roomies

Jaime Hyman hates his life. Hates it even more so now that it’s no longer his life. Weird thing to say, especially since he’s still breathing, existing. A f****d up mess, but you know, still here. “Your heart’s just not in this, Hymen,” his boss Ryan Austin says, tone soft and sympathetic. “Excuse me?” Jaime quips, thoroughly offended. “I’m one of your top cuddlers, Ryan.” “Yeah, well–” “And it’s Hyman,” Jaime adds, out of habit more than anything. People have always been mispronouncing his name since he can remember, and he’s only known Ryan all of three months. He’ll give him a pass just this once. But then again– Hold the f**k up! Jaime starts to frown when he realizes Ryan has hardly ever called him by his last name. The guy’s been acting out of sorts, too. Shifty eyes blatantly avoiding getting caught in Jaime’s glare. Long and restless fingers tip-tapping a rhythmless tune on the polished surface of his white lacquer desk. “There is something else,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. He knows that look. He hates that look. And it only takes Ryan’s defeated sigh to tell him all he needs to know. He grits his teeth, clucks his tongue, and hisses, “You spineless money-w***e! You promised you won’t sell me out!” “Hey!” Ryan pulls in whatever bit of boss mojo and personal dignity he’s still got left, stands up and slams his palms to the table to try and intimidate Jaime. “I am still older than you, Hymen! And you do not bad-mouth your boss in his own office! You rude little punk!” “Is this office still even yours, Ryan?!” Jaime spits back, jumping up and slamming his palms on the table, too. “And you’re no longer my boss. You just fired me, remember?!” “Well, yeah!” Ryan’s resolve falters a little, his hands folding into tight defensive fists. “I mean, I’m no longer your boss! And this is still my office! I mean… At least…” Jaime raises a doubtful brow and Ryan’s voice starts rising again. “I am still running this company, Hymen!” “It’s Hyman, you asswipe!” “That’s what your grandpa said, too!” “So that old geezer really did get to you! Holy crap!” “It’s not like I had a choice!” “I thought I could trust you!” “I was cornered!” “You promised to choose me, no matter what!” “But your grandpa’s an evil, terrifying Hymen!” “You sold me out!” “And he called me asswipe, too!” “f**k you, Ryan!” “Not when I’m sober!” “Wha–?!” “And straight!” “WHAT?!” “So, let’s just go grab some drinks now, okay?!” Jaime’s arguments literally screeches to a halt, turning the rest of his choice cusswords into a growl, his resolve into an eyeroll. Trust Ryan Austin to somehow turn a heated verbal squabble into an underhanded pass to get into his pants. “Not happening!” “Well, always worth a shot!” A couple more seconds of looking into each others’ eyes, catching their breaths, and curbing their burning tempers, and the two guys finally sink back into their respective seats with a thud and a sigh. “Look, I’m sorry Jaime,” Ryan says, tone more hushed and sincere now. Desperate to make amends and not cut ties. “Frederick made sure I couldn’t resist his offer. He also promised to blow my company off the market with a dozen million-dollar lawsuits, should I refuse.” “Lawsuits? For what?” “Well, you know, those couple of clients who complained about how freezing cold your alien hands were?” “That’s ridiculous,” Jaime groans. Too tired and too used to this to even feel upset now. “And I don’t have alien hands, you jerk! It’s my poor circulation!” “Yeah, well. Frederick said he can make a million and one cases out of those.” “What? My hands?!” “And the complaints.” “Of course, he can.” Jaime hates how he can’t even be sarcastic about this. His hands have always been unnaturally cold and there have been more than a handful of people who complained about them, whether serious or in jest, in all of his twenty-three years. This is the first time anyone has ever threatened to sue him for his cold hands. Worst part of it is that the old man can and will win that case–whatever and no matter how ridiculous it is–ten times over. It usually takes Frederick Hyman, his richer-than-God and wilier-than-the devil grandfather, not more than a month to find him and buy out whatever company he’s working in, just to get him fired for the stupidest reasons, so he can then persuade the younger Hyman to come work for the family business instead. This has been happening the past two years since Grandpa Hyman knew of Jaime’s existence. It’s been three months since he started working for Ryan Austin’s cuddling company–simply named, Cuddles. And quite frankly, he is getting worried. Not that Frederick has already given up, but that the old man may be up to something bigger. More sinister. Because he did once tell Jaime that he would stop at nothing to bring his stubborn grandson down to his knees, begging for mercy. Even if it means he has to yank out all the plugs, pull out all his corporate whips, and pound his grandson’s ass to submission. Creepy image in more ways than one. Jaime hopes the double entendres are unintentional. “Jaime, baby–” “I’m not your baby, Ryan.” “Okay, Jaime my friend–” “Apparently, not your friend either.” Anyone foolish enough to sell his soul to Frederick Hyman is no friend of his. The nerve of this man! “Jaime, for the love of god! ” Ryan whines, wilting deeper into his executive chair. The one Jaime himself has helped him pick out. It’s high-back, faux leather and in his favorite bubblegum pink. “Just hear me out, okay?” Jaime doubts there’s anything Ryan can say that can make him feel better. But he sits back and listens anyway, if only to watch Ryan try to squirm his way out of this. “I love having you here. I really do.” “Sure,” he scoffs, wanting to doubt it, but also knowing there’s truth there somewhere. Forget whatever friendship he may have been led to believe he had with this jerk. He’s one of Cuddles’ more popular cuddlers, after all. For despite the cold hands and the occasionally sassy attitude, Jaime Hyman is a natural charmer. He makes up for the coldness of his hands with the warmth and gentleness of his voice, coupled with a sincere willingness to just be there and listen. A regular male client has even claimed choosing him over female cuddlers for being the safest choice–pretty enough to hug, but too-man to want to f**k. Actual words. Five star review. “But I’ve also always felt like you’re short-changing yourself being here,” Ryan keeps saying. “You could be doing so much more.” Jaime snorts. “Not in this town.” “And not with those Elsa-hands, either–” “f**k–” “–but, listen,” Ryan leans on his table, laces his fingers together, and hunches his shoulder in the perfect image of desperation. “I may still be the boss, but the new big boss doesn’t want you here. And my hands are tied!” “Yeah, whatever,” Jaime sighs dismissively. He wants nothing more than for this conversation to end, so he can go and drown his misery elsewhere. Preferably somewhere more fun. “Can you just pay me so I can go?” “About that…” Ryan draws back again, visibly gulping in his discomfort. “Frederick says you should come to his office if you want to get your last salary and dismissal pay–” “No he didn’t–!” “Jaime, please–” “Damn that old man!” “I know right–” “And damn you too, you asshole! You can both keep your freaking money–!” “f**k, just chill, okay!” Ryan stretches his arms out to Jaime. Jaime doesn’t even realize he’s jumped up to his feet, ready to throw hands, until he sees his former boss and bygone friend frantically waving at him to sit back down. He does with an angry huff. He needs to calm down before he can storm out, or he might end up punching some random stranger on the street. He’s already got more problems than he can handle for a day. “Jaime, I’ll always be your friend. You know that right?” “And yet, you chose to side with the wrong Hyman.” Ryan clucks his tongue before pulling something out of a drawer. “I told you, that old prick gave me no choice. But I didn’t say I’ll let you go with nothing.” He slides a fancy pink pay envelope across the table to Jaime with both hands. It has tiny smiley hearts all over it that seem to mock Jaime’s sorry existence. “I’m taking this out of my own pocket, because I know you. You are not going to see Frederick even if the world is ending at your feet. See, this is how much I value our friendship, baby.” If Jaime isn’t feeling too pissed off right now, he would seriously be touched by the gesture. But as it is, he’s already crossed the threshold of polite pleasantries and can’t wait to be out the door. Jaime swipes the envelope and stuffs it into his backpack. “I’m not your baby.” “Our weekend drinking dates are still on, okay?” Ryan stands up, offers a handshake that Jaime only scoffs at before stomping to the door. “I’ll call you!” “Don’t bother.” “You’ll miss my handsome face!” “Lose my number, traitor.” “You will always be my favorite Hymen, Jaime!” This time, Jaime Hyman does not bother correcting him. He does, however, slam the door so loud behind him that he’s sure Ryan Austin’s great-great-great descendants will be feeling the tremors of his wrath for years to come.