by Leslie Wells
Jack was sitting on the couch, an open whiskey bottle on the glass-topped table. He nodded at it. “Want a shot?”
The casual comment made my blood boil. “Where’d you go last night?” I kicked off my dripping boots.
Jack looked surprised at being questioned, but that was too bad. “I hit a few bars with Sammy,” he said, coming over to me. ”I got in at five. I must have just missed you; the bed was still warm.”
I crossed my arms. “So, we have a difference of opinion about a huge thing—especially for me—and you just leave? Does that mean we’ll get along great, as long as I agree with everything?”
Jack ran his hand through his hair. “I was ticked off. You’re entitled to your opinion.”
As if we were deciding what to have for dinner. “We’re talking about my career—something that would change my whole life.”
“I know.” He gave me a dark look. “It’s always about your career.”
“It’s just as important to me, as yours is to you—hard as that may be to believe. Besides, if you walk out on me over one disagreement, I’ll need a career to fall back on. Because our chances of staying together aren’t looking too good!” Hot tears surged behind my eyeballs. Don’t cry, I told myself. You’ll seem weak.
“Do you know how many girls would—” He stopped himself.
“Would what? Be dying to have your baby?” Jack shrugged, but I knew that was what he meant. “Maybe you should be with one of them. A sweet, fawning admirer who goes along with everything you say. I’m not that person, Jack.”
“That’s for sure. If I wanted that, I could’ve had it a million times already. But I like a challenge.” He gave a wry smile. “And you’re definitely a challenge.”
I thought about that for a moment. “I’ll take that as a compliment. I guess.”
“But seriously, don’t you ever want children? You can still do your editing.”
“You don’t know how much it means to me. It’s not some little pastime,” I said heatedly.
“Sure I do,” Jack said. “I see how you slog away at it. It’s the first thing you think of when you wake up in the morning, and the last thing you do before you go to bed.”
“Not necessarily the last thing.” To try to make peace, I reached out and gave him a little squeeze.
Jack put his hands on my shoulders. “I’d take care of you, baby. You wouldn’t have to worry about supporting yourself.”
I pushed his hands away. “What is this, the 1950s? Am I supposed to have dinner waiting on the table, or something?”
“A pot roast wouldn’t be bad, once in a while.” Seeing my expression, he added, “You know I’m kidding. But I think you care more about your work than you do me.”
“That’s not true. Anyway, why does it have to be one or the other?”
He gave me a contemplative look. “All right. I admit I shouldn’t have left last night. But I want you to think about it. No pressure.” He lifted his hands. “Just give it some thought.”
I didn’t want to say I’d already thought about it. “Okay. I will.”
Chapter Nine
Girlfriend Is Better
“Wow, so he wants you to have his baby.” Vicky gulped the last of her margarita and signaled for another. The Broome Street Bar was rowdy tonight, jukebox booming, packed with its usual artists and downtown types. “You said he was impulsive, but that takes the prize.” She licked salt off the rim of her glass, her catlike green eyes reflecting the light from the mirrored bar.
“Having Oliver stay with us must have triggered it. But he hasn’t even mentioned marriage. And I’m just starting this new job. ”
I had been shocked when Ted called to offer me the position at Hawtey House; I’d given up hope after Perry Stroud had acted so unimpressed in the interview. I had a sneaking suspicion that maybe their first choice hadn’t accepted. But¸ I told myself, perhaps that was just Perry’s personality. Maybe he’d warm up to me once he saw how hard I worked. Regardless, I was on cloud nine. I’d be a full editor instead of a junior underling, and finally free of the mind-numbing clerical duties. Bidding adieu to Harvey would be the icing on the cake.
Jack had been genuinely thrilled for me, and had a bottle of champagne chilling when I got in last night. We’d dressed up and gone to Caliban for dinner, and later he made the most amazing love to me. I thought the baby thing might come up again, but he didn’t mention it. We had survived our first big spat as a live-in couple; I wondered how long the air would stay cleared.
“Earth to Julia.” Vicky waved her hand in front of my face. “Does Jack understand how hard it is to move up? Practically nobody’s hiring with this recession.”
“He knows Hawtey’s my big chance.” I stirred my vodka tonic with a finger and licked it. “But he’s eight and a half years older than me, and he’s reached the height of his profession. So for him, the timing’s great. But then again, maybe having a kid is something he thinks he wants, but hasn’t really thought through.”
“And what Jack wants, Jack gets.” Vicky narrowed her eyes. “Too bad there isn’t some way to compromise.” She scooted her stool closer to make room for a guy with THIS SIDE UP tattooed on his neck.
“I’ve worked so hard to get this new position; I can’t let it slide through my hands. I’m going to have to acquire like crazy, and my first list of books will just be coming out next year. Besides, I am so not ready to have a baby.”
“I guess there is such a thing as a nanny,” Vicky commented.
I raised my voice as the jukebox got louder. “I’d love to have children eventually, if we stay together—but now isn’t the right time. Oliver is cute, but boy, is he a bundle of energy. I almost blew the interview, I was so wiped out from chasing the bugs he let escape. Apparently Jack was the same way when he was a kid.” I thought for a moment, and smiled. “Actually he still is pretty energetic.”
“I’m not even going to ask what you mean by that, Ms. Nash.” Vicky crossed her long skinny legs on the stool. “On that topic, did I tell you, I had the strangest experience last week. I was at a party for an author at the Explorer’s Club, of all places. His book is about Alaska. Everyone had to pose for pictures in front of this huge stuffed polar bear.” She rolled her eyes.
Vicky’s publicist job often took her to glamorous places, but she’d become jaded. “That sounds kind of cool,” I said.
“These two different guys in suits kept coming over to talk to me. I was just focused on shmoozing the critic from the Times. But it was like they were competing for me, or something.” Vicky acted as if she was surprised, but she’d been hit up like that before.
“Not a new situation for you. So what happened?” I asked. A Pretenders song blasted from the jukebox, and I swayed my foot to the beat.
“The party was wrapping up, and I went to get my coat. The first guy started walking me to the door. I just figured he was leaving the same time I was. Then when we got outside, he had the nerve to say, ‘I knew you were going to go home with me from the minute I laid eyes on you.’”
“What a jerk!” I downed the rest of my vodka.
“Luckily the second guy came outside right then. I looked at the first one and said, ‘No, I’m not. I’m going home with him.’ I walked over to the other guy, and we got into a taxi.”
“Did you really go home with him?” I hoped the answer was “no”.
“Nah, I wasn’t that attracted. I asked him to drop me at my place. He wanted my number, so I gave it to him.” She reached for her wallet.“I may see him this weekend, or I may stay in and catch up.”
“Let me pay. I’m feeling flush with my new salary.” I put some bills on the bar. “The only downside is that now I’ll have to take the subway to work, since it’s too far to walk. Jack offered to have Rick take me in the mornings, but can you see me getting out of a car with a driver?”
“Why not? I wouldn’t have a problem with that,” Vicky said.
“Everyone would think I had a suga
r daddy. I’m still keeping it a secret that I’m with Jack. If people found out, they’d think that was why I got the job.”
Vicky made a face. “Jeez, Julia, you and your scruples. Anyone else would be shouting it to the rafters.”
The next morning, I went to tell Meredith about my job offer. She put down her watering can and hugged me.
“I’m so thrilled for you! That’s great; you really deserve it. But I’m going to miss you around here. Promise me we’ll have regular lunch dates?”
“Of course we will.” I felt a little teary-eyed.
“I’d love to be a fly on the wall when you tell Harvey,” she said. “And I hate to ask, but I need one last favor. Could you edit this book on Ayurveda before you go? I’ve sat on it for three weeks already.”
“Sure thing, I’ll start on it tonight. What’s Ayurveda?”
“A kind of yoga technique. It’ll be a good topic to have under your belt before you head off to Hawtey,” she added. “They have some woo-woo on their list.”
Harvey turned pale when I told him. “You aren’t even giving me a chance to make a counter-offer,” he said in a testy tone of voice. “I can’t believe you’re jumping ship before we publish Isabel’s memoir.”
“I have to take this opportunity. I’m sure you understand,” I replied coolly.
He frowned. “Hawtey House has pretty high standards. Are you sure you’re up for it?”
“I think they want to broaden their range beyond pure literary stuff. Anyway, they must think I can handle it if they hired me.” I relished his look of chagrin. Now that I’m leaving, he’s ready to give me more money. Well, he can take his counter-offer and shove it!
“Be sure to tie up all the loose ends before you go,” Harvey said with a scowl. “And don’t think you can come crawling back here if it doesn’t work out.”
“I wouldn’t dream of doing that.” Jerk.
Jack was in an amorous mood that night, but I barricaded myself in the bedroom with the Ayurveda manuscript. After an hour of trying to parse the author’s headache-inducing prose, I went out to where he was sitting on a stool, shirtless. He was strumming a Muddy Waters tune on his electric guitar, wearing headphones—or “cans”, as he called them—so I could concentrate. I put my hand on his shoulder, and he slipped them off.
“All done?” he asked with an anticipatory look.
“Could you come here for a minute? I could use your help with something.”
“Sure, baby. I could come here,” he said, putting his hand between my legs, “or here,” tracing my lips with his finger, “or anywhere you want. But it’ll take more than a minute.”
“Let’s hold that thought for now.” He propped his Telecaster on a chair and followed me into the bedroom. “Can you lie down? I need to try to figure out all these confusing chakras,” I said.
“I’ll do it if you take your top off,” Jack bargained. He stretched out on the mattress and put his hands behind his head.
“Deal.” I shrugged out of my blouse, leaving on my bra. I took the manuscript page with the diagram and placed it on his bare chest. “Let’s see. There are seven chakras: the crown, brow, throat, heart, solar plexus, navel, and root,” I mused, comparing the illustration to the page of text in my hand. “But here he calls it the third eye—no comments, Jack—so that has to be fixed.” I marked the page with my pen.
“People really believe this crap?” Jack asked.
“It’s huge in California. All this stuff starts out there and then spreads east, like a virus. Okay, he says the energy centers are also in the hands and feet, but he’s left that off the chart.” I made a notation on the page resting on Jack’s chest. “The channels can be blocked—”
“I think one of mine is blocked,” Jack said, starting to turn toward me.
“Hold still for a second. There are thirteen srotas or body channels: the rasa vaha srota, rakta vaha srota, mamsa vaha srota…” I looked from the text to Jack’s supine form, trying to make sense of the mumbo-jumbo.
“How do they expect you to keep all this straight?” Jack asked. “One week you’re editing a book about thinner thighs; the next, it’s this bullshit.”
“Meredith said that if I want to get ahead, it’s good to be a generalist,” I replied. “Hold on—the marmas are the pressure points. You make a gentle circular motion to release toxins.” I revolved my finger on his stomach.
“Ooh, that tickles. Hey, I have something that needs to be released.” He pointed to the bulging crotch of his jeans.
I sighed. “This is supposed to relax you. Can you try to focus on your toes now? I need to see if this pressure point aligns with your feet.”
“Sorry, baby. I’m trying, but it all seems to be going to my cock.”
“You’re hopeless,” I said, laughing.
“Actually I’m hopeful that you’re done with this for the night.”
“I’m almost finished. Let me just make a few more notes.” I took the chart off his chest and perched next to him.
Jack sat up and rifled through the rest of the manuscript. “This looks interesting.” He showed me a diagram.
“That’s a yoga pose. The downward dog.”
“I even like the name of it; the doggie pose. I can definitely get into that,” he said, taking the pages out of my hand. He stood up and grabbed me, turning me around and hiking up my skirt as I giggled. “My chakras are already feeling better,” he added, pulling my underwear to the side. “Now my mamma-slamma is gonna jamma into your sweet little mamsacunnahasa…”
Half an hour later, a fine sheen of sweat covered my skin. We sat perfectly still in bed, looking into one another’s eyes. My legs were wrapped snugly around Jack’s hips, his thighs supporting mine. My entire body felt like it was singing. We were pressed so close together that every time his muscles tightened, a pulsing started in my core. I gave a sharp intake of breath as another ripple surged through me.
“Did Caroline teach you this?” I gasped.
“Shhh. What does it matter?” Jack whispered. He licked a drop of sweat as it trickled down my cheek.
“Did she?” I insisted.
“Caroline couldn’t spell ‘tantric’. It was a chick from Berkeley. Now shhh.”
He pulled me even closer. I couldn’t have uttered another word.
My eyes popped open at seven-thirty. I tried to ease off the bed without waking Jack, but he reached out and grabbed me by the waist.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, locking his hands so I couldn’t get up.
I rolled over to face him. “I’m late as it is.”
“Don’t go in today. You’ve been working all hours.” I adored his British pronunciation, saying bean for been. “Why don’t you call in sick?”
“I have so much to do.” I was torn; he looked so handsome with his thick, disheveled hair and sleepy-lidded eyes, dark lashes brushing his cheekbones. I felt like kissing my way from the hollow of his neck to his nipples; running my tongue down his taut abdomen, pausing for a moment to tease him…
“Call in sick. Just once.” He sucked on my earlobe, giving me an involuntary shiver.
“I really should go in,” I breathed, picturing all the stuff piled on my desk.
“Let me call for you. What’s Harvey’s number?”
It’s so tempting to stay. After all, what can they do to me? I’m leaving in a week.
“Give me the number,” he growled. “Or I’ll have to extract it from you.”
I smiled. “Okay.” He reached for the phone and dialed as I recited it.
Jack cleared his throat. “Harvey Lowenthal, please.”
I rolled my eyes; this had to be a disaster.
“Hello. Julia’s not feeling well. Uh-huh. Very hot to the touch.” He moved his free hand down my belly and slid a finger in me. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “She probably does have some type of fever.” He made eyes at me, finger pulsing. “Yes, I’ve been giving her plenty of liquids.” Evil grin. “I�
�ll be sure to give her lots more hot liquids. She might be in tomorrow; don’t know yet.”
He hung up the phone. “I’ve given you lots of nice liquids this week, haven’t I?” he said, climbing on top of me. “I think he fell for it.”
I wrapped my legs around his waist. “I don’t know, hot liquids might have been a tipoff.”
“See, I have a vast amount that I’ve been storing up for you. And I really need to give them to you,” he said, beginning to move over me. “It’ll make us both feel muuuch better. But I don’t know how much it’ll cool you off.”
Later, hair wet from our shower, we went into the kitchen. Jack was humming the Muddy Waters tune bare-chested in his jeans as he made breakfast. I poured some juice and took a bite of my eggs, which were delicious. “It’s weird not to be at work in the middle of the week,” I said. “I’ve never played hookey before.”
“We’ve got to break you of that habit. You know what they say; all work and no play.” Jack sat down and stirred his tea.
“After what we just did, I don’t think you can say I’m ‘no play.’”
“That’s for sure.” Jack put down his spoon and looked at me. “Why don’t we get a dog today?”
“A dog?” I repeated.
“You said neither of us has ever taken care of one. I figure we could try.” He crossed his arms and tilted his chin in a challenge.
I thought about it for a minute. Maybe a pet would take his mind off impregnating me. “I guess I could take it out early in the mornings when I go for a run. Then when you get up, you could walk it again. Could we find one that’s medium-sized?”
Jack smiled. “I’m sure they’d have whatever size we want.”
On the way home from the SPCA, the large black puppy threw up twice. Rick handed me some paper towels, and I dabbed at the leather seat as Jack murmured soothingly and stroked its head. From the minute its nose poked through the bars of the cage, we’d been hooked. “Reminds me of the time I got busted,” Jack said with a grimace as he carried the dog to the waiting car. “We had to break you out, didn’t we, buddy?” The attendant had said it was a terrier mix, but given the size of its paws, I had a feeling it might be part Lab.