Bitter Retribution (Jordan James, PI Series)

by Rachel Sharpe

  With nothing else to do, I decided to try to get a workout in at the hotel’s fitness center before getting ready for an evening with actors. I had just changed into my purple LSU t-shirt and black workout shorts when there was a knock on the door connecting our suite to Alson and Jon’s. Tying my hair back in a makeshift ponytail, I opened the door to find Jon standing before me. He motioned for me to let him in. Shrugging, I opened the door and he walked inside, pocketing an electronic key card before shutting it. He glanced at my outfit.

  “Gonna work-out?”

  “Gee, what gave it away?”

  “Listen, mind if I come with you?”

  “No,” I shrugged, grabbing my key card from the bar. “But I thought you and Alson were bonding—”

  “I can’t stand that little brat. So you ready or not?”

  Sighing, I opened the door and walked out into the hallway. Pushing the gold button between the elevators, I remarked, “You know, I don’t think there’s much you can do in the way of exercising in jeans.”

  The elevator on the far left chimed and we climbed on board. Pushing the button for the ground floor, he said, “I can work out my upper body regardless of the pants I’m wearing.”

  I had a comeback ready, but decided against it. It had been a long day and I didn’t feel like starting another fight. Instead, I stood there, thinking about everything that had happened that day. It was Jon who broke the silence.

  “So where’d that psycho friend of yours go?”

  “To get our ski equipment.”

  We stepped out of the elevator and turned right, passing the restaurant. The workout center was a moderately-sized room of mirrors with a weight station, three treadmills and two elliptical machines along the back wall. I used my key card to unlock the door. It buzzed with approval.

  “Wait, ski equipment?” he repeated, a look of panic in his eyes. I nodded as I began to stretch my hamstrings. “You told her I snowboard, right? She’s getting me snowboard equipment, right?”

  “Nope, skis,” I stood up and pulled my left leg up to my chest. “What’s the big deal?”

  “Nothing,” Jon exclaimed, pacing the room like a high-strung jack rabbit. “It’s just . . . I don’t ski.”

  “What?”

  “If you bothered to listen to me for once, I said I could, but I’d rather not. I had a wicked bad experience as a kid.”

  “Look, Jon, it’s not that bad.” As his chest began to heave up and down, I realized he might make himself hyperventilate. I stopped stretching and walked over. “I’ll help you, okay?”

  Gradually, his breathing evened out and still staring, he took a step closer. The longer he stared, the more intense the look became. He placed his hands on my shoulders and rubbed my arms gently. When he leaned in, I stepped back and pushed him away. “Jon, don’t do this.”

  “Why not?” He threw his hands in the air in dramatic frustration. “Am I missing something? You are single now, right?”

  “Jon, it’s nothing personal, but . . . I just don’t see you that way.”

  “Jordan, I know you love me.”

  I felt a heaviness welling in my stomach. He finally cornered me. He finally brought up the topic I had managed to dodge since June. There was no avoiding it now.

  “I do, but not like that.”

  “Stop.” Shaking his head, Jon sighed. “I didn’t want to go here, but . . . now I have to. Jordan, if you really don’t love me, if there’s nothing between us at all, then why’d you turn down Rick? The guy proposed for God’s sake! What kind of girl would turn down a marriage proposal unless there was someone else?”

  “I – I don’t,” I trailed off, blinking to fight back tears I had no intention of showing him. “That’s really, really low, Jon, even for you.”

  “What else am I supposed to think?” Clenching his fists, he began to pace the room before pausing near a bench. “I’ve done everything I could to get your attention and you never noticed, not once. I stopped blowing off work and even went to work when you were too depressed to show up. What else am I supposed to do, huh? What do you want?”

  “I appreciate all you’ve done,” I insisted. “Jon, you’re one of my best friends. It’s just, well—”

  “I’m not Rick?”

  “I can’t deal with this right now.” The knot in my stomach tightened, nauseating me. He turned on his heels and headed for the door. “Where’re you going?”

  “What do you care?” When I didn’t respond, he stormed out of the room. Leaning against the elliptical for support, I shook my head in disbelief. In less than an hour, I’d managed to piss off my two closest friends.

  I climbed on the elliptical and began moving, racing in place in a vain attempt to ignore the uncomfortable position in which I now found myself. So preoccupied with my problems, I was oblivious to the immense stress Heather was under and to how serious Jon’s feelings for me had become. Replaying the last few weeks, I realized that while I was moping in my self-inflicted agony, I failed to notice how much my two best friends were there for me. Jon kept my business going and Heather provided me with a vacation away from my problems. After thirty minutes on the elliptical with nothing except my guilt-ridden thoughts to occupy my mind, I felt drained.

  Wiping the sweat from my forehead onto my arm, I grabbed my key card and headed back to the suite. Heather was there when I arrived, sitting at the table perusing a stack of papers. Leaning against the wall by the couch was our ski equipment. Glancing up, she smiled before turning her attention back to the papers.

  “Good work-out?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Great.” Straightening the paper, she added, “Listen, we have, like, twenty minutes ‘til the table-read. Can you get ready that fast? I mean, if you want to come. I know it’s not the most exciting way to spend an evening.”

  “No, I’d love to go.” Crossing my arms, I hesitated, “Unless I’d be in the way. I’d love to see you work. I know you’re a wicked awesome writer, but I’ve never actually seen you on the job.”

  “Wicked awesome, huh? Sounds like you’ve been in Beantown too long.” Scratching the back of her hair, she nodded, “All righty, go get ready. Oh, is Jon coming, too?”

  “No, I think he has other plans—”

  “Something wrong?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re acting weird. You two didn’t have another fight or something, did you?”

  “Well,” I paused. Heather was about to embark upon a new phase of her career and life. It would be selfish of me to drag her into anymore of my personal drama. I shook my head and smiled. “No, it’s nothing. Everything’s great. Give me a minute, okay?”

  “Yeah, okay,” she nodded. “But hurry up! I don’t want to give Nancy a reason to replace me on my first day.”

  Laughing, I walked into the bedroom and shut the door. The bedroom, like the living area, was both spacious and posh. Two queen-sized beds occupied the back wall while another forty-inch flat screen rested on a chestnut-colored double dresser. To the left of the door was a walk-in closet and large bathroom with a glass shower stall and Jacuzzi tub.

  “Wow,” I muttered, whistling as I took in my extravagant surroundings.

  I grabbed a long-sleeved red shirt, a pair of dark blue jeans, and my black heels from the suitcase before heading into the bathroom for a quick shower. After taking the fastest shower of my life, I dried my hair and put a few strands up, leaving the majority of it down. I then applied my make-up, got dressed, and hurried back to the living room. Heather was shoving the papers into her laptop case when she looked up at me.

  “Ready?”

  “Yep,” I nodded, putting on my black jacket. “The real question is, are you?”

  Running her fingers through her curly-brown hair, she shrugged. “We’ll see, I guess. To be ho
nest, my heart’s racing. I haven’t felt this much adrenaline since that time we borrowed my dad’s car to go to that concert in Birmingham. You remember that?”

  I laughed. “That was . . . winter break of our freshman year of college, right?”

  “Yeah,” she nodded. “I swear I thought he was gonna call the cops on us that night. Wow, okay, now I’m feeling the nerves.”

  “Deep breaths,” I smiled, giving her a quick hug. “You were made for this job. You’re gonna do great. Just handle all ego maniacs the way you did Alson and you’ll be fine.”

  “Ha, ha, thanks,” she laughed. “I’ve never seen him agree to anything so quickly. I guess that’s the only way to deal with a prima donna. Maybe I should take some lessons from you. You seem to have gotten Jon to behave. I haven’t seen any of his infamous tantrums yet.”

  I felt my face flush at the mention of Jon’s name as my mind flashed back to the confrontation at the fitness center. Of all his ‘infamous tantrums,’ that one topped them all. While I wanted to dismiss it, there was something unnerving about that moment and I found myself considering his question over and over again. As much as his words hurt, the question haunted me.

  Why did I turn Rick down? Was it for my career? That shouldn’t have stopped me. I began my career in Boston, but there was no reason I couldn’t investigate somewhere else. I mean, crimes happen everywhere, right? I even solved a case in London less than six months ago! Why was I so hesitant to commit to him? Then again, it didn’t take him long to get over his heartbreak. As I stood there, Heather continued talking about work, but my mind wouldn’t focus.

  “Jordan!”

  “What?”

  “Distracted much?” Heather laughed, shaking her head. “Ooh, we gotta go.”

  We headed out the room, down the hall and onto the elevator in silence, each of us immersed in our own thoughts. I was in such a daze I didn’t even realize we were in the conference room until I felt someone standing directly in front of me. I was startled to see Roch Turner. He was a lot taller than I would have expected, about six-three, and he still looked remarkably young. At sixty, he appeared no older than forty-five. The wonders of plastic surgery, I mused. His brown hair was short and offered only hints of gray, which I was certain would soon be concealed by dye.

  “Jordan, this is Roch,” Heather offered.

  His puppy dog eyes sparkled as he eyed me curiously. “Jordan, huh? Interesting name. Hmm . . . you ever watched a taping before?”

  “No, this is my first,” I replied, glancing at Heather.

  “Your first, huh? Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” And he winked.

  He walked away, mingling with several people who had just entered the room. I gagged. And it had nothing to do with the overpowering musky odor he called cologne. “Ugh, so gross!”

  Heather laughed. “Yeah, he’s about as bad as Alson. The only difference is he’s been in the business long enough to know sometimes you actually have to work. Come on. I want to introduce you to Nancy.”

  We crossed the large, beige-colored room with three long tables set up in a half-circle with about thirty chairs and stopped near the far corner where a woman in her late thirties with sandy-blonde hair was speaking with two girls I recognized from the show as Roch’s television daughters. In mid-sentence, she became aware of Heather’s presence.

  “Heather, you’re here. Good,” she put her arm across Heather’s shoulder and pulled her close. “Listen, we’re going to have to speed this up. Chuck figured out we may be able to film everything here if we start right away. We could save a lot of money if we don’t need that extra day on Sunday. We’re filming the hotel room scenes tonight.”

  I could tell by the look in Heather’s eyes this decision blind-sided her, but she hid her concerns well. “Absolutely. That’s a great idea.”

  “Excellent,” Nancy nodded.

  “Oh, Nancy, this is my best friend, Jordan.”

  “Pleasure. All right, people, listen up!” Nancy exclaimed, clapping her hands together. The twenty or so people in the room stopped talking at the sound of her voice. When she announced the plan changes, which included Roch, Amber Deon, and Emma Kelly having to film their hotel scenes that very night, everyone began to groan and grumble. “That’s right, people. Get it out of your systems now because we’ve got a long night ahead of us. Wait a minute. Where’s Alson? Heather, aren’t you watching him?”

  Before Heather could respond, Alson emerged from the crowd with Jon beside him. Jon and I made eye contact, but I looked away. Alson scratched his hair and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, Nance.”

  “Alson, please try to get here on time,” Nancy sighed, tapping on the face of her Gucci watch. “We have a deadline. I can’t have the entire crew looking for you like last time, understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Alson winked, saluting her like a solider.

  Shaking her head, Nancy continued, “All right, people. There are scripts and bottled waters on the table. You know the drill. Find a seat and stay there. I mean you, Alson.”

  Everyone hurried to the tables and the sound of chairs scraping across the wooden floors and scripts shuffling echoed through the room. Heather motioned for me to sit in a chair beside her, which was right next to Nancy, and she handed me a script. I smiled when I saw her name on the title page with the words “Written by” preceding it. The premise of the episode was Roch’s character, James, was trying to make up for missing family holidays by taking his girls skiing in the Rockies for Christmas.

  Their millionaire neighbor Zack Davis, played by Alson, spent every holiday alone while his parents traveled the globe. Touched by his story, the girls convince James to take Zack along with them and James soon realizes how lost Zack truly is. It was a touching episode offering greater depth than previous ones.

  Heather’s writing ability was uncanny and it was clear she was meant for much more than a cheeseball primetime sitcom. There were comic moments sprinkled throughout to maintain the light nature of the show, but her writing was going to force these actors to step up and actually act. I was swept up in the episode and I could easily envision how it would play out.

  Roch coughed and read, “Zack, you’re telling me you’ve never celebrated Christmas with your parents? No presents? Turkey? Not even Christmas carols? Nothing?”

  “Nope, never,” Alson replied, leaning back in the chair and shaking his right leg. “I mean, I get presents and stuff, but my folks are always gone. Why? Is it weird to celebrate Christmas with the maid?”

  “James leans against the wall, floored by this statement. He stares out past Zack in silence,” Heather read the action.

  “Please, Daddy? We can’t leave Zack here all alone. It’s Christmas! Besides, you’re the one who told us we should help those in need. Look at him! He is definitely in need,” Amber, the actress playing the older of Roch’s two daughters, read. “Please?”

  “James looks at Zack, pity in his eyes, then at his daughters. Crossing his arms, he shakes his head,” Heather stated before flipping the page.

  Roch took a sip of water. “I know I’m going to regret this.”

  “Thank you, Daddy!” Amber and Emma recited in unison.

  As the scene ended, everyone flipped to the next page and continued along. No one put much effort into the reading. The actors recited their lines while Heather read the actions. It was pretty boring to watch. What made it worse was the scene that was going on across the table. Amber and Emma sat beside Alson and Jon and I couldn’t help noticing that Amber took an obvious interest in Jon.

  She kept leaning in and whispering to him. Smiling, she’d flip her hair back and he seemed to revel in the attention. When he realized I was watching, he turned and whispered something back, to which she giggled and touched his arm. Although I felt uncomfortable watching the nauseating display, what
bothered me most was that I cared at all.

  I turned back to the script. Moments later, Nancy cleared her throat. “Amber, may I ask what is so funny that you find it worth interrupting our reading? You were here when I said we’re on a deadline, right?”

  “Yes, Nancy,” Amber replied, nodding somberly. “It won’t happen again.”

  Satisfied, Nancy nodded for Heather to start again. Thirty-five minutes later, everyone closed the scripts and Nancy asked for opinions on the episode. Again, as her best friend, I could sense the anxiety Heather hid behind her calm blue eyes. Several people made small suggestions, mostly about the way dialogue was worded or the inconsistency of a particular action.

  Heather jotted down notes on her laptop, nodding in agreement or asking for clarification when necessary. When they finished, Nancy said, “All right, people. There don’t seem to be any issues with the hotel scenes, so we’re going to start there as planned. Everyone take five, but stay close. I need Roch, Amber and Emma to go with Jan to the make-up trailer. Heather, can you flesh out those revisions in an hour?”

  “Absolutely,” Heather nodded. “Tom and Charlotte got in a few minutes ago. I saw them by the door.”

  “Great. Okay, people, let’s go.”

  Everyone started walking out of the room. Roch walked over to Amber and Emma and they headed out the door behind an older, large woman with gray hair and cat glasses. Alson stood up and hopped toward the door, which made a few people laugh. Jon followed but paused in the doorway to look back at me. When our eyes met, his mouth opened to speak, but he closed it quickly and hurried out the room. Again, I felt an uncomfortable feeling welling within my stomach. Shaking the feeling, I turned to Heather, who was already typing furiously on her laptop.