I'll Sleep When I'm Dead, Page 2

  “We apologize for the inconvenience, but Kraiges Technologies is closed until further notice due to a death. Final checks will be mailed to all employees to the addresses on file. Please leave your name and number after the beep.”

  Shock filled her, and it took her a second to start speaking. “Um…Hi. I’m Arden Hasegawa, the intern. I…uh...I’m sorry. I don’t know who died, but…my condolences. I guess I don’t need a check since I wasn’t getting paid. If there’s someone who could at least e-mail me a reference letter I could use to find another job, I would appreciate it. I was supposed to start working full-time after I graduate in a few months. Sorry again. Thanks.” She hung up, stunned.

  Well, shinola. At least she didn’t have any personal items inside the building.

  She also didn’t have any personal cell numbers for her coworkers, and a quick check of her e-mail didn’t reveal any messages from anyone.

  She opted to shoot a quick e-mail to Ben Massington, who’d been her direct report.

  I just showed up at work and saw the note on the door. What happened?

  She included her cell number.

  Meanwhile, she grabbed her sandwich from the trunk, sat in the shade under the front of the building with her back against the wall, and ate while watching for an e-mail reply.

  Her phone rang just as she was finishing her sandwich.

  “Hey, Denny. I’m sorry no one thought to call you. It’s…been crazy.” The usually jovial man sounded subdued, shocked.

  “What happened?”

  “We’re all at the funeral right now. Well, the visitation. It’s… bad…”

  Monday afternoon, the wife of Bill Kraiges, the eponymous founder and owner of the business, had discovered he’d been cheating on her when she went to the doctor and learned she had contracted an incurable STD that would be impossible for her to get any other way than her husband cheating on her. She confronted him that night when he arrived home.

  That led to Bill making a tearful confession to her that he thought he was a sex addict, and yes, he’d been cheating on her for most of their twenty-year marriage.

  In what was agreed upon by all as an overreaction, she pulled a gun on him and shot him dead. In her suicide note explaining the events, she claimed she didn’t mean to kill him, only meant to make him get on his knees and beg, but she couldn’t live with herself now that she had.

  Unfortunately, she’d also been the one who ran bookkeeping functions, although she’d worked from home.

  Arden leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. “Well, that sucks all the way around. I don’t suppose I can get a reference letter from you when you have a little free time, could I?”

  “Oh, sure. I’ll do that when I get home. Sorry we didn’t have you looped in on this. Shoot me a reminder e-mail if you don’t have it by morning.”

  “Thanks. What are they going to do with the office?”

  “I don’t know. The attorney is getting an emergency order so he can pay us. I guess we’re all out of jobs now. Bill was kind of the backbone of the business. When I find a new job, I’ll e-mail you if they have any internships.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

  Numb, she sat there for a moment. At least she still had a paying job.

  For now…

  She returned to her apartment complex and found two vans from a local electrician parked in front of her building. A man in a uniform with a matching logo was talking to the apartment complex manager.

  Arden removed her helmet and walked over, waiting until they were done speaking to ask.

  “Any news?”

  “At least two more days,” the complex manager told her. “And possibly a week or more, or maybe even longer. I’m sorry.”

  “Well, do you have a waiting list or something for efficiencies? The people who moved can’t all be wanting them.”

  “I can take your name, but there are already about fifteen names ahead of yours. I had a line at the office door this morning.”

  Shizballs. “Okay, thanks.”

  She was about to get on her bike again when she heard her cell phone ringing. She was able to dig it out in time to see it was Sue, one of the girls she worked with at the restaurant.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Oh, my god! Thank goodness you answered. I know this is short notice, but can you cover my shift today? My daughter’s school just called and they had to transport her to the ER in an ambulance. She tripped going down stairs between classes and they think she broke her arm. They want to do a CT scan to make sure she didn’t get a concussion.”

  Arden rubbed at her forehead. “Yeah, sure. When are you working?”

  “Two to eleven, oh, my god, thank you so much! I’ll call them back and tell them you’re coming in.”

  “I need to run home and change first. Might be closer to two thirty when I get there.”

  “It’s okay if you’re a little late, they’ll understand. I owe you big time!”

  So much for studying tonight. “It’s all right. I hope your daughter’s okay.”

  “Thanks!”

  And like that, Arden was staring at her cell phone and wondering if she’d somehow brought some sort of ancient curse upon herself by accident.

  Maybe Granny was wrong that nice girls always come out ahead.

  Chapter Two

  “Let’s go out for dinner tonight.” Trace looked through the lanai screen and toward the protected woodlands to their west. “I don’t feel like cooking.” Two corners of the property were bordered by land that couldn’t be developed. Since the house sat at the end of the street, it meant only one neighbor, to their south, and a ten-foot privacy fence separated their backyards from each other.

  “I’ll vote for that,” Steve said as he walked over to stand beside him and survey the view. “We still haven’t tried that place downstairs.”

  Ken emerged onto the lanai from the sliders leading to the living room, the realtor on his heels. “I’m in,” Ken said as he clapped his hands together, rubbing them. “I love this place—it’s perfect. Let’s sign.”

  Trace and Steve turned. “What about Hal?” Steve asked.

  Ken hooked a thumb over his shoulder, a smile curving his lips. “He’s rubbing his junk all over the bedroom he called dibs on.” He ran a hand over his shaved, dark brown scalp. “I hear something about not cooking tonight?”

  “Yeah,” Trace said. “Want to try that restaurant downstairs?”

  They’d been renting two adjoining suites at a hotel on Siesta Key for the past week, taking turns cooking simple meals in the tiny efficiency kitchens their rooms had. Problem was, they were limited by what they could do in the tiny space and with the most basic of cooking equipment. All their stuff was in storage until they bought a house.

  Which it looked like they’d just done.

  “Yeah, I could go for that,” Ken said.

  “First we have to pry Hal out of his new bedroom,” Steve said. His straight, black hair fluttered a little in the breeze, and his dark tan skin and smoky brown eyes had charmed their real estate agent, who apparently had a thing for Indian guys.

  She’d been flirting hard and heavy with him ever since they’d met her in person for the first time, and Trace got the feeling it wasn’t just because she was trying to make a sale.

  This was the fourth house they’d seen today, the latest of more than two dozen houses they’d looked at over the past several days, and they’d loved it on sight.

  Well, Trace had loved it, Steve had been fine with it, and Ken had needed a little thinking time as he walked through the house. But that was Ken and normal for him, cautious and wanting to look at pros and cons before committing.

  Hal apparently loved it so much he was trying to fuck it.

  Florida was a far cry from where Trace had grown up in Brooklyn—hell, all of them had grown up in or near one of New York City’s boroughs—but they knew coming into this there might be a little culture shock.
<
br />   That was the point.

  Moving to Florida was a fresh start for all four of them. They needed to escape the echo chamber they’d created for themselves on Long Island over the past dozen years since college, even if they’d been lucratively compensated from the sale of their company. It was time for them to start over, if they wanted to replicate their wild success.

  The good thing now was they had the leisure and cushion of being financially set to take their time and set themselves up right to replicate that success.

  They’d all lived relatively close together, and had worked together in their offices, but their initial success started in college when they’d shared an apartment and got the idea for Collidezkope, the music-centric social media platform everyone was predicting would out-Facebook Facebook in a year at its current rate of growth.

  Knowing they didn’t want the headaches accompanying the scaling up of their platform, they’d taken it public and then cashed in, staying on as paid consultants.

  Two years later, and they were now at the expiration of their non-compete clauses and ready to work on new ideas.

  Something different.

  Something that would challenge them and overshadow their previous success.

  Hal emerged from another sliding glass door. “We all in? I love this place!”

  “We heard,” Trace said. “Make sure to stick a biohazard sign on your door, please.”

  Hal shot him a bird. “Let’s go sign the papers. I heard it’s supposed to rain later.”

  Ken rolled his eyes. “Non Sequitur Hal strikes again.”

  “That’s not a non sequitur. It’s an ‘I don’t want to get stuck in the fucking rain again’ comment. Rains like a sonofabitch here, if you hadn’t noticed.”

  “Remember that bitching you’re doing now when your mom’s complaining about the snowplows in December,” Trace reminded him.

  “True.”

  Since Hal had driven them today, they’d had to wait for him anyway. They piled into his car and followed the real estate agent back to her office. They’d each contributed equally to the trust they were buying the house through, and to the corporation set up to protect all four of them and through which they’d also run business expenses and profits. With their finances already pre-approved for a cash sale, and the very motivated owner willing to immediately take their offer, all they had to do was sign papers. The five-bedroom, six-bath house had most recently been a short-lived Airbnb property.

  According to the real estate agent, the original owners who’d had it built planned the layout so their kids could come down and visit them from up north. After their passing, the kids were tired of dealing with it and facing hassles from the HOA for renting it out.

  Thus, they wanted to sell. Finding a traditional buyer for the layout, at the price the seller wanted, had been difficult, but it was perfect for the men’s needs. A bedroom and private bath for each of them, along with one spare for a visitor. They’d turn the huge dining room into their war room/office area.

  Having a pool and a hot tub was a bonus.

  Not to mention the men were used to New York City real estate prices. This was a bargain, to them.

  An hour later, they were signing papers in the title insurance office.

  “Today’s Wednesday?” Hal asked as he pulled out his phone to double-check.

  “Why?” Ken asked. “You lose a day?”

  “Apparently. I thought it was Tuesday all day.”

  Trace smirked. “See? Living this life of leisure’s messing with your steel-trap brain already.”

  Hal flipped him another bird. “I let you assholes talk me into moving down here, all right? Quit busting my balls.”

  Trace felt famished by the time they left the office to head for their hotel. It was a perfect coincidence all four of them were currently single, making this move possible in the first place.

  “Whose hare-brained idea was this, anyway?” Trace joked.

  “Yours,” the other three men said before breaking into laughter.

  “You know,” Hal admitted, “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I kinda missed living with you assholes. Seeing some of you for a few hours a day at the office isn’t the same as living together.” His smile faded. “And living alone sucked.”

  Steve cleared his throat. “If we’re having a moment, then fine. I missed you guys, too.”

  Ken, who’d ended up riding shotgun, nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

  “Call me stupid,” Trace said, “but I’ve been fucking bored. I haven’t really felt excited about anything since we sold out. Now I’m excited again.”

  * * * *

  From his seat behind Hal, Steve could watch Ken’s profile in the front passenger seat. They hadn’t yet told the others they’d been fucking around for the past couple of months. Nothing permanent yet, but something more than friends with benefits.

  Both of them had been burned badly in their last breakups, and all they wanted for now was stress-free safe and easy sex, along with a heaping dose of friendship.

  Although he’d be lying if he denied his feelings for Ken were dangerously slipping into deeper emotional waters.

  It’d been easier for them lately while sharing the same suite. Trace and Hal’s bedroom was far enough away that the two of them could lock their door and have at it without worrying about their friends hearing them.

  They weren’t sure how the other two men might take it. Steve suspected Hal would be okay, because he was heteroflexible enough to be using the line between bi and het like a jump rope. Trace never gave any indication he was an asshole, and had always treated Ken like they were brothers even knowing Ken was gay, but who knew? Steve had never made a secret of the fact he was bi, and Ken was openly gay as long as they were nowhere near any of his family. Trace never seemed to react badly, but then again, the two of them had never made their fucking around together open knowledge before.

  Another reason Steve knew Ken had been fine with this move—so he could breathe easier and not have to make excuses to avoid family events, or find a beard for them.

  Ken had once joked it’d be far more acceptable for him to bring a white girl home than to come out as gay to his family. The other three men had helped him out with that over the years, lining up understanding female friends for Ken to take to family events.

  While he preferred men, Ken had been known to sleep with a woman once in a while, if he was attracted to her, but he still labelled himself as gay, not bi or homoflexible.

  Like the waitress the four of them had shared one really hot night after they’d all become instant multi-millionaires when they took Collidezkope public.

  When Steve had tried coming out to his parents as bi, they’d settled on an archaic don’t ask, don’t tell dynamic. They wouldn’t disown their only son, but even though they’d both been born and raised in Ohio, it was far easier to fib to their very conservative extended family—including family still living in India—and pretend he was straight.

  “Guys—there’s a dungeon here in Sarasota!”

  They all looked at Hal. “Okay,” Ken drawled. “That was left-field, even for you.”

  “I’ve been meaning to tell you all about it,” Hal said, “but I keep forgetting. We should totally check it out this weekend.”

  “I’m not really interested in clubbing,” Trace said. “I’m a little old for that scene.”

  “You’re only thirty-five,” Hal shot back. “And it’s not a bar. It’s a private-membership club. They hold classes and everything. I’d really like to go.”

  “Then go,” Steve said. “Nothing stopping you.” Although yeah, this was something else they all had in common—more than a little of a kinky streak in all of them.

  Except in the Big Apple, it was harder for them to go incognito due to their high-profile status once their company went public. They’d visited clubs out on the West Coast before, when business took them out there, and another time they’d gone to one outside of Chicago.


  But they didn’t shit where they ate, meaning they kept their kinky sides deep in the closet when home in New York.

  “They got a website?” Steve asked.

  “Yeah,” Hal said. “Pretty decent one, actually.”

  “Forward us the info to look at. I might be interested.”

  “This is our time, you know?” Hal added. “I don’t know about you guys, but maybe we needed to get out of New York for more than business reasons.”

  “You just don’t want that woman who’s determined to have your baby stalking you,” Trace teased him. “She was damned determined.”

  Hal’s good cheer evaporated. “Any of you fuckers dare tell her where I am, I’ll fucking kill you.”

  “Don’t worry,” Steve said. “Since we’re sharing a house again, I don’t want her crazy crossing our doorstep. Mum’s the word.” The woman had figured out where Hal lived on Long Island, and had even gone so far as to rent an apartment in the same building he’d lived in.

  It’d taken a restraining order and a substantial payment to his lawyer’s scary-looking “family friend” to persuade her to move and leave Hal alone. Still, she tried e-mailing him at least once a week, and he’d stopped accepting any Facebook friends requests because she was constantly stalking him on social media.

  The hotel on Siesta Key was nice, and the laid-back beach atmosphere had gone a long way toward easing Steve’s anxiety. He didn’t like to just…sit around. Yeah, they’d been “working” as consultants, and none of them were stupid when it came to being careful with their money, but Collidezkope hadn’t been “their” baby any longer.

  He wanted to get back to the basics, the daily grind. Of developing something that was close to their hearts. Working on the code, working out the bugs, and building it from the ground up.

  What that something was remained to be determined. They’d decided to take the time between leaving New York and settling into a new house in Florida as a “vacation.” No work to be discussed between them. They could make notes to themselves to bring to the table once they were ready to start work again, but they were supposed to be refreshing their mental palates.