Straight from the Hart

by Tracie Banister

  “I know you’re working with Jazmin Johansen’s manager, Nick Delucca, to make sure her separation from Jax is a permanent one.”

  “And why would I do that?” she inquires cagily.

  “Who knows? Money probably. Or maybe you get some kind of sick pleasure out of destroying love. First, Ezekiel and Brie, now Jax and Jaz—how many other couples do you plan to sacrifice on the altar of your selfishness and greed?”

  “You’re always so in your feelings about everything,” Quinn says, her words laced with scorn. “You really should have followed your grandmother into acting since you clearly don’t have the ruthlessness required to be a successful businesswoman. I, on the other hand, have it in spades, which is why I keep besting you whenever we come up against each other. Give me your phone.” She extends her hand, palm up, to me.

  “Why?” I clutch my purse protectively to my chest and take a step back.

  “Because I need to be certain you’re not recording this conversation or someone else isn’t listening in on it before I say anything that could be used against me or anyone who may or may not be my client.”

  “You are seriously paranoid.”

  “Phone . . .” She makes a gimme motion with her acrylic-tipped fingers. “. . . or this little chat is over.”

  “Fine,” I relent. Sticking my hand into my glossed-leather tote and extracting my cell, I swipe the display and hold it up for Quinn to see that the device is on lock mode, so it can’t be recording anything.

  She crosses her arms and narrows her fake-lashed eyes at me. “What about a wire?”

  I snort laugh with disbelief while dropping the phone back in my purse. “You think I’ve got a microphone taped to me like an undercover cop on a sting operation? I’m allergic to adhesive!”

  She shrugs. “You’d probably be willing to endure a few nasty welts if it meant getting the goods on me.”

  “You have trust issues,” I mutter, but to put her mind to rest, I undo the top two buttons of my pink taffy-colored coat dress and pull the lapels to the sides to show her that I’m not hiding any surveillance equipment.

  “Satisfied?” I query.

  Making a sour face, she says, “Not really. That bra’s horrible. I don’t know how Ian ever gets it up if that’s the kind of lingerie you wear.”

  “This is a work bra,” I say huffily, buttoning back up, “and Ian has no complaints about my undergarments.” Truth be told, Ian would heartily disapprove of this very basic T-shirt bra I had no choice but to wear today because I haven’t had time to hand wash my sexier unmentionables, but then I don’t have to worry about pleasing him because he’s not really my boyfriend!

  Trying to get Quinn back on topic, I prompt, “How’d you end up working for Nick Delucca?”

  “It’s a good story. You’ll appreciate my hustle, or maybe not since you just sit back and wait for clients to come to you.” She leans down to dip her hand in a crystal candy bowl sitting in the center of the coffee table and plucks out a Godiva chocolate in a purple and gold wrapper.

  So much for that sugar-free diet she claimed to be on the last time I saw her!

  “Nick came into Thorne’s on a night when Zeke was working and I was hanging out at the bar, enjoying the free booze, which is one of the many perks that come with sleeping with the owner.” Quinn unwraps her cube of dark chocolate (an aphrodisiac, of course; she probably has oysters on ice in the fridge) and pops it in her mouth. “I was a couple of stools down from Nick, and I was digging his whole, I-get-shit-done vibe. I found out later he was supposed to be meeting a client who flaked and he was pissed, which is why he started knocking back beers. While getting toasted, he was texting back and forth with someone until he finally said, ‘Screw this!’ and called the person. They argued for a few minutes, he told her she was making a huge mistake, then hung up, grumbling about how ungrateful and foolish she was. It sounded like he was having trouble with the lady in his life, which is my area of expertise, so I strolled right on up to him and offered my services.”

  “And Delucca hired you because he’s desperately in love with Jaz and needed help in ensuring she would never forgive Jax’s indiscretion.”

  “You think Nick’s in love with that goody two shoes?” Quinn chortles with amusement. “Hardly. I mean, I’m sure he’d sleep with Jaz, or even marry her, if given the opportunity because then he’d have more control over his best-paying meal ticket, but love is an emotion Nick isn’t wired for.”

  “The two of you have a lot in common then,” I snark when it would be wiser for me keep my mouth shut, but it’s hard to censor myself when I’m reeling from Quinn’s revelation.

  How could I have been so wrong about Delucca having romantic feelings for Jaz? The signs were all there: his attentiveness, how possessive he acted with her, the gifts. I thought it was as clear as a smog-free day he was trying to stake a claim on her. If that wasn’t the case, why has Delucca been pulling every dirty trick in the book to excise Jax from Jaz’s life? As far as I know, Jax never interfered in Jaz’s professional relationship with Delucca, so what am I missing that led this man to take such drastic actions?

  “Nick and I are simpatico when it comes to the lengths we’ll go to in order to further our own interests,” Quinn agrees with my assessment. “He’s invested the better part of a decade in helping Jaz build her career, so he couldn’t just let her ‘take a break . . .’” She makes air quotes while curling her upper lip in disgust. “. . . to spit out some kids and play mommy for a few years. That’s ridiculous! Jaz is in her acting prime right now. She’s got a hit show on Netflix and she’s in great demand for film roles.

  “That twit had Bradley Cooper wanting to cast her as his love interest in the next film he’s directing and an offer on the table to co-star with Margot Robbie and Saoirse Ronan in some historical drama that’s total Oscar bait, but she said no to both and told Nick she wasn’t going to renew her contract with Netflix for a third season of Love Hacks. He was frustrated with her for throwing away everything they’d worked so hard for and didn’t know what to do about it. Being the excellent problem solver I am, I suggested Nick remove Jax from the equation. No husband to procreate with, no brats, and no need for Jaz to peace out on her job. And without the distractions of marriage and her fantasies of a white picket fence lifestyle, Jaz could be more easily kept in line.”

  I’m confused about the timeline of all this. Why was Delucca at Thorne’s grousing about Jaz wanting to go on a professional hiatus when the poop was hitting the fan over Jax sleeping with— Oh. My. God!

  “This evil meeting of the minds took place months ago, didn’t it? Before Georgina set her sights on Jax. Before he got drunk and had sex with her. Before some rando with a cellphone happened to be in the right place at the right time to get photos of them in a clinch outside that hotel room.”

  “Now you’re getting it,” Quinn says with a devilish glint in her eye, tapping the side of her head and pointing at me.

  “So everything that’s gone down with Georgina has all been an elaborate scheme cooked up by you to get Jax out of Jaz’s life?”

  “Genius, right? And there’ve been a lot of moving parts to this plan that I’ve had to coordinate and stay on top of—all skills I picked up during my time at Straight from the Hart. So thanks for that.” With a smirk, she reaches down for another chocolate.

  To think that anything Quinn learned from me has been warped and used for such nefarious purposes makes me want to throw up, but I have to keep it together and keep her talking. I need to hear every little, sordid detail of what she and Delucca did if I have any hope of repairing the damage they’ve wrought.

  “How did you get Georgina to go along with all this?”

  “Easy. The woman is totally fame-hungry. She’d do anything to get her face plastered all over the tabs and social media. She was barely a blip on the radar before this scandal hit and now everyone knows who she is. Plus, banging Jax Reid was no hardship. That was quite a notch on her be
dpost.”

  I think back to how Jax said Georgina was coming on to him the whole time they were filming, but he wasn’t taking the bait until . . . I gasp in horror. “Did she roofie him the night of the cast party?”

  “Please,” Quinn scoffs, chomping on her chocolate. “A woman who looks like Georgina Knight doesn’t have to drug guys to get them into bed. She just had to make herself available when he was wasted and feeling horny. It actually worked out perfectly since those compromising photos I arranged to have taken had already gone viral by the time a hungover Jax made it back to LA and his hysterical wife the next day. Like I said . . .” She pats herself on the back. “. . . genius.”

  “You really shouldn’t be so proud of yourself. You tore apart two people who were—no, are,” I correct myself through gritted teeth, “madly in love.”

  “Pffft.” Quinn waves her taloned hand dismissively. “Love never lasts, especially in this town. I just hurried along the inevitable and got a big, fat paycheck for my trouble. I probably would have waived my fee if I’d known going into this gig that it would give me the chance to thwart you over and over again, Véronique.”

  I grimace. Apparently, my dark-haired disguise wasn’t as good as I thought it was. “How’d you know it was me? Were you there at the restaurant, skulking around, pretending to be a waitress or hiding behind a potted plant?”

  “No.” She shakes her head, which makes her high ponytail swish against her shoulders. “I’m not a micromanager like you are, but I didn’t have to see you in your fake French get-up to ID you. Jax’s heartfelt Instagram post and the sentimental gesture with the chocolate dessert had your spritz of J’adore all over them. And when Nick told me about running into Jax’s publicist, your ex, with a beautiful brunette who had a Pepé Le Pew accent and was the same height and body type as you, it just confirmed my suspicions, then it was game on.”

  “Except this isn’t a game.” I scowl at her to push my point home. “It’s people’s lives you’re wreaking havoc on. I suppose that steaming pile of lies Georgina shoveled onto Seth Meyers’ desk was more of your handiwork.”

  “Naturally. Georgina’s not much of an improviser, so I had to script that months-long affair story and have Nick coach her on it. She delivered a very convincing performance, don’t you think? It made for really great TV. Late Night’s ratings went through the roof; Seth spanked Fallon, Kimmel, Corden, and Colbert for the first time ever. And that interview pushed Jaz off the fence where she’d been dithering about whether or not to cut Jax loose.”

  I can feel my face flush with anger. “She couldn’t possibly have believed that nonsense about Jax seducing Georgina with promises of love and getting a divorce all while playing the devoted husband. Anyone who’s spent five minutes with Jax knows he’s not capable of that kind of duplicity!”

  “Jax has quite the defender in you, doesn’t he? Don’t tell me you have a crush on a client!” Quinn’s eyes sparkle with delight at the thought of unearthing some embarrassing secret of mine.

  “That’s absurd. Unlike you, I would never cross the line with a client. If I’m protective of Jax, it’s because I’ve seen him at his lowest and we’ve developed a sibling-like bond. I doubt you can say the same about your relationship with your partner-in-crime, Nick Delucca. How much scheming and plotting have the two of you been doing in bed?” I may be way off-base in thinking these co-conspirators are also hooking up, but the accusation just feels right since they seem to be immoral peas in a pod.

  “Can I help it if men find all this . . .” Quinn runs her hands up and down her body. “. . . irresistible?”

  “Yes, you can. Since Ezekiel bought all that . . .” I gesture at her. “. . . and this . . .” I twirl my finger around their pricey love nest. “. . . I think he’s entitled to some loyalty.”

  “You really need to get with the times. Monogamy is so passé. What Zekey and I have is a very progressive, modern relationship that has no restrictions.”

  “Uh huh, and is Ezekiel aware of that?”

  “I haven’t spelled it out to him, but he’s not an idiot.” There’s a defensive edge to her voice. “He can’t expect a woman like me to be tied down to just one man, not when there are so many delicious options out there.”

  And that’s where she’s wrong. I don’t care how whipped Ezekiel is, there is no way he’d be okay with Quinn screwing around on him, not after everything he’s given up for her.

  “So you break up one marriage by cheating with the husband.” I raise a finger. “Then you break up another by engineering a drunken one-night stand.” A second finger joins the first. “And now you’re cheating on the original cheater with the man who paid you to manipulate a happily married man into becoming a cheater.” My ring finger shoots up. “Congratulations, Quinn! Looks like you’ve found a niche in this business. Although I’d suggest a rebrand because calling yourself a romance concierge is false advertising. Adultery specialist or professional relationship ruiner would be more on target.”

  “Don’t be a hater because I’m winning at life and you blew the most important assignment you’ve ever been given.”

  “I haven’t blown anything. Despite your best efforts, Jax and Jaz still love each other and when the dust from all this settles, they will get back together.”

  “You’re going down fighting, which is admirable. But you need to wake up and smell the divorce papers, which Jaz’s lawyer will be filing tomorrow. Oooops!” Quinn widens her eyes in comic fashion and places her hand over her mouth for a second. “I guess I just spoiled the surprise. Oh well. There’s nothing you, or Jax, or anyone on your ragtag team can do about it now. Jaz has made up her mind about ending the marriage and she’s moving on. It’s over.”

  As much as I’d like to lob a clever comeback to that, all I can manage is a strangled cry of exasperation. Clenching my hands into fists, I spin around on my heel and stomp out of the living room.

  “Thanks for stopping by. It’s been fun!” Quinn calls after me.

  CHAPTER 29

  I march purposefully up the street to the curbside spot where I parked my car earlier. As I near my BMW, I press the unlock button on my key fob, hear the answering beep, and see the headlights flash. Opening the door on the driver’s side, I slide into the seat and set my purse on my lap.

  “How’d it go?” Alex inquires eagerly from the passenger seat. He made himself comfortable while I was gone, taking off his suit jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his lavender dress shirt so that his bare forearms are now on display.

  I lift my gaze from his lightly tanned skin with its dusting of hair to his eyes, which are covered by black framed sunglasses. “I did what you told me to: asked Quinn leading questions and let her run her mouth. It worked like a charm! She couldn’t wait to brag about what a genius she is and how successful she and her cohort, Delucca, have been in trashing Jax and Jaz’s marriage. Turns out their collusion has been going on for months. Georgina’s pursuit of Jax and all that followed were planned from start to finish by the diabolical duo.”

  “That’s awful,” Alex decrees, “but also good as it gives us more ammunition to use against Delucca and makes Jax less culpable.”

  “My thoughts precisely. And we have Quinn’s gleefully-rendered confession right . . .” I reach into the outer pocket of my purse and pull out a blue iPhone. “. . . here. Thanks for loaning this to me. You were right. She wanted to check me and my phone to make sure I wasn’t recording our conversation. Little did she know I had pushed record on my backup device before entering her house. Who’s the clever one now, Quinn?” I crow while handing Alex his phone.

  “That would be me,” he retorts with a smirk, his fingers brushing against mine when he reclaims the device, “since I suggested the second phone and told you how to handle Quinn. You wanted to go in there, guns blazing, and what was it you said?” He raises an eyebrow. “Strangle the truth out of her?”

  I probably would have done exactly that if Alex hadn’t called me af
ter I went charging out of the restaurant. He insisted on meeting me at my office, where we could formulate a game plan while Cole tracked down Ezekiel’s address for me. When Alex showed up, he had an iced green tea and a blueberry, vanilla, and cashew bar that he’d picked up at Starbucks for me because he knew I was stressed and most likely hangry since I’d skipped out on lunch. It was a thoughtful gesture, and I was able to regain some of my composure once I’d consumed my snack and taken some deep breaths. And having Alex to talk things over with did prove helpful. I’m not giving him all the credit, though.

  “That was a viable option, but tricking Quinn into spilling the beans ended up being fun too. And I was able to get all kinds of info out of her I wasn’t expecting. That recording is going to be her undoing in more ways than one. Can you send that file to me?” I query while securing my seatbelt. “I’ve got someone else to enlighten once we’ve gotten the Js back on the right track, which needs to happen tonight since Jaz is having Jax served with divorce papers in the morning.”

  Alex grimaces. “Jax is going to have a meltdown.”

  “Not if we can convince Jaz to call off the divorce. We need to get in front of her ASAP, preferably without Delucca lurking around.”

  “I’m on it,” Alex asserts, tapping on his phone’s display screen and bringing the device to his ear while I start the car.

  * * *

  “Maybe we should ring the doorbell,” I suggest in a hushed voice before Jax unlocks it with his smartphone, which is how he got us through the gate of this multimillion-dollar, contemporary showplace in the Bird Streets neighborhood of Hollywood Hills.

  “It’s still my house,” Jax says tetchily.

  “I know, but you don’t want to scare Jaz by walking in unannounced, especially since she’s home alone.” Aimee texted to give us the all-clear sign when she left thirty minutes ago and Delucca had already been taken out of play by Alex who called in a favor and had a last-minute invite to an Earth Day fundraising gala hosted by Jared Leto messengered over to the slimy manager.