If It Drives (Market Garden, #7)(56)

And being made to feel like the lackey you are.

Cal pulled up outside Threadneedle Street, left the car, and opened the door for James.

James gathered a folder under his arm and slid across the leather towards the door. Cal fought the urge to slam the door in James’s face as he was getting up. He tensed his jaw and looked past James.

“I’ll be back at six. Meeting with a client after that, likely to about midnight.”

“I’ll be there, sir.”

I’ll be there. You can trust me.

One day, it would stop echoing through him. Maybe it would even stop hurting.

While James was in his meeting, Cal drove over to his uncle’s company in East London. Another limo parked in front of the office, and Cal caught a glimpse of a bumper sticking out from the garage behind it. The second was probably being detailed or repaired.

Cal parked, and went inside.

“Callum!” His Aunt Rose came around the reception desk, arms out. “This is a lovely surprise.”

Cal smiled and hugged her. “Just thought I’d drop by. Is Uncle Bill around?”

“He’s in his office, dear.” She gestured over her shoulder.

“Okay, good. I need to talk to him about a few things.”

“Go right ahead.”

He knocked on his uncle’s door, and a terse “it’s open” came from the other side.

“Oh, Callum.” His uncle grinned broadly as Cal entered. “One of the few drivers I don’t mind seeing.”

Cal laughed and took a seat in front of the desk. “The others driving you crazy again?”

Bill groaned and ran a hand over his mostly bald head. “One can’t seem to remember how to use a GPS or find anything on his own. And you remember Charlie?”

Cal nodded.

His uncle rolled his eyes. “The idiot apparently didn’t believe me when I said cabbies go when the light is green, regardless of the stretched limo still pulling through the intersection.”

Cal grimaced. “Tell me he didn’t.”

“He did. Damage is fairly minor. Mostly cosmetic. And there wasn’t a passenger in the car at the time, or who knows how expensive the whole fiasco would have been.”

“Ouch. You fire him?”

Bill shook his head. “Aside from that, he’s all right. Plus I just fired two of the newer guys recently, so . . .” He waved a hand. “Anyhow. What brings you in here? You didn’t leave that banker outside in the car, did you?”

Cal shrugged. “I left the windows cracked. He’ll be fine.”

His uncle laughed.

Cal leaned his elbow on one of the armrests. “I don’t suppose, with the two guys you just fired, you have room to shuffle any of us around, do you?”

Bill’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Shuffle you around? How so?”

“I don’t think this job is working for me.”

“What? You’ve been there a year and a half and never said one word about being unhappy. What’s changed?”

You don’t even want to know.

“I . . .” Cal lowered his gaze, and a cup full of pens on his uncle’s desk caught his eye. “I think I’m ready to spend more time writing. Make a go at that as a part-time, maybe eventually full-time gig.”

Bill folded his hands on the desk. “You really think you can cut it? Enough to make money?”

“This kind of stuff is fun to write,” he heard that obnoxious crit group member saying, “but no one wants to read it, least of all in exchange for money.”

Cal took a breath and pushed his shoulders back. “Yeah. I think I can. Maybe once I have a little more time, I can finish some more work and get it out there.”

“Hmm.” Bill chewed his lip for a moment. “I suppose I can move you to one of the for-hire cars. That’s awfully sporadic, though. One month, you’re detailing it more than you’re driving it. The next, you’re running all over the city with businessmen, stag parties, and—God, the worst—hen dos.”

Cal chuckled. “I can think of worse things than driving around a bunch of drunk women.”

“Only because you haven’t done it before.”

“Well, it’s worth a shot,” Cal said. “I just don’t think I can keep working for Mr. Harcourt anymore.”

“What about a place to live?”

Cal flinched. Shit. He hadn’t even thought about that. “I’ll, uh, find a flat somewhere, I guess. Maybe rent a room.”

His uncle scowled. “You’ve got a pretty sweet deal over there, you know. I’d hate to see you give that up and then struggle to make rent.”

“I’m not crazy about that part, but . . .” Cal exhaled. “I need this.”

Bill was silent for a long moment, then nodded. “All right. It might take me a while to get someone trained up and suitable for Mr. Harcourt.”

Good luck with that . . .

“That’s fine. I can stay there until you do.”

“All right, then.” Bill glanced at his watch. “Damn it. Pete should be back by now.” He pushed himself up out of his chair. “I’ll bet you half a week’s salary that moron got lost again.”

Cal chuckled and followed his uncle out of the office. He visited with his aunt for a while, and when another sleek black car pulled up outside, he decided that was the best time to make his escape. His uncle’s tirades were as long as they were loud, and he’d heard enough of them.