Rooms - James L. Rubart [61]
As he alternated between watching the people and the almost cloudless sky, peace settled over him. A few minutes later a couple rode by with crimson helmets that matched their bikes. Micah pushed a button on his cell phone.
“Hello?”
“Me again.”
“Hey,” Sarah said.
“I think we’re due for some mountain biking.”
“Mad still?”
“I’m sorry.” Micah clamped his lips together for a moment. “Thanks for having the guts to speak truth.”
“You’re welcome.”
“So you want to ride?”
“How ’bout Friday?” Sarah said.
“Perfect.” He lowered his voice. “I miss you. Love you.”
“Me, too.”
He walked back to his car, planning to go straight back to his condo. But by the time he started the engine, he decided to find a distraction. No doubt he’d made the right decision about his employee; however, it didn’t make the frustration—and necessary strategizing that went along with the problem—any easier to deal with. Maybe a movie—no, he didn’t need to ingest another helping of his usual high-octane violence or blue comedy flicks. You are what you eat. Maybe he’d just find a restaurant with a game on.
Like he used to do with . . . Julie.
That morning Shannon had said she was doing fine. He hoped it was true. He should at least tell her what’s going on with the firing, or nonfiring. Besides, it would be good to touch base, see if she’d talk to him through more than just e-mail.
He raced down Mercer, then pulled onto I-5 and headed north. It had been more than two weeks since he’d met Julie at the Halfway Café. Time to break the face-to-face ice.
Six miles up the concrete river, he took the 85th Street exit and headed west toward Green Lake. A world he’d pushed out of his mind rushed back: Julie; her neighborhood; her house; the mountain of hours they’d spent planning RimSoft; the good, the bad, and the wonderful. Micah looked at his watch: 6:50. Probably should have called first, but he was already here.
He rang the doorbell and waited. The door swung open and revealed Julie’s familiar face—the striking looks, intelligent eyes, the softness of her blonde hair. Romance might be gone, but he didn’t want to lose the relationship. They’d been through too much together, accomplished too much, held too much of each other’s history in their heads and hearts to let it all slip away. If she was willing, he wanted friendship.
“May I help you?”
“Jules, listen, sorry to pop in without calling first, but it’s been a couple of weeks. I was close by and thought we should touch base.”
“Who—?”
“I meant it about being friends. And we own a company together. We should talk every now and then.”
She frowned and finished the sentence she’d started five seconds earlier. “Who are you?”
“All right, point taken.” Micah smiled. “I know I’ve been completely incommunicado the last three weeks other than e-mail, so I deserve that. But I want to start fresh and—”
“Listen, pal, if one of my friends set you up to do this, the humor part isn’t coming through.” She started to close the door, but he blocked it with his foot.
“What are you doing?”
“That’s it. If you don’t vanish off my porch instantly, I’m dialing 911.”
Micah removed his foot and his stomach jumped, as if on a roller coaster at full throttle. She wasn’t kidding. Julie pushed the door hard, but he threw his hands out and stopped it before it slammed shut. “Why are you doing this?”
“Jake! I need you here.” She turned her head. “Now!”
Micah didn’t know whether to shout or turn and run. He probably couldn’t have done either, even if he’d wanted to. The shock of what was unfolding froze him in place. Three seconds later Jake and his Popeye-sized forearms stood at the door. He didn’t look like a light joke would loosen him up.
“You got a problem, buddy? Need some help?” Jake’s tone of voice made it obvious he wasn’t about to help anyone.
“No, I’m fine thanks.” Micah steeled himself and turned