Into the Flames (Jupiter Point Book 3)

by Jennifer Bernard

  Rollo stared at his brother. Was he serious? It was five days until Christmas. Bri would only be in New York another week. How much damage could his mother do? He decided to keep a close eye on things but not to ruin Brianna's vacation.

  The next day, something unexpected happened. He and Brianna had stopped at his favorite sidewalk pizza stand. She'd gobbled up three slices already. He was laughing down at her, enjoying the hell out of her always-healthy appetite, when someone tapped on his shoulder.

  Turning, he saw a vaguely familiar face.

  "Wareham, is that you?"

  He squinted at the guy. "Yeah, but I don't…" Recognition slammed into him. "Dougie Berkowitz?"

  Dougie grinned. "You got it. I know, I've put on some weight since you creamed me that day."

  “Some weight” was an understatement. As a fourteen-year-old kid, Dougie had been wiry. Now he bulged with muscle. He still had that joking, abrasive half-smile that used to get under Rollo's skin. He stammered for a moment, too surprised to say much. The guy was still smiling at him. Didn't Dougie hate him?

  He managed to get his wits together enough to introduce him to Brianna. "This is Dougie. We used to go to school together."

  "Until he beat me up," said Dougie matter-of-factly. "Have you seen this guy punch? Thing of beauty."

  Beauty? Rollo gaped at him.

  Dougie's next sentence really threw him for a loop. "How about a rematch?"

  "A what?" He shook his head, sure he'd misheard.

  "A rematch, big guy. Last time, I had no muscle mass or skills. Might be a different story this time."

  Rollo glanced at Brianna, who shrugged, her pizza forgotten. "I don't fight people any more. I stick to wildfires."

  "Right, I heard about that. What was that, some kind of guilty conscience move? The Doug Berkowitz Fund wasn't enough?" He threw up a hand as if to fend off Rollo's reaction. "Kidding. You know me, I joke a lot."

  "Yeah, I remember. So…uh, how've you been?"

  "Damn good, as a matter of fact. Wrote a piece of code that's about to make me a millionaire. See, you're not the only bigshot around here. We're equal now, so bring it on, big guy." Dougie raised his fists and play-punched him in the chest. Not hard. But not soft either. "Name the time."

  "You seriously want to fight me after all this time?"

  "Fuck yes. I always did like to fight. You were the big kahuna back then but I think I could take you now." He landed another blow on his chest.

  Rollo squinted at him. The temptation to hit back was so strong. Every muscle tensed and thrummed. He felt Brianna's hand on his arm. Her touch grounded him, made his vision clear.

  "Wait a fucking second here. You wanted to fight me back then, didn't you?" The whole scene came back to him, Dougie's sidelong sneer, his nasty words. "You goaded me. You knew I'd lose my shit."

  "Yup." Dougie tried another jab at Rollo's stomach, but he barely felt it. "It's not working now, though. Guess you have changed."

  "Guess I have."

  "Tell you what, you give me a rematch and I'll pay back all the money you put into that fund."

  Rollo couldn't help it; he laughed. "You're a piece of work, Dougie B. How about this? I'll give you a rematch if you tell me more about that code you wrote."

  "Done." Dougie clapped him on the shoulder, smiled at Brianna, and took off down the avenue. Rollo watched until he lost sight of him in the crowd of wool coats and shopping bags.

  "Whoa," he finally said.

  "That was the guy? The one from back then?"

  "That was him."

  "I don't think he hates you."

  He looked down at Brianna. The red neon from the pizza shop sign made her hair even more vibrant. She looked back with her heart in her eyes, pure happiness shining from them. Happiness for him.

  "I guess not."

  Things about New York that Brianna loved: snow in Central Park. Cuddling with Rollo. The arch in Washington Square Park. Sex with Rollo. The Chelsea Flower Market. Pizza with Rollo. Really, anything with Rollo.

  Things she didn't like as much: cabs that drove right past her, splashing mud in her face. Umbrellas poking her in the face. The way Rollo's mother looked at her. And the way she looked at Sidney.

  Every time Mrs. Wareham spoke to Sidney in that critical, nitpicking tone, Brianna wanted to throw herself between them like a shield. Even though Sidney acted so tough and nonchalant, Brianna knew it got to her. Why couldn't Alicia show her a little affection once in a while?

  It all came to a head the day before Christmas Eve—the morning of the traditional mother-daughter charity fashion show the Warehams had sponsored the last five years. Usually, Alicia and Sidney walked the runway, along with every other Park Avenue socialite.

  This year, Sidney flat-out refused to go. Brianna stumbled into the midst of the controversy when she dropped in to pick up Sidney for a trip to the Botanical Gardens.

  "Send me to military school," Sidney was screaming at her mother. "Send me to the North Pole! I don't care! I'm not doing that stupid show!"

  "You have to. This isn't optional. We committed, we're part of the schedule, and I will not be made a laughingstock. Who's going to wear your outfits?"

  "I don't care! Find a fucking crash test dummy! Get a blow-up doll! Hire someone! Don't you always say money solves every problem?"

  Rollo strolled into the foyer just then. "What is going on out here?" His gaze shot to meet Brianna's and instantly warmed. Tingles swept from her head to her toes.

  "Sidney's being impossible."

  Sidney crossed her arms over her chest. "Just because I won't be a fashion zombie? You don't care about me. You just want me to fill an outfit."

  "It's Vera Wang…" Alicia sang the name as if it were an irresistible temptation. "A Vera Wang ball gown. It's the highlight of the event. Everyone wanted the Vera Wang, but we got it."

  Sidney stuck her finger in her mouth. "A ball gown? No. No no no. Let me repeat that—"

  "I can fill in," Brianna blurted.

  Everyone turned to stare at her.

  She shrank under the collective weight of all the Wareham attention. What had she been thinking? Nothing! She hadn't thought. She'd just spoken. Typical Brianna.

  Rollo was already shaking his head, but Alicia spoke first.

  "You're the right size for the gown, I suppose." She eyed Brianna's form as if even looking at her was granting her a favor. "Sidney's getting too large anyway."

  Brianna gritted her teeth at yet another dig about Sidney's size.

  "This is ridiculous." Rollo's alarmed tone got Brianna's hackles up. "She's not a family member. It's supposed to be mother-daughter."

  "No one would dare object. Not with the amount of our donation." Alicia tilted her head and examined Brianna more closely. "I'll have to book a special session with my stylist. An extensive one."

  Brianna bit her lip, determined not to take offense at anything Mrs. Wareham might dish out.

  Sidney stomped her foot. "Mother, why do you have to be such a monumental—"

  "Excuse us for a minute." Rollo pulled Brianna aside. "Bri, think about this," he told her in a low voice. "Don't do it. You'd be better off visiting the zoo or the art museum or hell…the damn landfill. You'd have more fun."

  "I don't need it to be fun. It's for charity, right?"

  "Yes, but you don't have to prance down a runway to help people out. You already do that all the time."

  "Like how?"

  "The Star Bright shelter, Old Man Turner, how about all those pies you and your mom made? I could go on but you'll just start blushing." He lifted his hand to touch her hair, then caught his mother's laser stare and dropped it.

  She blushed anyway. "If I do this, maybe your mother will stop glaring at me. I'd like a chance to spend time with her. I'm really hoping to talk to her about Sidney. I wish she weren't so hard on her."

  "Brianna, nothing you can say will change Alicia Stockard Wareham's mothering style. That's the way she is. That's ho
w she was with me, with Brent, and now with Sidney. You in a Vera Wang ball gown is not going to make a bit of difference. Do you see that?"

  She lifted her chin. "I think you're being too pessimistic. Not only that, I think you should have a little more faith in me."

  He drew back, frowning. "Faith?"

  "You think I'm a fashion disaster who can't handle a fashion show. You think I'm so tactless I can't handle your mother. Maybe you think I'll make a fool of myself. Light my dress on fire on the runway or something."

  "Oh for Chrissake, Brianna. That’s not what I’m saying." After a long, hard stare, he shoved his hands deep in his pockets and turned away. " Fine. Do what you want. It's your vacation."

  25

  The mother-daughter fashion show took place that evening.

  Rollo spent the time working out with the punching bag at his gym. He needed the release. The thought of Brianna willingly putting herself into the clutches of his mother drove him nuts. Why wouldn't she listen to reason? She always thought the best of people. She counted on the best of people. Sometimes she was right.

  But not this time.

  After his workout, Rollo showered, grabbed a quick solo dinner at a noodle shop in Chinatown, and took a cab to the Parkside. Even though he was still pissed at Brianna, he wanted to see her. The fashion show must be over by now. They could put the show and their quarrel behind them and get back to screwing their brains out.

  But when he knocked on her door, he got no answer. He checked his watch. Eleven-fifteen and no Brianna. Maybe the show had gone so well that she and his mother were having after-show cocktails and girl talk.

  Or maybe not.

  He called her cell but got no answer. Like some kind of stalker, he pressed his ear to her door, hoping he might hear her phone ringing. She could be in the shower or already asleep.

  Nope.

  He jogged down the stairs to the reception desk.

  "Can I leave a message for one of your guests?" he asked the concierge as he grabbed a pad and started scrawling a note. "Brianna Gallagher, room twelve."

  "Sorry, she checked out this evening."

  Rollo's head jerked up. "When?"

  "About an hour ago."

  Checked out? Why? Where was she now? Panic unfurled in his chest. He felt ungrounded without her. At sea. He at least wanted to know where she was.

  Heading back to the street, Rollo hit Sidney's button on his phone. Maybe his sister had managed to talk Brianna into staying on Park Avenue with them. But Sidney was at a friend's birthday party and had no clue where Brianna might be.

  "Ask Mother," she hollered over the blast of Macklemore. "Fashion show!"

  But when he got hold of Alicia, she informed him that she hadn't seen Brianna since the show. "It went perfectly, by the way, not that you care. She was a sensation. Beyond all my expectations."

  Around one in the morning, he got a text from Brianna. "I'm at the airport, about to board. Sorry to skip out on Christmas but I had to get home. Everything's fine, don't worry. No big emergency. I'll see you back in Jupiter Point."

  The minute Brianna stepped onto the tarmac at the regional airport, a sense of peace descended over her. Maybe her time in Manhattan had been nothing more than a nightmare. It would all fade away as soon as she got back to Jupiter Point and her regular life. She found her truck where she'd left it in the airport parking lot and slid into the driver's seat as if it were a cocoon.

  Safe. At last.

  She was never going to leave California again. The rest of the world could just go on without her. She was sticking to Jupiter Point from now on. No more elite, upper-class gatherings for her. No more pretending to be someone she wasn't. No more fashion shows.

  Wincing, she remembered her last conversation with Rollo before the show. She’d flung all her own insecurities in his face, and they all turned out to be true. Fashion disaster, unable to handle his mother, guaranteed to make a fool of herself. Check, check, check.

  A bit of memory flashed into her mind as she turned the key in the ignition. Pieces of the disaster had been surfacing like whack-a-moles during the entire flight home. Especially that moment when she took the mic to describe the ball gown she was wearing. They'd given her a script, but she’d misplaced it during the makeup process. Even though she’d mostly memorized it anyway, just in case, every word had vanished from her mind as soon as that microphone hit her hand. She had to say something. Didn't she? So she'd opened her mouth and words had spilled out.

  She didn't remember much of what happened after that.

  All she remembered was the surprised silence. The scattered giggles. The incredulous expression on Mrs. Wareham's face as she grabbed the mic back.

  And of course, she remembered in vivid detail everything Mrs. Wareham had said backstage. After the disaster.

  "And I thought Sidney was an embarrassment. How could a grown woman be so utterly awkward? My goodness, how do you get through life at all?"

  "I…I…" Brianna was so rattled she wanted to cry. "I couldn't remember the script. I'm so sorry. I had to improvise."

  "Improvise? Why didn't you simply smile and say 'thank you'? That's not so difficult, is it? There were ten-year-olds reciting their parts just fine."

  "I didn't think of that—"

  "A gardener, for heaven's sake. I suppose you talk to plants more often than people. This is Sidney's fault, I have no doubt. She'd do anything to embarrass me. She probably snuck into the audience to enjoy every excruciating moment."

  "No. No, this has nothing to do with Sidney, and I wish you wouldn't be so harsh with her—"

  Alicia gave a cutting laugh that sliced right through her. "Parenting advice, now? Well, you are a bold thing, aren't you? No manners whatsoever." The scornful curl of her upper lip would be branded on Brianna's consciousness forever.

  Driving her old red truck toward the coast, she wanted to hang her head in shame. The script wasn't even long. She remembered it perfectly now. "I'm Brianna, representing the Wareham family, and I'm wearing a silk taffeta ball gown designed by Vera Wang."

  How hard was that?

  There was more, but even that one line would have been enough. Instead she'd said, "I'm Brianna, and I'm wearing a ham and—no, wait, sorry, I'm Brianna and—"

  "Agggh!!!" Brianna screamed out loud to chase the memory from her head. Because she hadn't stopped there. No, she'd gone on. And on. So many words had poured out. Too many to remember.

  After she'd ripped the ball gown off her body, she'd fled out the back door of the hotel ballroom where the event was being held. It was still early; the show was only halfway over. She'd hurried back to the Parkside, stuffed all her new clothes into her suitcase and called a cab to take her to the airport. She didn't care how much she paid in change fees. She didn't care about saying goodbye to Sidney or Rollo. They'd be fine without her. Better off without her.

  She was getting out of New York as fast as she could, before she embarrassed anyone else.

  As for Alicia's explanation for why Sidney had invited her to New York, she didn't know what to think. Sidney had a mischievous side. Maybe she'd wanted Brianna to shake things up. It wasn't very nice, but Sidney was acting out in all sorts of ways.

  Anyway, she wasn't sticking around to find out. It was one thing to make a fool of herself around people who loved her. In front of the Manhattan elite—not happening again. No way.

  It was official; she couldn't handle Rollo's world.

  She had to be honest with herself and admit that part of her had hoped—hoped against all odds—that Rollo would find a way to choose her. To love her. But never in a hundred million years would the Warehams accept her as a proper mate for their oldest son. Never, ever going to happen.

  Her phone dinged with an incoming text. She drew her lower lip between her teeth, knowing it was probably either Rollo or Sidney. Not wanting to face either of them.

  But she had to. It was always better to face things head-on, right?

  She
looked at her phone. The text was from Rollo.

  What happened? Why'd you leave?

  She texted one-handed, her other hand on the steering wheel. Homesick.

  Sudden attack of homesickness?

  Yes. I Heart Jupiter Point.

  It was true, too. The hills ringing her little hometown were rising up ahead, black against the starlight, and she couldn't wait to get home.

  All she had to do now was throw Rollo off the scent. She didn't want to tell him what had happened. She didn't want to cause any friction between him and his family. His destiny was set. And it didn't include her.

  Have a good Christmas. See ya soon! There, that ought to do it. Casual, carefree, as if nothing was bothering her and her heart wasn't a bleeding mess.

  Just like that? WTF, Bri?

  Ugh, it figured that she couldn’t fool Rollo.

  She pulled over to the side of the road so she could talk to him in person without risking her neck. When he answered on the first ring, just the sound of his rumbling voice sent flutters through her belly.

  " I’m sorry I left so suddenly. I just…got really homesick. I needed to get back.”

  He took a long time answering. "What about us?"

  She drew in a long breath, trying to figure out the right way to answer that. "What us? We were on bonus time anyway. It'll be better for you if I'm not there. You have a job to do."

  "Is that why you left? Because of…the job I have to do?"

  "Rollo, why does this have to be about you? I wanted to come home. I miss Jupiter Point. It's Christmas. I want to string cranberries on the Christmas tree and make balsam wreaths and paper snowflakes and—" Her breath caught in her throat. Because she did want all those things…and yet more than anything, she wanted him. But she couldn't have him.

  "Okay. I get that. My family isn't exactly filled with the Christmas spirit."

  She pictured him running one hand through his thick brown hair, hurt shadowing his kind blue-gray eyes. "I'll see you back in Jupiter Point, okay?"

  "Sure. See you in the New Year. And Bri?"