He knew that he could very well live the rest of his life without Jazz and probably be happy, but he didn’t want to. His grandfather was right. She was his heart’s choice. He considered going to her now, but his grandfather’s words stopped him. He’d give her some time. A few minutes later Devon put the car in reverse and drove away.
Jazz finished the project she’d been working on, changed clothes and came downstairs feeling better than she had earlier. Her vacillations and hesitations had passed. There was no rational reason why she shouldn’t enjoy her life. It’s what her mother had wanted, what Brian had requested. She knew what she wanted. She wanted Devon Hayes, and, hopefully, he still wanted her. So she intended to do exactly as Savannah suggested—enjoy the moment.
“Hey, you look happy,” Jessica said.
“Actually, I’m feeling pretty good. That trip into town was just what I needed to help clear the cobwebs in my head. I thought a nice long walk on the beach might just clear away the rest.”
“Good idea and perfect timing. Oh, cool, what’s that?” she asked.
Jazz placed the folded paper in Jessica’s hand. “It’s a little something I’ve been working on. It’s origami.”
Jessica examined the folded paper in amazement. “This is so cool. I love it.” She handed it back.
“Thanks. So, what’s perfect timing?”
“Oh, I was just about to come get you. You have a visitor waiting out on the patio.”
Jazz smiled, thinking that it was Devon. “Excellent.”
“I’m headed out. Melanie is on her way home. Oh, before I forget, this package is for you, too.”
“Thanks,” Jazz said, seeing the package on the foyer table. “See you later,” she said just as Jessica’s cell rang. She waved as she headed out.
Jazz grabbed the package and headed to the patio expecting to see Devon. It wasn’t Devon. She stopped instantly and glared at the man standing there. He had his back to her, but she knew exactly who it was. She hadn’t seen him since Brian’s funeral; the last time before then had been just after her mother’s funeral. It seemed just like always. He only came around when things were bad.
Growing up, all she ever wanted was a relationship with him like normal kids. But he was never around. He had his own family, and that didn’t include her. She knew who he was, of course. Her mother confirmed that when she saw her photograph on the cover of a tabloid in a supermarket. It was kind of hard to deny after seeing that kind of proof. So she was the daughter of a big Hollywood movie star and director. So what? She turned to leave.
“Hello, Jazelle.”
Jazz stopped instantly. She knew that voice too well. She turned, seeing her father standing there. He walked over and opened his arms. She stared at him without speaking. He lowered his eyes and grimaced, knowing that the relationship with his daughter would never be one for which he’d been proud. He had turned his back on her since she was a child. Then, when she was a teen, he was too busy with his own life to deal with her. Only recently had he attempted some kind of reconciliation. But by now it was too late.
“Aren’t you going to at least acknowledge me?”
“Do you mean like you acknowledged me years ago?”
“Jazelle, please. You’re my daughter. I’ve always acknowledged you.”
“What do you want, Frank?”
“Jazelle,” he said as if he needed to say more.
She stared at him menacingly. Only one man in her life ever called her by her full name—her father, or rather, her biological father. “Frank. What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Can’t a father stop by and see his daughter?”
“It’s a little late for the paternal nurturing, don’t you think?”
“Jazelle, please. When are you going to stop punishing me?”
She shook her head. “I’m not punishing you. Maybe it’s your conscience, but it’s not me. I’ve heard turning your back on people who once loved you can do that.”
“Jazelle, I’ve said it a million times. I loved your mother fiercely, and she loved me. The circumstances prevented us being together. But what we shared those few months together is what keeps me going even now. I—”
“Please, Frank, I really don’t want to hear your declarations of adoration and devotion to my mom. So if that’s why you’re here, then you can leave now.”
“No. I came here to ask you a favor.”
She laughed. “You’re kidding, right? You want me to do you a favor?” She shook her head, still chuckling. “Oh, this is too rich. Who says there’s no Karma in the universe? So, what is it?”
“Read a script. Agree to star in the film.”
“Oh, is that all?” She laughed again and turned away.
“Jazelle, enough torturing me,” he said, raising his voice slightly. “This isn’t about me.”
“It’s always about you, Frank.”
He nodded, acknowledging the truth and knowing her pain ran too deep to protest it any further. They’d played this scene so many times that once more would be meaningless. She was right about this, about everything. It was time to come clean and tell her the truth. “Yes, it is about me. You’re right. I admit it. It’s always about me and my career. It always has been. I once had the chance of a lifetime to be with the woman I truly loved, but I chose my career instead. I walked away then and I’ve regretted it all my life. I can’t take that back, Jazelle, any more that I can take back Brian’s death. All I can do now is fulfill their wishes.”
She turned around. “What wishes?”
He looked down, seeing the package he’d brought in her hands. She looked down, realizing what he meant. “This?” she asked. He nodded. “This is from Brian?”
“Yes. He gave it to me the night he—” he paused, walked over to the rail and lowered his head “—the night he died.” His voice cracked, and he buried his face in his hands remorsefully. She could see that he was barely holding himself together. A moment later, he gathered his composure and cleared his throat. “You had just gotten back from doing that last film. He came to me.”
“What are you saying? Brian gave you this?”
“Open it.”
She did and pulled out a manuscript. “What is this?” she asked needlessly, knowing exactly what it was. It was what Brian told her he’d been working on for years. It was his script, his life’s work. “He gave this to you? His manuscript?” she asked, looking to him. He nodded. “Why?”
“He wanted me to direct and produce it.”
“Brian told me you turned him down repeatedly.”
“Have you ever read it?” Frank asked.
“No, he didn’t want me to. Not until it was finished.”
“I did, four separate times. Each time he brought it back to me it had gotten better and better. The last time he came to me, I read it and told him that it was a great piece of work. I told him I was proud of him and that I’d be honored to take it to the studio. Your brother was a brilliant writer. The script is exceptional. I told him that. I remember he smiled like I’d just given him a billion dollars. I had no idea that was the last time I’d ever talk to him,” he said, obviously choking up again. “Read it, please. Not for me. For Brian.”
She held the pages close to her heart as if holding her brother’s memory close to her. She nodded that she would.
“Thank you,” he said then walked away.
Jazz stood a moment then started wondering about the other wish he had mentioned. She went after him. “Frank, wait,” she said, calling to him before he opened the front door. He stopped and turned. “You said ‘their wishes.’ This is Brian’s wish. What was my mother’s?”
“It doesn’t matter right now.”
“Maybe it does to me,” she said firmly.
He looked at her and finally nodded. “She wanted you to be happy. She wanted me to make sure that you were happy,” he said quietly.
Jazz nodded, knowing there was more that he wasn’t saying, but she gave him the rest
of his secret to keep. After all, it was between them. “Thank you,” she said. He nodded, opened the door and left.
Jazz took a deep breath then released it slowly. Her heart still trembled and her hands shook while still holding tight to the script. Seeing her father always left her with the uneasy feeling that she’d just been sent to the principal’s office for misbehaving. It was never anything he said or did; it was just him. He was larger than life. There were so many stories about him and his career. He was a legend in the business. He acted, produced, wrote and directed, all with masterfully brilliant results. He had Oscars, Golden Globes and hundreds of other equally notable awards. Highly respected and formidable, he was every actor’s dream or nightmare according to the power he wielded.
She sat, slowly gripping the envelope then laid it on her lap. She unclasped the seal, opened it and pulled out the manuscript. She ran her hand lovingly over the crisp white pages. The moment stilled. She couldn’t help but feel that these were her brother’s last words. She gingerly turned the first page and read the title. She smiled. This was Brian, of course. It was entitled Untitled Life. A laugh unexpectedly escaped. Even now, he brought joy to her world.
The opening scene was set in a small apartment near the edge of an unnamed city. She read the direction notes and then cringed when the title character put a forty-five revolver to his head and pulled the trigger. The script took place the instant the bullet left the barrel. It was flashback on what led him to this point. The pages shook and blurred as tears trembled down Jazz’s face. She closed the draft quickly and put it back into the envelope. She took a deep breath, but couldn’t release it. She kept inhaling, sucking air in. Finally she collapsed backwards, holding the script to her heart. There was no way she could read this now, maybe ever.
Jazz stayed in the large living room a few minutes longer. She looked around. Frank was long gone, of course, but his presence lingered. It always did. He had a way of sucking all the air out of a room and creating an emptiness. It was silly, but that’s how she always felt. She stood, turned toward the patio door leading outside, suddenly feeling the need of fresh air sweep over her. She walked back outside onto the patio and didn’t stop until she hit the beach.
She walked and ran nearly a half mile before stopping to catch her breath. She turned to look at the bay. The view was familiar. She turned back to the beach and looked up at the house. It was Devon’s. She would have recognized the second-floor balcony anywhere. She walked around to the front of the house and knocked. Moments later the door opened. A woman answered. “Umm, hi, I’m looking for Devon Hayes,” Jazz said.
“Are you a friend of his?” the woman asked.
“Yes, umm, kind of.” She hedged too long and knew by the expression on the woman’s face that she didn’t believe her. “I’m staying a few doors down the beach with Melanie Harte.”
“And?” The woman pried further.
“And I was hoping Devon had gotten back from town,” she said. The woman looked at her without responding. Jazz knew a gatekeeper when she saw one. The woman was young and pretty. She assumed that she was either the estate manager or an assistant. “You know what? That’s okay. Never mind.” Jazz shook her head and stepped back.
“He’s not here,” the woman finally said. “I don’t know when he’ll be back. Probably not for a while. He’s away on business. Do you want to leave your name or a message or something?”
“No, that’s okay, thanks,” Jazz said then turned to leave. She took a few steps, stopped and turned back. “Um, could you leave this for him?” she said. “He’ll know who it’s from.”
The woman nodded and held the fragile origami sculpture gently. “Sure.” She looked it over carefully. “Did you make this?”
Jazz nodded. “Yes, I thought he’d appreciate it. It’s a…”
“…stallion,” the woman said.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“It’s very clever. I’m sure he’s going to love this.”
“Thanks, I hope so,” Jazz said then turned and walked away, knowing that she must have hurt him more than she had thought. Whatever scandal he had been mixed up in must have really gotten to him, and she’d just poured salt into the open wound. She walked back to the house just as Jessica was leaving.
“Hey, I thought you’d already left,” Jazz said.
“I did. I forget something, had to come back.”
“Jessica, got a minute?”
“Sure what’s up?”
“I heard in town that Devon was in some big scandal. What happened?”
“Girl, it was a hot mess,” Jessica began. “He’d been dating Trina Preston, some socialite wannabe, for about three years. They got engaged, and everything seemed cool. Then, a few months later, right before one of his games, she goes to him and breaks it off. She said that she was in love with someone else and they were getting married that day in Vegas.”
“She said that just as he was going to play football?”
“Yeah, can you believe that? Anyway, he broke his wrist and blew out his knee in that same game. The injury knocked him out for the rest of the season. His team did horribly after that. I think he still blames himself. But the thing is, when a professional football player’s out on injured reserves, there’s less money. Thankfully he had endorsements. That’s why this new contract is so important.”
“He needs a new contract?”
“Yes. They’re negotiating now, but I hear it isn’t going well. A lot of that has to do with what happened.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Anyway, a few weeks after he got hurt, he met this reporter. She was supposed to be doing a story on one of his children’s foundations. They got close, and next thing she wrote this Internet article saying he dumped her because she was pregnant and refused to get rid of their baby. Later her father got into the act and made things even worse. He portrayed Devon as the bad guy.”
“What?”
“It was huge news. This was last year. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it.”
“If it was last year, then that’s right after Brian died. I was traveling abroad and never read a newspaper. I didn’t even have a laptop at that time.”
“So, after that, sponsors threatened to pull out of his foundation programs and the team owners were furious. His reputation took a serious hit. Then it came out that she does this fake reporting scam all the time. She wasn’t even a real reporter, just an Internet blogger. Other athletes and businessmen came forward and told their stories.”
“That’s insane. What happened to her?”
“She scammed all those other guys, but claimed she fell for Devon. She wanted him to marry her. That was the different part. She never did that with the other men. Last I heard she was keeping a low profile. Her father still insists she was wronged. They had their fifteen minutes, so nobody pays attention anymore. I heard she was writing a book about it, but couldn’t get a publisher. Anyway, I have to get going. See you tomorrow.”
Jazz stood in the driveway speechless. She was wrong.
Chapter 14
EXTERIOR—SAG HARBOR
Days later Jazz still hadn’t seen or heard anything from Devon. She hadn’t really expected to at this point, but she had hoped. The conversation with Jessica that day brought everything to light. She was wrong about him, about everything. She attacked him when all he was trying to do was help her. But none of that mattered now. He was gone.
Actually, he wasn’t. He was doing some kind of publicity tour. He was everywhere. She watched him on television, read about him in the newspapers and magazines and even watched a podcast on the Internet. He was doing a teen motivational talk about focusing on your dreams and not being detoured by anything. It was pretty good. And it was obvious that his speech was coming from a place of very personal experience.
Afterward she watched a podcast of an interview. He was honest and forthright, even when someone asked him about the scandal. He simply answered the question
and moved on. She knew the tactic well. He was rebuilding his reputation. When scandals hit, the formula was simple: ride it out in seclusion for a few months, then reinvent yourself with the help of professionals. It looked as if he was doing a great job.
Jazz watched his commercials and listened to his interviews with an intimate pleasure. She had no idea how she never really saw him before. Lost in her own crystal box, she seldom looked out on others. Brian always told her that her world was a lot bigger than her four surrounding walls. Now she understood what he meant.
But still, seeing Devon was like everything that happened between them was just a dream. But it was real. She knew it. She walked by his house again a few days later. She stopped and looked up. There was no sign that anyone was at home or had been home. She didn’t bother to knock or ring the bell. She knew that she’d hurt him. But where his words had been trustful and honest, she’d been just plain mean.
Nothing he said to her that afternoon outside the café was anything she hadn’t already known and said to herself a thousand times before. Savannah was right. It was just hard to hear the words coming from him. He was a stranger. And it scared her to know that a stranger could see so far into her soul so quickly.
It was late morning when Jazz came downstairs. Melanie and the office staff, minus Vincent, were already hard at work. Jazz popped her head into the office to say good morning. “Good morning,” they said in unison.
“Hey, I’m headed into town. Does anyone want anything?”
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