Knave of Broken Hearts (27 page)

He chuckled. “No skin off my ass. You can’t have him, how about me?” Mickey looked around. “This is some fancy club, but wacked, man. These fossils will make you old.”

“Hell, I feel old.” And sad and tired.

Mickey laughed. “Come on, let’s get the hell out of here. We can get a couple drinks, then go to my place and see what comes up. Wha’d’ya say?”

“Yeah.”

K
EN
FOLLOWED
Mickey through the apartment door. Mickey flipped on a light and tossed his tux jacket on a pile of clothing at the end of a long sectional couch that looked like it might have been shopped from the street corner. Sort of like Jim’s. Mickey grinned back at Ken. “Make yourself at home. I’m pretty sure my roommates aren’t here.”

Ken stopped. Roommates? Christ, he forgot how young Mickey was. “Why don’t we just go to my apartment?”

“Nah. We’re here now.” Mickey sidled over and helped Ken out of his tux coat. “What do you want to drink? I’ve got beer and—beer.”

“Hey, I think I’ll have beer.”

Mickey started to throw Ken’s jacket on the pile, but Ken grabbed it and hung it on the edge of a closet door that stood half open. Mickey chuckled and sashayed into the kitchen. A giant TV dominated the living space, with Mickey’s guitar on a stand taking second place. Ken perched on the edge of the sectional. Now that he was here, he didn’t want to be. He should just go home.

Mickey walked in with two beer bottles and handed one to Ken.

“Thanks. I’m actually feeling a little under the weather. I think I’ll take off and get some sleep. Sorry the event wasn’t better for you.”

Mickey sat close next to Ken and looked down at his bottle. “Yeah, well, you can make it up to me.”

Ken nodded. “Sure. Maybe we can go to dinner and a film next weekend.”

Mickey slid even closer until his side pressed against Ken’s. “I think we’re past that, don’t you?”

Ken frowned. “You don’t like movies?”

Mickey looked up in to his eyes. “No. I think you should be making it up to me right now. Here. Tonight.”

Ken sighed. “Did you hear me say I’m not feeling well? So that’s not going to happen.” He stood. “I’ll call you and set up another date.”
Sometime the next century.

Mickey grinned.

Ken heard the footsteps behind him and turned. Walking out of the hall to the bedrooms came GG and Tommy.

Mickey put a hand to his cheek and gasped. “Oh my. I guess my roommates were here after all.” He started to laugh.

J
IM
SLUGGED
back his third Jack. Fourth?
Whatever.
He stood in a circle of people waiting for the drawings to start, with Constance to his right holding on to his arm and Alex Murch on his left with an elbow slung casually around Jim’s neck. Had he ever felt this uncomfortable? Rich guys—club members—looked at him like the appointed heir or some crap. That’s how Alex had treated him all through dinner.

More like the appointed whore. The appointed bull being led into the mating stall.

A waiter walked by with a tray of complimentary champagne, and he twisted and grabbed two glasses, dislodging both holds on him. “Sorry, I saw Constance was empty.” He handed her the glass and kept the other for himself.

“Thank you.” She smiled sweetly, and her father smiled bigger.

“Jim, I know you and Constance probably plan to leave us old folks behind as fast as possible after this shindig ends, so let’s go talk a minute.”

Did he have to? He followed Murch and Constance to a quieter corner of the big room, sipping the champagne the whole way. Murch turned. “Constance told me about your business partner.”

He looked at Constance. “Excuse me?”

She nodded. “I told him about Billy Ballew being gay.”

What the fuck?
“He’s not my partner. He’s my boss. He owns the company.”

Murch waved a hand. “Right. I misspoke, but that can be changed. Constance is impressed with you, Carney, and so am I. I could use a man like you in my business. Or, if you don’t want to work for Constance’s dad, there are a number of contractors I deal with that would be lucky to get you. I’m sure with a recommendation as weighty as Constance’s or mine, they’d be delighted to take you on as a partner—”

The room spun. “Wait. I never said I wanted to leave Billy. He’s a great boss. And I haven’t got anything to bring to a partnership. I like what I do.” How did his heart get in his mouth? His temples pounded.

“Good evening, James.”

No, please God, no.

Murch looked over Jim’s shoulder with a big smile, and Constance did the same. “Good evening, Dr. Carney. How good to see you again.”

Jim’s father took Constance’s hand and kissed it. He’d always been able to get away with crap like that. “You look beautiful this evening, my dear.” He looked up at Alex Murch. “Sorry I missed dinner, Alex. I had an emergency.”

“Glad you could make it now, James.”

Jim stared into the depths of his empty champagne glass.
Drowning. Can’t breathe.
Why is it so cold in here?

Murch put a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “I was just making your son an offer I hope he can’t refuse. Seems to me he ought to be working at least as a partner. Constance believes in Jim, and I’d like to see him set up on a growth trajectory that allows him to use more of his skills.”

“What a good idea.” His father’s voice shivered down Jim’s back like an ice cube. “He’s never lived up to his potential. It would be good to see him in a place where he can excel.” His father sipped champagne. “Get him out from under the thumb of that fucking fag.”

Jim’s head snapped up. “That fucking fag, as you call him, could teach you a few things about being a man.”

Murch patted his shoulder. “I understand that the guy’s been your friend for a long time, Jim, and I admire loyalty. But I gotta go with your dad on this one. No queer’s gonna go far in construction, and you’ve got a big future ahead of you.”

Constance frowned. “I never asked you to try to take Jim away from his current company.”

“But you want what’s best for him, right?”

Jim held out a hand and stepped back. “Stop. Just stop.” God, the water was at his nose and rising. “I never asked anybody to help me. I don’t want your help.”

Murch nodded. “I know. You’re an independent guy like me. Your father told me how you’ll do anything to help your brother be an architect.”

Ian!
Jim took another step back. Did Murch know his deal with his father? Did everyone know he was a hired rent boy?

Constance reached out toward him. “Jim, are you okay? You’re white as snow. Sweetheart—”

“No. Can’t—” His heart hammered, but it didn’t seem to help. No blood reached his brain. Black dots swam in a sea of white light.

Falling.
Am I?
The floor hit his hip.
How?

K
EN
STARED
at GG and Tommy walking toward him. Three against one, and one of the three made mountains look small.

Mickey leaned against the edge of the couch, casual and self-assured. “We thought you’d enjoy a little ménage.” He shrugged. “It’s my kink, you see.”

Think, dammit.
“I don’t do multiples.”

“No worries, baby. You just have to lie there.”

“Like I would have done if the drug had worked?”

“Exactly. You didn’t drink your beer, so no drug tonight, but that’s okay. I enjoy a little slap and tickle too.”

“You’re a sick little fuck.” His eyes darted around the room.

“Awww. That’s not what your mommy would say. If you weren’t such a mama’s boy, I never would have had a chance. You’d be with that big blue-collar white hunk and Mommy be damned. But not the doctor. Oh no. When his mother says jump, he says how high—in Japanese.”

Jesus, his own condemnation. “Out of the mouths of assholes.”

Mickey laughed. “I do love your sense of humor, doc. I hope it holds up.” He flicked his fingers, and Tommy started toward Ken.

Instead of backing up, Ken stepped forward. No weapons by the walls. He needed something.

“J
IM
,
OH
my God. Jim. Somebody help!” Candace leaned over him, supporting his head with her arm.

How did he get here? Chest hurt. “Heart.”

“Sweet Jesus. He’s having a heart attack.”

He whispered against her ear. “Ken. Call Ken, please. Please.”

“Ken? Oh, Dr. Tanaka. Your doctor.”

“Heart. Need Ken.”

His father’s face loomed in his fuzzy vision. “An ambulance is coming.”

“No, no. Ken. Please.”

From far, far away, Constance said, “He wants his cardiologist. I have his number. He’s my tenant.” Pause. He tried to keep consciousness. Constance’s voice rang in his ears like a bell. “Ken, oh Ken, thank God—”

Jim sighed and let the blackness have its way.

T
HE
PHONE
buzzed in his pocket.
Thank God.
He grabbed for it and sidestepped Tommy as the huge dumbass made a grab for him. Ken clicked. “Help. Help—”

“Ken, oh Ken. Thank God.”

“Constance. Help—”

“Jim’s in trouble. We think it’s a heart attack. He’s asking for you. His father is going with him to the hospital in the ambulance. I’m following.”

Every drop of blood drained from his head. “It’s not a heart attack. It’s mitral valve. Tell Carney mitral valve. It’s important.”

The three assholes had stopped and stared at him like he’d lost his mind.
Good.

He screamed into the phone, “Tell Jim—I’ll be there.”

With one hand he swept forward and grabbed the guitar. With every particle of will, he slammed it into Tommy’s head. The guitar cracked but didn’t shatter as the big man went down.

Mickey and GG stared with open mouths.
Who’s most dangerous?
Ken rammed the broken remains into GG’s gut, then smashed him with a fist to the chin, which hurt like bloody hell. He spun on Mickey, who raised his hands and backed up. “Run, asshole, because when I’m through with you, you’ll need your law degree to get yourself out of prison.”

Ken ran for the door, made it to the parking lot, and raced the Lexus toward the hospital with his foot pressed to the floorboards. He hit a stoplight on Harbor Boulevard. “Come on. Come on.” Traffic thinned in the opposite direction, and still the light didn’t change. In a break between cars, he stomped the accelerator and sped through the intersection to a cacophony of honking from angry drivers. He cut to the right onto residential streets and set new neighborhood speed records, forgetting about stop signs completely. Finally he pulled up in front of the hospital, stopped, and jumped out. The guard rushed forward. Ken flashed his credentials. “Sorry. They just brought in my patient. Can you park it for me?”

“Sure, doc. No problem.”

Ken ran into the lobby and raced down the hall to Emergency, waving at the volunteers at the reception desk. He stopped at the nurse’s station. “I’m looking for Jim Carney. They just brought him in.”

The older nurse cocked her head. “Dr. Carney?”

“No. His son is my patient.”

She looked at the computer. “Yes, they’re doing tests, and he’s been scheduled for emergency surgery.”

Shit.
He nodded. “Thanks.”

He trotted toward the emergency waiting room. When he rounded the corner into the smallish room, Constance sat by herself on the couch, leaning forward and holding her middle like she hurt. She really cared about Jim, which made Ken want to cry. Alex Murch paced at the back of the room. When he looked up at Ken, he frowned. Constance stared at him for a moment like she didn’t see him; then she leaped to her feet, ran to him, and threw her arms around his neck. “Oh God, I’m so glad you’re here.” She stared up into his face. “Were you having some kind of problem when I called?”

“Long story but okay now. Did you tell Dr. Carney what I said?”

“I told him about the mitral valve, if that’s what you mean?”

Murch walked up beside Constance. “What’s going on?”

She held up a hand at her father and looked at Ken squarely. “I’m concerned. Jim doesn’t get along with his father. I know Dr. Carney is supposed to be really good, but—”

Murch scowled. “You’re not serious, Constance? Carney may not be my favorite pal, but he’s an okay guy and I hear an excellent surgeon.”

Ken nodded. “He won’t do the surgery. It’s not permitted on a family member.”

Constance glanced at her father. “But he might be in the operating room, right?

He took Constance’s hands. “I’ll make sure Jim’s safe. Don’t worry.”

He turned and ran out of the waiting room toward the operating rooms. As he approached, he saw the hospital’s chief of surgery, Malcolm Nishimura, walking toward him. Ken slowed. “Mal, I’m looking for Jim Carney, Dr. Carney’s son. He’s my patient.”

“Eloqua’s doing an emergency surgery with Carney scrubbed in. I didn’t realize it was his son.” His frown said he didn’t like it.

“I’d like to scrub for the surgery.”

Mal frowned. “It’s going to be a crowded in there. Is there an issue?”

“No. Just want to observe, if I can.”

“Ask Eloqua.”

“I’d rather ask you.” Ken gazed at Mal.
Don’t flinch.
Carney was talented but not well liked. He multiplied the arrogance of cardiovascular surgeons times ten. Fortunately Nishimura was a neurosurgeon, the only specialty with more inherent clout.

Mal hesitated, then nodded. “You got it. Grab scrubs in the locker and tell them I authorized your observation.”

“Thanks, Mal. I owe you.”

“OR Six.”

It took five long minutes to find scrubs and suit up. Shit, he felt like
he
was having the heart attack. Outside the prep area, he looked in. Carney was talking to Eloqua. Ken pushed open the door, and Carney looked up. “What are you doing here?”