After looking around, he had bought a place in Deep Ellum, quirky, artsy, creative, invigorating Deep Ellum. Years ago, as a means to support his dreams of writing a best-selling novel, he sang in a band that had become pretty popular in Deep Ellum and the surrounding area. When some of the band members had moved on in other directions, he’d reluctantly answered the call to exploit his looks when his writing endeavors proved something he would have to work at over time. The money convinced him it was okay to go in that direction. A man had to do what a man had to do. Deep Ellum had brought that opportunity to him, too, so it made sense to return.
He got tired of the pawing, from men and women, but considered it part of the modeling industry. He’d only ever gotten involved with the women he wanted, but none of those relationships ever felt right. All that would be behind him now, even more so when his writing earned him a living, and he refused to believe otherwise. You have to believe in something to make it happen.
New York had been good to and for him, an escape from the troubles of home, an escape that truly had saved him. Now, having let go of all the demons he’d allowed to torture him most of his life, he was back and free to live and breathe and laugh.
He was happy.
In Nina Graham he recognized a tortured soul, much like he had been, he figured. She was a complicated woman, and pained. For sure, pained. He tried not to think of her beauty or apparent intellect, her focus and determination. He wouldn’t go there with any woman. He wasn’t yet fit for that. The bimbos would do for now as they had in the past.
But he had no interest.
No, he really didn’t want to go the bimbo route again, either. He truly was happy with his life now and had been able to overcome the anguish of losing his father at the young age of seventeen to a drunk driver. He’d been in the car with his dad that night, having gone out to buy a birthday present for his mom. He’d survived, his dad had not. His younger brother had sustained a severe head injury and lived with their mother even now. To this day Judson searched his soul for a way to deal with the guilt of his escaping serious injury while Sammy was left to endure and his mother with him.
So he had taken a place in Deep Ellum, grantor of dreams. The neighborhood had a personality of its own, enhanced by those living, working, and playing there. He felt like it fit him perfectly. He could be in Fort Worth within thirty minutes to see his family often. He’d moved his mom and brother, years ago, from the little trailer they’d had to move to after his father’s death to a nice new home in a good area of town.
Had he been the perfect son and brother? No, no he hadn’t. He’d had his bouts with women, sex, and, yes, some other pretty bad decisions. But he’d never put a bottle to his lips, and he never would. The memory of what it could do cut too deeply into his soul, but he had to admit he’d left a long line of disappointed ladies in his wake. He never wondered, or cared, why. Just went on his merry way without a thought.
Now his goal of being a serious writer of serious fiction was in sight. The theme of his books was spies, lies, rectification. His literary agent, Cora Blue, was located in downtown Dallas, not far from his loft in Deep Ellum, and he’d never felt better about that part of his life. Cora had submitted his latest work, A Day to Die, to Simon & Schuster, and they were both excited. She said it was one of the best spy novels she’d ever read, and that was a lot coming from hard-nosed Cora.
He exited the lobby of his building, whistling, and headed toward the waiting limo to meet the others for dinner, straightening his jacket. He’d learned a lot about fine men’s clothing from modeling and decided on wearing his navy-blue Western suit jacket with matching Western slacks. He was, after all, Texas born and bred. The expensive gray cowboy boots should work, even for Nobu. Anything would work for Deannie, he thought as he approached the car and saw the driver running toward him.
“Sorry, sir, I didn’t see you coming!”
“No problem, man. No problem.”
The driver swung the shiny black door open.
“Judson, you look delicious!” Deannie practically purred from the backseat, patting the space next to her. Shasta gave him a look from where she sat across from Deannie.
“Thanks, Deannie.”
“I’ve been coming to Nobu since they opened in New York City in 1994, and I’m looking forward to getting a taste of this one. Let’s go pick up the others and get over there!” Deannie squealed.
The limo pulled up in front of the studio on Good Latimer, and when the driver moved to get out, Judson rolled down the limo window separating them and said, “I’ll go get the ladies,” jumped out of the car, and slammed the door on Deannie’s objection.
A bell on the heavy wood-and-glass door to the studio signaled his arrival. Sherry stood behind the green granite-topped reception desk facing a huge vertical mirror as she inserted a pierced earring. As the bell sounded, she looked into the mirror toward the entrance.
“Judson! Hi.”
“Hello, Sherry. Are y’all ready? The Queen Bee awaits.”
“We sure are. Thomas couldn’t make it, though. He should get back in town sometime tonight. There was nothing we could do,” Sherry said, apologetic.
“She’ll get over it. I wouldn’t worry. Is Nina still coming?” he asked, looking around.
“Of course. I’ll go drag her out of the edit bay. We won’t be a minute.” Sherry scurried off down one of the halls.
Judson had liked the place immediately this afternoon when he arrived for the second shoot. The walls were of old brick in various shades of rose and peach and rustic red and had a few cracks in the mortar, lending loads of character. Plants accented the reception area, perfectly placed so they could be nourished by sunlight during the day. He liked the old feel of the building and how the contemporary furniture, along with the plants, gave it a hip, artsy feeling. He started toward one of the paintings to his left, the one he’d spotted earlier.
“Hi, Judson.”
The woman took his breath away. Nina stood in the doorway wearing a slim black pencil miniskirt and business jacket that touched the hem of the skirt. The knee-high black boots she wore emphasized her shapely thighs. She wore her honey-blonde hair up—like the woman in the painting he still hadn’t gotten a good enough look at—and had on no jewelry.
“Nina. Hello. I didn’t have a chance to tell you this afternoon, but this is a great place y’all have here.”
“Thanks, we love it.”
Unable to help himself, Judson said, “You look lovely.”
She tipped her head down, then looked up at him, cheeks flushed. “Thank you. You clean up pretty nice, yourself.”
Their eyes held for a few seconds. He said, “Thanks,” then walked to the door. “We should get going.”
“We’re ready!” Sherry fluttered into the room, throwing her coat on over her little black dress that complemented her full figure very well.
Judson opened the huge door. “After you, ladies.”
The driver started out of the limo but caught Judson pointing to himself and mouthing, “I’ll get it,” while he and Sherry stood near Nina as she locked up.
When he opened the car door, Judson noticed that Shasta had moved next to Deannie. Sherry jumped into the seat on the nearest side of Deannie, leaving room for Nina and Judson on the bench seat facing the rear. He sat as close to Nina as he could without drawing attention and caught the disgruntled expression on Deannie’s face, bright-red pursed lips, squinted eyes. She’d just have to get over it. After all, she’d told him one of the things she liked about him was his playboy status, and he aimed to please.
The ride to Nobu consisted of Nina and Sherry pointing out the new skyscrapers and other buildings along the way, some historic in nature. Deannie, clearly uninterested, seemed to perk up when they entered the restaurant and got seated.
“Oh, I just love Nobu, don’t you? I hear Tom Hanks frequents this place!” Deannie said and poured more sake.
“It’s really nice, Deannie. Th
ank you so much for including us,” Nina said and shook her head no one more time to the sake Deannie offered her.
Judson was glad to see that Nina was not a drinker.
“Excuse me,” he asked as he reached across her for a small pitcher filled with sparkling water, “would you care for more?”
“Yes, thank you.” She leaned toward him, holding the champagne flute he’d requested for her as he poured. Their shoulders touched as she looked down at the monogramed initials on the right cuff of his light-blue shirt.
“Anyone else?” He held the little pitcher up.
“No more for me,” Sherry said, an impish little twist on her lips.
Shasta shook her head no and grinned at Sherry sitting next to her. They’d gone to the restroom together twice during dinner and had definitely hit it off.
“The growth in Dallas is amazing. I’ve been in New York for the past seven years, and when I would visit my family we stayed in Fort Worth mainly. It’s a really progressive city, too,” Judson said to Nina.
“It is, but it’s still called Cowtown. I guess some things never change,” Nina said, the heavier makeup she’d used for the evening out emphasizing the sadness that flitted across her beautiful face.
“Do you think that’s a bad thing?” He lifted a thick, sandy brow.
“Depends on what it is, I guess. I kind of like that it’s still called Cowtown. It reflects the essence of it,” Nina answered and took a bite of her rock-shrimp tempura.
“Shange s’good, no matter what. Mean, why’d anyone wanna keep things th’ same over ’n over? S’boring…” Deannie’s inebriation began reaching alarming levels. Her normally clipped, perfect diction had left the picture. Everyone looked around the table at one another, exchanging concerned glances.
“I’d’a never foun’ these two if things stay’d th’ same, now would I have?” She slammed her arm through the air indicating the two actors. “Judson woulda hada stay up there ’way from his maaama, wouldn ya, swee’heart?”
Things were spiraling quickly. Judson motioned that he was ready for the check.
“What’re you doin’? We’re not leavin’ just yet, kiddos. One more roun a sake, then we’re goin’ dancin’ in Dallas, so Deannie can do Dallas right!” Deannie was on the verge of passing out but managed to grind in her chair like she was on a dance floor.
“We’re not driving. Let’s have our sake in the limo, Deannie, on our way to a club,” Judson said and accepted the check.
Deannie fumbled with her purse. “I’m payin’ this, s’my job to take care a you. And you and you and you…” She pointed at each of her dinner guests with her credit card.
About halfway to her and Shasta’s hotel, Deannie passed completely out. The driver helped Judson and Shasta get her to her room while Nina and Sherry waited in the car.
When Judson and the driver returned and entered the limo, Judson took his place next to Nina.
“My apologies. Thanks for waiting. I think she’ll sleep it off all right. Shasta’s going to keep an eye on her tonight. Their rooms are next to each other, so it should be fine.”
“We really could have made it back to our places without bothering you. I’m sure you’re tired and want to get some rest yourself,” Nina offered.
“I’m not staying here. I want to see you two home. It’s the Texan way, right?”
“Oh, you’re not staying here? Well, then, thank you,” Nina said and relaxed back into the soft leather seat next to Judson.
The limo pulled up to Sherry’s place, and when Judson returned from walking her to her door, started toward Deep Ellum. Again, he sat near Nina, shoulder to shoulder.
Again, Nina leaned back into the seat next to him.
“I assume, since the driver knew where to take Sherry, you gave him your address, too.”
Nina nodded.
“I’m glad you and Sherry were able to make it tonight, Nina. Maybe next time Thomas will be able to come.”
“Yeah, I got a text from him. He’s back in town and at home. He’ll be at the studio tomorrow.”
“Does Deep Ellum Productions do a lot of work outside the Dallas area?”
“Some. The shoot Thomas just wrapped was in Houston for an oil company. We’re trying to grow in several different directions.”
“Smart move.”
“I hope so. One reason we got into the book trailer business was because anyone can buy a camera and work out of their garage or bedroom or wherever. Sometimes businesses just look at the bottom dollar. Not the quality of the production. Publishers, and oil companies for that matter, want high quality and don’t mind paying for it.”
“I could see that. Every cell phone has a camera these days, and the difference is obvious, even on YouTube.”
“That’s true. We’re going to stand on the quality of our work. And, like I said, publishers and oil companies seem to appreciate that.”
Their eyes held for a long moment, and in the darkness of the car he could think of nothing but kissing her.
God, he wanted to kiss her bad.
“Here’s my place,” Nina said.
“So, you live in Deep Ellum?” He ducked to take a look out the window at her building. He’d been so absorbed in Nina he hadn’t noticed which way they were headed.
“Yep, right here on Commerce. I’m a Deep Ellum girl. She’s on her way back up, and I’m going to be part of that.”
The driver opened the door and cleared his throat.
Judson stepped out and held his hand out to Nina.
She took it, and he squeezed her fingers then made himself let go.
When they reached the lobby door, she said, “This will do. Thanks for tonight. Sherry and I really appreciate it. I’ll thank Deannie in the morning when she’s…feeling better.”
All he could do was look at her for a few seconds.
“The pleasure was all mine. It’s not often I get to spend time with a woman like you.”
She tilted her head to the side and looked up at him.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Nina. And smart. It’s a pleasure to know you…anyway, see you in the morning. Sleep tight,” he said, held the door for her, and watched as she crossed the lobby.
This is one hell of a woman.
Chapter Four
Nina thrashed around in bed all night. Exhausted, she dragged herself into the huge claw-foot tub that had made her buy the apartment. She let a few drops of calming oil fall into the steaming water and inhaled deeply. She climbed in and let the water cover her to her neck.
The evening at Nobu had shown Nina there may be more to Judson than she’d thought. Than she’d wanted to think.
She knew he’d wanted to kiss her in the car on the way home. God, she’d wanted him to. How had this escalated so fast? She was not a woman who needed a man. Or wanted one. But Judson Lane was different, and she didn’t know what to do about it.
Perfect gentlemen were few and far between, but Sherry was right. He definitely was one. And no matter how much she wanted to, she didn’t think it was an act. His social graces were impeccable, down to the handling of the silverware. She snickered, down to handling Deannie! He’d ignored the admiring glances of the women who had noticed him at the restaurant. Even women dining with other men sent admiring glances his way. He was hard not to look at. He seemed almost perfect. There had to be something terribly, horribly wrong.
Serial killer, rapist, closet booze head, drug head…something.
The long, tailored lines of the suit he wore to dinner and how they accented his body stayed in her mind and bothered her in torturous ways. She’d never seen a Western suit look so…fashionable. Of course he must have learned a lot about clothing from his work as a model, but nobody could learn to wear clothes the way he did. It was just a natural phenomenon.
She thought about the monogramed initials she’d seen on his shirt cuff.
J.L.B. Judson Lane…what? Or maybe the B was his middle name. Sometimes the initial for the surname
was placed in the middle of a monogram.
Another thing was what he’d said to her when he walked her to her building. You are a beautiful woman, Nina. And smart. It’s a pleasure to know you.
And he’d left it at that. No attempts at groping, no grabbing, no grossness. Not traits of a serial killer, rapist, booze head, or drug head. Okay, depending on the drug, a drug head might not have the energy to do those things. Still…
She’d wanted to tell him he was the beautiful one but had forced the words to stay in her mouth. She knew this man heard those words every day of his life. She wondered where he grew up in Fort Worth. What school he’d gone to. Not that it would have mattered. He was a few years older than her, and they wouldn’t have been in school together. She was just curious.
Curiosity killed the cat!
But her intuition told her, “Give yourself a chance to get to know him better,” while her mind screamed, “Business only!” She hated doing inner battle. It always led to no good with dashes of confusion and misery. Only when she’d learned to make unwavering decisions had she begun to be all right, and now was not the time to go back.
Forward, never back.
* * * *
Another day, another dollar.
That would be Nina’s focus. Not what had happened between her and Judson, if you wanted to say anything had happened. Because nothing had.
Today’s shoot would take place in the studio again, her comfort zone. She’d lived in Deep Ellum for five years, and when the warehouse on Good Latimer became available, she and Sherry and Thomas were able to purchase it for a song. They’d worked themselves silly to get it to decent working order, then worked some more to make it soundproof from the raised freeway just a few feet away, to make it a perfect place to shoot video and record audio. It really was an optimal studio in an awesome location.
Now they’d landed these book trailers and oil-company projects and had the space and technical capabilities to pull them off to near perfection. All the financial worry and exhaustive effort had paid off. They still had a long way to go, but they were definitely on their way.
Hatten, Catherine - Trailer Trash [Deep Ellum] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 3