by Mel Walker
“Let me go see what the deal is,” Jackson says, his voice trembling with anger.
“That won’t be necessary.” We turn to the sound of Tyrone’s voice. He’s holding his phone in one hand. “I heard the truck pull up and checked my phone for the notifications. They delivered my key to the wrong address. Someplace called Cambria or something.”
“I don’t believe you,” I say and walk toward him. He holds up his phone out, tempting me. I snatch it and glare down at the screen. Sure, enough it was delivered to Cambria. The address is completely different from the lodge’s address, different zip code, address, town. Then it clicks as I recognize the address. “What address did you use, Ty?”
“The one you see on the slip. Isn’t that the correct one? I copied it perfectly from the paperwork I saw in the office.”
“Which paperwork?” Jackson asks as he steps in to read the phone.
It’s almost as if Tyrone has prepared for this moment. He pulls out one of my flyers. He has circled an address. It is the location of the bus pickup from Cambria outside the center where I conduct classes. “That’s the bus pickup address,” I say, and my shoulders sag.
“Nice try, Ty,” Jackson says as he steps closer to Tyrone. They both push out their chests, and I step between them. Jackson doubles down. “You knew exactly what you were doing. You can’t be that stupid—unless, of course, you are.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Chef.” His last word is laced with venom. I recognize the phrasing, the tone and his look from the hours we spent across from one another at the mediation table.
“Cute.” There is a deadly undertone to Jackson’s words, and I become concerned for Tyrone’s safety. “Sydney has a van coming at noon to take them back to Destiny Falls. We’ll have them drop you in Cambria to retrieve your key. You see, your plan won’t work.”
“Plan?” Tyrone says. He reaches and takes his phone from me. “I think you may have trust issues and maybe a bit of an anger management problem.” He smirks, and I notice Jackson’s hand ball into a fist. I tap it lightly with two fingers, hoping to defuse this situation before he ruins his only other good hand and I’m out of a cook.
Tyrone swipes at his screen and flips it back to me. “The key isn’t in Cambria any longer. Once I realized the mistake, I had it redirected here. It won’t, however, be here until tomorrow morning.”
“How freaking convenient,” Jackson mutters as he inspects the phone. “And how did you miraculously get the address correct this time?”
He holds up a picture postcard of the lodge. “The postcards in the room.” He waves the card back and forth like a red cape in front of a bull. He’s prepared like a murder suspect knowing the police were on their way to interrogate him.
“I’ve heard enough. Deal with this, Dana, or I will,” Jackson spits as he takes one final step toward Tyrone before turning and stomping away.
Tyrone continues to wave the postcard with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Be careful with that one, D. He looks he has a violent streak. How much do you really know about him?” Once again, his tone is laced with something troubling. “I’ll be around if you want to talk.”
“Ty, this is not an ideal situation for anyone. I have a lodge full of students. Can I ask you to just keep a low profile? Will you please do that for me?”
“For you, D, anything.” He plants yet another shit-eating smile on his face as he hands me the postcard and walks away. I watch him disappear, making sure he’s not headed anywhere near the kitchen. Satisfied, I flip the postcard and pause. On the back of the card are doodles from Tyrone. My name is written a dozen times; a few of them have hearts drawn around them. In the corner is one colored red. It catches my eye because that heart has a zigzag pattern across the middle. It is broken.
My pulse races. Ty is playing a deadly game. If Jackson had seen the back of the postcard, I would have been put in a position of deciding whether to help him hide a body.
With guilty hands, I rip the postcard into tiny bits. I reenter the lodge, stepping behind the registration desk and toss the evidence into the wastebasket. I turn and look up and spot a sneering Tyrone on the balcony. His eyes are squeezed tight, like a tiger watching his prey. I’ve seen that look. I know that look. He is planning something, and it’s not going to be good.
Chapter Thirty
Jackson
I throw myself into the lunch preparation to avoid the urge to attack Tyrone. Aaron senses my mood and is nearly silent the entire prep period. When my phone buzzes with a welcome distraction, I don’t hesitate to take the call. It’s my agent.
“Are you sitting down?”
It’s just like Rob, always revved up to max, especially now that he senses I’m about to reenter the game. His excitement is like a drug which I used to love, but now all it brings is anxiety. “You know I’m not. Out with it.”
“Another chef has been implicated in the Chef Peterson scandal—Chef Jacques.”
A sigh escapes my lips. I have mixed feelings. I’ve heard of some messed-up things in our industry, and if this chef is guilty, he deserves to lose everything. However, I also know how brutal this industry can be. Sous chefs get yelled out—it’s not personal, and it’s not related to gender. At least one of my chef friends has been caught up in this mess. I’ve been fortunate as I’ve been yelled at by my fair share of people who have worked for me. “So why are you telling me this? Did they look at my history and pull their invite?”
“As if I would ever tell you that,” he says as he shifts quickly. “It’s the opposite. They’re pulling Chef Jacques’ shows as well. It’s leaving a huge void on their programming. Apparently, there is a limit to the number of times you can run Cooking with Kate.
“They want to push forward the production. They want to make it a semi-live cooking competition. They will film it Saturday morning, all day, editing as they go with the judging done live at the broadcast. It’ll be a brutal schedule as they want to do round two on Sunday. They apparently have a need for new content, pronto. They will do the same the following weekends, a round-robin competition.
“No promises, but given their need, I think several of the top contenders may wind up with shows when this is all said and done. I need you to come out earlier Thursday than we discussed. There’s a walk-through, and you’ll need to get familiar with the kitchen. You can’t say no, Zach—breaks like this don’t come often.”
Rob’s mouth is moving quicker than I’ve experienced before. I recognize the urgency from his end, and this is the opportunity we’ve been waiting for. The truth in his words hits me hard. I run my fingers through my hair. “I told you already I have a commitment. The vans don’t leave until after lunch. By the time I clean up, shut the kitchen, and head to the airport… Hell, the earliest I could make a flight is damn near six, and that’s best case.”
I hear tapping on his end. “Meet me halfway, Zach. I can probably stand in for you for the walk-through. I’ll take notes and pictures. And I can probably get you scheduled last for the promo shots, but six is too late, even with the time zone shift. You still wouldn’t get to the studio until nearly eight. Is there any way you can get out of there by ten? Eleven at the latest? If we’re lucky, I can have you at the studio for three.”
I pop my head out the pantry and take in Aaron. He’s moving slowly, the fatigue from last evening evident in his motions. I can’t ask him to take this on. I can’t leave Dana in the lurch. Rob’s voice pulls me back. “What’s it going to be, Zach?”
Chapter Thirty-One
Dana
Thank god for yoga. All the stress of the morning dissipated the minute I took to the mat and taught the late morning class. Two hours later, my balance has been restored and I’m feeling like myself again.
I ate lunch with Carrie and Sanjeev on one of the secluded porches away from the crowd, but more importantly away from Tyrone. I’ve spotted him hovering as if he is waiting to pounce on me the minute I’m free. By being engaged w
ith my students, he’s kept his distance. Why he has decided to focus on me versus the beauty of the lake is a mystery to me.
Carrie doesn’t try to hide her connection with Sanjeev. They’re holding hands and staring at each other as if they’ve been dating for a month, not minutes.
It’s a good look on her, and I’m happy for her. I make a note to try to get her alone to understand if this is something that will have a longer shelf life than the retreat. Nothing in their interaction tells me that shouldn’t be the case.
The group has ninety minutes of free time after lunch. Their only assignment is a twenty-minute meditation practice. I’m looking forward to the break and need to plan out the pre-dinner practice session as well as the evening activities, a special combination of relaxing self-care yoga and self-massages. My normal night before prep time floated away with Jackson on the lake and our extracurriculars.
As Carrie and Sanjeev excuse themselves for a walk around the lake, I exhale. I’ve barely pushed up from my chair and turn the corner before I run into Tyrone. Like I said, he’s been lurking.
“Finally,” he exhales as if he’d been running a marathon.
“What is it, Ty? I don’t have a great deal of time.” I tilt my head, hoping he reads my body language.
He stammers out the words. “I’ve been waiting all morning. Can you spare two minutes?”
I nod but need to set the boundaries. “Okay, but remember I have twenty-four students to take care of and a packed agenda that doesn’t consist of me entertaining you.” The words come out cold. I know this man. He thinks he understands what’s best for me, but that’s not something I tolerate. “I’m a one-woman show.”
“Just the way you like it, from what I remember.”
The dig hurts as he brings up a sensitive point. It’s not by choice. I’ve learned that the only one I can trust and count on is me. “Okay, down to ninety seconds. What else you got?”
He takes a step back, a look of surprise on his face. Ever since the split, he’s seen a different side of me—much more combative, shorter tempered, not one to let his crap slide by anymore. If he thought his time away had changed anything, he would be wrong. “Okay, I just want to help out. I see that you have so much on your shoulders. Since I’m here, let me help out.”
My mind races to him wiping down mats, sweeping floors, and loading up the vans. “What do you have in mind?”
“I was thinking that you need some you time. I spotted a hammock in the woods; you’ve always loved a good hammock.”
I try to suppress the smile. He’s right. A warm day, a light breeze, and nature’s sounds swinging in a hammock is my idea spot. “As much as that sounds great, I don’t have time for that. How about just telling me where it’s at, and I’ll visit after the retreat is over?”
He glances over my shoulder as a strange look crosses his face. “I really can’t describe it. Let me just show you.” It’s not really a question, more a command. I glance at my watch.
“Fine, give me two minutes. Let me grab my notebook and I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
“Deal.”
He turns, not giving me an opportunity to even think about changing my mind. I head in the opposite direction and head up to Jackson’s room. I enter the room without hesitation and am surprised to find Jackson standing by the window staring out. “Hey, Jackson, I didn’t expect to see you. I just came to grab a notebook.”
My entry breaks his concentration. “How did class go?” he asks as he continues to stare out the window.
“Fine,” I say and walk over to him, wondering what he finds so interesting. “What are you looking at?”
He turns toward me with a guilty look on his face. “Nothing?” He tries to redirect my attention, but I look down and see what he’s finds so interesting. Tyrone is closing the trunk of his BMW; he’s carrying a duffel bag.
“Don’t you find it interesting that for a man who lost his keys, he’s been back and forth to that car a dozen times?”
“This again?” I push out a breath, I don’t need them ruining my balance yet again. My mind is already swinging in a hammock. “Why do you care? He’ll be gone in the morning.”
He runs his hands through his hair. “I don’t believe a thing he says. Surely you can see that he’s being untruthful.”
I lay a hand on his shoulder. “Jackson, don’t worry about me. Let’s get through the next forty-eight hours. He’ll be gone, the retreat will be behind us, and we can figure things out. Now, there is a hammock out there with my name on. Maybe after the last van leaves tomorrow, you can join me.”
I sense his hesitation. I don’t have time to figure it out.
“We have to talk about Thursday,” he starts with another guilty look.
“Can we talk about it later? I only have a few minutes on this break and need to get moving. We can talk tonight after cleanup, okay?” I don’t give him an option to respond and turn and rush out the room.
I’m two steps down the hall when I realize I forgot the notebook. I debate turning around to retrieve it, but I’ve lost enough time. I hop down the steps and practically race toward the lobby.
Ty is standing there with a smile on his face. “I wasn’t sure you would come.”
I don’t respond. I’m tired of making men feel comfortable. “Let’s go.”
I follow him down the steps, around the back of the property. We pass the boathouse and step onto a tree-lined path. As we get farther down the path, the sounds of the lodge fade away. Ty is quiet, yet the sound of his footsteps and his presence remain heavy.
“How much farther?” I ask and begin to wonder how far we will be going. The tree line blocks the view of the lake and I begin to question this decision.
“This reminds me of the time we went hiking and got all turned around,” he begins.
The memory floods my head. “You really do suck with directions, don’t you?”
“I’m better now in every way,” he says as he points up ahead. I spot the hammock; it’s tied between two trees and is covered in plastic.
I race up and rip the plastic off the top. The hammock is one of the larger ones, with industrial-strength twining and a built-in pillow. I can’t believe its size as I hop in and stretch out.
I kick off my flats in Tyrone’s direction as he takes a step back with a laugh. “I’m glad there is something left that I could do to make you smile.”
I’m tired of the tension, tired of leaning against the door, keeping everyone at bay. I’m tired. “Give a girl a push, will you?”
I lean back and cross my arms behind my head as he pushes it. The swaying calms me further and I close my eyes. Tweets from birds and the distant sound of warm waves from the lake soothe my soul and I exhale. I’m at such peace that I barely notice when the swinging stops and the hammock lowers a few inches. I open my eyes to Tyrone leaning on the hammock. “You mind if I join you?”
“I can only stay a few minutes,” I state as he slides on. When he kicks his feet up, his momentum causes me to roll toward him. My hands land on his chest.
“I forgot that all things on a hammock end up in the middle,” I say and realize that we are nearly plastered on top of each other.
Tyrone lowers his chin as his eye catches mine. His eyes fill with heat, and I already know where his mind has raced off to. I begin to push up, my motion only causing me to roll back onto him. He wraps a hand around my shoulder to steady me. “D, it’s been a long time since I’ve held you like this.”
Before I can speak, the sound of movement causes me to look up. Standing in the clearing is Jackson holding my notebook. His eyes are filled with anger. He walks toward us as I struggle to push off once again.
He slips the notebook on the edge of the hammock, its swaying causing the notebook to flip off and land on the dirt below the hammock. “You forgot this in the room. I thought you might need it, so I followed you out.”
I expect him to storm off or leap at Tyrone. He does neither; what he does
is worse than I can imagine.
He stands there with his arms crossed against his chest with a look I’ve never seen before in his eyes. Unfortunately, it’s a look I’ve seen in others I care about.
His eyes aren’t filled with anger, or hurt, just disappointment.
“Jackson…”
My words fade as his gaze shifts from me to Tyrone. I realize we are alone in the woods. No one knows where we are, and there is no way anyone from the lodge will hear us. I had one job: to keep these men away from each other.
I’ve monumentally failed.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jackson
Walking through the woods a few minutes ago and hearing Dana’s sweet laugh caused a strange reaction in me.
I was happy to hear that sweet sound, realizing that Dana with all her checklists and preparation had barely left any time to herself to enjoy this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
I realize that I want to be the one to make her laugh. I want to be the one she rushes to when she wants to cry. I want to be the one.
When my eyes saw the two of them in the hammock, his arms wrapped around her shoulder, something clicked in me.
The Zach in me would have been angry, upset, jealous and would have immediately said and did some self-sabotage action that would have made things ten times worse.
But what I felt instead was Jackson. There wasn’t an ounce of jealousy in my bones. I trust this woman, I care for this woman, I love this woman.
She’s navigating a difficult situation, and I’m disappointed that she doesn’t see how transparent Tyrone’s moves are.
But I now know how to shine light onto that blind spot.
“Tyrone, do you mind giving Dana and me some privacy?” I grit the words out in his direction. It comes out more of a command than a request. My steely gaze locks in on him, letting him know there is no room for negotiation.