Straight from the Hart

by Tracie Banister

Alex reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a wad of bills in a silver money clip. He counts out five Ben Franklins, places them on my desk, and slides them toward me.

  How times have changed! Back when we were dating, Alex didn’t even have one hundred dollar bill in his pocket because he was always broke after paying his bills each month. That’s why I was always coming up with creative date ideas that didn’t cost much, or I cooked inexpensive things like spaghetti or tacos at his place.

  Collecting the money, I stick it in my blush-colored planner and say, “State your business.”

  “Have you been keeping up with the scandal involving Jaxon Reid and Jazmin Johansen?”

  “Hard not to since it’s been the top news story on every entertainment show for the last few days. It’s all over the radio and Internet too. Hashtag love is dead.” I smirk because the fangirls are so dramatic.

  He grimaces. “It’s bad. Jax and Jaz have been relationship goals for Millennials ever since they fell for each other on the set of Time and Time Again four years ago.”

  I nod because I’m well aware of the Js’ love story and the path it’s taken them on. Their whirlwind courtship followed by their epic wedding at a French château and all of their loved-up Insta photos and joint red carpet appearances ever since have made them the poster couple for Young Hollywood.

  “The public’s perception of them as being madly in love and deeply devoted to one another is as much a part of their brand as their acting roles, what they wear, and the products they endorse,” Alex says.

  “Well, then I guess Jax should have thought twice before jumping into bed with his latest co-star.”

  That’s what this big scandal is all about. Soulful-eyed Jax, who confessed in a recent People magazine interview that Jaz was the one he thought of whenever he had to do love scenes so that he could make the passion believable, boned the nubile up-and-comer who’s playing the second female lead in his next film. And the whole world found out about his infidelity when TMZ released photos someone had taken on a cellphone of Jax and I-can’t-even-remember-her-name swapping spit and grinding up against each other in the corridor outside his hotel room. When will these celebs learn that you can’t misbehave without a camera catching you in the act these days? If it’s not a pap with a telephoto lens, it’s a voyeuristic rando looking to make a buck from the tabloid press.

  “It was a terrible mistake that only happened once, and Jax could not be sorrier. He adores Jaz, and it’s killing him that he hurt her and may have destroyed their marriage along with everything they’ve built together.”

  “She threw him out, didn’t she? Or did the press make that up?”

  “No, it’s true. The story broke when Jax was on a plane, returning from the shoot in London. By the time he got home, Jaz had thrown most of his stuff in the pool and didn’t want to hear anything Jax had to say. She ordered him to leave, so he checked into a suite at the Sunset Tower. He’s tried reaching out to her repeatedly in the days since, but she refuses to see or talk to him.”

  “Can you blame her? She’s been betrayed and publicly humiliated.”

  Alex exhales a sigh, and I can tell from the puffiness beneath his eyes that he’s been losing sleep over this. “It’s an unfortunate situation and I do sympathize with Jaz, but it would behoove her to look at the big picture.”

  “Which is?”

  “She and Jaz need each other. Their fans support them as a couple, and chances are that that support, and everyone’s fascination with them, will be greatly diminished if they go their separate ways.”

  “So you’re worried about your client’s career?”

  “That’s my job as his publicist, and all of this really couldn’t be happening at a worse time. Jax’s biggest movie yet is coming out in May. New Frisco is the highly anticipated film adaptation of a really popular graphic novel series and by all accounts, Jax’s performance as the villain-turned-anti-hero is a standout. The studio loved him so much in an early cut that they’re not just talking about sequels, but also a series of prequels that will delve into the character’s backstory. This deal could be worth tens of millions of dollars and make Jax one of the highest-paid actors on the planet. Of course, none of that will happen if his Q Score takes a dive and the press junket for this movie turns into a free-for-all with reporters asking nothing but questions about the cheating scandal and the state of the Js’ marriage.”

  “That does sound like a PR nightmare.”

  “Which is why I need you to fix this now. Help Jax win back Jaz so that they can appear on the red carpet at that premiere together and show everyone that their love is stronger than ever.”

  “That’s a tall order.”

  “If anyone can do it, you can. Hell, I got so caught up in the fun and romance of that casino night you planned for Astra and me, I almost said yes to her proposal.”

  Alex’s recollection of my biggest failure as a romance concierge is met with an angry glare.

  “Too soon?” he wonders.

  “I advise you to never speak of that night again.”

  “I can’t believe you’re upset with me for not wanting to marry another woman.” He shakes his head incredulously. “You take this job very seriously, don’t you?”

  “I do.” When I realize my response is also a wedding vow, one I once hoped to make to the man sitting across from me, my cheeks heat up, but I don’t let that stop me from forging ahead as this is a topic I’m truly passionate about. “Love is not something to be trifled with. In order for it to endure, it must be treasured and nurtured, which is why I started Straight from the Hart.”

  “It’s also why I can’t think of a better person to mastermind the Js’ reconciliation.” Sliding forward on his chair, Alex plants both hands on the edge of my desk and fixes his intense blue stare on me. “Will you take the job?”

  “I like a challenge, so the answer is yes . . . under one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “I need a face-to-face with Jax. He knows things about Jaz and his romance with her that you don’t, and those details will be essential if we’re going to be successful with this campaign.”

  Alex furrows his brow. “Couldn’t you do that via e-mail? Jax is trying to lie low right now and—”

  “Either he meets me in this office where I can look him in the eye and gauge how he really feels about Jaz—”

  “I already told you he’s crazy about her and wants to make this right.”

  “And I’d like to hear that straight from Jax. Otherwise, I won’t know if his love and remorse are genuine or if this is all professionally motivated. Sending you here as his emissary makes me think it’s the latter.”

  “Fine,” Alex relents, pulling out his phone. “I’ll call him.”

  Standing, I announce, “I have a staff meeting to get to, so you can text me when you’ve arranged things.” I hand Alex a business card so that he’ll have my numbers and head for the door. When I get there, I turn around and say, “Warn your client that none of his actorly BS will work with me. I’ve been around entertainers my whole life, so I know the difference between a performance and the truth.”

  With that, I open the door and stroll out into the corridor, my heart pounding and my hands shaking because I’ve just taken on my ex as a client. He’ll be the liaison between Jax and me anyway, and we’ll have to confer continually along the way. Can I handle this or am I setting myself up to have my heart broken all over again?

  CHAPTER 12

  I’ve just walked through the canopy-covered doors of the Sunset Tower Hotel when Alex rushes up to me.

  “I’m sure I could have found Jax’s suite on my own. I don’t need an escort,” I assert snippily.

  I’m not in the best mood because I had to leave the comfort of my office and fight the brutal, midday traffic to get some face time with my new client at his five-star hideout in West Hollywood. Yes, yes, I know I said Jax needed to come to me for our first meeting, but Alex called me later and argu
ed that Jax wasn’t up to a public outing, and if the paps trailed him to Straight from the Hart, the jig would be up before Operation Woo Back Jaz could get off the ground.

  “But you have one anyway,” Alex murmurs close to my ear, the warm, woodsy scent of whatever expensive cologne he’s wearing filling my senses as he takes me by the arm and leads me to the elevators where we’re fortunate to find one that’s emptying out. We’re the only two on the transport when the doors slide shut and Alex releases me to press the three button on the console.

  “I thought Jax was staying in a suite on the twelfth floor.”

  “He is,” Alex replies, staring straight-ahead rather than making eye contact with me.

  “Then what are we doing on the third?” I query suspiciously as the elevator dings to let us know we’ve reached our destination and the doors open.

  “Jax needed some stress relief,” Alex explains as we exit the elevator, and I spy through floor-to-ceiling glass a swanky gym with black and chrome flooring, furniture, and equipment that’s offset by gray-veined marble walls.

  “He’s working out?” That makes sense. Doesn’t matter how messed up your life is. If you’re an actor who makes a living off your looks, you never miss a session with your personal trainer.

  “No.” Alex steers me away from the gym toward a frosted glass door with gold lettering, which I don’t have time to read before he yanks it open and pushes me through.

  “A spa!” I exclaim once I’m inside and realize where we are—the aroma of essential oils and the tinkling sounds of a flute, temple bells, and wind chimes playing on the sound system are a dead giveaway. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Lower your voice,” Alex instructs in a near-whisper. “This is supposed to be a tranquil environment.”

  A pretty, young blonde in a black tunic and pants steps out from behind the reception desk to greet us. “Welcome back, Mr. Farr and . . .” She waits for one of us to give her my name.

  “. . . friend,” Alex says, obviously not wanting the girl to know my identity.

  “Welcome, friend.” With a beatific smile, she offers me her hand, and I shake it. “If you’re here to join Mr. Reid for his treatment, you can disrobe in there.” She sweeps an arm toward a row of blue doors that must be dressing rooms.

  “There’s not going to be any disrobing,” I assure the woman because I’ve never met with a client sans clothing before and I’m not about to start now.

  “Is it okay if we go up?” Alex points at the stairway off to the side of what looks like a living room as there’s a couch and coffee table arranged in front of a fireplace.

  “Yes, he’s done with his exfoliation and oxygen infusion, so he should be soaking now.”

  “Perfect. Thanks.” Alex waves me forward and I precede him to the staircase.

  Putting my hand on the wrought iron railing, I ascend the steep set of wooden steps very carefully as I’m wearing my kiss print Pradas with the super skinny stiletto heels and don’t want to lose my balance and fall. At the top is another series of doors, and I follow Alex to the large one at the end of the corridor. He knocks lightly and the door is opened by another woman in a black uniform, this one an attractive brunette with her hair piled atop her head.

  “How’s he doing?” Alex queries in a hushed tone.

  She frowns and shakes her head. “He’s bearing up as best he can, poor man.”

  We enter and weave our way around tables stacked with pricey skincare products and a white sheet-draped facial bed surrounded by LED lights—for light therapy I presume since that’s a big thing in spa treatments in LA right now (Viv swears that they’re a great way to stimulate collagen production and make your skin firmer). Beyond the beds, tucked into a far corner of the room, I see a large, rectangular soaking tub filled with steamy water that has white rose petals scattered across its surface and smells pleasantly of coconut and green tea.

  Sitting in this tub with his sinewy arms perched on the back ledge is none other than Jaxon Reid. The view I have of his dripping wet upper body is one that most women would kill to be privy to. Jax is tall, six-two according to his IMDB bio, so his torso is long and lean. Below his nicely defined pecs, I can see the top of his six-pack, which is probably the result of hundreds of daily crunches, but the rest is hidden by the water and I make a concerted effort not to let my gaze fall below that line since I’m guessing he’s not wearing swim trunks. Jax’s eyes are closed and his head is canting back as yet another spa employee (a gorgeous female, natch) gently massages his temples.

  “Jax,” Alex says his name in a stern, almost fatherly, tone, “I brought the person we discussed earlier; the one who’s going to help with your problem.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He cracks open one eye to take a look at me. “You’re the expert on romance?”

  “That’s me, Vanessa Hart.”

  “Good to meet you,” he says, his molten chocolate-colored eyes drifting shut again as the masseuse sinks her fingers into his wavy hair, which is dark brown when dry, but almost black now that it’s sodden, and starts rubbing his scalp with circular motions.

  As I came here to gather info and have very little interest in watching some spoiled celebrity get pampered, I step forward purposefully and say, “Let’s talk about you and your wife.” I pull a small pad of paper and pen from my purse so that I can make notes. “Why don’t you tell me—”

  “Delivery from SUGARFISH!” The woman with the topknot perkily announces behind me, and I glance back over my shoulder to see her holding the compartmented, white takeout box I’m very familiar with. She opens the lid to reveal an assortment of sushi rolls, sashimi, and edamame pods along with soy and ponzu dipping sauces in little containers.

  “Awesome,” Jax declares, abandoning the ministrations of the masseuse so that he can float across the tub to where the food is. “Hit me with a Toro Roll.” He opens his mouth, and Topknot obediently picks up the sushi with a set of chopsticks and pops it in.

  “Mmmmmm mmmmmm mmmmmm,” Jax moans his approval of the tuna and rice wrapped in seaweed as he chews. When he finishes, he says, “Gimme some salmon with a little bit of soy.” As the brunette prepares his next bite, Jax gestures at the white box and tells me, “If you’re hungry, help yourself. There’s plenty, and I don’t mind sharing.”

  Too bad his wife didn’t feel the same way or he wouldn’t be in his current predicament!

  “I’m good. Thanks. Getting back to your relationship with Jazmin . . .” I uncap my pen, preparing to write down whatever tidbits he gives me.

  “All this salt is making me thirsty,” Jax complains and is immediately handed a Japanese lager by the masseuse who apparently doubles as a bartender.

  “Thanks, doll.” He gives her a cheeky wink before taking a slug off the frosty bottle and that’s the last straw for me.

  “I’m out,” I proclaim, shoving my supplies back into my purse and pivoting to leave.

  “What?” Alex blurts out in surprise followed by Jax pleading, “No! Wait! Don’t go!”

  The desperation in my wannabe client’s voice compels me to turn back around. Narrowing my eyes at him, I ask, “Why should I stay? I was given to understand that you were in a state of severe emotional distress over the collapse of your marriage and required my assistance, but what I’ve witnessed here . . .” I incline my head to indicate the tub and the beautiful women who’ve been fawning over him. “. . . is evidence to the contrary.”

  “Don’t you see? All of this . . .” Jax gestures wildly around him. “. . . is just a distraction from the pain. For real, Red. I’m dying . . .” He clutches a fist over his heart. “. . . inside. Every minute without Jaz is pure torture. I miss her so much and I hate myself for being the cause of our split.” His voice breaks on the last word and his trademark bedroom eyes mist over with unshed tears.

  “Awwwww,” both spa employees exhale dreamily.

  “He’s good,” I say as an aside to Alex. “Viv always said crying on cue was one of the most dif
ficult skills for an actor to master.”

  “Those tears are real,” Alex assures me. “He does sincerely love Jaz.”

  “Since the first moment I saw her.” With the back of his hand, Jax swipes at his cheek where one manly tear has fallen. “See this.” He flips his left arm over and points to a large tattoo on the inside of his bicep. It’s a cluster of flowers, and they’re obviously the ones his wife was named after. “Meus amor aeternus,” he recites the Latin words written in script beneath the flowers. “Do you know what that means?”

  Having visited the capital city of Italy many times with my grandmother, I have some grasp of the ancient language of the Romans. “My eternal love.”

  “That’s what Jaz is to me, my soulmate, my heart, my better half; meeting her was like finding a part of myself I didn’t even know was missing and I realized I’d been living an incomplete life without her. Have you ever experienced anything like that? Immediately connecting with someone in such a profound way, knowing deep down in the core of your being that you were meant to be with that person forever?”

  I can’t answer that question while the man I once felt precisely that way about is standing right next to me, so I say, “Your first, real, grownup love can be a very powerful thing.”

  “Jaz is my first, last, and forever love, which is why I need you to work your magic and get her back for me, Red. Please.” He clasps his hands together in a prayer pose. “You’re my only hope.”

  I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi now?

  Yes, I just made a reference to a sci-fi movie. I do sometimes watch genres other than romance. Of course, the only reason I sat through all three of the original Star Wars films with my eleventh grade boyfriend was because I thought young Harrison Ford was a hottie and I totally ‘shipped Han and Leia. Swoon.

  “All right,” I relent because I am now fully convinced that Jax does really and truly love Jaz despite his recent screw-up. Scooping up a neatly folded spa robe that’s resting on the side of the tub, I shove it at Jax’s chest and say, “Put this on and we’ll discuss it further.”