Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 7

that was what he was doing, Shane thought bitterly. I'm creating—I'm an artist! Isn't that what the great Mr. Dexham said himself? Bile rose in his throat.
    Once upon a time, he had been an artist. Once upon a time, he had dreams…big dreams. He recalled bitterly how "once upon a time" his lover had shared those dreams. His lover. Christ! Jaime could hardly be called that anymore. They barely saw one another these days. And when they did their exchanges were rarely of the loving kind. Shane rubbed his eyes and tried to recall the last time he and Jaime had actually made love. It had been so long he could barely remember what it felt like to hold the man in his arms. When did that happen? How had they managed to drift so far apart?
    The phone on his desk buzzed causing Shane to jump and knock over his mug of coffee. Swearing aloud, he made a grab for the meaty file that lay in the wake of the oncoming spill and snatched it up right before the steaming black liquid could reach it. The phone continued to blare out its annoying alarm as Shane grabbed tissues to catch the liquid before it reached his computer keyboard. He frantically mopped up the offending pool, the buzzing mercifully stopped. Throwing the sopping tissues into the trashcan beneath his desk, the silence was again broken by the raucous sound of the phone once more demanding his attention. Snatching it up in his left hand, Shane barked into the receiver, "What the fuck do you want Margaret?"
    Unfortunately Shane's appalling lack of luck continued as his order was answered not by the clipped tones of his secretary but with a loud sigh and the sarcastic tones of his partner, Jaime.
    "Well, sounds like your day is going well."
    Shit! Great, just great! "Sorry, I just spilled coffee all ov…"
    "I'm calling to let you know I'm going to be late tonight. Jim just called me and Danny's sick so he needs me to cover his shift."
    "But we had plans I made reserva…" Jaime interrupted again, frustration clearly coloring his voice.
    "It's not like I planned this Shane. For god's sake, he was in a bind and I had the time. It's not as if you never cancelled at the last minute."
    Shane gritted his teeth, trying to clamp down on his anger. "You know that I have always tried my best to keep our time together sacred. You also know what a bitch my work schedule has been. Jesus Jaime, you have to know I'm doing this for you…for us."
    "Right and my working as an assistant manager to one of the most influential men in the restaurant business is nothing I suppose? Christ, never mind Shane I should have known you wouldn't understand. I should have remembered just how you felt about my little 'waitering job.' You've certainly made it clear often enough!"
    "My god Jaime, I said that over a year ago—and I was joking! I know how important this is to you. I get it! But why is it that every time someone calls out sick, Jim decides you're the only one who can fill in? You guys employ 12 waiters at that place—why can't one of them do it for once?"
    "Because I am the assistant manager and that's what assistant managers do—they fill in during emergencies!! God, why are we even having this argument again? You never listen! You refuse to take my job seriously. Jim was right! He said you never…"
    Jaime's voice stopped abruptly. Shane felt his entire body coil as anger ripped through him. Fucking Jim! That's all Jaime ever talked about anymore. Jim said this, Jim said that. Jim said he likes my hair, my clothes, my cologne. Why the hell was Jim even getting close enough to his partner to smell his damn cologne anyway? Shane felt his control slipping.
    "Oh do tell, what did Jim Almighty say this time? What pearls did the lord and master of the fucking restaurant world impart, huh, Jaime? Can't remember? They aren't imprinted on your memory so that you can recall them verbatim just like a good little lackey should?"
    The responding silence was deafening. Shane realized that all he could hear was himself panting. Panting because he was so worked-up, so pissed off that he felt as though his heart was going to leap out of his chest. How did this happen every time? Why did what Jim had to say have the ability to fuck with him like this? Make him so angry that his blood boiled and he lost all control over his mouth? He drew in a ragged breath and heard a faint sob, a hiccup really. Oh god, was Jaime crying? Had he made the only man who mattered to him in this world actually cry?
    "Oh