My Once and Future Love

by Carla Krae

  He still wanted answers.

  ****

  When I got home Monday, the message on my machine was for a meeting the next day. Don’t know how he found my number…maybe I was in the phone book.

  I called in sick to work and tried to get a good night’s sleep. At last count, I reached two-hundred forty-seven sheep.

  Jacob was outside the building when I arrived, leaning against a pillar by the entrance in sunglasses, a weathered black leather jacket, and his lived-in jeans. The wind tousled his hair and he looked posed for a photo shoot.

  “Hello,” I said when I was in earshot.

  “I’ll show you the way,” he said, and pushed off the wall.

  We took the elevator up a ways, then walked down a hall to a conference room, passing cubicles. Every woman we passed greeted him with a smile and “Hi, Jake”. Flirty emphasis on the “hi”.

  “Ladies,” he said, nodding to them in turn.

  I glanced behind us and caught them watching him leave. With an ass like his I honestly couldn’t blame them, but it was still unprofessional. Two men turned to greet us in the conference room, one short and balding. The man in the expensive suit smiled at Jacob.

  “There’s our favorite star! And on time, too. Who’s this young lady?”

  I offered my hand. “Elizabeth Lawson, sir. I’m here to interview for the assistant position.”

  “Beth, this is Mr. Sydney, the talent VP, and that’s my manager,” Jacob said.

  The manager didn’t offer to shake my hand. “Hello.”

  Mr. Sydney put his hand on Jacob’s shoulder and guided him toward the door. “Jake, I want you to see the brochure for this bus. Talk about creature comforts!”

  “I’ll be back in a few, Beth. Just sign what he asks you to.”

  Heh, I’d be reading it first. This guy…I didn’t trust him at all. He looked like he was only acknowledging me because he was supposed to.

  “Jake tells me you were a secretary before this.”

  “An executive assistant.”

  “Do you have a degree?”

  “A bachelor’s degree in Business Administration with honors, sir.”

  “I see. And what makes you want to be a personal assistant now?”

  “I’ve known Jacob a long time and he made a good offer.”

  He narrowed his beady little eyes at me. “Money important to you?”

  “No, but it’d be a mistake to turn down a better opportunity, wouldn’t it?”

  He shrugged. “Sure. Look, honey, I don’t care what you do for him as long as he’s happy, on time, and selling albums. Fuck him, if that’s what it takes. Double-cross us, and I’ll bury you. Clear?”

  What an ass! Did I look like I wasn’t serious? I didn’t come to an interview in a business suit to be told to screw the client.

  “As crystal.”

  He smiled, looking like a shark. “Good. The NDA is standard copy from the record company. The contract is already drawn up.”

  Oh, great…prepare to turn over your first born, Beth. “I’d like to read it over first, if you don’t mind.”

  He shrugged. “Fax it to my office by morning. But until I see your name on the dotted line, the job’s still up for grabs.”

  I resisted the urge to grind my teeth. “Fine.” I tucked the papers in my bag.

  “Great. Let’s find Jake. I have an appointment.”

  I followed the jerk only because I didn’t know my way around the office. We found Jacob in the VP’s corner suite. He arched a brow when he saw me. I masked my emotions.

  He stood from the leather sofa. “Later. Gotta meet up with the boys and jam.” He opened the door for me. “Somethin’ wrong?” he asked when we were in the hall.

  “No.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing. Really.” I pushed my glasses back up the bridge of my nose. “I’m fine.”

  “I was nervous the first time in this building, too.”

  “Yeah, right.” We stepped into the elevator.

  He grinned. “Well, it didn’t last long.”

  “I’m looking over the contract before I take the position. No offense.”

  “None taken.”

  Outside, we both went toward the parking lot. “Do you want to meet the band?” he asked.

  “Might as well. I’ll follow you.”

  “Sure you can keep up?” He stopped at a silver Jaguar coupe.

  “Funny.” I rolled my eyes and continued to my hand-me-down car.

  He was waiting at the exit when I drove out.

  The building for their practice space was nothing special on the outside. Just another commercial building. He waved at the security guard and led me deeper inside. We passed several doors to smaller rooms before reaching one where I heard guitar and drum noises coming from the other side.

  He opened the door.

  “Hey, Jake!” “’Bout time, man.” “Nah, what do we need him for? He doesn’t play!” They talked in a near-simultaneous burst of words.

  “Mates, this is Beth Lawson, possibly our new assistant. Make her feel welcome.”

  A blond man, taller than the rest, stepped forward and shook my hand. “Hi, I’m Bob. That’s Mikey, Dylan, and Aaron with the drumsticks.”

  “Hey.”

  “Where’d you find this one, Jake, the library?” Aaron with the drumsticks.

  Bob smacked Aaron on the back of the head. “Shut up, moron. Don’t mind him. We haven’t housebroken him, yet.”

  “Best behavior, mates, really? At least until she’s used to us,” Jacob said.

  It was obvious he was the leader when they all nodded their compliance. He nudged me toward a loveseat against the wall and walked to the microphone stand in the center.

  For the first time since I was eighteen, I watched Jacob Lindsey sing.

  ****

  Jacob looped up a cable, helping pack up. Beth had left.

  “What’s the story with Miss Prim and Proper?” Bob asked.

  “She’s going to be our assistant, if she signs the contract.”

  “Didn’t know we need an assistant.”

  “Management thinks I do.” He bent to untangle the wad of cable spaghetti on the floor.

  “Do you trust her?”

  He gave Bob a look. “What do you mean by that?”

  “If you want to keep what little privacy you’ve got left, you need someone you can trust. So, back to my first question—what’s the story?” Bob finished wiping down his guitar, set it in the case, and closed the lid.

  “I’ve known Beth a long time.”

  “How long? Like playground buddies?” Should’ve known his best friend would dig for dirt.

  “Went to the same high school. We were neighbors.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What?”

  “Nothin’.” Like hell. Bob looked for double meanings everywhere.

  “Spill it, Bob. I can see the hamster wheel spinnin’ in your brain.”

  “Cute.”

  “Wanker. You got an opinion, express it.”

  “Just wondered what was up, man. You’ve never brought a girl to practice before, least of all one that looks like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “The opposite of your type. A corporate drone. Then again, it’s always the quiet ones…”

  “Hands off, mate. She’s a friend.” Was a friend. A lady he respected—there, he could say that.

  “Hey, whoa, not my type, either, bro. Just talkin’.”

  Jacob sighed. “If she signs on, just be respectful, alright?”

  “Okay, Jake. No problem.”

  Jacob nodded and set the bundled cable with the rest. The only equipment they didn’t carry out each time was the drum kit and the microphones. Aaron’s drums were stored in a locker, his sticks stowed in his back pocket. Jacob picked up an amp and followed Dylan out to the parking lot.

  If Beth signed on, he’d have to talk to all of them about their behavior around her. She’d be
coming on tour and the situation could get really uncomfortable on the bus if one of the lads stepped out of line. And…he didn’t think he could watch her with one of his friends.

  Had she dated since? Was she seeing someone now?

  Don’t do this to yourself, mate. He put the amp in Dylan’s trunk and went back inside. No, it wouldn’t do to follow that train of thought at all.

  ****

  That evening, I faxed the contract back with my suggested alterations. With that done, I had nothing to do but wait and went back to work in the morning. When I got home, the shark had left a message; grudgingly saying the job was mine if I wanted it, including the provisions Jake backed me up on.

  Huh. He pressured his manager. Weird. I didn’t know whether he did it because we went back a long way and my requests were fair or there was some other motive, and that made me nervous.

  I called the manager back to say yes, and drove to his office to sign the papers. He gave me copies of the contract and confidentiality agreement and filed the originals.

  “Here.” He tossed a plain envelope on the desk in front of me.

  Inside were a couple index cards. “What’s this?”

  “Jake’s address and the security code for the gate. Part of your job is living on his property, or had you noticed that little detail?”

  That “little detail” hadn’t been there. The contract said close to Mr. Lindsey’s house. Leave it to my ex to have his own interpretation of that.

  “It was just a question, sir. Did he say when he’s expecting me?”

  He shrugged. “Do I look like I take messages? Work it out yourself. Now get out of my office. I’m busy.”

  I left, biting my tongue. How did that man possibly get successful by being that rude? He had to be handling Jacob’s career in a spectacular way because I didn’t know how he put up with him.

  Living ‘on the property’, eh? Well, it had to be nicer than my apartment. I’d just deal with being around my ex all the time again and suck it up. For the salary on my contract—holy cow—and generous benefits he was giving me, I was willing to put up with a lot.

  I quit my job and packed up my apartment, what little there was to move.

  Chapter Two

  Passing multi-million-dollar mansions, I drove up to big black metal gates made of steel mesh. The property beyond was just barely visible through the privacy screen. I punched in the code on the security panel and waited for admittance. The gates swung inward.

  Trees sheltered the long driveway on both sides. The drive finally opened on a circle with a fountain in the center, a simple pedestal shooting a jet of water in the air at timed intervals. Grass had been planted around the drive and up to the house. A house that didn’t strike me as the dwelling place of the man I knew. It was very modern, all straight lines and angles.

  I parked my car and walked up to the giant doors. The door on my left opened within seconds of me pressing the bell.

  “You must be Miss Lawson. I’m Maria.” She was an average-frame woman in middle age, wearing a plain blouse and a skirt with a half-apron tied over it.

  “Hi.” I stepped inside and marveled at the entry to the mansion.

  This place was huge. The entry could probably hold my entire apartment and then some. With the slate flooring and bare, gleaming white walls, it was quite cold, though. The only redeeming feature in my eyes was the atrium in the center. Some species of dwarf tree grew in the center of a square of dirt, a skylight above it enabling it to live.

  Maria walked around the tree and paused in front of a massive central staircase. “Mr. Lindsey’s wing is to the left up there. Guest quarters are on the right.”

  “He uses an entire wing?”

  “Nah, but the master suite is at the end.” She turned right and pushed open a door. It was painted black. We walked down a short hall lined with cabinets and found the kitchen. “This is my domain,” she said. “You need me, look here first.”

  “Okay. Do you live here, too?”

  “During the week, and any time I’m needed, though Mr. Lindsey is gone much of the time.”

  The kitchen would rival several in gourmet restaurants, with professional appliances and yards of counter space. Maria kept walking through another door.

  “This is the laundry, obviously, and through there is one of the garages.”

  One of? Holy cow…how many cars did a person need?

  She went back through the kitchen and out another door, this time to the formal dining room with a black table with stainless steel legs and a black chandelier with teardrop crystals hanging from its arms. The walls were papered in matte silver brocade.

  A hidden pocket door let us back into the foyer. “Is this house ever full?”

  “We’ve had a few parties over the past year. This is the living room.” She slid a door open across the entry.

  Another huge room, the furniture was grouped into smaller stations—all black leather or white upholstery. A few Mod paintings adorned the walls for pops of color and a bar stood at one end of the room. I supposed it was chic; if you liked a look that screamed don’t touch. The carpet was white, so the guests couldn’t even eat in here.

  “This way.” She led me to a hall beneath the grand stairs. “You’ll find Mr. Lindsey in one of these rooms if he’s not upstairs.”

  She opened door after door, displaying a game room outfitted like an arcade, a home theater, an informal den, and finally, the recording studio.

  “This is the one room we don’t enter unless invited, clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I remember how protective Jacob was of his work.”

  She nodded. “Well, that’s the downstairs. Not much to see upstairs.”

  “Seen one bedroom, you’ve seen ‘em all.” And that was seriously lame.

  Maria smiled politely. “Let me show you the grounds.”

  We left the back of the house through a glass door. A lattice of wood beams sheltered the patio from direct sun. Concrete floor, potted palm trees…entirely too minimalist for me.

  Behind a low wall, the yard went down three steps. We could see the rest of the property from here. A pool was in the foreground. In contrast to the house, the pool was all curves with a hot tub to one side. A barbeque stood at the other end next to a cabana with a restroom sign on the door. I looked down at the water’s edge and saw the bottom was tiled black.

  “Take the path that way to the guest house,” she said. “And around the other side is the big garage. The garden is all desert plants, so you can look at it later.” She went toward the guest house.

  “Not fond of the landscaping?”

  “I prefer flowers. Mr. Lindsey bought it all this way.”

  Now it made more sense. “No time for decorating?”

  “No need, for the right price.”

  “Ah.” I glanced at the house. The second story had a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows. The architect must have thought the view was worthy.

  Maria took a set of keys out of her pocket and unlocked the door to the cottage. “This is your new home.”

  Nice. A desk sat in the corner window spot. A sofa and modest-sized television completed the living room. The entrance to the kitchen was to the left. The refrigerator was bigger than the one that came with my apartment, the stove had four burners instead of two, and I now had both a microwave and a regular oven. A two-person breakfast table sat under another corner window.

  “The bedroom is to the back, of course. These are yours.” She dropped a set of keys on my palm.

  The full bath was between the living room and bedroom. Two storage closets were in the opposite wall. The tub looked long enough for me to stretch my legs fully if I sat in it, yay. That didn’t happen often for a five-foot-seven gal.

  I turned on the light in the bedroom. Wow, big.

  “Nice, huh? The windows up there let in nice light in the morning. Do you have a bed, Miss Lawson?”

  “Yeah, I just need to borrow a truck.”

  “Oka
y. Now, there are always leftovers in my kitchen, so if you run out of something, come over. Always enough to eat.” She walked back to the kitchen.

  “Thanks.”

  “I took the liberty of stocking some basics, but if you have preferences, make a list and I’ll shop for you.”

  “You don’t need to--”

  “You won’t have time, Miss Beth, at least not until you get used to things.”

  Her version of basics included three flavors of pasta, and milk in nonfat, lowfat, lactose-free, and soy varieties. One cupboard held ten kinds of cereal, and the freezer was stocked with homemade frozen dinners. I also had apples, oranges, and bananas by the dozen.

  Being late November, daylight would be short-lasting, so I wanted to get started on moving my belongings inside. “Do you mind if I start unpacking?”

  She shook her head. “Oh, no. Probably a good idea before Mr. Lindsey comes home. If you need me, use the intercom.” She went back to the house.

  My bed was set up by five o’clock and I’d just finished tucking in clean linens when there was a knock on my front door.

  “Beth?”

  “I’m coming.”

  Jacob stood leaning on the doorframe in a different old leather jacket and jeans with holes in the knees. He grinned at me. “You have dirt on your nose.”

  “Crap.” I rubbed it off with my sleeve. Just a little dust. “What’s up?”

  He tossed me something. A cell phone. “Your new leash.”

  “Ha, ha.”

  He came inside and shut the door. “So, that thing’s supposed to be loaded with my itinerary, accordin’ to my publicist. She said a girl like you should be able to figure it out.”

  “Girl like me? What does that mean?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Like I know. Your new computer will arrive tomorrow loaded with all that organizer shit. Wash your hands and come upstairs with me.”

  “Excuse me?” If he thought I was going to bed with him…