by Jamie Beck
Cat stretched out on the table. The hairstylist quickly teased and fanned out her hair while Jean-Paul stood receiving his last-minute touch-ups.
“All set?” Neil asked.
Cat arched her back slightly and manufactured her best lusty stare as she looked into the eyes of the stunning, yet gay, Jean-Paul, whose face loomed over her own.
Not long ago this environment charged her. Beautiful clothes, beautiful people, a world of make-believe. For years this had been a heady experience. Now she simply felt numb. Each camera click stole another piece of her soul.
Just a few more hours.
That evening, Cat flopped onto her hotel bed and scanned the room service menu. Maybe something decadent—something chocolate—would lift her spirits. While she eyed the desserts, her phone rang. Her heart squeezed, as it had each time her phone had rung this week.
Please be Hank. She held her breath. Elise. Shoot.
She blew out her breath and answered. “Hello, Elise. Checking in?”
“Shoot wrapped up?”
“Yes.” Cat sat up against the pillows and picked at the hem of her shirt. “No surprises.”
“Good. Your professionalism is always appreciated.” Elise paused. “Have you finished reviewing my notes to the jewelry contract, because we should respond sooner than later?”
“I have.” Cat retrieved it from the nightstand.
She couldn’t confess how any enthusiasm she might’ve had for this job was diminished by the loss of her relationship with Hank. Nothing filled the void he left behind, not even a shiny new contract.
It wouldn’t look at her with love. It wouldn’t race to her side at the first sign of distress. It wouldn’t hold her all night.
“It looks okay.” Cat thumbed through the pages. “I know you don’t necessarily agree with me, but thanks for negotiating an exception to the exclusion. Let’s keep our eyes out for another opportunity that doesn’t conflict with this one.”
“That won’t be easy,” Elise replied. “It’s a very limited exclusion.”
“I know. But you know me . . . never say never.”
“So the furniture business is kaput?”
“Practically speaking, yes. Technically I haven’t dissolved it yet.” Cat frowned, realizing she’d been procrastinating. In fact, she hadn’t done anything since boxing up the exhibit. Not a tweet, not a website modification. For all intents and purposes, Mitchell/St. James still existed. Had Hank noticed? Did he wonder why she hadn’t taken down the site or made any announcements? “I haven’t had time to deal with the legal issues of unwinding everything.”
“Well, at least you didn’t invest too much time or money in it. No lasting harm.”
No lasting harm, unless you counted the damage to her heart.
Now her entire life felt offtrack, like she was speeding in the wrong direction. She didn’t want to be alone, but she was too afraid to risk what little she had left and fail. Her head ached from the mental ping-pong.
“Let’s talk when I return.” Cat sighed, rubbing her temples, unsure what to hope for anymore. “I’m worn out tonight.”
“Okay. When will you be home?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. Perhaps we can meet on Monday?”
“I’m free for lunch.”
“I’ll come to your office first.”
“See you then.”
Cat tossed the phone on the bed and rubbed her face. Her appetite had fled. Not even panna cotta sounded appealing.
She fingered the gorgeous silk-and-cashmere blue, orange, and white Fendi scarf she’d bought Vivi as a birthday gift. Like the wedding earlier this summer, she’d be dateless for Saturday’s birthday dinner. Whatever happened next, she didn’t want her family peppering her with unwelcome questions about the business or Hank, or to treat her with kid gloves because of her infertility.
After Chicago, she’d let everyone believe that Hank’s mother’s crisis had been the reason they’d pulled out of the expo. Vanity wouldn’t let her admit her failure to her brothers so soon, especially given their pessimism. She doubted Hank would’ve made things more awkward by disclosing the truth to Jackson, so she should be safe from too much scrutiny this weekend.
She laid back and closed her eyes. Hank. She missed his voice, his blush, and that dimple on his left cheek. More importantly, she missed the way he’d made her believe in herself, and the way she’d relaxed around him.
She slunk down into the pillows, closed her eyes, and hugged herself. Her skinny Kermit-the-Frog arms weren’t nearly as comforting as his arms. The only moments worse than those she spent missing him were the ones when she imagined him moving on with a new woman—flashing his dimple at her, holding her hand while walking around town, or making love to her.
Her stomach burned from jealousy, yet the images kept coming.
She grabbed her purse from the edge of the bed and popped open the bottle of Ambien. How many refills would she need before she could fall asleep on her own?
Cat turned on her phone as her plane taxied to the gate at JFK airport. A message! Sadly, just a voice mail from David.
“Cat, please call me as soon as you land. There’s a change in plans for Vivi’s birthday dinner. Need to give you a quick heads-up.”
Cat hit the Callback button, curious about whatever surprise David had cooked up for Vivi. Her brother’s recent romantic streak had been quite astonishing, really. Since taking up with Vivi, he’d been acting more like Jackson, who’d been a wild romantic until Alison left him.
“Hello, Cat,” David answered. “You got my message?”
Cat smirked to herself at his no-nonsense communication style.
“Yes, sir. I’m still on the plane, but I called you immediately, as instructed.” Her light teasing didn’t elicit any response. “So what’s the big change in plans?”
“First, I thought you’d like to know that the restraining order against Justin is in place for another year. I wish you’d reconsider pressing charges. He needs to receive a strong message.”
Part of her would love to see Justin face some jail time, but she had neither the energy nor time to push for it or deal with more fallout from that day. She just wanted it behind her. All of it. “No. If I push, it will just incite him further. Let’s not enrage him. As long as he can’t come near me, I’m fine. He’ll move on by next year.”
“I hope so.” She heard David sigh.
“So, what else? Your message mentioned something about a change in plans for Vivi’s birthday.”
“I need your word you won’t say anything to anyone.”
“Oooh, I’m all ears now.” Cat grinned for the first time in days. “This sounds big.”
“It’s about Jackson.”
“Jackson?” Her eyes widened.
“Yes.” David paused. “I guess you haven’t spoken with Hank?”
“No,” she replied. “You know we had to shut down the exhibit. With his mom being so sick, everything’s on hold. We may even disband.”
“Sorry.” He sounded sincere, but abruptly returned to the point of his call. “Jackson’s in trouble and it’s past time we stage an intervention. Vivi agreed to use her birthday dinner as the time and place. I’m not including Dad and Janet because I don’t want Janet involved, nor do I think Dad’s nonstop comparisons between Jackson and me would help matters. But, Cat, if you warn Jackson, he won’t show up. I know you two are pals, but you must trust me on this.”
Her thoughts scattered in multiple directions like the threads of a spider’s web. She’d admit Jackson should ease up on his drinking, but an ambush didn’t feel like the best way to help him. “I don’t want to gang up on Jackson just because he doesn’t play by your rules, David.”
“Surely you don’t deny noticing him drinking excessively this past year? Hank shared some business concerns with me earlier this summer, but I dismissed them until this week, when Jackson’s former employee filed a lawsuit for assault, harassment, wrongful termination, and other cl
aims. Hank was hurt in the fray, by the way. Considering the mounting evidence of how Jackson’s choices are affecting his life, I think we’ve got to intervene before things get worse.”
The lawsuit stunned her, but her first concern was Hank’s well-being.
“What happened to Hank?” She pressed her hand against her chest, preparing for bad news.
“He broke his wrist when he tried to break up an argument between Jackson and the employee. He needed surgery and is facing a lengthy recovery.” David waited for her response, but she couldn’t think.
Hank had needed surgery, but he hadn’t called her. He was moving on without her, just as she’d assumed. Reality weighed on her like a lead blanket. Hank’s sisters must hate her even more for the physical and emotional pain she and Jackson had inflicted.
“Cat, I need you to share your concerns when the time comes to speak up.” David’s sober tone cut through her thoughts. “He won’t listen if I’m the only one talking.”
“Won’t this make him feel more isolated? He’ll just become more defensive and be more at risk.”
“Then come and say nothing, but don’t defend him or make excuses.”
“You really think this is necessary?” She squeezed her eyes closed while pressing her fingers to her temple.
“Yes. This lawsuit proves he’s out of control. Jackson was never violent. He never let personal problems affect his business. That’s no longer true. Plus he looks like hell. He’s drinking all the time. Let’s catch him before he hits absolute bottom and hurts himself or anyone else.”
“Okay.” Cat bit her lip. “Have you thought about including Hank in this lynch mob?”
“Hank’s fairly pissed right now. He cares about Jackson, but he’s got more pressing matters to address, like his recovery and his mother’s health. Besides, he’s not family. This is a family issue.”
“You’re right.” Cat rubbed her temples to stave off another headache. Nothing in her life was easy these days. Then again, life was rarely easy for anyone, so why should she expect anything different.
“See you tomorrow evening,” David said.
“Yippee.”
Cat waited by the carousel for her luggage, contemplating her conversation with David. She recalled the mess at Jackson’s home, Hank’s comments, and her own intuition about Jackson’s declining behavior. A sense of dread closed around her when she imagined his reaction to being deceived.
And Hank was probably feeling desperate about his future, and his mother. She stared at her phone, debating whether to call him. But he’d never been one to embrace help, and surely she’d be the last person he’d take it from now.
She’d drawn a line in the sand, and he’d raced across it.
Message received!
Besides, if she saw him, she’d probably throw herself at him and beg him for another chance, which would embarrass them both. Clearly he’d been moving on without thinking of her. Scowling, she shoved her phone into her purse. She’d deal with Jackson first and then think of some way to help Hank from a distance.
Mom,
Watch over us tonight. I doubt Jackson will think we’re helping him, so I expect things to get ugly.
I can’t afford to lose another person in my life, but if I don’t stand with David, we could lose Jackson forever.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Cat knocked on David and Vivi’s door, hoping she’d arrived before Jackson. She looked at the gift box in her hand and wished tonight were only about celebrating Vivi’s birthday.
“Welcome home.” Vivi hugged her. “Thanks for the gift. Do you mind if I open it later? I’m feeling a bit queasy now.”
“Me, too.” Cat glanced at her watch. “What time is Jackson coming?”
“Any minute.”
David handed Cat an iced tea.
“I could use something stronger,” Cat muttered.
“Under the circumstances, I thought it best not to serve alcohol tonight.” When Cat grimaced, David placed his hand on her shoulder. “I know you aren’t comfortable with my plan, but we’ve got to convince him to make some changes.”
“I agree.” She patted David’s hand. At least Cat didn’t have to worry about deflecting questions regarding her, Hank, or their business tonight.
A heavy knock at the door startled them all. When David opened the door, Jackson strode into the apartment smiling—a gift in one hand and a beer in the other. Oh, perfect.
“Happy birthday, V.” He tossed the package on the coffee table and pulled Vivi into one of his infamous full-body hugs. “I have to wonder what you could possibly wish for anymore, now that you’re finally married to David?”
“Oh, that’s easy.” Vivi forced a grin. “Happiness and love for everyone in this room.”
“That’s your wish?” He kissed her cheek then gulped a swig of his beer. “Once a sweetheart, always a sweetheart.”
When no one said anything, he cocked his head. “Uh, so what’s for dinner? I don’t smell anything. Are we ordering Chinese or going out?”
“We can decide later.” David gestured toward the living room. “First, let’s talk.”
Cat sat in a chair, avoiding Jackson’s gaze. Her fingers clutched the armrests. David and Vivi sat together, holding hands on the sofa. Jackson remained standing, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes.
“I’ve trusted my gut my whole life, and it’s barking right now. What exactly is the topic of discussion?” Jackson glanced at David then pinned Cat with a hard stare that made her stomach clench. “Sis?”
Thankfully, David jumped in. “We’re all concerned about you and your drinking. You’ve put me off every time I’ve tried talking to you, but had I pushed harder, perhaps this lawsuit might’ve been avoided. Let’s face facts, Jackson. You’re in trouble and we want to help.”
Jackson smirked and then defiantly drained the contents of the beer bottle. “I don’t need your help. And if I’d known you were going to pull this, I’d have hired another firm to defend me against Doug’s bullshit allegations.”
“Hank doesn’t think they’re bullshit.” David, still and unemotional, kept his gaze locked on Jackson.
“That’s because he’s a rule follower just like you. He doesn’t color outside the lines.” Jackson looked at Cat and waved an arm toward David. “Tell him, Cat. I love the guy, but he’s a mother hen.”
“I’m not here to talk about Hank,” Cat replied, feeling insulted on Hank’s behalf. Not long ago she might’ve joined Jackson in teasing David and Hank about their conservative natures, but now she missed it. “But he wouldn’t lie about something this important. He’s voiced his concerns about you to me. I can’t pretend I’m not worried, too.”
Jackson’s eyes widened. “Are you kidding me?” He practically snorted before shaking his head. “You’re gonna lecture me about my behavior? How often do you go out? Why isn’t anyone counting your wineglasses, or watching the clock to see when you come home from the clubs? I’ve never said a word to you about any of that, by the way.”
“I’m not being sued! I’m not living in a pigsty with empty bottles of scotch everywhere.” Cat’s heart ached from the sense of betrayal crossing Jackson’s face, but she didn’t retreat. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”
“Fucking unbelievable. That’ll teach me to be your shoulder to cry on. First you steal my employee, now you go behind my back and call me an alcoholic?”
Cat felt her cheeks flush. She closed her eyes to shut out Jackson’s wrath and the memories of that night when he’d held her in comfort and tried to answer her impossible questions about men and love and babies.
“Don’t attack Cat for caring about you,” David interjected. “Just sit down and hear us out. We’re all worried. We don’t want your hard work to go up in smoke, or to see you end up alone or in jail.”
“I’m hardly alone. And just because you’ve found marital bliss doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me playing the
field. I’m only thirty. I’ve got plenty of time to settle down.” Jackson refused to sit, choosing instead to cross to David’s refrigerator, pull out a half-empty bottle of wine, and pour himself a glass.
“If you drink that, I’m taking your keys. You were drinking beer when you arrived, and who knows what you had before you got in your car.” David’s sharp tone sliced through the room. “Is a DUI next on your agenda? Maybe you’re past caring for your own welfare, but have some consideration for innocent people on the road.”
Jackson chugged the wine and slammed the glass on the counter. “You’re not my keeper, David. I’m an adult and I can make my own choices. Right now, I think I choose to leave this party. Sorry, Vivi, but I didn’t come here to be judged. Happy birthday.”
David sprang off the sofa and blocked the door. “We haven’t finished this discussion. If you want to prove you’re a big man by drinking in front of us, go ahead. But you’re not leaving.”
“Move,” Jackson warned.
David shook his head.
Cat noticed Vivi’s watery eyes fill with concern, so she begged, “Please, Jackson. Just give us thirty minutes.”
“For what?” he exploded. “Have I hurt anybody? No. Have I broken any laws? No. Have I lost any clients? No. Dammit, my only mistake was hiring that asshole in the first place. He provoked me. He shoved me. I didn’t hit him. I just grabbed his shirt and told him to go. I’m not a drunk. I’m not passing out in bars or sleeping until noon. I’m a single guy running a business. You guys have no idea how tough it is to run a small business, especially in my line of work. Sometimes I relax with a few drinks. Big fucking deal!”
“Hank’s hurt because of your behavior,” Cat said, pissed off by his cavalier attitude toward an injury that jeopardized Hank’s future.
Jackson stared at Cat but didn’t argue the point. David’s sigh drew both their attention.
“Not all alcoholics are fall-down drunks,” he began, still standing guard at the door. “According to the screening questionnaires I’ve reviewed, a person is considered to have a serious drinking problem if they drink more than fourteen drinks per week or binge drink. Based on Hank’s remarks and the lawsuit, you meet that criteria, and it’s been affecting your work. Several members of your crew have noticed you hungover and agitated, which, by the way, will all come out during depositions unless you settle Doug’s suit quickly. I suspect you’ve experienced a blackout or two in the past year. So maybe you’re not completely addicted, but you seem to be heading in that direction. Am I wrong?”