by Lily Silver
It was an eternity before Jessie returned to him. Neither man spoke as that awkward silence stretched on. When she did descend the stairs it was worth every second of silent agony. She was exquisite in the exotic two piece dress but the coloring--sage green, brought out the flame of her hair and the delicate ivory caste of her complexion.
Steve didn’t seem to notice the goddess before them. He continued to stare at his kneehole and kept ripping the jagged threads from it and tossing them on the floor beneath the coffee table. Lex could only stare incredulously at the bum. Jessie was radiant, divine, and all the guy could see were his torn jeans?
“Steve,” Jessie prompted. “Let’s go.”
The brown head rose. Sienna eyes registered briefly on her and then went back to their deep contemplation of his jeans.
“Come on . . . we’ll see what movies are playing after dinner.”
With a sigh, the lanky body pulled itself up from his knee meditations and followed them out to Lex’s car.
Jessie talked and talked, trying to make conversation while the two men with her sulked, eyeing each other with stony silence. The new restaurant was lovely. Jessie commented on the bright Spanish tiles and the exquisite fountain in the middle of the dining room in an attempt to break the tense silences between them.
She didn’t know why Lex was so sullen. Usually he was very pleasant and fun to be with. Steve rattled his silverware and drummed the table with them in his usual overly active way, and it seemed to annoy their companion, although Lex did not comment on it.
The musician, a lone guitarist dressed in full Mexican attire began to strum the strains of a jaunty tune. His fingers were skilled, but it was when he opened his mouth to start singing that Steve and Jessie suddenly locked eyes with shock and amusement.
“He needs voice lessons.” Jessie leaned over to whisper to her friend.
“Bet he’s the owner’s cousin.” Steve grinned as he started playing air drums with his knife and spoon. “Don’t laugh.” He chided as Jessie giggled. “That’s how Selena got started. Her papa bought a restaurant and while the patrons ate, his little darlings serenaded them.”
“He could be the next Latino sensation.” Jessie commented. “You never can tell.”
“Ricky Martin.” Steve argued and then started his own rendition of La Vida Loca. “Her lips are devil red and her skin’s the color of mocha, she will wear you out . . .”
“Living the Vida Loca.” Jessie and Steve crooned together in the spirit of karaoke.
“Can we order already?” Lex hissed with all the stiff impatience of a father as he glowered at them from over his menu. It had the effect of cold water on Steve’s rekindled humor, effectively snuffing it out as that young man slumped in his chair.
“I’m not hungry.” Steve muttered.
Jessie gave Lex a killing look, but he wasn’t looking at her at all. He was tight lipped, tense as he scrutinized the menu. She wanted to kick him under the table. He was being an absolute jerk. She’d never seen him act this way and she couldn’t understand what brought such rude behavior on without warning.
Somehow they made it through dinner. Steve picked at his plate. Lex remained quiet and sullen as he devoured his Chicken Burrito. Jessie gave up trying to hold up any measure of polite conversation. She’d have better luck trying to pick up some guy at the bar.
After dinner, Lex packed them into his El Dorado and headed back to the Pacific Coast highway to Malibu. He cited a migraine as the reason for his need to cut their outing short. As he dropped them at their house, he didn’t even offer Jessie a kiss goodnight. She understood. He felt lousy so she dismissed his moodiness. Jessie had migraines before. They didn’t leave a person in any mood for socializing.
Tomorrow, he’d call, apologize and her world would be sunny again.
Chapter Eight
Five days.
Jessie blinked, unable to fathom what had suddenly ended her relationship with Lex. She sat in their expansive living room, overlooking the shoreline, staring at nothing, trying to find a reason for this latest fiasco in her doomed love life.
Rain pelted the view of the majestic ocean waves, graying the skies to a leaden, dreary haze.
Steve was with her, both of them silent refugees, hiding from the storm of confusion and turmoil the jailer known as life had served them. The others were gone. Lost in a wonderland of bliss with their respective lovers; Jack with Lilly, Kyra with Mike, and Darrell with some mystery woman from Bel Air.
Jessie nibbled the cylinder of chocolate chip cookie dough, savoring the gritty, sweet paste as she crunched the chips. She hadn’t bothered to dress. What was the point? There was nothing to do today, no pressing business demanding she look her best as a successful young rock star. No Lex to whisk her away on some madcap adventure. He’d left Malibu without a word to her, without even a good-bye.
Beside her, Steve nursed a beer, still in his bathrobe, his hair disheveled, as he, too, stared at the horizon of grey mist.
This wasn’t the first time she’d been dumped. It was pretty much business as usual.
This time was different. Lex had barely even kissed her properly. The usual routine was to let her drop after the first date, when she refused to have sex with the guy.
“Here, now, stop that.” Steve offered her a corner of his nubby royal blue robe to wipe away her fountain of tears.
“I don’t understand?” Jessie squeaked. “He just left--”
“It’s okay.” Steve’s arm wrapped about her protectively. “Maybe he had some important business, a family emergency. He’ll be back, Jess.”
She shook her head, choking back the pain of rejection, a pain she’d come to know all too well.
At first, she welcomed the isolation. The morning after their dinner with Steve, she felt relief when Lex didn’t call and wake her with a well-laid plan of their adventure for the day as had been his habit. Steve needed to talk, to sort out his emotions. He needed Jessie and their peculiar bond of friendship/sibling/confidante that no one understood but the two of them. Jack was her biological twin but Steve seemed to be her soul’s twin. They were kindred spirits, just like the girls in Anne of Green Gables, except that Steve happened to be a guy, a gay guy.
After spending that first morning listening to Steve, encouraging him, offering him understanding and acceptance for wanting to come out of the closet, she called Lex to find out if he wanted to join them for a meal at home. His housekeeper reported he’d left for New York City at nine that morning and she wasn’t sure when he would return.
Jessie called his cell number, twice. She left messages. He didn’t return them. She wasn’t going to be clingy and desperate. It wasn’t like she was in love with the dude.
So why did it feel like an iron spike had pierced her heart.
Lex hated the rain. It was Southern California--it wasn’t supposed to rain.
He wanted sunshine, lots of it, to thaw out the iceberg in his soul. His plane landed smoothly on the LAX tarmac, leaving a spray of water behind the wheels as the runway turned into one long puddle.
He didn’t know why he was coming back. He hadn’t planned to, but something within him yearned for one last glimpse of Jessie to cherish in his memories.
He fled to New York on the premise of business. It was an impulse, a hasty excuse of escape after that horrible night he’d found Jessie cozy in Steve’s arms, straddling his lap like a pole dancer, for Chris-sake! His heart burned at the bitter memory of hearing her tell Steve she would always love him. Of Jessie making light comments about Lex not minding sharing her with Steve after he arrived on the scene. Why did he even go out with her that night? He should have just left. Instead, he played the part of the well-mannered stooge and endured the evening instead of making a hasty retreat.
When Dave Winters called later that night to inform Lex his book had been accepted by a major publishing house, he’d jumped at the chance to flee Malibu.
Lex planned to gracefully retire from th
e music business while he was still popular, not cling to the star-machine long after his popularity waned, as was the habit of many an aging rock star. He’d worked hard to cultivate a new life for himself after Crystal’s betrayal. He was riding the wave of a new life, a new career and he was miserable.
Because of a woman.
Because of Jessie.
Rain drizzled off his Fedora as he walked across the tarmac of the airstrip to the waiting limousine. His trench coat was soaked by the time he’d settled within. He smiled at the driver, a weak, disappointed smile. It was scene straight from a Sam Spade novel. All that was missing was the cigarette butt between his teeth and a sassy dame to exchange taunts with.
Jessie.
Vivid color replaced the black and white image in his mind’s eye at the very thought of her. Rich, voluminous copper waves caressing alabaster shoulders. Deep, expressive emerald pools. Lush pink lips. Jessie brought color to his life, and so much more.
He wanted her more than any woman he’d known. He wanted her so badly he could taste her sweet skin beneath his lips. And yet, he held back, keeping his passion in check as he patiently wooed her. He sensed it would offend her if he was too eager too soon, it would make her pull back, away from him.
He wanted her to trust him, to want him as badly as he wanted her.
He’d been able to read between the lines that someone had hurt her.
Lex scrunched down in the seat, hiding his face from the dauntless predators of the glamorous City of Angels. From photographers who were hungry for scandal, for heartache and despair. They lurked in shadows, waiting to capture the tortured images of the rich and famous, hoping to pay next month’s rent with another’s pain.
Why was he doing this?
He could remain in New York. He could live in the penthouse and conduct his business from there, like a recluse, another Howard Hughes. He could just bury himself in his work and forget her.
But the dreams wouldn’t go away. Lex was miserable without her. He had to see Jessie one last time, talk to her and explain why he’d walked out. He should be honorable about the whole thing. Just explain as Bogart would that regardless of the fact that they were living in a new century, he wasn’t the kind of guy who could share a woman.
The confrontation came sooner than he expected. When Lex entered the beach house Inez told him the lovely lady next door had called and left several messages.
“I’m sorry, sir. I did not know you were coming back so soon.” The Mexican woman apologized in her choppy English as he stepped around the living room furniture blocking the foyer. The carpet in the living room had been shampooed. He imagined the rest of the house would be in similar disarray. The housekeeper always took advantage of his absences to do the carpets.
“I just caught a plane on a whim. I’ll stay out of your way.”
He glanced over to the landline phone the housekeeper had gestured to. The light was blinking. There were messages---from her. Lex rubbed the stubble covering his cheeks and rounded the bar. He poured two fingers of brandy and took a sip. His spirits bolstered by the action, he pressed the button. The sweet voice changed from lighthearted as she invited him over for dinner in the first message to worry and finally hurt as she asked in the last message why he left Malibu without saying good-bye.
He removed his soggy hat and placed it carefully on the tiled counter. He leaned his head down on his arms and stretched. He felt like a cad, a jerk, a cruel bastard.
Why should he feel this way? She was the one who played him false, a secret lover under the same roof while she cavorted with Lex about tinsel town. He couldn’t live through another scandal. He couldn’t endure hiding as the news rags eviscerated him slowly and thoroughly by sharing every detail regarding the crushing of his heart.
He picked up the phone, buoyed up by the knowledge that he was in the right and dialed her cell number. He had the damn thing memorized. Pathetic. You’re supposed to be the wicked seducer and yet you’re calling the woman to demand she explain why there’s a dagger in your heart. The sound of Jessie’s voice melted his resolve about demanding anything. He just closed his eyes and savored the sweet tones, drinking it in as starved earth absorbs the first rain following a long drought.
“Hello . . .who is this? . . . Okay, Perv. I’m not alone and our house is surrounded by attack dogs.” She threatened. Obviously she didn’t check the display before she answered her phone.
“Duncan’s weapons are useless. I’m wearing a trench-coat.”
“Lex.” Jessie exclaimed in a breathless voice of relief. “Where are you? Your housekeeper said you were gone, indefinitely. Why did you leave without telling me?”
“I had business in New York.” He answered in a cool tone. “We need to talk.”
“Yeah, sure.” She agreed. “I’ll be right over.”
“No--wait--the house is--” It was too late. She hung up. He swallowed the rest of his drink in one gulp, squaring himself for the nasty business that was to come.
Jessie almost ran across the lawn. Almost. She caught her reflection in the dark glass sliding door as she was leaving the living room. Her hair was in a pony-tail, she still wore her pajamas and the pasty taste of chocolate cookie dough had gone sour in her mouth, not exactly the way to confront a lover.
She raced up the spiral staircase to change her clothes and brush her teeth, reminding herself that they were hardly lovers after three weeks of mostly chaste kisses worthy of a G rating. She left the ponytail in out of defiance and refused to put on makeup. Let him think what he wanted. He dumped her, dropped her off a bridge like she was a stone. She wasn’t about to go over there and beg him to come back.
When she entered his living room, half an hour later, Lex stood behind the bar, looking completely out of character in his long black trench coat with his flowing raven mane. The dampened Fedora sat on the counter beside him.
“If you’re trying to look like Bogart, it won’t work. Not with that hair. Although, the scraggly beard is a nice touch.” Jessie commented in an emotionless tone.
“What can I get you?” His ebony brows raised, yet his eyes remained stoic, distant, as if he were merely the bartender in some seedy nightclub.
“Answers.” Jessie shot back. “Why did you just leave, without a word?”
She folded her arms across her chest, planted her feet squarely, ready to face the dragon. She deserved at least an explanation for his odd behavior. He’d blabbed to the news media about how he intended to marry her, called her every morning for almost a month, planning excursions and quiet dinners for two and then suddenly just disappeared? Thinking about it made Jessie so angry she wanted to bring Duncan and Ozzy over to shit on his freshly cleaned carpet--just to piss him off.
“Like I said, I had business in New York.”
“Why didn’t you tell me the other night at the restaurant? You never mentioned it. What was I, some silly fling to while away a couple of weeks before you left town? Nice, Lex, real smooth. Using me to snag a little publicity for your upcoming CD, get back in the limelight after a year of seclusion. I thought we were--” She stopped, foolishness coloring her face as she realized how naive she must sound to him.
“Lovers?” He finished, holding her gaze with an intensity that was frightening and compelling at the same time. It never occurred to her that he might have something to be angry with her about. Yet, it was there in his eyes, cold, hard, anger.
“Something close to that.” Jessie mumbled, looking away. “I thought--” she took a step closer to the bar. “I thought . . . we were headed that way. Maybe I was mistaken. Maybe I just had stars in my eyes. I kept asking myself, what the famous Lex would see in someone like me. . . ?”
Lex studied her, his blue eyes unfathomable; his features guarded as he peeled off the trench coat. He folded it and placed it neatly on the counter next to his hat. He leaned on the bar, clothed in the trademark black, a turtleneck this time due to the cold, rainy weather and midnight black jeans. He seem
ed to be trying to put words together in his mind. The right words. The right let down.
She didn’t want to hear them, the nice, complementary praise, you’re a nice kid, we had fun together, but . . . Jessie hated herself at that moment, hated herself for believing this man would actually see anything in her besides a good time, the new kid in the music business, fresh, exciting . . . and oh, so naive’.
“Jess . . .” So it began. He raised his eyes to look at her.
In that moment, she made her decision. “I have to go.” She backed to the door.
“You wanted to know--”
“Forget it. I don’t need to know. I don’t want to hear it.”
“No.” He moved quickly, rounding the bar and grabbing her wrist before she had a chance to make her escape. “We’re both adults, here, aren’t we?” He sneered, almost offering that phrase in sarcasm. “And I, for one, would like some answers. I flew back here, all the way across the country to find out why you led me on when you already have a lover.”
“Let me go.” Jessie pulled her wrist. “You’re hurting me.”
His strong fingers remained in an iron grip about her thin wrist, his eyes grew dangerous as he breathed, “What did you think, that I don’t have a heart? That I’m without feelings?” His blue eyes bore into hers with intense fury as accusations tripped off his tongue with bold conviction of the truth therein.
“I don’t have the slightest idea what you are talking about.” Jessie snapped back. “If you don’t let go of me this instant, you’ll be sorry.”
His eyes grew pale with fury as he returned in a voice of frightening calm, “Well, isn’t that what it’s all about? Don’t touch the china doll or we’ll kill you, dude. Look, but don’t touch or her lover, Steve, will break your arms--”
“Lover?” Jessie repeated with disbelief. “Steve?”
“What was I, a publicity stunt to get further exposure in the media? Jessica Kelly dates the legendary Lex while the two of you laugh and carry on in secret?” He released her so abruptly she nearly fell backward from the force as she’d been pulling against his imprisonment of her wrist.