Straight from the Hart

by Tracie Banister

  He immediately stands up, barely giving me time to whip around so that I don’t get an eyeful of his dangly bits.

  “And ladies,” I address the spa employees who are no doubt enjoying the All Nude Male Revue that’s a perk of their job today, “I’m going to need you to clear the room and give us some privacy.”

  “But we signed NDAs!” one of them protests as I hear Jax sloshing water over the edge of the tub while getting out.

  “Good, then I can trust that neither of you will breathe a word of seeing me with Mr. Reid to anyone.”

  At my side now, Jax knots the belt of the white, fluffy robe so that his goodies are under wraps.

  “Greta.” He steps forward and takes Topknot’s hand. “Suzette.” He does the same with the masseuse, then lifts both to his mouth where he places a soft kiss on the knuckles of each. “Thanks for making my skin as soft as a baby’s butt and helping me forget my troubles for a while.”

  They blush and titter before heading out of the room.

  “That needs to stop,” I inform my new client.

  “What?” He looks befuddled.

  “The flirting with everyone who has boobs.”

  “It’s part of my charm! And everyone knows my flirting is harmless since I’m devoted to Jaz.”

  “It was harmless. Now that you’ve been exposed as a cheater, your flirting will make you look like a horndog who’s constantly on the make and it will also send mixed signals to women about your availability.”

  “She’s right.” My jaw drops in surprise when Alex backs me up. “You’re going to have to rein it in. Be polite and friendly, but don’t wink, smile, or touch another woman until this whole mess blows over. The last thing we need is for the press to get a hold of any more photos that give the impression you’re showing interest in every attractive woman you come into contact with.”

  Jax groans with frustration. “I hate this! Now no matter what I do, everyone is going to think the worst of me. It’s not fair. Everyone makes mistakes, and this was just a one-time deal for me, so I think I should get a pass.”

  “And was that the defense you presented to your wife?” I ask because I need to know how big of a hole he’s dug for himself with her.

  “Well . . .” Jax scratches his unshaven chin as he tries to recall the specifics of what went down between him and Jaz. “She didn’t really give me a chance to say much. There was a lot of crying and screaming when I got home. I tried to explain that the wrap party ended up being a lot crazier than I thought it would be. I kept being handed this drink called ‘Satan’s Sweaty Bollocks,’ and it packed a serious punch! I got blackout drunk sometime after the fourth one.”

  “You’re saying you don’t even remember having sexual relations with Georgina Knight?” That being the case, maybe their make-out session in the hallway outside of her room was as far as it went. If Jax was really that smashed, he might have just passed out on her bed and everyone jumped to a lot of specious conclusions the next morning.

  “I do vaguely recall getting freaky with her, but I was so out of it from the alcohol, it was all really surreal. I felt so removed from what we were doing that it was like watching porn on the hotel’s pay-per-view.” With a smirk, he adds, “Really good porn because I was the star of it.”

  Actors and their overinflated egos!

  “And was Ms. Knight similarly inebriated?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “Didn’t seem like it. She was all up on my jock the entire time we were shooting. I made it clear to her more than once that I wasn’t gonna play, but she saw her chance when I was wasted and went for it.”

  “So, to recap, when your wife confronted you about your infidelity, you blamed what happened on one . . .” I hold up a finger. “. . . being overserved and two . . .” I raise a second digit. “. . . being taken advantage of by a predatory female.”

  “Yeah, that sounds about right. I thought Jaz would understand and forgive me, but that’s when she threw my stuff in the pool and ordered me to get out of our house.”

  “You’re lucky she didn’t throw you in the pool and start a bonfire with your belongings because that’s what I would have done.”

  Alex snickers beside me. “She totally would have.”

  He’s probably remembering how I disposed of the items he left at my place after we broke up. I donated everything—clothes, workout equipment, his favorite pair of sunglasses, the nice, leather Dopp kit his parents had gifted him with the previous Christmas—to Goodwill and left an itemized receipt taped to the front door of his apartment. Spiteful? Yes, but he was the one who gave up on our two-year relationship without a fight and couldn’t be bothered to let me know what he wanted me to do with his stuff.

  “But why?” Jax knits his brow in confusion.

  He really is clueless, or just young and not particularly bright, which is true of a lot of actors. Time for a come-to-Vanessa moment.

  There’s a plush gray couch pushed up against the wall to our left, so I say, “Why don’t we sit and I’ll explain?”

  Good thing I cleared my schedule for the rest of the day because I think we’re going to be here a while.

  CHAPTER 13

  When the three of us are comfortably settled on the couch, I turn to Jax and assert, “While I don’t know Jaz personally, I do have a pretty good understanding of the female mind in regards to love and romance due to my line of work. So I can say with a relative degree of certainty that the reason why Jaz had such a negative reaction to your apology is that you didn’t take any responsibility for what happened. You blamed the alcohol and you blamed Georgina. I’m guessing you even blamed the person who took the incriminating video and TMZ for posting it.” I can tell from the chagrined expression on Jax’s face that that’s exactly what he did.

  “By assigning the blame to everyone but yourself, you basically admitted to Jaz that you are not the master of your own fate. How can she ever trust you again when you’ve proven yourself to be a man who doesn’t know when to stop drinking and is susceptible to the charms of other women while under the influence?”

  “When you put it like that, I sound like a complete asshole,” Jax pouts. “No wonder Jaz kicked me to the curb. How do I convince her that it was an isolated incident and I’ll never screw up like that again?”

  “I have an idea, but before we proceed, I want to lay out my terms for accepting this job so that we both know what we’re getting into.”

  “Okay. Go ahead.”

  “I promise to do everything in my power to help you win back Jaz. However, there are no guarantees, and a lot of this will depend on you and how well you follow my instructions. To put this in actor-speak: no more going off-script. For the last few days, you’ve been improvising, and . . .”

  “. . . it’s been a shitshow,” he readily admits, and Alex and I both nod in agreement.

  “You have to be patient. I know we’re on a deadline since you’ve got your big premiere coming up, but rifts of this magnitude take time to repair. So we may need every day of this next month to get you and Jaz back to where you want to be.”

  “I’m down with all that and I’m good at taking direction, just ask Mangold and Tarantino,” Jax name-drops two of the Oscar-nominated directors he’s recently worked with, giving me an opening to gush about what a talented actor he is, but I think he has enough sycophants in his life and I have a job to do. So . . .

  “Another thing. Assuming this goes well and you and Jaz get your happily ever after, I want your endorsement of Straight from the Hart and its services. You don’t have to credit me for your reconciliation, just let it be known that you and Jaz rely exclusively on my company to create beautiful, romantic experiences for the two of you to share, which make your marriage stronger and happier.”

  “Done.”

  “I’d like that in writing,” I say, pulling a contract and pen from my purse and passing them to Jax.

  “Jesus.” Alex plucks the legal document out of Jax’s hands
so that he can look it over. “I just met with you about this a few hours ago. How did you have time to get a contract drawn up?”

  “I have a lawyer who works fast, and since this is an unusual arrangement, I thought it best to be clear about what’s expected from my company, as well as Jax, upfront. I’ve also included my weekly fee in the contract, which does not include expenses.”

  “You’re a boss, Red. I like that.” Although Alex is still perusing the contract, Jax snatches it back from him and scrawls his name and today’s date on the appropriate line on the document. Once he returns the paper to me, I do the same on the line beneath it.

  “We’re all set then,” I assert, stuffing the contract back in my purse and getting my trusty notepad out again. “Now I need you to tell me about any contact you’ve had with Jaz since the argument at your house.”

  “The contact has been mostly one-sided,” he admits. “Just me calling and texting, telling Jaz how much I love her and begging her to take me back.”

  “Has she been reading the texts?”

  “Yeah, but she never responds, which has been really frustrating. I couldn’t take the silent treatment anymore, so this morning I decided to do something big that was sure to get a reaction out of her.”

  “And that something big was?”

  “Jewelry. Jaz is crazy about anything that sparkles, and I found this necklace on Tiffany’s website that I thought would be perfect for her. It was a platinum chain with a diamond-encrusted key that had a ruby in the center, which is her birthstone. I had the Beverly Hills store hand-deliver it to her with a note that said she was the only one who’d ever had a key to my heart. I thought she’d dig the symbolism of that, you know, solid proof of how much she means to me, but it just seemed to piss her off more. About an hour later, the Tiffany’s box was returned to me here at the hotel and there was nothing but a pile of glittery powder inside. She pulverized a twelve-thousand-dollar necklace! And I bet she did it in that bitchin’ prototype Vitamix just sent me.”

  I grimace. “That was a mistake.”

  “Damn right, it was! The blades on that Optimum 5000 are going to be all messed up now, and I never even got a chance to make a smoothie in it!”

  “Vanessa means the mistake was yours in sending the necklace in the first place,” Alex clarifies.

  “Exactly. Although the key was a lovely gift and a nice sentiment was attached to it, Jaz never could have enjoyed wearing the piece because it would have been a constant reminder to her that you were unfaithful.”

  “Ack!” Jax clutches his head in his hands and looks like he’s going to rip his hair out, which would be a shame because he has really gorgeous, thick hair. “I can’t do anything right with her.” He lifts beseeching eyes to mine. “You said you had an idea, Red. What should my next move be?”

  “No one involved in this scandal has commented on it yet, which means there’s a window of opportunity for you and I think you should take advantage of it by issuing a mea culpa.”

  “Huh?”

  “A public apology, not just to your wife, but to all the fans you disappointed with your behavior. Showing contrition will go a long way in redeeming you in the eyes of those who feel wronged by your hookup with Georgina.”

  “Great minds think alike because I’ve already got a statement prepared.” Alex pulls his iPhone out of his pocket and turns it on. I’m surprised he hasn’t had the device on all this time since it’s so important to his work, but I guess he wanted to stay focused on the task at hand.

  When it’s powered up, his phone dings, then chirps, then buzzes, then dings again, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say it was mad at Alex for being ignored. He taps the display screen a few times and slides his finger up and down the side as if he’s scrolling through a list, looking for something. “I wanted to send this statement to all the media outlets right after the news broke, but Jax was hesitant to add fuel to the fire. Ah, here it is.” He passes the phone across our client to me.

  “We’re not sending that to anyone,” I say firmly, pushing the phone back toward Alex without reading what’s on it. “Some slick, vaguely worded statement that everyone will know was written by a handler won’t do anything to help Jax at this point.”

  Alex frowns, but takes my rejection of his work in stride. “Okay, then I’ll say yes to one of the nighttime talk shows that’s been begging Jax to appear and tell his side of the story. Who’d you rather, J? Fallon? Kimmel? Conan likes you, and you’d get a longer segment on his show.”

  “No talk show appearances,” I veto going this route as well. “We can’t trust that the host won’t blindside him with a question he doesn’t want to answer or make jokes about the situation at his expense. Jax, I want you to write this apology yourself and speak from the heart. This one.” I tap the left side of his chest. “You know what you want to say to Jaz, and this is your chance. I can help you clean it up, then we’ll find the perfect photo to attach and you can post on Instagram where everyone, including Jaz, will see it.”

  “Writing’s never been my thing, but I’m willing to do anything for Jaz. So I’ll give it a try.”

  “Great! Just remember not to post until I’ve approved it. We’ll also need to time this apology just right for maximum visibility and engagement. Alex, what do you recommend?”

  “Now you want my help?” he queries dryly, not even bothering to look up from the phone he’s checking messages on.

  “This is your area of expertise, so yes.”

  “All right then . . .” He gazes up and chews on his bottom lip thoughtfully for a second before answering, “Seven to nine a.m. is when social media is most heavily trafficked because people like to check in before they leave for school, work, or wherever. Reuters is eight hours ahead of us in the UK while The Associated Press is three ahead in New York, and those are the two we’ll want to pick up the story first since they’re the go-to for breaking news in the celebrity world and anything interesting on their feeds will be grabbed by the online magazines and entertainment shows. So, I’d say, Jax’s post should go live between four and five a.m. West Coast time. That way the story will already be trending when people wake up here.”

  “I like that!” I enthuse. “If Jax posts before the crack of dawn in LA, it will look like he’s so torn up over his split with Jaz that he can’t sleep.”

  “Man.” Jax wearily drags a hand through his drying hair. “I’m going to need some Death Wish Coffee if I’m going to stay up all night, and . . .” His eyes slide over to Alex. “. . . you’ll have to cancel that photo shoot for the Calvin Klein Underwear ad in the morning. You know how puffy my eyes look when I don’t get a solid nine hours.”

  “Far be it from me to deprive the world of you in your Calvins,” I say with an amused twitch of my lips. “You can schedule your Insta post with an app and go to bed at your regular time. I’ll ask my social media director which app is the easiest to use. Wait . . .” I furrow my brow at Alex. “. . . there won’t be any scantily clad models or actresses in this ad with Jax, will there? Because that’s the last thing Jaz needs to see or hear about right now. It would probably send her straight to the nearest divorce lawyer’s office.”

  “Don’t worry,” Alex assures me as he types on his phone. “Jax will be flying solo in this ad; it’ll just be him and his abs.”

  “You told them no banana hammocks at this shoot, right? There’s not enough support in those things, and my junk needs it. Not too much, though. The boys need to be able to breathe, and I plan on having kids one day. Kids . . .,” Jax repeats the world forlornly, and his shoulders slump. “Before I went off to shoot this last movie, Jaz and I were talking about starting a family.

  We even picked out names—Jet for a boy and Jemma for a girl so that we’d all have J names. Wouldn’t that have been cool?”

  “It still can be. Keep the faith.” I give Jax an encouraging pat on his fluffy robe-covered shoulder. “The Instagram post will be an excellent place for our campaign
to start, but we need to think beyond—”

  I’m interrupted by Alex’s phone dinging several times in a row. I don’t know if he’s receiving multiple messages from different people or one after another from the same overzealous texter. Either way, it’s annoying. I need peace and quiet to conduct this interview with Jax.

  “Seems like you have a lot going on,” I say to Alex in a sympathetic tone that’s totally put-on. “Why don’t you step out of the room and take care of business while Jax and I chat?” It sounds like a suggestion, but it’s most definitely an order.

  “Uhhhhhhhh . . .” His blue-gray eyes dart back and forth between me and the hunky actor. “If this is going to be a planning session, I think I should be in on it.”

  “I can give you a recap later.” I make a shooing motion with my hand, but Alex still doesn’t budge.

  “It’s okay, dude,” Jax assures his publicist. “Red and I have got this, and we don’t need a chaperone. Your lady will be safe with me.”

  “I’m not his lady!” I hotly deny the label. What in the world would make Jax think that Alex and I are romantically involved? Is Alex in the habit of hiring his girlfriends (ex or current) to consult with his clients?

  Jax shrugs. “Could have fooled me. I’ve been getting a vibe off the two of you since you walked in this room.”

  “You’re mistaken. Alex and I do not have a vibe; we are completely one hundred percent vibe-free. Isn’t that right?” I raise both brows at my ex, conveying the message, “Agree with me!”

  “Mmmmm, I think you wanting to strangle me might qualify as a vibe,” he bandies back good-naturedly, and I scowl at him because talking about my biggest relationship failure in front of a new client, who’s depending on me to keep him and his wife together, is not the best way to sell him on my professional skills.

  “Okay, fine. Jax, in the interest of full disclosure since we’ll be working closely together for the duration and I’m asking you to share intimate details of your love life with me, Alex and I were once an item. But that was so many years ago it was practically another lifetime.”