“Then what the fuck is going on?” he demanded. She noticed Sanders and smiled while she began wringing out her hair.
“Sandy! You came back with him? I didn't know that was the plan! And weren't you coming home in a couple days?” Tate asked, looking back at Jameson.
“No, I'm home now. Tatum. Explain.”
She glanced over her shoulder. Rich was waving and saying hello. Rusty was looking uncomfortable in her lounge chair, pulling a towel over her bikini clad body. Tate turned back around and gestured for her two guys to follow her into the conservatory.
“He just showed up!” she hissed, glancing out the windows. “Scared the shit out of me! I was cleaning shit out of the garage when he popped up. Said he was 'in the neighborhood', and figured he'd 'see how I was doing'. Then I couldn't get rid of him! So I called Rusty and made her come over, thought I could pawn him off on her.”
“Great friend,” Jameson snorted. She glared at him.
“Shut up. You'd rather I was here alone with him?” she pointed out.
“No, I'd rather he wasn't here at all. Just tell him to get the fuck out.”
“Not all of us can be as rude as you, Jameson.”
“I once heard you tell a man to go 'suck his mother's dick' just for smacking your ass. I think you can tell Rich Klimas to get out of your house.”
“That's different, that was a stranger. This guy works for you! I didn't know if you knew he lived out here, or if you had told him he could stop by whenever, or if you'd come back and be pissed off that I'd offended a colleague or whatever. I figured I would just suffer through him for a couple hours, then shoo him away and hide inside for the next couple days,” she explained.
“Weak, Tate,” Jameson called her out.
“I have no problem informing him that it is time for him to go, and that in the future, calling before dropping by is a prerequisite,” Sanders interrupted. Tate beamed at him.
“Thank you, Sandy. At least someone is nice and understanding,” she turned to glare at Jameson.
“It would be my pleasure,” Sanders replied before heading outside. Tate turned to watch him go.
“I swear, he gets bigger every time I see him. Do you think he-” she started, but was cut off when Jameson roughly grabbed her upper arm and began dragging her out of the conservatory. She knew him well enough to keep her mouth shut till they were in the library and the door had been slammed shut.
“I wanted to surprise you by coming home early,” he stated, tossing his jacket onto the couch.
“I hate surprises. See what happens when you try to surprise somebody?” she told him, walking over to a cabinet which held towels. After enough times of Tate wandering into the library after a dip in the pool, Jameson had started keeping towels and robes for her in the room.
“Apparently what happens is I find another man in my home,” he replied. She rolled eyes and wrapped her hair up in one towel before wrapping another one around her waist.
“Oh good lord, you know nothing was happening. Don't be mad at me, be mad at him,” she instructed.
“How do I know this hasn't been going on the entire time I've been gone?” he snapped, yanking his tie loose and throwing it onto his desk.
“Is that a joke?” she laughed. He marched up to her, backing her into some shelves.
“Am I fucking laughing?”
“I certainly am.”
His hand went around her throat.
“I am not amused, Tatum. I don't like people in our house, period, and especially not random single men, and particularly not when I'm not at home,” he hissed. She glared up at him.
“Well, neither do I. I'm sorry if I handled the situation badly, but you're being a fucking baby about it. Do you honestly think I would do something? Do you honestly think I would fuck somebody else while you're gone?” she demanded, yanking at his wrist. He laughed, a low sound in the back of his throat, and he let her go, moving his palm to press down on top of her chest.
“No, baby girl. But that doesn't mean he wouldn't try to make something happen, and that's what pisses me off,” he explained.
“So go be pissed off at him.”
“It's more fun to be pissed off at you.”
“Ahhhh,” she laughed, letting go of his wrist. “That's what this is really about – you're mad because you came home and your favorite chew toy was indisposed.”
“Now you're understanding your role.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut up.”
“You shut up!”
Before things could go any further, they heard voices in the entry way. They listened as Rich said goodbye to Rusty and Sanders. Sanders said nothing in return, and soon enough they heard the heavy door slam shut. Then footsteps, lightly padding up the stairs. Rusty, heading to her room.
“Is she staying with us?” Jameson asked, his eyes on the ceiling. Tate nodded.
“I invited her to say for the whole weekend, till you got back. Or rather, when you were supposed to get back.”
“Delightful,” Jameson chuckled, then pulled the towel away from her body before starting on her bikini bottoms. “I'm in a bad mood, baby girl, so make sure to be extra loud for me.”
2
Jameson was heading out of the elevator, his head down as he read over the front page of the New York Times. He was only a couple yards from his office when he heard the sound of someone jumping out of a chair, then feet running after him.
“Mr. Kane!”
He groaned inwardly and kept walking, though he did look up when that someone caught up to his side.
“What is it?” he snapped, glaring down at the young man next to him.
Glaring at Rich Klimas.
“I just wanted to apologize,” Rich started. “If I overstepped any boundaries over the weekend. It's just that I live so close to you, and Tate is close to my age, and I don't know many people here yet. She's a really fun girl.”
Jameson narrowed his eyes.
“Yes. She is.”
“Have you two been together long?” Rich asked.
“Yes.”
“You got married recently, I heard,” he questioned.
“Yes.”
“So really, not that long.”
Enough.
“I'm sorry,” Jameson stopped walking and turned towards the other guy. “Is this an inquisition? I charge for private interviews.”
“I'm sorry,” Rich laughed. That laugh was beginning to make Jameson think of blunt force trauma and wonder how difficult it would be to get away with manslaughter. “I don't mean to pry. I just really admire you. You're sort of an idol of mine, it's been my dream to work for you. I tried, at your New York offices, but then you relocated here. And I really like Tate, you have quite a special wife.”
“I know. Look, I'm a very busy person, and if you want to keep working for your 'idol', then I suggest you stop interrupting me,” Jameson informed him.
“Of course! Of course, just trying to be helpful. I just felt bad for Tate, being all alone in that big house while you're at work every day,” Rich sighed.