“Sure beats work,” says Autumn, opening the menu. “But I shouldn’t talk like that in front of my boss.”
Jet laughs. “Autumn. Your boss isn’t here today. Only me. That man who shared your first glimpses of Bodh Gaya.”
“And saved me from that awful old hag with those terrifying, twisted nails.” She shivers.
“And who shared his bed with you.”
Autumn blushes. “I know who you are now. I thought you looked familiar. Jet right?”
He laughs. “You remember?”
She smiles, opens her mouth to reply, but the waitress interrupts. “Good morning. Would you like to order some drinks while you’re deciding?”
Jet snaps open the menu to the beverage section, nodding. “Yeah, I’ll have a latte, please. How about you, Autumn?”
“The same please. With skim milk though.”
The waitress nods and stares at Jet for longer than is appropriate. “I’m sorry, sir,” she says, eventually. “You’re Jethro Stark!”
Autumn peers at Jet for his reaction, eyes narrowed. He looks up to the waitress, not smiling. “Yes,” he says curtly.
The waitress breaks into a smile. “I thought it was you. You’re dating Blossom Banks. I read about you in Chique. Wow!”
Jet meets Autumn’s eyes, looking sheepish and then inclines his head to the waitress. “I would appreciate your discretion,” he glances at the waitress’s name tag, “Kate.”
“Of course,” she says, her voice now a full octave higher. “It’s so great to meet you.”
Jet nods, peers quickly at Autumn.
“I’ll get those coffees for you right away,” says Kate before smiling and bounding off inside the cafe.
Autumn raises one eyebrow. “Looks like you’ve gained yourself an admirer there.”
“I’m sorry about that,” he says, shaking his head.
She shrugs. “It’s not your fault. I guess that’s what happens when you date a Hollywood actress.”
“Unfortunately.”
“So you even got a spread in a magazine? I have to buy it to see what the media are saying about you.”
His voice is curt. “I’d rather you didn’t. I wouldn’t always trust what they print in magazines.”
She looks at him for a long moment, trying to understand where this sudden anger has come from. “I was merely trying to keep it light,” she says, unable to hide the subtle belligerence stirring within, at having been spoken to so brusquely.
Jet closes his eyes and releases a long sigh. “I’m sorry. That was totally misdirected. You don’t deserve to bear the brunt of my problems.”
“Problems?” she questions, startled.
“Don’t even concern yourself with any of it. Just a little situation I’m dealing with.”
“Concerning Blossom?”
He nods. “It’s no big deal.”
“Ok,” she says.
He smiles. “Thanks.”
She can’t help herself from looking at his hand though; thinking all it would take is a short reach over the table.
He laughs. “Curious are we?”
She shakes her head quickly. “No. Not at all.”
Their coffees arrive and are placed on the table by the exuberant Kate, who deals, looks, talks only to Jet, as though Autumn is nothing more than a nebulous shadow sitting opposite him. She can understand the reaction; Jet’s rich, powerful, has made the BRW rich list three years running, was involved with a Hollywood actress and above all, is totally sexy.
As she watches him, she can suddenly sense an imbalance between them, something, despite his position, his car, his hotel room, she hasn’t felt before. In India, there was a definite parity, emotionally and materially, she a mere student, he a volunteer, but now, five years later, things have changed.
The waitress finally leaves them alone when absolutely certain her flirtatious lilt and kittenish eye flutters are having no effect on Jet except repressed annoyance.
“I apologise,” says Jet.
Autumn waves her hand at him. “What are you going to eat?”
He looks at the menu and then back to Autumn. “Let’s get out of here. I said I wanted to spend the day alone with you and here we are contending with overzealous waitresses. Why don’t we go and get some takeaway fish and chips and eat it on the beach?”
Autumn glances inside at the waitress, standing with four others, ogling Jet, laughing and gossiping among each other. “Sounds like a wonderful idea. I’ll go in and pay for the drinks, you can wait for me out front.”
She doesn’t give him time to offer money, or give any alternatives; rises from her seat and heads off towards the counter. Autumn pays for the drinks, much to the uninhibited resentment of the waitresses and joins Jet out the front of the restaurant.
“Thank you,” he says.
“Don’t worry about it.” Autumn takes his arm and they walk to the nearest takeaway shop. They order fish and chips and stroll down to the beach, finding a shady spot of grass under a pine tree.
Jet tears open the paper and they eat the contents with their fingers. “Now this is more like it,” he says.
She laughs. “The simple pleasures of life are sometimes the best.”
“Most definitely. And no pesky waitresses,” he adds.
Autumn eyes a number of seagulls that are circling above them. “But you may have to contend with some pesky seagulls.”
“Seagulls I can handle.”
Autumn picks a chip from the paper and bites it in half. “I hope you don’t mind me asking?”
“What?”
“How exactly have you been able to be so successful in such a short time?”
Jet smiles. “It’s been a lot of really hard work, first and foremost,” he says. “It’s also been a lot of stupid risks and expensive deals that I have managed to pull off.”
“You said Monday night you started in property development?”
He nods his head and finishes chewing a chip. “Yep. That’s where it all began. I had no money when I came back from India, bar the barest necessities to live on, but I had a passion that far exceeded any rationality and so I began to think outside the box. How can I make money when I don’t have any? The answer was simple—have other people use theirs instead and pay them a nice return for the privilege.
“I would personally contact land owners and ask them to let me use their land for a development and, in return, give them a fair price for the land plus a percentage of profits. Then I got builders to offer their time and labour in exchange for a share of profits at the end of the development. I got investors to pay for the immediate expenses and offer capital to get bank loans. Basically, I combined the assets that each person has individually, from which, alone, they could only make modest profits, but when combined and working together, could make exponential profits in which they can have a share.”
“That’s creative”
He shrugs. “But creativity is not where credit is due. My success comes from my perspective and purpose. And that is something you can’t buy. It’s something that can only ever be gained. If I didn’t have the overwhelming, brutal desire to help others, I wouldn’t be successful. It’s that simple. Why else would I want to make money? To buy bullshit that some other greedy bastard says I need.”
She raises one eyebrow. “But you drive an Aston Martin and are shacked up in a ritzy hotel?”
He nods. “Because I can. I earn more than enough to provide for a certain level of lifestyle. But that’s not what I earn money for. That’s the difference. I can have a ritzy lifestyle or not, either way it doesn’t bother me. I’m just as happy eating vegetarian food prepared by a monk from produce donated by pilgrims, as I am eating in a fancy restaurant. Every cent of after-tax profits I earn, in every company I own, is sent to my charities. Every cent.”
“So what of perspective?”
“That’s where I have to thank my experiences in India and from Darshan. Over there you can’t avoid seeing real pov
erty. You know, you saw it too, in Bodh Gaya, in Cambodia. It’s confronting, but once you’ve seen it, you can’t turn away from it as though it doesn’t exist. You know it’s true, otherwise you wouldn’t have set up your own charity.”
Autumn nods.
“I came to realise that not everyone is dealt the same hand in life and the reasons for that vary depending on what you believe in. But regardless of what you believe in, or what God rules you or where you go in the afterlife, everyone deserves the opportunity to rise out of the mire, to break the cycle. Some are willing to embrace the opportunity I can give them, to help themselves, and those are the people I want to help—those willing to help themselves, because they are the people that will win. I never had a privileged childhood, my parents didn’t earn a lot of money, I went to a public school, but I had more than many, many people on this planet have and all I try to do is provide them with that little bit of education and opportunity and happiness. But it’s up to them to make of it what they choose.”
Autumn picks at another chip, taking it into her mouth and chewing it slowly. “You know, I read an article, probably two years ago, about you.”
Jet raises an eyebrow.
“I think it was in BRW. You were explaining your motivations for being in business and your ethical viewpoint and how, under any circumstances, you maintain your integrity at all times. I read that article, Jet, and decided, right there and then, that I needed to find employment in one of your companies.”
“You did?” he asks, smiling.
She nods. “Without knowing the man being interviewed was you, I was drawn to you and what you believe in.”
“So you can see I’m still me?”
She nods. “Yes, just manifesting on a much broader scale.”
He smiles, skirts closer by her side. “It makes me so very happy to hear you say that,” he says, fixing his glorious eyes on hers.
“Why?” she asks. “Why me? I’m nobody.”
His eyes widen with incredulity. “I don’t even know what to say to that. I took you for someone who knows their own self-worth, Autumn.”
Her cheeks burn. “I meant, it’s only that I feel our social status is so different now. For God’s sake, you’re my boss, you’re one of the wealthiest men in Australia, you can have any woman you want, Blossom Banks included. Why do you want me?”
She can see the irritation in his stare. “Why?” he repeats, brusquely. “Because everything you mentioned just now is bullshit. It’s materialistic bullshit. And if you haven’t learnt by now that it means nothing to me—status, money—then you really don’t know me.”
“Please, try and see it from my angle,” she pleads.
He sighs and closes his eyes for a few seconds and finally nods. “Ok. I can see your point. But only slightly,” he says. “All I’m going to say is this: you reach me on a level deeper than the superficial shell. It’s not just physical with you and me, but spiritual. You’re beautiful, more beautiful than anyone else I know, but I want to be with you for reasons beyond that.”
She mulls that over for long, silent moment. “I know that to an extent,” she says, resigned. “I saw that, when we originally met. I guess I’m questioning all that now because your lifestyle contradicts it all, especially Blossom Banks. She epitomises superficiality—fake breasts, perfect body, manicured, primed and pruned in every possible way.”
He opens his mouth and then snaps it shut. “You’re right,” he says, shoulders sagging. “You’re absolutely right. I was definitely side-tracked by Blossom. I was like a deer caught in her headlights,” he glances at Autumn bashfully, “no pun intended.” He reaches for her thigh, rubbing his hand delicately along its length. “But I promise you, she has been a mere—shameful as it is to say it—distraction from what I have needed since you left me that morning in Bodh Gaya. I didn’t think I would ever see you again and when I did, I realised what a wanker I’ve been.” He lowers his voice. “No wonder I’m copping the consequences now.”
She nods slowly, trying to accept his explanation without emotional judgement; jealousy will not contribute anything to the conversation. He is being truthful and she is grateful for that. “I do understand. On some level, I understand. I’ve witnessed enough of humanity, thanks to my insight, to see things on a level others don’t.”
“So you see you have no reason to doubt my affections?”
She nods. “I see it.”
He closes his eyes and averts his head to the sunshine and cool salty breeze. “We talk too much and think too much about why and how. How about we simply just be?”
Autumn takes a deep breath in and answers, “Sure. I can do that.”
She jumps up, kicks her sandals off and pulls her dress down her body, hastily stepping out of it. “First one to the water,” she is already turning and starting a mad dart across the sand, “is the winner.”
The hot sand burns the soles of her feet as she races towards the ocean. Jet has already flung his shirt and shoes off and, in no time, is gaining on her. She has no time to admire his muscles flex and contract with each step forward; one thing she has never been is a fast runner.
He is at her side when her feet feel the wet, grey sand of the ocean’s edge. He grabs her by the waist and bundles her into his strong arms, carrying her over the crashing waves while she chokes with laughter and giggles until they are as deep as his waist. Next thing she feels his strong arms pulling her down and she quickly holds her breath before he plunges her into the cool, salty ocean. She rises from the water, totally saturated, grinning as the moisture from her hair sluices down her face and body in tiny rivulets. “You cheated,” she says.
He gives a laugh deep from his belly, slightly out of breath. “I just used my advantage. And besides, you didn’t give any rules.”
She splashes him. Then again. Jet grabs her by the waist and pulls her into his body. She jumps into his arms, curling her legs around his hips, her arms around his neck. And, as though it is the first time she has ever tasted his delicious lips, she kisses him.
“I can get used to this no-thinking thing,” he says.
“Shut up,” she whispers and thrusts her lips against his again.
Chapter 14
Michael cuts into his enormous steak smothered with creamy prawns and scallops. Before he shovels the next succulent piece into his mouth he stops and looks across the table to Autumn. She has just finished telling him about how she came to know Jet and of the fire they ignited so many years ago, which has remained unextinguished for the last five years. She explained the night in the hotel, the origins of the Burberry dress she wore on Tuesday and her and Jet’s wonderful day yesterday at the beach.
“Sleeping with the boss,” he says, shaking his head, but grinning devilishly. “Who hasn’t fantasised about such a scenario. Sex on the boardroom table. Sex in the office on the desk, the floor, the window ledge. Sex on the reception desk when all the staff have gone home.”
Autumn cracks up laughing. “You really have thought about it, a lot,” she says. “But technically, we aren’t sleeping together.”
“Even more exciting,” Michael says, now chewing on his food. “The anticipation, the tension, the sexual energy that is pulsating and blazing every time you’re alone, in desperate need of being extinguished.”
Autumn raises a single eyebrow. “Now you’re starting to scare me.”
He laughs. “I know. I sat through a lot of really terrible porn before I met Richard. Now he is the recipient of all the useful knowledge gained in my years of loneliness.”
“That is way too much—very terrible—information, thank you, Michael.”
He smiles. “My pleasure.” Michael cuts and pushes another morsel of steak into his mouth. He looks down at his plate. “This is really good.”
“Mine too.”
He narrows his eyes and a mischievous smile dances on his lips. “I hope all this talk of meat doesn’t leave you craving the taste of someone else’s?”
; She lets her fork clang onto her plate. “You truly are disgusting, you know that don’t you?”
He shrugs. “Disgusting, truthful, it’s all subjective.”
“We are taking it slow.”
“For God’s sake, why would you do such a thing? You’ve already tasted the apple, the sin’s been committed, why draw it out?”
“I want to make sure I know who he is and that he knows who I am. Despite what he says, I’m waiting for him to realise that I draw an eighty thousand dollar a year salary as opposed to his millions and that I’m not some Hollywood actress or anything special.”
“What does he say?”
“He’s says our connection is…” she lowers her eyes, demurely, “spiritual.”
Michael chokes on his wine. “Spiritual? Bullshit, he just wants a taste of your hoo-hah again.”
“Come on out of the gutter, please, I beg you. He’s not like that, not anymore anyway, or at least I hope he’s not.”
“Fine. He says it’s a spiritual connection, but Autumn, you ooze sex appeal, he’d be blind if that doesn’t play a part in his interest.”
Autumn shakes her head, feeling her cheeks blaze.
“And the best thing about that is you have no idea. A woman, who drips sex, yet doesn’t know it—the rarest most tantalising combination. You’d be blowing his fucking mind right now taking it slow. It’s quite an intelligent move, really.”
“It isn’t some concocted move.”
Michael shrugs. “Whether you’re aware of it or not, it’s a move. And besides, I wouldn’t worry too much; he wouldn’t be a man or is gay, if he isn’t jumping at the chance to have you park your shoes under his bed.”
“I really don’t know how to take your attempt at reassuring me, such measures of vulgarity and compliments both.”
“No need to thank me,” he says, that cheeky smile creeping onto his face.
“Oh, don’t worry. I wasn’t.”
Back in the building, Scott meets Autumn in the hall outside the door to her office. “Jet would like to see you in his office.”
The Paler Shade Of Autumn Page 13