“Another surprise?”
“Yes. And, no I’m not telling you what it is.”
She huffs. “Fine. And yes, tomorrow sounds wonderful. I’m glad I brought a book. This is the perfect setting for reading.”
The dock leading to the garage scrapes and the boards move slightly.
I’ll need to get that fixed.
“Want your own jet ski, or do you want to share?” I ask.
Share, share, share….
“Oh no, I’m not getting on one of those alone. I’ve never driven one before.”
“I’ll teach you.”
“Tomorrow?”
“If you want,” I say as I put the key in the ignition and start the motor.
“I want.” She crosses her legs, sticking her thumbs in the pocket of her khaki shorts. Long and tan, I could write an entire script in her legs honor.
The engine revs, making the water bubble and I take Whitley’s hand. Swinging her leg over, she straddles the seat and wraps her hands around my middle, hanging on for dear life. I have a hard time breathing with her strong clutch, but I wouldn’t dare ask her to let go.
“Ready?” I holler.
“Aye aye, Captain.”
Taking my hand off of the throttle, I squeeze her hands around my waist. “Hang on tight.”
“JENNINGS?” I CALL OUT. He advised me to sit in the room and wait for him, but that was forty-five minutes ago, and I’m beginning to consider the fact that he pulled a fast one on me. In my new yellow maxi dress, I tug at the braid on the side of my head. Little pieces of hair fall in my face and I blow at them.
The leather weaved bracelet that Jennings bought me wraps around my left wrist and I spin it around and around, waiting.
Where the hell could he be? We’re basically stranded on an island without a way off. Any other person would probably be freaked out by that, you know, not being able to escape, but I find calmness in the thought. But, he couldn’t have gone far—right?
I stand up and walk around the room, touching all of the little trinkets along the way. The light blue walls and the stark white furniture are a direct contrasts to one another, but it all works.
The doorbell at the front door rings and I check my phone. He’s been gone an hour, now. Where the hell is he? I quietly walk to the door and inch my way toward the peephole. Squinting into the little hole, I see who’s at the door and pull back.
I open the door to find Jennings in a pair of jeans that are faded in the creases, a light blue button shirt and a khaki sports coat with the sleeves rolled up to his forearm. I can see myself in his aviators and I close my mouth. He smirks and pulls something out from behind his back. In his hands, he holds flowers. And, not just any flower—but my favorite flower. The petals’ color begins as a yellow and moves into a dark red in the middle. That’s why I love this flower so much. Every flower is different. I’ve seen so many variations of it, I can’t pick a favorite, and no other flower has caught my attention like the ones Jennings is holding in front of his body, shaking slightly.
“How?” I ask, astonished. “How did you know?”
He blushes. “I have my ways.”
He passes me the flowers and I bring them to my face, taking a whiff.
“Thank you.”
He clears his throat, taking a look at me. “You look stunning, Pretty Girl.”
I take hold of the fabric of the dress he picked out and curtsey. “There’s this guy, has really great taste. He picked my dress out.” I wink.
He shakes his head. “It’s not the dress. It’s you.”
I turn to take the flowers to the kitchen, but Jennings stops me. “Wait.” He grabs my arm, then gets nervous, and lets me go. “Actually, go put those in water, and come back.”
I look to the kitchen then back at him. He fidgets anxiously with his sleeves and adjusts his sunglasses. I smile to myself and walk to find a vase.
After the flowers are in a tall glass—I couldn’t find a vase—I saunter back to Jennings who is still standing at the door, leaning on the frame, playing with his phone. He must hear my footsteps because when he sees me enter the room, he immediately shuts his phone down and stashes it in his jean pocket.
I stand in front of him and he takes my hands. “Whitley Hayes, will you go on a date with me?”
I give him a look of question and tilt my head to the side. The breeze outside ruffles Jennings’ ever growing hair and the light dusting of facial hair makes him look downright delectable. I’d ride a donkey into town if he asked me.
I’ve come to find that Jennings is two people. One, the mysterious, put together movie star. Always shaven, every hair in place and always on point. Even in public with me, he watches his every step. But then, there’s the other Jennings. The laid back, go with the flow, scruffy, serendipitous Jennings. He plays two roles and the second one is mine. I get to see the man no one else gets to see. He’s my own private Jennings. He’s let himself go. Not in the let’s-get-fat-and-let-our-teeth-rot kind of letting himself go, it’s more like he’s being the real him. A little smartass, protective and so caring. The other Jennings is just as important in the equation, though. He makes Jennings…Jennings. Every angle, every crevice of him is fascinating.
“Of course. But,” I stop to grin. “You didn’t have to ask.”
“Oh?” he asks with the hint of a smile playing on his face. “This isn’t our first date? Why, Whitley Hayes…”
I stop him. “What? Was the phenomenal sex not a good first date?”
He coughs and I see his cheeks turn pink. That’s a first. I can’t help but feel a little victorious that I was able to make him blush.
“Oh, uhh,” he stutters. “Well, yeah, I mean—we can do that again.”
“Now?” I ask, again cutting him off.
I see his eyes widen under his glasses. “Fuck yes.”
I lean into him, grabbing his shirt. “Let’s go, then.”
His eyes blink rapidly and he shakes his head. “Wait, dammit. No, this isn’t going the way I wanted it.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Actually, it’s going exactly like I imagined it, but, no. No, let me take you out. And, ballbuster.” He takes a hand out of his pockets and points at me. “Play my game.”
A game? Oh—in that case…
“Why, kind stranger, I’d love to go on a date with you.”
He protrudes his elbow out and I take it, walking in stride next to him down the pathway that leads to the boat dock.
“You must have a lot of money, huh?” I cajole with smirk.
“What?”
I wiggle my nose, trying to hide my laughter. “You. This place.” I lower my voice. “Your game.”
“Right. Yeah, loads.”
“I’m just a simple girl from the island. I’ve never been on such a big boat.” I gasp as Stargazer comes into view.
“I feel like we’re playing LARP,” Jennings sniggers.
“LARP?” I remark.
He sighs, rubbing his forehead, seeming nervous. “Let’s forget I said that.”
We’ve stopped playing our game, and that’s totally fine with me. Embarrassed Jennings is fun. “Not gonna happen. What’s LARP?”
“Next topic.”
We’ve arrived at the boat now and Collins is at the stairs, waving us in. I give him a wave and walk in front of Jennings. He follows behind, cursing to himself.
I go straight to the deck and take a seat on the lounge chair by the pool, putting my feet up. Jennings sits next to me, pulling my legs to sit on his.
“LARP is Live Action Role Play.”
My face scrunches. “Wait.” I hold up my hand. I dated a guy my freshmen year in college who was obsessed with a game that involved different worlds and types of people, they’d meet up once a year for a week and live in this “world” playing the game.
“Like Prisons and Dragons?” I really have no idea what I’m talking about.
He laughs and rubs my leg. “Dungeons and Dragons, Whit. And yeah,
I guess.”
“You’re showing your nerd.” I wink.
“Shut up.” He laughs. “I used to be into this computer game as a kid.”
I bite my lip. “Kid or teenager?”
“That’s beside the point. Every day after school we’d get together and play the game in real life. It actually got me into acting. Living in a make believe world opened my eyes to what this kind of life might be.”
We pull away from the island and head toward the mainland. “Seems kind of cool. Did you dress up in warrior outfits and paint your face?” I joke.
“Maybe. It was fun.”
“Who would I play?”
Jennings contemplates. “You’d be a queen. With your magnetizing eyes and icy blonde hair, you’d be worshiped.”
I hmm and lift my body to grab the front of his shirt. He takes off his sunglasses and tosses them next to me. Pulling my braid, we meet in the middle. His tongue slips into my mouth and I forget my name. Flashes of the night before appear in my mind making me squirm in my seat. His hands on me—in me, making me quiver with pleasure. The way he took me how he wanted but also made me feel adored. The roughness of his mouth and hands were the perfect combination.
“I think I’d make a good queen,” I say as he brings his mouth back to kiss the boat ride away.
“You really didn’t have to do this,” I say in wonder when we step into the restaurant. We didn’t have to walk through the main dining area because Jennings had someone line the walkway with flowers and tiki torches. White twinkle lights and candles light the entire back patio making it look imaginary.
Thick, white table cloths and deep red chairs lounge around the room, but one specific table stands out against the rest. One single rose in a vase and two plates, I know that’s our table. The sky is about to pour down rain, but with the cover, we’d be fine if it rained buckets. The stars still shine through the holes in the clouds and I point. “The Big Dipper.”
“It’ll always lead you home,” Jennings says, looking at the area in the sky I was just pointing to.
“Is it a family thing?” I ask. “Oliver told me he likes astronomy.”
Jennings pulls out my chair and I sit down, letting him push me closer to the table. He sits down, taking my hand from lying on the table and kisses the inside of my wrist where my heartbeat is probably beating erratically.
“Not really. Stars have always fascinated me. The sky in general is remarkable. It’s infinite and so very vast.”
He gets excited, much like Oliver and I remind myself that they probably bonded over things like this before the lost contact.
“Have you heard from him?” Jennings probes, taking the menu and covering his face to look at the selection of wine.
“Umm, no. I haven’t. It’s odd, actually. We went from talking often to hardly ever. Have you talked to him?”
He scoffs. “No, Pretty Girl. We’ve only talked once in the last few years.”
“What did you talk about with him? Was it bad?”
“No. It was fine. We just—live separate lives. They don’t really mingle together anymore.”
“Oh.” There isn’t much left to say. Any time I try to examine the structure of their relationship, I hit a brick wall.
“Good evening, Mr. Cohen,” a nice gentleman, probably in his twenties says when he approaches our table.
“Evening.” Jennings smiles.
“What can I get you? It’s so very nice to have you here, sir.”
“Thank you.” Jennings looks to me. “What do you have in mind? Wine?”
I grin. “I’ll take a beer, actually.”
Jennings beams. “Make that two. Thank you.”
The man scurries away and Jennings wraps his leg around mine under the table. “I’ll never get used to you, you know that? I sometimes forget you aren’t an actress. I’ve only ever dated someone who is famous. You are so unlike any other woman. It’s endearing.”
I thank the waiter when he returns with our beers. “Well, I’ve never dated a celebrity, and I’ve got to say, you’re nothing like I thought you’d be.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “And how did you think I’d be?”
I set my drink down. “Well, a womanizer, for one.”
“Ouch.”
“The tabloids are not good to you, my friend.”
He levels his eyes. “You know better than anyone not to believe everything you read.”
“So, you didn’t get caught having sex with your co-star in the back of a club a few years ago?” I challenge.
He retreats. “Okay, some things are true.”
Score one for me. “See?”
“Leighton was just looking for a cover story. I shouldn’t have done it.”
I shrug a shoulder. We all have a past; his is just out there for the world to see. “You live and learn, Jenns.”
He agrees. “But, most of it is shit. Or shit my publicist makes up.”
“He sounds like a winner, that one.”
“Rendelle? He’s alright. He gets the job done.”
“He gets the job done by making you a spectacle.” But, when I say the words, I wish I could take them back. I’m not one to judge. It’s his life. Who am I to say what he should do or whom he should listen to? I pick at the label on the bottle. I feel little. I should learn to keep my thoughts to myself. “I’m sorry, Jennings. It wasn’t my place to say something like that.”
Jennings stops my insistent picking of the label and licks his lips. “Are you worried about me, Whitley Hayes?”
Well, he didn’t take my bitchiess how I thought he would. I deserved a good stern look. If anything, I thought he’d give me a “hey, it’s my life,” speech.
“I just—yeah, I worry about you.”
His eyes soften. “What were you going to say?”
“He just doesn’t seem like a good guy from the way you talk about him.”
Jennings jeers. “He’s not—not at all. He’s a dick, actually. I don’t know why I keep him around. He’s just…”
“Familiar?” I finish for him.
He gulps. “Exactly.”
“It’s okay, I totally get it. You just merit so much more than how he treats you.”
He reaches out and skims his fingers along my jaw. “I like you worrying about me.”
I mess with the napkin in my lap. “Yeah, well, apparently I do it well.”
“You do, thank you.”
Thump, thump.
“You’re welcome,” I murmur.
The waiter arrives with our food, and I didn’t realize I’d ordered.
I look to Jennings.
“Oh, they only have one thing on the menu,” he says, apologetically.
It’s lobster. I’d hardly say this is a revolting meal.
“I think this’ll do,” I say as I look up to find myself rewarded with a dazzling smile from Jennings. His dimple on his right cheek presents itself and I notice he has a second one right below it, just not as prominent.
Two. Damn. Dimples.
Shoot my ovaries now.
Dessert is delivered when Jennings’ cellphone rings. He looks to me, asking if he can answer.
It pings again.
“Answer it, why don’t cha’,” I joke.
He smiles and slides his finger over the screen. “Stewart, hi.”
At least he isn’t a douche who answers his phone with his last name.
“What?” His face drains and his color fades from vibrant life to ghost white. He looks at me, panicked and sweat breaks out on his forehead.
I move closer to him, leaning on the table.
“No,” he replies in a clipped tone. “Stewart. We have to leave now.”
My heart rate begins to speed up.
“Can you call Collins and tell him will be at the boat in ten?”
Stewart responds, making a tremor run through Jennings body.
“Do what you have to do. Don’t let her get anywhere close to Whitley. Understand? She’s top priorit
y.”
What the hell is going on?
My palms become clammy and I move my eyes, frantically trying to find the apparent women they are talking about. I have no idea who she is, but watching Jennings go into full-panic mode scares the hell out of me.
Jennings hangs up with Stewart and jets up from his seat. “We have to leave. Now.”
I nod my head and attempt to bring moisture into my dry mouth. I have no idea what’s out there about to gobble me up.
“Jennings?” I question in a little voice.
“Let’s go.” He takes my hand and pulls me through the restaurant. He nearly runs through the tables and by the time we get to the middle of the dining room, people have realized who he is and their cell phones come out. Every person in the café begins shouting his name. He brings me closer to his side and covers my face with his arm.
Jennings attempts to push past people, but they’ve begun to congregate by the door. Shoving our way through them, we make it outside unscathed. A man dressed in all black and an earpiece approaches us. Jennings goes straight to him. “Update?”
“She was spotted about a mile from here looking in windows of homes.”
His grip on my side tightens. “Looking for me?”
The man looks sullen. “We imagine so. I’m sorry, sir.”
“How did she even know we were here?” he asks, not fully believing what he’s hearing.
“Stewart assumes she stole the flight plan and hitched a plane ride here shortly after you did yesterday.”
“Shit,” Jennings curses.
“She appears to have gone off the rails. We’ll find her and bring her into the precinct.”
“How long can you hold her?”
The man shakes his head. “Not long. Long enough to get you off the island.”
Jennings gives a curt nod. “Okay.” He shakes the man’s hand. “Thank you.”
The man’s eyes relax. “Stay safe. We’ll do what we can.”
Jennings keeps his hand around my shoulder the entire way back to the boat. He doesn’t say a word or even look in my direction. The wheels in his head turn in motion and I don’t think I’ll be able to stop them if I tried. So, I let him tug me along the path back to Stargazer. Every little noise, Jennings whips his head around, waiting to protect me. Even the crickets make him jumpy. Despite the intense situation, I couldn’t help but smile. Crickets are still bitches.
Anyone but Him Page 24