Mister Know It All: A Hero Club Novel

by Amélie S. Duncan

  “Hello, Jasmine. Welcome,” Graham said and immediately took over, removing both of Lorenzo’s socks. He was in his suit, ready for work like Ford. He had a similar chiseled face, but his hair was dark, and his eyes a rich, deep brown. There was a softness in his face when he looked at Soraya with Lorenzo. He kissed her lips before taking him from her so she could hug me.

  “Thank you both for having me here,” I said into Soraya’s shoulder.

  “It’s great to see you. Let me show you your room. Are you hungry?” she asked.

  “No,” I said and glanced back at Ford, who was watching me. He gave me a salacious smile.

  “You know you probably have your hands full here. I have plenty of room if Jasmine wants to spend the summer at my place,” Ford announced, flooring me.

  My mouth dropped open, and I shook my head rapidly from side to side, hard and fast enough to give myself a headache. “No, thanks. I’ll find a place as soon as I start looking.”

  “Nonsense. We renovated the downstairs, and it functions as a garden apartment,” Soraya said. “You’re welcome to stay there.”

  “Probably not suited for Jasmine’s summer plans. Does it have a separate entrance?” Ford asked, and I scowled at him.

  “It does, actually,” Soraya said and glanced back and forth between the two of us.

  My ears burned. “Ford doesn’t need to know about private entrances. If he comes over, he will visit you, not me.”

  “Leave her alone,” Graham said. He handed Lorenzo to Soraya and motioned for Ford to follow him out of the living room.

  Ford didn’t leave without sending me a lascivious grin, sending a zing straight to my clit. I shut my eyes and bit the inside of my cheek. He must’ve figured out how to turn me on and was using it as a weapon to mock me.

  Lorenzo babbled loudly, and I reached for him to hold. “He’s so adorable.”

  “Waaah,” he wailed.

  “Do you want me to take him?” Soraya offered.

  “No, I’ll win him over.” I sat down on the couch and bounced Lorenzo on my lap until he giggled.

  Soraya then gave him to her nanny, Faye.

  “How was Connecticut?” I asked.

  “Busy. We’re trying to renovate a home for one of Graham’s great aunts. She’s not doing too well on her own at her home in South Jersey, but she doesn’t want to live in the city.”

  “I guess it would be harder when you’re older navigating here. So far I love it.”

  Soraya laughed. “Good. Let’s get you settled in. Follow me.”

  I followed her downstairs for a mini-tour of the garden apartment.

  “The bedroom is here.” She opened the room and showed me a queen-size bed and dresser. The living room had an L-shaped sectional for sitting and a flat-screen television. A small desk and dinette were in the dining room. I immediately took out my laptop and plugged in my cell phone.

  “So now that we’re alone. What happened between you and Ford?” she asked.

  “He kissed me. I mean, we kissed. It was . . . nothing.” I chewed on my lip.

  She frowned. “Sounds like something. We didn’t think he’d try anything. I’m sorry.”

  “No, It’s all right. I’m fine.” I stared down at my hands. “I don’t know. Ford was a great host. He showed me around and let me touch his geeky stuff.”

  Images of Ford naked and pressing me up against his door came to mind. I pulled my hair to drape over my heated face. “Is the heat on? It’s hot in here.”

  Soraya’s brows pulled together. “Is it? I’ll check.”

  She stood and went over to the thermostat and pressed the button to lower the temperature, and I felt bad.

  “Yeah. From what I’ve seen of Ford’s place, he has quite the collection. Graham calls him the savant of art-tech at work. He spends a lot of time alone or on his photography and was pretty broken up when his girlfriend Cecile left. He rarely smiles, and he’s so serious.”

  “He was serious. Initially. But then I found out that he’s funny. At least he joked a lot with me. He’s also terribly opinionated and annoying.”

  “So . . . you like him?” she asked, returning to sit next to me.

  I shrugged.

  “Yeah. I thought Ford could be your friend. But you know he and his girlfriend haven’t officially broken up?” she asked, raising a brow.

  “Yes.” I cleared my throat. “He told me. They’re on a break . . .”

  “Did he mention they broke up over a proposal?” Soraya asked, her voice rising an octave. “I’m not sure, but if so, he’s not really available, and I’m upset he made a move on you. We trusted him.”

  “No. Really, it’s fine. I’m fine,” I stammered, my stomach knotted by the news.

  Ford proposed marriage? He’s waiting for her and kissed me? What an asshole.

  “I didn’t know about the proposal. But you don’t have to worry about it. I don’t plan to have anything else to do with Ford. I’m just away from Randall.”

  She squeezed my hand. “I know it’s hard to find out someone you cared for cheated. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m angry with myself. I should have dumped Randall when I snooped in his chats and found the cybersex. I just liked what we had going academically. He let me lecture in his classes, run the study groups, and work on articles he published.”

  She frowned. “Did Randall give you credit for all this work? Did he tell his colleagues you helped to give you recommendations, to promote you, to network with other people?”

  I hunched my shoulders. “No. Randall said I needed to get ‘seasoned.’”

  Randall did give me experience in teaching, but everything had been on his terms to promote himself. I let him lead because he had the career I wanted. The one I thought I wanted.

  “Your mom called,” she said. “She said you’re avoiding talking to her.”

  “She only wants to make me feel bad. She thinks I’m blowing my chances to be the scholar she groomed me to be,” I half joked.

  “I told her you’ll talk to her when you’re ready. This is your life, Jasmine. And I want you to have a pleasant summer. Not just full of work but fun too.”

  I reached over and hugged her tight. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said and smiled at me. “Now, what would you like to do first?”

  “I want a makeover. New hair, clothes, maybe a tattoo.” I admired the two feather tattoos on her right foot.

  “Tattoos are forever, but we can definitely stop in at my friends’ Tig and Delia’s shop if you find something you like. I’ve taken time off, and Faye will be with us to help, so we can go shopping and get you all set up. We’ll take the subway, which is the easiest way to get around the city. It will be a lot of fun. In fact, there is someone I think you’d like. Tig said he’s a poet or something. We can stop in, and maybe you can see what you think.”

  “I’m not interested in dating. I’m only interested in casual sex,” I said.

  She laughed. “Slow down.”

  I followed her upstairs and saw Ford at the door. He walked over to me, and my traitorous pulse raced with excitement.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  I crossed my arms and scowled at him. “What’s wrong is I thought you were different, and you’re not. Just wait for your girlfriend to return and stay away from me.”

  I turned my back to him and walked out of the room. He didn’t try to stop or follow me. Ford was not only unavailable but he was also in love. No doubt, he had planned to use me to fill his time before returning to her, and I’d be left the fool, feeling used and stupid. No way. Soraya was right. My summer was up to me, and I wouldn’t waste my time entangled with men in dubious relationships, no matter how good-looking. I’ll get back on track with my summer, try new things, have an adventure, write an article, and have a wild affair with some lucky someone.

  And forget about Ford’s manhandling because I never wanted to be the other woman. And I won’t let Ford Li
ngren make me that. Ever.

  Ford

  I’ll fix things

  Soraya sent daggers my way. She didn’t invite me to come back later for dinner or stop to give Graham a kiss before she left the room with Jasmine. Of course, Graham was calm about it.

  “What the hell did you do to Jasmine?” he growled.

  “What she asked me to do.”

  Jasmine came on to me. She batted her expressive hazel eyes and ran her tongue suggestively over her lips while giving me the lamest excuse I ever heard. “I want to mark the moment.” Bullshit. She wanted me to kiss her. And I played along with her game because I liked it. I enjoyed her awkward shyness. Her sexy, innocent vibe was like kryptonite, making me hard as fuck. Damn, right, I went in for a taste. I tried for just a kiss, but she kept pushing her perky tits into my chest. They were begging to be squeezed, so I obliged. And Jasmine moaned and squirmed. Then her conscience must’ve kicked in. But damn, she was hot. I want to fuck her and see how she comes. That was all my brain could think about now.

  A hit on my arm broke my train of thought, Graham’s nostrils flaring.

  “Get it together, man. Whatever you did, Jasmine doesn’t like it now. Soraya is upset—”

  “Which means trouble for you,” I interrupted.

  “And for you. Jasmine’s our guest. You stay clear of her. Besides that, Cecile . . . may return. Don’t complicate things for yourself.”

  I understood Graham was upset, but the topic of Cecile wasn’t up for discussion. But he had a right to call me out for disrupting his home. I’d need to make things right.

  “I’ll fix things.”

  “You will, and thanks for letting her stay with you last night. See you at work.”

  On the ride back to work, I thought about Cecile. She came into my life like a whirlwind and left just as abruptly. The night at Bryant Park’s Fashion week where we met, she stood out among the hostesses at the show. She had a wide-eyed freshness to everything around her I enjoyed. She instantly became my muse, and her images moved my photography from unknown to known. Those photos opened doors for her too. The wrong doors and that was my fault.

  The least I could do was give her time. She needed to rehabilitate and recover, but it had been three months. Three months and only one message: I’m not ready.

  I believed I could wait. I’d never been tempted or even allowed myself to be drawn until Jasmine. I was falling into old habits and on course for a repeat. Something I didn’t think my heart could take again.

  Catching up on minutes from the previous day’s meetings, attending today’s, and considering proposals kept me busy, and before I knew it, it was seven p.m. I’d worked straight through lunch even though Jennifer had left food out for me on the side of my desk.

  I sighed. Another day absorbed, and no time for me. It’d been the way I liked it, but that brief time-out with Jasmine had been fun. Kissing and touching her firm breasts even more fun.

  I packed up for home and was about to put my briefcase in the passenger seat when Jasmine’s silk scarf caught my eye. I tucked it inside the case and allowed myself to muse over how excited she had been in Times Square. Two blocks from my building, I saw my friend Martin on the sidewalk. I hit the horn to get his attention, and he waved and stopped at the entrance. After parking in the underground, I met him in the lobby.

  “I was in the neighborhood,” he said.

  Martin lived on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, nowhere near the West Village. He was also an art curator for Zmirak Gallery, where I had my most successful photography exhibit.

  “Scouting for something new?” I asked as we stepped inside the elevator.

  “I also came to see how you’re getting on,” he said in a British accent.

  I groaned. “Oh, please spare me the accent.”

  Martin spent two years in London and came back sounding like Patrick Stewart.

  He laughed. “It’s a part of me now. Make peace with it.”

  Once inside my place, he made himself at home. Martin was my age, but his hair turned white young like all men in his family. I’d never seen him in anything but black clothing. Today was no different, except for his smile as he went through a group of proofs I had next to my portfolios. He also smiled when delivering his worst criticism. I wasn’t in the state to ask or even hover to look at what caught his eye. Most of my photos were of ex-lovers. My passion ran over into my emotions, and every one of them had been extraordinary. Every one of them also broke me.

  “I hope you have something interesting for me, Ford. If I see another still picture of an arm or someone standing on the sidewalk, I’m going to lose it.”

  “I don’t have anything,” I told him.

  He peered through the shots on my camera. “Oh, who is this? Now this face is interesting, and I’m captivated. She wears her emotions. I can feel everything when I look into her eyes. She’s enticing and flirtatious. This is what I want to see—real feeling. It’s so much more than just a naked body, though I love that too. She’s fresh, playful, arousing. Any more pictures?”

  I rubbed the hair on my chin. “Not exactly.”

  “Give me a taste of what could come,” he said.

  I showed him the photo of Jasmine on my phone after we kissed.

  “She looks darker here. The way she tears up, her lips part, she’s tempted like Eve in the Garden of Eden. I’d love to see her face when she’s naked.”

  I shook my head. “She would never agree.”

  “She will once she’s yours. The break with Cecile was bullshit anyway,” Martin said, staring at the image. “This image has an enticing contrast, innocent and sensual. Honestly, the camera is in love with her. I think I am too. There’s a story here I want to know. You should play it out.”

  “Another tragedy,” I murmured.

  “Art is life, and life is torture. We all live in agony. We endure. I can sell more of whatever this is. So, do more of it. Go to therapy like the rest of us after she breaks your heart.”

  I put on a smile. Martin had his own pain after his messy divorce, and he saw mine after Cecile left. She sure enjoyed the commission from her photos, and I’d been the one blindsided by what she did with the money.

  “Still not speaking to Andre?” he asked.

  “Best to stay out of that.”

  “He’s full of regret.”

  “After he fucked me over,” I pointed out. That had Martin running for a change in subject.

  He and I talked shop for a bit between eating brunch leftovers for dinner and phone calls we both had to take. Soon he was gone, leaving me to think about how to navigate what to do about Jasmine. First, I needed to resolve things with Graham and Soraya. I wanted to wait until she was alone to discuss things with her. But I had put it off for as long as I could. I took out my phone and sent a text.

  Ford: I’m sorry if I upset you

  She responded almost instantly.

  Jasmine: You lied. You said you were on a break, and it turns out, you’re actually engaged.

  Ford: I’m not. I asked. She turned me down.

  Jasmine: Why?

  I grimaced at the question. But I typed out what I knew was Cecile’s answer.

  Ford: Because my proposal came when things were bad. I asked after she asked for a break.

  Cecile thought I only asked her to marry her because of the accident. And the other things that happened. She wasn’t entirely wrong. All I knew at the time was that I didn’t want to lose her.

  Jasmine: Are you in love with her?

  Ford: I don’t know.

  Jasmine: If you want to be friends with me, that’s fine with me.

  Ford: I don’t want to be friends. I want to fuck you.

  Jasmine: Keep your dirty talk to yourself. I’m not getting involved with a man in

  love with another woman.

  Ford: You said you were only looking to hook up.

  Jasmine: I won’t knowingly help a man cheat. It’s unethical.

  Ford:
Our relationship is open. She’s been gone for three months. I don’t know how I feel or even if she’s coming back.

  My hands tightened my grip on the phone. That was the truth. I may never see Cecile again. Something I hadn’t been willing to admit to myself up to now. Why? Because I felt something today. Jerking off was just fantasy, but my body came back to life when I kissed Jasmine. I didn’t think of Cecile. Hell, with Jasmine, I talked, joked, and laughed, and it felt good. Something I hadn’t felt even before Cecile left.

  Ford: What about the curved pipe ex-boyfriend?

  Jasmine: Randall? I don’t know how I feel about him. I just know when I saw him fucking Angelique on his desk, I couldn’t forgive him. Or become the other woman.

  She was right. Even with an open relationship now, I was crossing a line. One that could end up hurting both of us.

  Ford: I’ll leave you alone. Do me a favor and tell Soraya and Graham you don’t hate me now.

  Jasmine: Fine, I will. I feel kind of out of sorts, away from Boston. Soraya is madly in love with Graham and has a beautiful baby boy. She cooks, and you wouldn’t believe the grilled fish she’s making for dinner.

  I could because I’d tried it before.

  Ford: I’m envious.

  Jasmine: We’re off boot shopping now.

  Ford: Send me a picture.

  Jasmine: Of the new boots?

  Ford: No. I want to see your face and your body. I’m particularly fond of your tits.

  Jasmine: Keep dreaming.

  I hesitated. Should I mention a photo shoot? Martin wanted more photos, but I wasn’t sure Jasmine—or myself, for that matter—would be ready for that. Still, I stared at the photo I took on my phone.

  Beautiful.

  Keep dreaming? We’re inevitable.

  As will Martin’s prescribed therapy be afterward.