Page 65 of The Banker and the Blue Collar Man

“I’ll do that. Thank you. And Xander, you’ve got my number. Call anytime. Yes?”

“Yeah,” Xander said with a wave that was meant to be casual, though I could see—remember, even—how hard it was to let go of the known, even if it was horrible, and step into something unknown, scared of what was to come, even if it might end up being good.

Xander slid into the back seat, I got in the front, and Dalton pulled out onto the street.

“I need more cinnamon on my latte,” Dalton said, as if we’d been in the middle of a conversation about coffee and were simply picking it up again. “They didn’t put on enough last time.”

“That’s the place in Chance,” I said, trying to follow his lead. “Always stingy. Someplace in Denver is bound to have more.”

“Little Owl Coffee,” Xander offered unexpectedly. He pointed from the back seat. “Go up Blake Street.”

He seemed to know what he was talking about, so that’s where Dalton drove us, along city blocks, the sun behind tall buildings that cast even taller shadows.

There was no drive-through at Little Owl, and no parking, so Xander and I got out while Dalton went around the block.

We went into the place, which was packed with young people who all seemed to have some artistry about their person: purple hair, nose rings, flowing clothes. Xander ordered. I paid with cash, which made him look at me askance.

When we went back outside, Dalton was waiting in a no-parking zone, blinkers going like it was an emergency. We got in, Xander in the back, which he seemed to prefer, and me in the passenger seat. And off we went.

Dalton drove more swiftly this time, his foot heavier on the gas. I wasn’t used to it, but one glance back at Xander told me that he was.

Bit by bit, as we moved away from the city along I-25, Xander seemed to relax. Dalton as well, and though I needed, wanted, to make sure of him later, for now, we drove. A little road trip taking us into the afternoon.

The coffee was lonely in my belly after a while, so I looked over at Dalton. “Something to eat?”

“Five Guys,” he said. “There’s one a few exits ahead.”

We stopped for some tasty double cheeseburgers, though really they couldn’t hold a candle to what was on offer at the Saddle Up Saloon. But there would be time enough for that later.

A few miles out of Longmont, bellies full of food, I glanced into the back seat to see Xander was fast asleep. That sometimes happened after a handoff. A back seat or a front seat. Nobody yelling or puffing smoke in your face or jingling keys to a metal cage that was on the verge of being too small. At that point, you fell asleep. There was nothing you could do to control it, anyway.

Chapter 20

Jake

Mid-afternoon saw us back at the ranch. I got out of the car and stood there, breathing deep, savoring the fresh air as though I’d been held underwater for just about too long.

Maybe Dalton felt the same way, though as I looked at him across the roof of his blue Nissan, I knew that fresh air wasn’t going to be enough. His face was drawn, eyes hooded. He didn’t quite meet my gaze as he held the door open for Xander.

Lucas hurried over from the staff building. His arms were open wide, and he grabbed Dalton in a hard hug, then held him at arm’s length. “What the hell, buddy? I got a call from the head admin. She’s packing up your things. You got fired? I told you to be firm, but Jesus.”

Dalton bowed his head, and I imagined him remembering scoldings from two older brothers who didn’t care about him. Who saw in him only what he could do for them. But Lucas and Dalton were friends of long standing, so Dalton didn’t stay that way for long. He raised his head and pushed Lucas’ hands away. “I knew there were layoffs coming. That’s what he’s going to explain it as.”

Dalton glanced over at me, and then Lucas did as well. His eyes narrowed. “What the fuck did you do?” he asked me. Loudly, so anyone within earshot could hear. “Jake?”

Maybe I shouldn’t have barged in on Dalton and his boss that way. It wasn’t how things were done in the city, probably. What I’d intended as a gesture of care and support had cost him his job. And in any case, not every man would want to admit to being rescued. Needing rescue. But I’d rescue Dalton a thousand times over and take the fall for it, just so he wouldn’t have to stand there in that glass-walled room and be abused.

I opened my mouth to say what needed to be said, but Dalton was quicker than I.

“It’s not his fault,” Dalton said.

Lucas looked at me as though he’d already determined the incidenthadbeen my fault. And maybe it was.

“Didn’t care for the way he was treating him,” I said matter-of-factly. The way I always did when talking to Lucas, even if the atmosphere was a bit of a powder keg. “You would have done the same. Anyway.” I tipped my head at where Xander was standing, that mostly empty backpack looking more like a waterlogged plastic sack. “This here’s Xander.”

Xander, like young Dillon and Cameron and the other teens, was the reason for the renovations to the ranch, pure and simple. I’d balked at those changes from the start. I still didn’t like them, but I understood them, at least a little better now.

Lucas looked Xander over, and I knew he could see the bruises and the empty expression in Xander’s eyes. His focus shifted from Dalton to the young man.