while being fed three meals a day, allowed to bathe, change clothes, use the bathrooms wasn’t “jail.” Some of those people were safer under government control than they were trapped inside a coyote’s semi-truck trailer in 100-degree temperatures. Eventually, people got their cases heard, and either were allowed to stay or they were returned to their home countries.

Did bad things happen? Yep. They happened to people all the time. Thinking about the neighbor they’d caught with his hand up his five-year-old sister’s dress one day taught him that when he was only nine. Immigration wasn’t an issue that influenced his vote.

Still. He had decided not to vote to reelect the conservative candidate for president in the last election. He could put up with some indiscretions, some political differences, but he had struggled to put up with the idiocy of the guy. Plus, that old question, are you better off now than you were before the guy was elected? had an easy answer. Hell no. The idiot had started up a trade war, heavily impacting his costs, and therefore, impacting his business. He sincerely regretted voting for the guy. If Beth had been willing to talk about this stuff calmly, without freaking out on him and kicking him out of her house, he wouldn’t have been sleeping alone in his own bed since Sunday.

He ran his hands over his face, over the beard he’d had trimmed up nice for Beth, and cursed. Now, instead of obsessing over Beth’s fine ass and the noises she made when she came, and thinking about how soon he could get into her again, he was obsessing over politics, something he hated. Fuck it. He had work to do.

Where was the damned list of supplies he needed for the upcoming Franklin project?

“Jasmine! Get you prego ass in here,” he yelled towards the partially open door to the front office. The volume of the rock classics radio channel she played during business hours turned up to rival the sound at a live concert. How could she even hear the phone on her desk if it rang?

Jesus. He pushed himself up and stomped over to the door.

“Do you have the Franklin project file?” he yelled.

She flung the file at him over her shoulder like a frisbee and he had to scramble to catch it before all the papers fell out and scattered.

“Thanks,” he yelled and huffed back into his office, slamming shut the door harder than necessary. The volume of the radio went back down to its normal level. Women.

He opened the folder and sorted the papers, looking for the page he needed.

Beth would like Jasmine. Jasmine would like Beth. If Beth had witnessed the past few minutes, she’d have laughed at him and told him to go make peace with his assistant. He’d liked the way Beth had treated people when they were out together at the restaurant in Santa Fe, and even at the café, the DMV and the market, brief as those observations were. She was a person who recognized and appreciated people who served others, including waiters and secretaries.

He swung his chair around towards the window and tilted back, looking out at the fence bordering the property where he kept his office, equipment and supplies. The sun was blisteringly hot now the storm had moved on. He took a deep sigh, one that shudder through his body. He should make a run out to the sites where the guys were working and make sure they all had cold drinks. He knew his foremen made sure there was always plenty of cold water…but he could deliver flavored drinks and a few packs of beer for after work. An apology for his mood the past few days.

A couple of assertive knocks on his door drew his attention back into the room.

“Come in.”

Jasmine waddled in and settled on the couch across from his desk. He was going to have to help her stand when she was ready to leave.

“I sense a change in the atmosphere. Are you ready to talk?”

Women and their damned intuition.

“Talk about what?” He would not spill his guts to someone half his age and expect understanding. Especially from a woman. Worse, much as he loved having her as his assistant, Jasmine was what he considered “woke.”

“What happened between you and Beth that’s turned you into a raging bear with a thorn stuck in his paw?”

He bent back over his desk and fiddled with the Franklin papers, pretending to be busy. He picked up his pencil and made a fake notation in the margin.

“Nothing’s happened. It’s over. We didn’t suit.”

“R e a l l y?” she drawled.

He snuck a look from under his eyebrows and she was shaking her head.

“Well, that’s convenient timing. I came in to tell you Evelyn called this morning to say she was going to be in Santa Fe today and wanted to know if you could meet for dinner before she headed back to Albuquerque.

“When did she call?”

“I think it was around nine this morning.” She avoided his eyes, studying her nails.

Chris looked at the old analog clock on the wall above Jasmine’s head and quirked an eyebrow at her.

“It’s almost the end of the day now. You couldn’t have told me this earlier?”

She shrugged. “I thought if you weren’t responding to her text messages or phone calls, you wouldn’t care if you got the message she left in the office.”

He had been ignoring his phone most of the day. Well, not true. He’d been ignoring anything that wasn’t work-related or from Beth. And, truthfully, he didn’t want to meet Evelyn for dinner.

Jasmine crossed her arms over her chest, resting them on her pregnant stomach.

“The grown-up thing to do would be to go meet her and tell her you’re into someone else, face-to-face, instead of ghosting her.”

“I’m a free man. Not into anybody, and I’m not ghosting her. I’m busy.”

She stared at him. “Wow, that’s three lies in one sentence.”

She held up three fingers, flipping down one.

“One, you are definitely ghosting Evelyn, because you’re not responding to any of her attempts to contact you.”

She flipped down a second finger.

“You’re totally into Beth.”

She flipped down the third finger.

“Therefore, you are no longer a free man.”

He broke, tossing the papers down on the desk and rubbing his eyes.

“If a woman tells you to leave her house in no uncertain terms, then I’m pretty sure you’re not in a relationship with her, so you’re free.”

“I knew it. You did something stupido.”

He scowled at his assistant. “I did no such thing. It was a mutual parting over serious differences of opinion.”

“What did you let her think you think, that you don’t really think?”

He shook his head. Sometimes it was hard to follow what she was saying, even sober.

“Just a bunch of political stuff.”

Jasmine leaned back. “Bill told me she’s a teacher from California. So, I’m guessing she’s a liberal, and you spewed some conservative, oh excuse me, independent, bullshit and pissed her off.”

“This conversation is over. Go back to work.” He checked the clock. “There’s still twenty minutes left in the workday.”

“I came in here to tell you I’m leaving early. This baby is driving me crazy and my back aches.”

She struggled up to her feet. When he rose to come help her, she waved him off.

“Since you’re not talking to Beth, you might as well return Evelyn’s messages and see if you can treat one woman with respect today.”

With that, she waddled back out of his office, grabbed her purse and waddled out the door of the trailer, letting the door bang shut behind her. He hoped one of the guys in the yard would help her into her truck.

Chris leaned back with a sigh.

Then, he did the responsible thing and picked up his phone to call Evelyn.

After a single ring, she picked up.

“I didn’t think you were going to catch me before I headed back.”

“I’ve had a busy day. We got behind last week because of the storm and we’ve been trying to play catch-up this week.”

“Okay. I get that. I just wrapped up an appointment. It’s the end of the day. I can wait around, if you want to meet up for dinner. I mean, you’ve always been the one driving down to see me, and I’m long overdue to be the one to drive up to see you.”

Chris didn’t know what to make of that concession. Truth was, he’d never wanted her up at his place. He better get this over with.

“Yeah, I’ll be done here in about half an hour, and it’ll take me about twenty minutes to get into a restaurant in Santa Fe. Did you have a place in mind?”

“I heard Flor del Sol is nice.”

The center of Chris’ chest ached.

“Um, I don’t feel like going anywhere that fancy. I’m dressed in jeans and an old t-shirt.”

“No problem. We can go casual. You told me there was a great BBQ joint here as well.”

Why’d she zero in on the places and food he now associated with Beth?

“How about we meet towards the south end of town at Café Castille? That way it’s not far off Interstate 25, and a shorter drive home for you,” he suggested, knowing nothing was more unromantic than ten-dollar enchilada plates. The place would be packed with families and kids running around. He hoped anyway.

He heard her pausing to think. Maybe she’d bail and decide against dinner.

“Sure, Café Castille it is. See you there at, say, 6:00?”

“Sounds good.”

He had to eat anyway.

At 6:00 on the dot, Chris pulled into the parking lot at the restaurant, which was located in a strip mall with several other restaurants and shops. He saw Evelyn’s blue jeep was already in the parked in the far corner, so he pulled in next to it. She was sitting in the driver’s seat reading something on a device like Beth’s. He got out, circled around, and tapped on her window. She looked up and smiled at him.

He stepped back so she could open her door and climb out. She was dressed up in an expensive suit that showcased her generous curves and toned legs. She reached out, and they hugged awkwardly.

“Hi. I didn’t feel like sitting at a table alone, so I thought I’d wait for you in my jeep.”

“I see that. Shall we go in?”

“Sure.”

He gestured for her to proceed in front of him, and she led the way up to the café. As they approached the front door, a noisy family of five exited, laughing and talking loudly. Chatter and the clanking of dishes, shouted orders and general dinner crowd noise spilled out of the place. Definitely not romantic.

Evelyn waited for the family to exit and then headed in towards the hostess stand. She had to know this was not a great place for a date, and she was taking it in stride. She’d always been a trooper.

The hostess, a girl who barely looked old enough to be working, directed them to a table still wet from being cleaned. She plopped down two sets of utensils rolled in paper napkins and two glasses of water.

“Your server will be right with you,” she said, and then hustled off to seat another family, this one with at least six kids.

Evelyn unrolled a napkin and wiped down her seat before sitting down.

“I must say,” Evelyn said as she took a laminated menu from the stand on the table that also held three types of hot sauce and ketchup, “I didn’t know people still had such large families.”

Chris chuckled and grab a menu for himself. “I guess someone is having kids because the world population keeps growing.”

They quickly perused the menu, and a few minutes later, when the waitress, not much older than the hostess, showed up, they both ordered the tacos plate and sodas.

“What brings you up to Santa Fe, today?” Chris asked.

“I needed to meet with a potential client,” she said. “And I realized I have never offered to come up to see you, which, in hindsight, is pretty selfish, I guess.”

Chris stretched back in his seat and looked over the busy restaurant.

“Our arrangement has always been casual, you know,” he said. “I never expected you to drive up to Santa Fe. Plus, I don’t like the idea of women driving alone on the highway at night.”

“You’ve stayed overnight at my place before,” she pointed out. “I would have happily stayed over at your’s.”

He snorted. He’d stayed twice in three years. Both times because of icy road conditions that developed after he’d gone down to Albuquerque. Not a habit.

“Evelyn, I should have called you after the last time and told you what’s going on.”

“Well, I’m here. Listening.” She smiled brightly at him. A fake smile.

He pondered what to say to let her down easy, and to avoid any drama, if possible. Why couldn’t she have asked him to dinner to break things off instead? It’d be so much easier.

She sighed.

“Listen, Chris, I’ve already picked up on the signals.” She gestured around the family restaurant. “This isn’t a date, and I think you choose the place to send that message. I’m not stupid. Or at least, not a total fool. I admit I harbored hopes for us I shouldn’t have, but I think I can see what’s happening now.”

“You’re a great person, Evelyn. I’ve enjoyed being friends, well, friends-with-benefits with you, but I’m afraid that aspect of the friendship is over. I would still like to be friends, of course.”

She studied him, tipping her head to the side.

“This isn’t embarrassment about what happened—or rather what didn’t happen last time. It’s not a big deal. I get it. We’re older and these things are pretty inevitable.”

He was not discussing his health with her. Especially not that aspect of it.

“That’s not it.”

“I’d worry you met someone and fell in love, except you seem down right now. Do you want to talk?”

Nope. He hadn’t wanted to talk about Beth to Jasmine or the guys, and he sure as hell didn’t want to discuss her with Evelyn.

“I’d like to have a meal with an old friend and then part ways for the night.”

She smiled back at him sadly. “You never were much for talking out your feelings, or talking much at all.” She busied herself with tidying up the table, putting the menus neatly back in the holder at the side of the table. “I hope the food’s good here.”

A young kid in the booth behind them popped up over his shoulder.

“The tacos are da bomb! You’ll like ‘em. They’re my favorite.”

Chris twisted around and winked at the kid, who was standing up and listening in on their conversation.

“What he said,” he echoed, turning back to Evelyn, brushing off crumbled hamburger from his shoulder the kid had spit out on him. He took a deep breath. He owed Evelyn an explanation, just not any details.

“I met someone. Never thought I would, but I did. Of course, I already fucked it up and no, I’m not talking about it with you or anyone else.”

“Got it.” She fussed with her utensils and tried to press the creases out of her napkin. “So, what did you think about the Ice Wolves game the other night?”

At that moment, the waitress came by with their plates and drinks, and they ate, sliding into the comfortable banter of two people who love a specific sport.

One problem solved. Evelyn had let him off easy, and he knew it. The remaining question was, would Beth be as forgiving? Because sitting here with Evelyn felt wrong on every level, and he realized that Beth was too great a prize to walk away from because of a first fight.