Rachel timidly smiles. “I don’t care for the spotlight. I like my life simple, quiet for the most part.” I arch a brow. Is that what she thinks of me? That I want to be the center of attention?
“I actually live a fairly simple life myself. I go out but not often.”
I’m a CEO. The gossip rags tend to only target me depending on who I’m with. It does happen, but it’s rare that they follow me around without someone famous by my side.
“Going to bars in lower Manhattan with a famous baseball player probably doesn’t count as living a simple life.”
Shit. She has been keeping tabs on me longer than I thought. Eric dated my sister for a few years before he asked her to marry him. When she turned him down, he didn’t take her answer very well. He showed up at my apartment drunk off his ass then stayed with me for a while. The two of us went out partying, as Eric called it during his off-season, for a few weeks straight until his agent called him up and told him he was starting to look bad, at least in the public eye. Eric grew up loving baseball and looked up to the players as role models, and once his agent told him he was setting a bad example, he flipped a switch and returned to his old, calm self, at least publically.
“Eric was going through a rough time in his life, and I felt somewhat responsible for what happened to him. Therefore, I tagged along to ensure he wasn’t getting into any trouble.”
She grins as she uncrosses her legs, bumping mine in the process. “Sorry,” she quietly mumbles.
“You don’t need to be sorry.” I emphasized the word sorry.
“I have a lot to be sorry for, especially where you’re concerned.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.
Our eyes lock again as the same underlining tension I felt from the first moment I met Rachel takes over.
Her cell phone buzzes but she doesn’t make any attempt to check it.
“When I saw you last—”
“No, I understand,” she says, cutting me off.
“I don’t think you do. I was mad, but I’m positive at some point I would’ve come back to ask you what happened. I actually did stop by your apartment to see you one last time before I moved out here but—but you were already gone.”
Her mouth opens and closes a few times as if she’s unsure of what to say. “Nothing would have changed. I did what I did, and no matter what my reasons were, I started a relationship with you based on lies.”
The desperation in her voice has me reaching out and grabbing her hand. “I was a kid. I was pissed, and I had a lot going on in my life. But when I think back to that time, it kills me to know I left you all alone to deal with Russ and your mom’s death by yourself.”
A lone tear escapes. Rachel pulls her hand back and brushes it away as her phone buzzes again. This time, she digs it out and glances at the screen before tapping out a reply.
She gives me a bleak expression. “I need to get home.” A wave of panic I wasn’t expecting washes over me. “Already?” I glance down at my watch and see that it’s creeping on eight.
“Yeah, my—” Rachel stops herself. “I have something I need to take care of,” she adds instead of finishing her original thought.
“Can I see you again?” The impassive look she gives me accelerates my fear that this is the last time I’ll see her. A month ago, Rachel didn’t possess my every waking thought, but that’s no longer the case. For weeks I’ve counted thousands of what ifs in my head.
“Please don’t say no. I’m not sure who you’ve pictured I am these days, but I promise you I live a very simple, almost verging on boring life. My days of partying every night are long over. Promise,” I plead.
She starts chewing on her lip again. “Jet...I love pictures, but I want to be the one behind the camera, not the one in front of it. I have a life, a reputation, and I can’t afford to be plastered on the internet.”
People take pictures of me for two reasons: because of the women I’m out with or because they’re desperate and can’t find anyone else to follow around. Either way, it doesn’t happen as often as Rachel makes it sound.
“We don’t have to go out. You can come over to my place, I can come to yours, or we can meet up here again. We managed over thirty minutes, and no one appeared to bother us.”
Rachel exhales a long breath. “Okay. This weekend. I’ll call you, and we can get together. At your place, though, and I can’t promise you when I’ll be free until the weekend gets closer.”
I have to wait at least another five days to see her again, but right now that’s better than nothing, which is what I almost had.
“I’ll see you this weekend,” I firmly state as she gets up and walks to the door. Right before she leaves, she glances over her shoulder and gives me a small, almost sad smile.
I have no idea why but this woman makes my heart beat faster than anyone I’ve ever met, and suddenly I know the only person I’m fooling with my claim of closure is myself.
* * * *
RACHEL
“I want details that are slightly dirtier than you drank ice tea and talked, Rachel.” I sigh loudly, hoping to make my point.
My childhood best friend happens to be Zanie Stein. Zanie felt like a sister to me growing up, mainly because she was my only friend that never judged Russ or me for our mother’s crazy behavior. When my life in California exploded, she was the only person I knew I could count on. She welcomed me back with open arms...baggage and all.
She’s also the reason I go by Rachel Stein. I legally changed my name, therefore the paper trail is there, but I rarely use my name. When I made my first dollar selling a picture I had taken, I opened R.A. Photography, which is not a far cry from my real name, but over the years I’ve managed to keep my picture and name from circulating together. Not to mention, no one in my family, with the exception of Russ, thought I had what it took to turn my passion for taking pictures into a successful career.
“I’m serious. All we did was talk.” I pause. “He did ask to see me again.” Her eyes go wide.
“Are you going to and if so do I get to meet him?”
I laugh. “You have met him.” Zanie waves off my comment. “That’s not the same, and you know it. I was busy ensuring that Steven didn’t throw down with Robert in his office.”
In addition to being my best friend, Zanie runs the planning portion of R.A. Photography. She keeps my life easy and simple, and there is no way I could successfully run my business without her.
Steven Olsen used to live in the same apartment building that Zanie and I shared when we lived in Miami. He was a bartender at the time and shared my passion for photography. As my business grew, he stepped in and started helping me out. Over the years, he came into his own and his photos are superb. Now, when you publically spot a photo taken by R.A. Photography, it could have been either of us that actually captured it.
“Thank you for handling them. I had no idea that sending Steven in my place would piss Robert off like that.”
“He’s a New York snob who thinks he’s the best and should only work with the best. And it doesn’t help that Steven pisses him off every time they’re in the same room together.” Steven is bisexual. Officially, I have no idea what team Robert bats for, but I’ve always thought he would make a better match for Steven than Zanie.
“Back to my question. Do I get to meet him as your friend, that is?” she asks with a smirk.
“I don’t know. There are so many reasons why I should stay away from him. I still can’t understand, especially after all these years, why he would even want to see me again.”
Zanie reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Rachel, you’re a good person. Every rotten thing you’ve ever done came from a good place, and that includes the time when Jet was in your life.”
I look away, hoping to keep my tears at bay. “You need to liberate yourself from your past, especially the parts you didn’t control.” This time a tear does escape.
“I haven’t talked to Max yet, but would you be able to help me out
Saturday if he’s in a mood?” I ask, earning another smile.
“Sure. Now does he have any single friends?” she adds, purposely trying to make me laugh. Zanie hates the idea of anyone setting her up because of a few too many attempts with our friends—mainly Steven—trying to ensure she has her own happily ever after before she’s too old to have kids.
“I have no idea, but I’ll ask.” Crap. I guess I’m going to see Jet again.
* * * *
“She’ll be okay. The sedative I gave her has kicked in. She’ll probably sleep for a few hours, and then I’m hoping you’ll see her back to normal.”
My stomach turns. Normal. What’s considered a normal day to my mother would make most women shudder.
“Thank you, doctor,” Russ says.
“Call me if you need me.” With that, Doctor Berg walks out, leaving the two of us to stare down at her lifeless body lying on the bed.
“She’s getting worse,” Russ says without taking his eyes off Mom.
“I know,” I reply as tears fill my eyes.
I was desperately hoping our move to California would bring her back to the only slightly crazy mother she was a few years ago, but that doesn’t appear to be the case.
My eyes snap open, and I quickly look around my empty room for Russ. After a deep breath, my memories of the past return. I lost Russ and my mother. There are days when I hate my mom—hate what she took from me. Then I think of Russ, and I know he’d be upset with me for thinking that way. We were a team, always keeping her out of trouble until I ditched him. I left him at home to deal with her day in and day out, and the guilt still eats me alive.
Our mother came from a crappy family from the middle of nowhere. She was all too happy to take off the second she was legally allowed to. She followed her heart and her dreams of making it big one day as a famous actress in Hollywood and left everyone and everything she knew behind. Only she discovered, like many others, that getting noticed in Hollywood isn’t easy, no matter how beautiful you are.
After almost a year of struggling, she found her break, not as an actress but as a swimsuit model, and she quickly made a name for herself. There was a time when everyone wanted to be my mother, or at least say they knew her, which is how my father came into her life.
Dennis Scott came from a long line of charming assholes. Charming enough that my mother had no idea who she got herself involved with until after she was pregnant with my oldest brother, Calvin.
At that time, my mother was under the impression that she could take a maternity break, have my brother, and return to the life she had created, only that never happened.
Her once perfect body was still beautiful, but she no longer had the body of a centerfold model. The demand she once had no longer existed, leaving my mom with an infant and married to a man she could hardly stand the sight of. But she stayed, and I don’t know why. Four years after Calvin was born, she had Russell, and two years after Russ, she had me.
When I was a little kid, I didn’t notice the mental issues my mother was clearly suffering from. She was fun, outgoing, and as a child, I thought it was all the other moms who were uptight compared to my free-spirited mother.
Looking back on my childhood, all the signs were there. The constant drink in her hand, her slurred words, and most importantly...her complete lack of fear. Depending on how you viewed Charlotte Scott, she was either the most obnoxious person you’ve ever met or the most jovial. As a kid, I viewed her as the latter, but as I grew up, my perspective changed. I discovered that most mothers didn’t stomp into their child’s principal’s office in only their bathrobes or that most people find it unacceptable to wear a two-piece bathing suit to the grocery store, no matter how quickly you planned to be in and out.
As the years passed, my mother’s eccentric behavior increased to the point that both Russ and myself had moments where we were beyond embarrassed. Still, we loved her with all our heart.
Calvin inherited my father’s heartless soul, while both Russ and myself inherited my mother’s appreciation for life, only on a much calmer level. Growing up in the Scott house, there was always a battle to be fought. I didn’t always hate Calvin like I did my father or the way I do now, but he always looked down on our mom, and I never understood that. Then again, as I got slightly older, I learned I’ll never understand Calvin or the horrible things he does.
I glance over at my clock and see I have less than an hour until I need to get up, and I know after my dream—or maybe I should say nightmare—I won’t be able to fall back asleep. Therefore, I get out of bed and get a start on my day.
RACHEL
I ARRIVE AT THE ADDRESS Jet gave me—once again late—and I’m blown away. There’s not a place in the city that won’t break most people’s bank account in order to make rent, but this building makes my nice, two-bedroom apartment look like a roach motel.
I step inside, and a doorman greets me. “Good afternoon,” he says, grinning from ear to ear.
“Hello. I’m here to see Jet McKenzie.”
His smile widens, and I didn’t think that was possible. “Yes, Mr. McKenzie told me he was expecting a guest.” He walks over to the elevator and pushes a button. When the doors open, he motions with his hand for me to enter, which I do. He pushes the penthouse button then steps back out. “Have a good day.” He nods his head as the doors quickly close.
When they open again, I see Jet standing outside his apartment, holding his hand out for me.
The surprised look on my face must give me away. “I was told you were on your way up,” he answers my unspoken question. Jet opens his door for me, and I falter when I step inside. His home looks like something off a movie set. Everything looks perfect, almost staged. I often take pictures for magazines that have a similar feel.
Not that I needed the confirmation, but when I walk up to a set of large windows, I look out at an amazing view of Central Park, only confirming he probably spends more money on this place each month then I’ll make in my entire life.
“Wow. Your place is—”
“This was my dad’s.” He cuts me off before I could finish my statement.
“Oh.” I stop taking in the apartment, and I start noticing Jet. His dark brown hair looks like he’s run his fingers through it a million times already. His face has yesterday’s stubble shadowing his jaw and neck, and his dark eyes are—well, right now they are eating me up, sending a chill throughout my body. He’s wearing a casual black t-shirt, dark jeans with nothing on his sexy feet. Shit. When did I start thinking feet are sexy?
“This place is nice.” I look away, breaking our eye contact. I can’t believe his feet are turning me on. Damn, it’s been too long since I’ve had sex.
“Thanks, it’s nice, but it’s too big and fancy for my preference, but my nephew loved coming here and spending time with my dad, so I kept it. A lot of things changed in his life in a blink of an eye, and I didn’t want the place he stays while he’s visiting to be another one.”
My heart melts. “That’s amazing. Children strive for consistency in their lives. You must be a great uncle,” I counter.
My comment has Jet’s face softening. “I hope so. He didn’t have his dad in his life for his first eleven years. I tried to help fill that void, but I’ve never been good at disciplining him.” The smile he has when he talks about his nephew makes my heart feel heavy.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I nod my head yes, and Jet lists everything under the sun I could possibly want, including alcohol.
“Water is fine, thanks.” He wanders off and returns with a bottle. We sit down and immediately I can feel his greedy eyes taking me in, heating me in a way I haven’t felt in...well, years, but it’s his question that catches me off guard.
“If you knew I was living here in the city, then why didn’t you come see me?”
I blink a few times, forcing my brain to catch up with his comment. “Why in the world would I purposely seek you out? I’m still a little baffled abo
ut why you’re being nice to me now.”
Jet’s eyes go from soft to hard. “I was mad that day. No, I was pissed. I thought I had ruined Kenner’s launch and that my dad and boss were going to kill me. I had every right to be angry with you,” he practically shouts.
“That’s exactly my point, Jet. You had every right to hate me, you still do, and that’s why I’m confused about why you want to see me now or...ever.”
Jet exhales a long sigh, never once taking his eyes off of me. “I was mad—no, furious—that day, but once I cooled off and thought about the situation, I knew in my heart that everything we shared wasn’t a complete lie. I...” He trails off on a long pause before finally looking back up into my eyes. “I fell in love with you, too. In your letter, you said you’d love me until you were old and gray, but I don’t see any gray in your hair so...so I was hoping to see if we can get to know each other again and—”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I interrupt.
Jet slowly closes his eyes. When he reopens them, his feet start nervously bouncing. “Why not, because I have to tell you, you’re the only woman I’ve ever cared about, romantically, anyway. In fourteen years, I haven’t met one woman that has made me want more, but when I heard your voice...” He trails off again on a frustrated groan while he takes his hands and harshly runs them through his hair.
“I lied to you.” My voice cracks, giving away my real emotions.
“Not about everything, not about the things that mattered, and once I realized that, you were already gone, and I never had the chance to tell you it was okay. That maybe...we could make things okay.” My eyes start to water. He doesn’t even know why I lied, but he claims he’s already forgiven me? How is that possible?
“When a good person does the wrong thing, you forgive them. I didn’t even realize it at the time, but I forgave you a long time ago, but I never had the chance to tell you that. You’ve always been an open book to me, and now that you’re here, in my home, I know I don’t want to close the book. Instead, I want to turn the page.”
Damaged Love Page 13