Mister Know It All: A Hero Club Novel

by Amélie S. Duncan

  Soraya stood. “I’ve got to go, but let’s talk later. Congratulations again.”

  She left quicker than normal, so I knew she was hiding something from me. But why would she? If she thought the news would hurt me, she would tell me. Worry churned my stomach. Did Ford have to go on a trip to Tokyo?

  My phone buzzed again. Martin was calling about the photo he wanted to include in the show again. Does it really matter?

  In a city this large, would it really matter if someone owned a picture of me that gave away so many secrets? As much as I appreciated how Ford had left this decision in my hands, I also felt that I owed him by giving something back. And having no debt? Thinking it’s a gift horse I shouldn’t ignore but be thankful for.

  “Hi, Martin.”

  “Hi, Jasmine, how are you?”

  “There’s no need to go through all the pleasantries. I’ve given your offer more thought, and you can go ahead and use the picture.”

  “Thank you so much, Jasmine. The image has the making of an icon.”

  I rolled my eyes. He sure knew how to lay the charm on thick. “I’m doing it for Ford and me.”

  Of course, I wanted to help Ford if I could. His art was his passion, and he had a talent that should be shared. He never pressured me, and I knew I didn’t have to do it. I wanted to help Ford, but I also wanted to help myself. My images gave me a chance at self-reflection. I had the chance to be my own social experiment, and that was something I didn’t want to pass up. Yes, it was personal, but I did things that were hard for me all the time. This was another obstacle I could cross to my own understanding of myself.

  “Are you still there, Jasmine?”

  “I said yes.”

  “Thank you. See you next week.”

  Martin quickly ended the call, and I was about to put my phone away when I dialed my mom’s number.

  “Did you get into Harvard and Boston College?” she asked when she answered.

  “Yes, I did. All your work paid off. You’ve achieved your goal. Congratulations.”

  “Don’t take that attitude with me. I don’t deserve your sarcasm. Your dad and I worked hard and sacrificed a lot to give you the tools to achieve excellence. You wouldn’t have made it this far without us.”

  “I know, but when will it be enough? When will you believe I’m successful? When will you love me for who I am?”

  “You’re acting childishly. You already know we love you. You’re trying to make us out to be bad parents, but you never went hungry. We gave you more than either your dad or I had. I worked three jobs to get into college.”

  “And you did amazing, Mom. Your thesis is still listed as the best and handed out to other students as a sample of excellence. Your academic articles are still on course syllabi; you’re still Phi Beta Kappa and the most decorated honored graduate at Stanford. You’re still a scholar. You don’t need me to be great.”

  “I know that, but you can do even more. So, did you already send your response back to Harvard?”

  “I’m deferring—”

  “Harvard doesn’t defer. You accept it now, or you lose everything.”

  I’d had enough. “No, Mom, I don’t have to accept Harvard. I’ll go wherever I choose to go because it’s my life and my decision. I love you and appreciate all you and Dad did, but I’m an adult, and I can make my own life choices. I hope you decide to be a part of it.”

  Mom went silent on the line, and I held my breath.

  “I don’t know what to say to you or how to get through to you.”

  “I hear you, but do you hear me? Let me go, Mom. Let me live, and love me anyway.”

  “I always love you, Jasmine. My believing in your success and wanting the best for you is love.”

  “Thank you, Mom. I’m going to do what I want to do with my life. You can stop trying to control it because you can’t anymore. I’ve got to go.” I ended the call.

  I had rehearsed so many times in front of the mirror for years to tell her that. My mom would start yelling, and I’d cave, but not today. Today, I took my own life back. And now I had some decisions to make. My life had always been defined, but not anymore.

  I’d made my decision. I planned to take the job in New York City and defer my admissions to Boston and Emirs College. The time would give me a chance to further define my direction and gain new experiences. It would also give me more time with Ford. I loved him and being with him was important to me. I could have it all. I went to find Soraya and Graham to tell them the news because I knew that no matter my decision, they would support me one hundred percent. For that, and so much more, I was thankful to have had this time with them throughout the summer.

  “Ford wants to tell Jasmine himself about Tokyo. I promised him.” Graham’s voice filtered into the hallway off the kitchen.

  “What did Ford tell you?” Soraya asked.

  “He said he can’t decide, but he has to take the job. His mom needs rehab again. Wendy’s pregnant, and the hospital Aldric works at isn’t providing as many shifts. Ford pays part of the college tuition for Emma so she won’t have to take out loans. He won’t run from his responsibility.”

  “Oh, poor Jasmine. Four hours away in Boston was manageable, but he’d have to relocate and live almost seven thousand miles away. They’d never see each other.”

  A sob tore from my throat as my heart broke into a billion pieces. I headed back down the stairs. I’d only made it inside the room when my knees buckled, and I dropped down to the floor. Soraya appeared and bent down, placing her hand on my back as I hugged myself.

  “I’m so sorry, Jasmine.” She had continued to speak, but all I could hear in my head was Ford telling me what we could have together.

  “You want to know what binds us? Raw honesty. Whisper what’s hard, whisper your dreams, and I’ll carry them. And you’ll carry mine. You’re not alone. This will make our bond, and my promise to take care of you.”

  I love you, Ford. I need you.

  He always took good care of me. Since the moment I met him, he’d treated me like I was precious. He was so attentive and caring. He showed me passion, tenderness, and love and was the only man who held me when I cried in the dark.

  Tears flowed down my face, and they wouldn’t stop. Only moments ago, I’d felt so secure in what the future held. But what will I do now?

  I stayed in bed for the remainder of the day, asking to be left alone. Soraya understood, and I was grateful for that. I couldn’t talk anyway. Nothing anyone could tell me would make the place in my heart where Ford had carved a space heal. There was only a gaping wound of emotion and despair, anxious and terrified of the day when he’d walk out of my life forever. Sure, I could rationalize, and even if I heard these things from someone else, I’d think the person was dramatic. Maybe I’d even say time heals all wounds, but now I knew some wounds cut to the bone. Ford wasn’t ever just a summer fling. He meant so much more than that. He became my closest confidant, ardent lover, kindred spirit, brave hero, and best friend. I’d even go as far as believing we were soul mates, which meant I fell crazy in love with him.

  Reaching over to the nightstand, I turned on the lamp and sat up. My sore eyes struggled to adjust, but I could see my phone on the charging crate and the flashing indicator that alerted me to new messages. My pulse picked up as I reached for it to check. There was one message from Tam informing me she took the MCAT, which I quickly sent back my support. Then I took a deep breath and braced myself for Ford’s message.

  “Petal, I’m sorry I couldn’t come downstairs to see you. Please forgive me. I j-just heard about the job. My brother showed up out of the blue with bad news, but I haven’t accepted the job.”

  Pain shot through my chest at the sound of his distorted stutter.

  “I haven’t given up, and I need you not to give up yet on me. I love you, and I’m not letting you go. We’ll find a way. Hell, I’ll quit . . . I’m coming tonight. I had my assistant drop off something for you to wear for the surprise. I�
�ll pick you up. Please come with me. Please. I love you.”

  Tears spilled down my face, and I took deep breaths and wiped them away. The Ford I knew and loved would take the job. He’d do whatever he could to help everyone he loved. He couldn’t stay, and I couldn’t let him throw his hard work away to be with me. He was still going out of his way to treat me special, but he didn’t need to beg to see him. I loved him, and his leaving wouldn’t change that.

  I left the bedroom and found the garment bag he mentioned. Inside was the linen dress I wore to the Guggenheim and the Star Trek socks. I must have kicked them off my feet when I took a nap in his bed after the airbrush photo shoot. My heart ached, reminiscing on how happy I’d been. How Ford couldn’t make it through the photo session without getting inside me again. He always made me feel sensual, desired, and beautiful.

  I hiccupped a sob into my hands and took more breaths. Get yourself together, and don’t give up on him.

  I went to the bathroom sink and splashed water on my face. My eyes were too swollen for contacts, so I put on my glasses.

  A knock sounded on the wall at the stairs.

  “It’s Soraya,” she called. Her expression was concerned and remorseful.

  “I’m sorry you overheard us. I hadn’t meant to keep anything from you—”

  “I know. I was the one who eavesdropped. It’s fine.”

  She frowned. “It’s not fine. You’re hurting.”

  I hunched my shoulders. “That can’t be helped. I love him, and I don’t want him thousands of miles away from me.”

  She sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Jasmine. I also wanted to tell you Ford’s on his way over to pick you up. He left”—she looked at the open clothing bag—“ah, I see you got it already.”

  I nodded quickly and rubbed the center of my chest. “I did.”

  “I’m sorry you’re hurting. Love sometimes sucks, hey.” She shrugged, looking sympathetic.

  I chuckled. “Yep, you’re not wrong.” And she knew. She and Graham didn’t have the easiest road to love either.

  “Okay, well, I’ll see you when you’re back.”

  “Thanks, Soraya.” She hugged me and headed back up the stairs, and then I changed into my special outfit, adding my birdy shoes. I put my hair in a messy bun and kept on my glasses, then I walked upstairs to the driveway. Ford’s black Mercedes SUV pulled in, and my heart jumped into my throat.

  Ford climbed out and stopped in front of his car. He had a T-shirt under a one-button suit jacket and jeans, just like he did at the art museum. My eyes were drawn to his hand. He held a rose, but his hand shook.

  “Hello, beautiful.” His voice sounded rough, as if he’d lost it. He cleared his throat. “Look at me, petal.”

  I lifted my gaze, and my heart stuttered. The skin around his eyes jumped. They were as red and swollen as mine. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gazed over me. “Oh, Jasmine.”

  His arms lifted, but there was a slight hesitation as if he was unsure I’d go into them now, and my heart tore. This wasn’t Ford. He was strong and confident, never uncertain. Did he doubt I loved him?

  A sob escaped my lips. “I love you, Ford. I love you so much, I can’t . . . I can’t breathe . . .” My tongue swelled and twisted in a knot, robbing me of speech. I gasped.

  He closed the distance and engulfed me in his arms, and I wrapped my arms around him just as tight.

  “I love you too, Jasmine.” He tangled his hands in my hair and bent his head, sealing his lips to mine. Our kiss was passionate. Our tongues collided, exploring, and soothingly stroked each other. We kissed like we were starved for each other and could stop our end.

  I didn’t want to separate from him, but he eased me out of his arms, and we climbed into the car.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “You’ll find out soon.” He squeezed my knee, then drove off.

  I didn’t look out at the traffic. Instead, I stared at him. His hair tousled, the stubble on his jaw. His head turned to steal a glance at me as he drove. We both didn’t want to miss a moment in each other’s company. Our drive took about forty minutes—normal New York City traffic—but I was glad. I needed time for the red eyes and puffiness to go down and to apply some concealer and foundation so I didn’t look too much of a disaster for wherever we were going. Even upset, Ford looked movie-star gorgeous.

  When we finally arrived at Zmirak Gallery, I was thankful for that time. A valet driver came around and opened the door, and we stepped out of the car. Why were there so many people here?

  “I thought the private showing was next week?”

  “Martin has a way of organizing a party early,” Ford said and took my hand. “If I have to travel, I might not make it back for the opening.”

  He rubbed my trembling arms and tucked me into his side.

  A beautiful blonde with half her face covered limped forward. Up close, I could see the facial reconstruction and that one of her eyes was made of glass. What horror did she go through to end up with so much damage? My heart ached for her, but I smiled and shook her extended hand.

  Ford kissed her cheek. “This is my best friend, Blair Watts.”

  “I finally meet Alpaca Socks,” she joked.

  I pretended to cringe. “Ford told you?”

  He poked Blair’s arm and gave her a stern look. “Not one word.”

  “He told me about your parents’ farm,” Blair mused. “I had a fantasy of having a farm, but I don’t like waking up early, mud, or animals.”

  I laughed. “You get used to the dirt, and alpacas are so sweet. Honestly, Mom got the idea of an alpaca farm from a band she liked in the eighties. Though if you ask her, she’ll quote Henry Thoreau claiming she moved to the woods to live deliberately.”

  We all laughed. Then her expression turned serious.

  “Your collection is a triumph, Ford,” she trilled. “I’m so proud of you. You’re just stunning, Jasmine. I feel like I know you just by looking at your story.”

  I smiled and took note of that in my head to think over later. Then I saw the writing on the wall—Ford Lingren’s Jasmine Collection: The Story of Us.

  Ford’s collection was of my whole summer with him. He had me holding his Luke Skywalker helmet, wearing my tan bra and spandex leotard. I could have died, but I was drawn to the flirtation in my eyes and the joyous expression in my smile.

  “We’re kindred spirits,” Ford said softly.

  I giggled. “I thought the same.”

  We’d geek-bonded. He walked me on, and we stopped to look at us. They were mostly of me. Every look I gave him, every moment of joy we shared, every yearning was on display. In some photos, I was fully naked. Others were a close-up of my face after we were intimate. I was the silly nerd and the fire angel in flight. It was our story, how we healed each other and opened ourselves to love.

  All the photos were admired, but the one with me on the bed that I had hesitated to include attracted the biggest crowd. Ford and I stood back, and I tuned in.

  “This is raw. Jasmine is so exposed here. We’re flies on the wall. I shouldn’t be looking at this, but I can’t look away.”

  “I feel like crying, and I never cry.”

  “It’s a reflection of the human experience. Our deepest desire for love, acceptance.”

  I nodded but stayed silent. They seemed to see what I felt at that moment. It was still painful, but I saw how much the photo moved them emotionally.

  We walked on and stopped at a photo of us working in his living room. I didn’t remember this one, but we are seated talking, staring at each other.

  “I can see Gustave Klimt in this one. They are lovers intertwine.”

  “This is so sensual. I think I need a fan.”

  We weren’t naked or anything, but art was what people connected to in their own hearts.

  Martin caught up with us. “It’s going great. May I borrow Ford from you?”

  Ford shook his head, but I waved him on, giving me a chance to self-re
flect.

  Some of the patrons eyed me in recognition but didn’t approach. Most weren’t talking about my body. They were talking about the meaning of the art—the composition and how it affected them. One I found speaking into a hand tape recorder had me most keen to listen to him.

  “Is this the same Ford Lingren?” He spoke loudly into his smartphone. “The splashy, sexually dominant nauseating work he’d previously done may have caused others to swoon, but it was predictable and obvious. It set back art years, but this collection has made me have to eat my humble pie. This work is a triumph. He’s making history.”

  My heart lifted. I was so happy for Ford. He deserved the accolades, but I was still sad for us. Could we find a way to work it out? Could I get a job with Morgan Financial in Tokyo?

  Ford came up and placed his arms around my waist. “What do you think of the collection?”

  “I think it’s beautiful,” I said. “I never knew I had so many sides to myself.”

  “I did, and I fell in love with all of them,” he said softly.

  Ford had been quite perceptive, and his photography had shown a whole new side of me. I knew I was pretty, but I’d never thought of myself as sensual. Desirable. I felt differently, not just about my body but myself. I loved who I was. I leaned up and kissed him gently on his cheek. “Thank you, Ford. I would never have expected these photos, and I actually feel beautiful in them.”

  “You’re beautiful all the time, Jasmine. Even in corduroy flower skirts, cotton bras, and unfortunately cheap spandex.”

  I laughed, and he laughed with me, then I wiped a tear from my eye, and he hugged me.

  “You know, I could visit Tokyo for the summer. You would have to come back to the office in New York City—” I said, my gaze fixed on his face.

  “You’re staying in New York?” he said with a lift to his voice.

  “Yes. I’ve decided to defer a year. You come back from other business trips . . .”

  Ford shook his head, his eyes filled. “The new head is based mostly abroad. I’d only come back to New York maybe three times a year.”