Page 11 of Embracing James

“I don’t even like coffee.”

“I’m not much for it, either, but I like the jolt.” Paul laughed to lighten the mood. “You’re more of a tea guy?”

“Yeah.” James finally smiled a little. “If I might ask first, what is the story with Chip?”

“Torkelson?” Paul snorted. He understood what James was trying to do—start with an easy topic before working up to something heavier.Fine.He could go with this. He had a few questions of his own and needed to work up to those, too.

“When I started buying properties, I got smart. I put in the work to improve the properties, but I realized I didn’t have to do everything myself. So, I built up the business enough that I could hire help. Once I could get others who were more able and suited to do the work, meaning they were trained electricians or plumbers or whatever. That helped. I knew what I was doing and could do it, but I’d rather have someone who is licensed and bonded. Their work is better anyway. So I worked with them and worked my ass off to build my business up enough that I was able to have others handling the day-to-day. I even have bookkeepers who are in charge of the books, too. I check their work meticulously and I know exactly what’s going on, but I don’t have to be on the property to know what’s happening. They get paid, have jobs, and I get the benefits.”

“You really are a powerhouse.”

He shrugged. “I just know how to find places people want and folks to do the work. I treat them well and do checks every day to keep them honest, but I’ve only had a few issues. I like being in charge and knowing I don’t have to worry about where the next check comes from. What about you? Is that what you like about being a business owner?”

“I have great stylists at the salon, but I can’t seem to keep people in the more menial jobs and end up doing them myself.”

He’d noticed that. James seemed to be swimming in clients and his stylists were always busy, but there was never anyone long-term at the reception desk. “I know it’s irksome to lose people, but what if you worked with the vocational school?”

“What do you mean?” James sat with him. “I’m all ears.”

“What if you worked with the vocational school and had the cosmetology students come to the salon to fill part-time jobs like the reception desk or clean-up, but with the provision that they could earn slots as stylists if they prove themselves? That way, you’d have someone at the desk and would still have turnover, but you’d be helping the kids who want to be there. They want to learn how to have their own salons or run businesses. Plus, it’s a great community service.”

James cocked his head and crinkled his bottom lip. “That’s an idea.”

“You’d get more loyalty, plus it’d be good and free advertising for you.”

James nodded. “I’d pay the kids something, unless the school wanted them working for experience, but you’re right. It’s a good thought.”

“And I could keep sweeping up every so often.” He didn’t want to leave James. The man needed help.

“You still want to?” James shook his head. “You’re worth millions. You shouldn’t be sweeping my floor.”

Ah. He’d wondered how long it would be before money was brought into the equation. “Oh?”

“You said you have people to do the jobs you’re willing to take on for me.” James rubbed his eyes, smearing his makeup a bit more. “It’s not right.”

“Honey, there’s a difference. I like hanging around the salon and being with you. You’ve accepted me in the way I want to be seen. I can be myself with you.” Here he sat on the floor with James and it felt normal. For the first time in a long while, he felt on the outside the way he felt on the inside and life was even. He liked feeling this way.

“I get it.”

“Do you?” He needed to know.

“You want people to see who you are, not how much you’re worth.”

“Yes.” He stared at James. From his dyed blue hair, his shimmering dark eyes, the liner around those eyes, the scruff on his cheeks, his impossibly beautiful face and the way he smiled even when frustrated…it all drew Paul in. He did like this man. He had since he’d met him.

James massaged his temples. “My dog sure likes you.”

“He seems to.” Would James like him, too? Enough to let him in and open up?

“So you think the vocational school students would be good employees?” James folded himself up. “And they’d be reliable?”

“They would.” He leaned back, resting on his hands and crossing his ankles. Doob stretched out beside him and rested his head on James’ lap. “What did Craig do to you?”

James paled and his eyes widened. “How did you figure it out?”

“You’re like a powder keg that’s so close to blowing if you don’t talk. I’m a safe place. I’ve been in bad spots and I can relate,” Paul said. “I’m here for you.”

James tensed, then exhaled. “About seven years ago, I met Craig at a party. We sort of hit it off, but mostly not enough to go out. When he was sober, he could be funny. When he got high, he got mean. I managed to keep him at bay until about two years ago. A mutual friend of ours set us up and I caved. I went with him and some friends to a club. He hit on me and I was in a bad place. I’d just been dumped and I was lonely. He wanted to dance, so we did, but it wasn’t good. There wasn’t a spark.”

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