Happily Ever Hers

by Delancey Stewart

  Me: Roger that. I'm on shift. Off at noon. Talk then.

  Austin: OK.

  A wash of anxiety went through me, raising a cool sweat on my skin. Losing my job would not be helpful at this point. I’d taken my last exam just before heading to Maryland, and didn’t know yet if I’d get my degree, but I didn’t like my odds, and having a back up plan had always been my MO. I took a deep breath, realizing it was out of my hands. Like so much in my life at the moment.

  My phone dinged again as we crept toward noon.

  Juliet: Chad just threatened me.

  My blood turned to fire and I had to force myself not to barrel through the house to find Juliet. Or to rip Chad apart.

  Jace: He knows. He's trying to get me fired too. I'm so sorry.

  Juliet: Not your fault. I'm handling it.

  Maybe that should have been a relief, but Juliet had handled so many things for me lately. And here was one more.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Juliet

  Jace had been outside most of the morning, and I hadn't really seen him—not up close, at least—since leaving his room early in the morning. In some ways, I didn't want to. Part of me wanted to live in the sweet memory of waking in his arms, hearing the morning rising around us through the open window of his room and feeling the warmth of his long body next to me.

  Of course, Chad had burst my morning bubble of happiness almost immediately when I’d crashed into him. And then it didn’t seem to have taken him long to finish figuring out how to destroy the little bit of happy warmth I'd held onto. He found me again, mid-morning. I'd been wandering the house somewhat aimlessly. It was too early to get dressed for the party, and I was too distracted to do anything productive. I had a pile of scripts to read and calls to return, but my mind was floating, unfocused.

  Despite the complications between us, I wanted to get back to LA and see if Jace and I could make this thing work. Things had been sweet before we'd come to Maryland, before the complications of family and house chickens. I wanted to return to that, remove the extraneous crap and focus on us. My skin warmed at the thought of having him to myself again.

  And then Chad had stepped close and his sharp low voice made me cold. "Need to talk to you."

  I spun from the window where I'd been peering outside, watching Jace walk a path in front of the house. "No thanks."

  “Shall we sit?” Chad asked, ignoring my reply.

  “No,” I said, glancing back out to see Jace turn the corner. Chad looked around, like maybe he was uncomfortable in the formal parlor where we stood, or more likely because he was about to deliver ugly words.

  "You know I saw you this morning," he began. "And I've suspected for a while there was something going on with you and Jace. Him sleeping in the house and all. You being ... well, you." His mouth lifted in an unattractive half smile and I wondered if being me was an insult or a compliment in his mind. It didn't matter.

  "Your point?"

  "Wouldn't play well in the press, you think?"

  I sighed. Here we went again. This was my life. Worrying constantly about my image, about the media spin, about how my personal life could affect my shot at the next big role. It was bullshit. But it was real. "Perhaps not."

  "I figure I could talk," he said, sitting and then leaning back, evidently gaining comfort in his environment now that he sensed he held the power. His blond hair flopped down over one eye and he reminded me suddenly of Draco Malfoy in the Harry Potter films—utterly unlikeable. "Those magazine folks should be back here soon. And that reporter—Alison? She seems like the type to jump at a juicy story like you fucking your bodyguard."

  Why were some people so predictable? Chad was about to ask me for money. Maybe he and Zac had taken some kind of online Blackmail a Movie Star class together or something. If either of them knew what I'd given Jace, without him even asking or wanting my money ... I sighed and shook my head. Neither Zac nor Chad was anything like Jace. "What do you want, Chad?"

  "I think five hundred thousand should do nicely. And I want the in-house spot when we get back."

  "No." I didn't even give myself time to think, to strategize my answer. I didn't care about the money, not really. But I wanted Jace in the house. If I knew Chad was in the room down the hall, I'd never sleep again. In fact, I had plans to have him removed as soon as we were back in LA. “No to both.“

  Chad shrugged and shook his head, like a school teacher disappointed at a student's behavior. "That's too bad."

  I stood. I'd had enough of this. "You know what's too bad? The amount of shitty people in the world who look at other people solely as a means for their own advancement. You're worthless. And I don't want you working for me anymore. Pack your things."

  "I don't work for you. I work for the firm."

  "Not for long," I told him. "Stay away from my family."

  "What time do the magazine folks come today?" He sneered it at me.

  I ignored him and went upstairs. I'd had enough of people trying to manipulate me, use me for their own gains while they hurt everyone else. I didn't know exactly how, but I was going to take a stand.

  After texting Jace, I laid back on my bed, staring at the familiar ceiling of my childhood. I'd felt safe in this room then, and nothing had changed about that. I might never have really felt at home, but I had always known I was safe and loved. As I thought about the life I'd built, about the walls that kept me penned inside of it, I realized that maybe I'd given up control. Maybe I'd done it willingly, or without even realizing that's what I was doing. And maybe, just maybe, I could take it back.

  I needed to talk to Gran. Before the party.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jace

  I called Austin at noon as soon as I was done with my shift, my gut churning as I sat on the edge of the bed in my room. I’d already thought through what I’d tell my mom about being fired, some story about choosing a chance at love. I knew losing my job wouldn’t mean financial ruin or homelessness for me or my family—Juliet wouldn’t let that happen. But could I possibly live with myself if it came to that? There were no good outcomes here. Still, I did what I needed to do.

  "Jace, good to hear from you." Austin's voice was confident, and every bit as warm as it had been the first time I'd called him, when he'd offered me the job. "How's school going, son? Just about done by my calculations."

  School? My mind was definitely not on last exam I’d taken before leaving for Maryland, but if he wasn't going to fire me straight out, I could talk about school. "Just took my last test, actually. Online, you know. Think it went okay."

  "Almost got that degree."

  "Yes sir. I hope so." Austin had been a colonel in the Marine Corps. I'd never be able to call him anything besides "sir," even though we were both out now.

  "Plans after that?" He sounded sincerely interested, and I felt a bit of tension wind its way out of my back. Maybe Austin wasn’t planning to fire me. Or maybe he just needed a chat?

  "Teaching, maybe? High school?" It wouldn’t do much for my income, but might offer some security. And at least it’d be steady work and maybe I could make a difference to someone.

  "You don't sound certain."

  I chuckled, realizing that laughing just before your boss hands you your ass was probably not normal. "I guess I'm not certain about much right now," I confessed.

  He paused, and I felt my heart trying to climb up my throat. I took a deep breath. "Son, listen. I spoke with Chad this morning."

  "Yes sir." Here it came.

  "That piece of shit has been a problem since day one."

  Surprise made me sit up straight. I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly. Was Chad the “piece of shit” here or was I? "Sir?"

  "This is the third time he's tried to get another staff member fired. Second time I've gotten the idea he might be thinking of manipulating a client for money." I heard my boss exhale a sharp breath. "I'm the idiot who keeps giving him another chance."

  I didn't have
anything to say to that, so I kept my mouth shut. I began to have the sense I wasn’t the one in trouble here, but was afraid to hope for too much.

  "Look, Jace. Getting involved with a client isn't something I'd ever want for one of my employees. It muddies the line between business and, well ... you know as well as I do. That said, sometimes I know we don't control the things our hearts want or need."

  I would have said that nothing could really surprise me these days, but this did. "Sir?"

  "Your record is excellent, and I don't mean just the time you've been working for me. You should know we do a thorough background check before hiring anyone. Some people's closets have more skeletons than others, and while that doesn't mean we won't hire them, it does restrict the kind of access they might have to clients and information. Before I officially hired you, I pulled your service records, spoke to your CO, and looked over your transcripts from high school."

  "Yes, sir." Relief began to thread its way into the worry in my veins. This didn't sound like the kind of conversation that ended with 'you're fired.'

  "It's impressive, Jace. And your unit COs on both tours used one word to describe you that means a hell of a lot to me. Wanna guess what that word was?"

  Strong? Loyal? Snappy dresser? I didn't know, and I wasn't about to guess. "No sir."

  "It was integrity. The ability to make the right decision in a complex environment, to determine the best choice when the only choices you have are bad choices. It's the habit of doing the right thing, Jace, because you have a clear sense of what that thing is. You have that. Always have, from what I can tell."

  I felt my shoulders straighten as pride galloped through my veins. I was pretty sure that wasn't the Webster definition, but I wasn't about to question him, and it felt good to hear it. "Thank you sir."

  "I want to offer you a job, Jace."

  That had me on my feet, confusion and disbelief swirling inside me. For one thing, I already had a job. "Sir?"

  "I'm not going to run this firm forever. But I don't want to see it fold either. I need a successor. Not right now, but soon."

  My mind flashed through possibilities. I saw myself standing in front of a classroom full of kids, doing the best I could but maybe never really feeling like I was good at my job. And then I saw myself running the firm, handling assignments and strategy, much as I had in the corps. I could do that. I could be good at that.

  "What do you think?" he asked.

  "I guess I'd be an idiot to say no."

  "Is this what you want, though?" he asked. "If high school is your goal, this might not feel like the right choice. I'll email you the terms I have in mind. In short, transfer in a year or so, I'd keep a portion of profits but the rest would be yours to manage as you see fit. Jace, you should know the firm does well. Very well."

  I didn't want money to be the determining factor, but it did matter. I’d seen how much in just the past few days. Money could make everything else easier. "Can I take a little time?"

  "Of course."

  "Thanks."

  "And Jace?"

  "Yes sir?"

  "It would probably make sense to step off the Manchester team if you think your relationship there is serious. Even if it isn't. When you get back and have time to transition in two new team members to replace you and Chad."

  "Yes sir." My heart sank at the thought of leaving Juliet to someone else's care, but Austin was right. Being too close to Juliet could mean missing something important in her security efforts. Someone objective and removed would do a better job.

  "I'll talk to you when you're back, if not before."

  "Thank you, sir."

  I hung up and stared out the window for a long time. Long enough to see Chad throwing his bag into the back of a car that pulled down the long drive. Long enough to watch him notice the van and car that were headed toward the house, arriving for the party, and long enough to see him wait for Alison to get out before whispering something to her, which she wrote down. I was just glad I kept watching long enough to see him get in his own ride and go. Good riddance. At least that was taken care of.

  Now I just needed to make some decisions about how to take care of everything else.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Juliet

  For a little while, I lay on my back, listening to the house around me and hearing the quiet rush and lap of the water below us through my open window. I let the morning settle and shift as I thought about everything my life had become since the first time I’d come to live here with Gran and Tess, just after our parents had been killed in the car accident.

  “This is your home, girls,” Gran had told us. “And it will always be here for you if you ever need to come back.”

  We’d sipped lemonade on the back porch with our father’s mother—the sharp and almost scary old woman we’d previously had only monthly dinners and holidays with.

  “It might not feel like home right now, but I hope one day it will. And when you need it, when you need a place to remember who you are, or decide who you want to be, this will be the place to do it.” She’d said this like it was a fact, and I wasn’t sure if she was right or if she’d just planted that belief deep inside me somewhere that day. But I knew I’d needed to come home. To figure everything out.

  I didn’t stay in my room long, and while the house was quiet and Jace was outside, I went downstairs to talk to Gran.

  "Gran?" I asked, stepping into the little room Tess had set up, where Gran's enormous computer was blazing away, and she was seated in front of it like some kind of deranged mission control captain.

  She swiveled, eyeing me suspiciously, her huge headphones clamped onto her head. "Do I know you?" She squinted at me.

  Oh god, was Gran losing it? Tess hadn't said anything to me about dementia.

  "It's me, Juliet. Your granddaughter?"

  She pushed her thin lips together and looked up, laying a finger across her mouth like she was trying to remember. "Now let me see," she said. "I have one granddaughter, Tessy. She baked me a birthday cake and plays cards with me sometimes. Makes a mean Manhattan, too. But I'm having a hard time placing you. You look kind of familiar."

  "Gran." I crossed my arms. She was just being difficult.

  "Aren't you that movie star?"

  "Gran." I was beginning to become exasperated. I flopped down into the chair facing her. I didn’t need this right now. I needed real advice, but if I had to suffer through some Gran antics first, I would. We still had a few hours before I needed to get ready for the party.

  "Oh wait," she went on, still tormenting me. "That frown. I remember that. There was a little blond girl who lived here once. Pretty little thing. But boy, could she throw a temper tantrum when she didn't get what she wanted."

  Since I'd been ten when I'd come to live with Gran, those tantrums had been pretty ugly. I remembered them too. "Yes, sorry about those."

  "So it is you." She pulled off the big headset and pushed a few buttons on her keyboard.

  "It might be," I said, relaxing a little now that it seemed like Gran might actually be willing to talk to me like an adult. "I don't know quite who I am sometimes."

  "America's Geekheart?"

  I shook my head. "That's the Pippa Grant book you sent me to try to get made into a film. You might be looking for that stupid name they call me: America's Sweetheart, but I'm not that either."

  "Excellent book," she said tilting her head to one side, obviously thinking about the book again.

  “Yes, but not the point."

  Gran sighed, as if maybe having heart-to-heart talks was something she wasn't up to at the moment. I started to get to my feet. "I should let you get ready for your party, I guess."

  "Sit your ass back down, Juliet, we’ve got five hours before the damned party. I've been wanting to talk to you since you got here, but you've been so busy chasing your pet gorillas around and moaning, I haven't had a chance."

  Gorillas? Moaning? I sounded delightful. And completely tra
nsparent. "Sorry."

  "What's going on?" She reached into the pocket of her track suit and extracted a joint, then scrabbled behind her on the desk for a lighter.

  I didn't even tell her not to. What was the point? Gran did what Gran wanted. Instead I told her about Zac. About finding him sampling our chef's private offerings, about the blackmail and the refusal of every settlement offer I'd put forth. I told her about the sex tape, and then I told her about Jace, and finally about Chad's threat.

  "Sweetheart, I love you, but you're an asshole magnet."

  "Not at all helpful." Which didn't make her wrong. I slumped to one side and dropped my chin into my palm. I thought maybe I was finally getting away from assholes—Jace definitely wasn’t one. But things with Jace weren’t going perfectly either. "Don't you have some words of wisdom, Gran? Like when you told me in high school that the best way to get to be the girl at the top of the pyramid was to keep dropping everyone else when they made me be on the bottom in cheer?"

  "Did that girl's arm ever heal?" Gran grinned at me.

  "I'm sure it did. It was just a little fracture."

  "She deserved it. That girl put her lip gloss on so thick I bet she's still trying to scrape off the remnants."

  Libby Tyler. She did have a gloss issue. She was also a horrible human being, at least at sixteen.

  "Things have gotten more serious since high school though," I said, my mind darkening again as I thought about the magazine coming, about my ongoing charade with Ryan. About whatever Chad thought he knew and what he might tell Alison.

  "Let's see," Gran said, raising her fingers in front of her face and lowering one for each point she made. "You're divorcing your scumbag ex, which is good. He's blackmailing you. Less good. You're faking a relationship with that fine piece of movie star ass your sister likes. That's not only not good, that's moronic. Two points deducted there."