Her Turn

by Allison Jones

  “You’re a buzzkill, boss,” Owen says, shaking his head in

  disappointment.

  “I’ll be your wingman another time.” I hold up my fist to bump his, and he leaves me hanging.

  “You guys are lame.” Addie laughs at him. Her phone pings. I see that it’s from Grayson, and my mood shifts from happiness to something darker.

  Addie

  The whole outing with my father is odd, but I do enjoy Jameson calling him Dick. I can feel my father’s discomfort; he’s annoyed with Jameson’s presence. Owen doesn’t let the heaviness of our father’s attitude bother him. Instead, he dazzles us with historical facts, and afterward, he can’t wait to get a lobster roll. But seriously, ten minutes into our outing and my father bails. Fucking bails? Part of me is relieved while the other part is completely outraged that he would not even put in the effort. And Owen, well, he is completely deflated. This amazing human who loves unconditionally is emotionally wounded, and that gives me murderous thoughts. I’m hoping Jameson finds out something we can use. The whole thing with my father is a ruse. If I thought I could get rid of him by paying him off, I would. But I know that he would just come back for more. He is a pathetic excuse for a father.

  Owen is quiet after Dick leaves. He goes silent, probably processing what just happened. I quickly redirect him back to the history at hand, and within moments, he is throwing out historical facts and watching all of the tourists, but particularly the “hot chicks.” I swear, if I hear “hubba-hubba” one more time, I might hurl. I notice that Jameson keeps his distance, surveying the area. While we’re eating, he excuses himself to take a phone call. I watch him walk away. Okay, I’m watching his ass because it’s a fine specimen. I wonder if he’s packing. Not his “package,” but a gun. Get your mind out of the gutter.

  My phone pings and I look down. It’s a text message from Grayson inviting me to meet him for drinks. It just so happens that he’s staying at the same hotel, so we agree to meet in the bar at seven. Honestly, while I am excited that he’s interested, I wish it were Jameson. I decide that I need some professional help in the what-to-wear department since left to my own devices, I would pick yoga pants and a T-shirt. Every. Single. Time. We head back to the hotel, and once I arrive in my room, I decide to call George and devise a game plan.

  “Hey, girl! What are you up to?” His enthusiasm seeps through the phone. He makes me smile every time I talk to him.

  “Just finished hanging with Owen and Jameson.” I explain the whole ordeal with Dick and my text from Grayson.

  “Guurrlll! You have more drama than that book you wrote! I am not a violent person, but this whole thing with your dad makes me want to go postal. What kind of person hurts a sweet human like Owen?”

  “A selfish prick who’s only interested in a payday.”

  “Well, he’s certainly missing out. Owen is fabulous and he has great fashion sense… unlike someone we know.” He laughs.

  “Hey, I am getting better. Sort of. It is just so foreign to me that people care about what I’m wearing or how I look.”

  “Don’t worry. You have me now, and you will look amazing tonight. We are going to glam you up, sista! I’ll meet you in your room at about six. Grayson will be so hot for you that we’ll need some firemen to put out the flames! Mainly we just need firemen for me.” He laughs at his own joke.

  “I knew I could count on you to make it about yourself.” I giggle.

  “Honey, I need to get laid. But since that isn’t happening, getting you laid is the next best thing. Plus, you can make Jameson jealous with a capital J.”

  “I do need a little action, but I don’t do one-night stands. Besides, Jameson won’t be jealous. He hardly notices me.” I say this as though I’m trying to convince myself. Jameson is not a commitment guy, and I’m merely his client. I know all of this, and yet I still need to make myself believe it.

  “Oh, honey! The way that man looks at you makes me want to take a cold shower. His eyes smolder, Addie. He’s hot for you. Lordy, I need to fan myself just thinking about it.”

  Sure, I would like to believe that he feels something more intimate than a professional relationship, but every time we get close, he takes ten steps backward.

  “Let’s just concentrate on the Grayson portion of our program, shall we?” I ask. “By the way, what have you been doing to entertain

  yourself?”

  “What haven’t I been doing? This city is full of willing and able men, but I’m a little picky. I’ve been enjoying meeting some very eligible men, but that’s as far as I let it go.”

  “So, you are a romantic. No wonder we’re friends. You want it to mean something, don’t you?”

  “I talk a big game, but honestly, I’ve been hurt in the past. As much as I’d like to be casual, I can’t. So I’m just enjoying flirting and getting to know people while I’m here.”

  “I’m just glad you aren’t bored. I’ve felt bad that we haven’t been able to do more together outside of ‘glamming’ me. I love having you as a friend.”

  “Oh Addie, I love our friendship, too. Now stop getting all mushy. I’ll be by later to make you even more fab than you already are. Don’t forget to prune the promised land.” He cackles.

  I am stunned into silence. Before I can respond, he ends the call. Maybe George is right. Maybe I just need to get laid.

  Jameson and Owen are deep in conversation about Owen needing a wingman to find some hot chicks when I return. The thought of another woman with Jameson makes me cringe. I have no claim. Sure, he kissed me until my panties almost melted off. and he seemingly knows when I need to be comforted, but he’s my publicist. He would never go for a pleasantly plump forty-something woman who attracts drama like flies to shit. Nope, I need to redirect my attention to Grayson. Grayson’s hot. He seems to think I am hot. I think my lady parts just rolled their eyes. Honestly, my lady parts aren’t sure what to do. They have been doing the Rip Van Winkle for so long; maybe they’re simply adjusting to the new hype.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but I have plans tonight, so you all are on your own. George is meeting me at six to help me figure out what I’m going to wear.” I don’t make eye contact with Jameson, but I can feel the air thicken with tension.

  “Where are you going? I thought we would go out to one of the more upscale restaurants since it’s our last night in Boston. Owen is craving a steak.” I know that he’s eyeing me.

  “Jameson, if Addie has plans, we can troll for chicks. She is a clock blocker anyway.” Owen is overly excited by the thought of me leaving them to their own devices. Jameson laughs.

  “It’s cock-blocker, Owen, and we still haven’t heard what Addie has planned. We’re listening.” He smirks. Both stare at me expectantly.

  “Well, Grayson asked me for drinks in the hotel bar. It looks like he’s staying in the same hotel. Not a big deal. Just two people having drinks. Reconnecting after many years.” It sounds like I’m trying to convince myself. Why am I even giving an explanation? I’m a grown woman capable of making decisions for herself.

  “Oh, well, then maybe we’ll just stay in and have dinner in the hotel restaurant. You know, the one near the bar.” He’s enjoying this way too much.

  “You don’t need to babysit me. I’m fully capable of having a drink with a good-looking man all by myself.” I’m pissed, and he’s grinning. It makes him look even hotter, which makes me more annoyed.

  “Jameson, I think you are a clock blocker.” Owen laughs at his own joke, and Jameson shakes his head.

  Jameson’s phone rings, and he makes his way into his room to take it in private. Before he shuts the door, I try to make out the conversation. He is so secretive. I feel like he’s keeping pertinent information from me. Thank God we’re heading back to New York soon. Maybe I can get back to some sort of normalcy.

  Who am I kidding? My life is probably never going to
be normal

  again.

  I head for my room. When George arrives, he is practically bouncing off the walls. I think he’s more excited about this date than I am. I haven’t been on one in years. My focus has been writing… and Owen.

  George selects a blue silk wrap dress that molds to my body. I am not a size two. There is a two in my size, but it has one in front of it. Today’s society labels me overweight. But looking at myself in the mirror, I smile. I feel good in my own skin. Finally. There is a lot rooted in my foundation that led me to believe I wasn’t good enough. I could blame my mother for her lack of attention and her disappointment in my appearance. Or perhaps daddy dearest, who abandoned his family. There are a litany of factors, but at this moment, I feel hopeful that I am shedding a bit of the negative baggage I’ve been carrying.

  “Girl, you look hot! I knew that dress would rock on your body. So, are you excited? Did you prep all the important areas?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

  “We aren’t going to have sex, George. Just drinks. And yes, I did prep those areas, but for me, not a man.” I’m lying, and George seems to know it; he snickers. If I could get away with it, I would let all of those “areas” get overgrown like a field of weeds. It’s such bullshit that women are expected to be “manicured” like a fucking lawn.

  “I get it, but girl, you just never know. Maybe he’ll be the perfect man! So I hope you dusted off the cobwebs. Nobody wants a dusty vajayjay.” He laughs at his own joke while I roll my eyes. I swear, my eyeballs get more exercise than the rest of my body. I pop a chocolate in my mouth and strut out of my room. I strut because I want to show Jameson what he’s missing. What? You know you would do it too.

  I lock eyes with Jameson, and I notice as he scans my body. I shiver from his stare. Heading to the door, I purposely sway my hips, giving him an excellent view of my ass, and then I stumble. Fortunately, I’m close enough to the door that I recover by grabbing the handle. I turn and say, “Bye, guys. Don’t wait up.” Jameson’s eyes grow dark, George grins, and Owen waves his hand to dismiss me.

  Addie

  I approach the bar and scan the seats, looking for Grayson. I spot him before he sees me, giving me a moment to appreciate the view. His white button-down is fitted, enhancing his muscular frame. His jet-black hair begs to be touched. It’s thick, with a slight wave to it.

  He turns toward me, and his face lights up. I walk toward the cozy table, which is illuminated by a flickering candle. He gets up to greet me with a warm embrace. I linger a bit, closing my eyes and inhaling his scent. He smells so good, but not like Jameson. That man has a scent all his own. Damn it. I need to stop making comparisons. I remind my lady parts that we are here to get to know Grayson. They sigh and reluctantly agree to have an open mind. Now that we’re on the same page, I turn my attention to the man of the hour.

  “I am so glad you were free tonight. I hope I’m not being too forward, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you after I saw you last night.” He smiles at me shyly. So. Freaking. Adorable. He seems nervous. The most popular guy in high school is nervous about a date with me! I’m seriously swooning.

  “That’s so sweet. I’m glad I was free, too. I’ll be honest. I haven’t done this in a long time.” Why am I so unfiltered? Why do I always divulge too much information too soon? It makes me sound like a pathetic loser. Ugh.

  “Well, I’m glad you decided to spend time with me.” Our eyes meet. I smile at him. Oh my, I think he is going to kiss me. I’m torn between panic and excitement.

  And just like that, we’re interrupted by the waitress asking for our order. I ask for a glass of Chardonnay, while Grayson requests a scotch on the rocks. The moment is gone.

  “Again, congratulations on your book. It’s quite an accomplishment.”

  “Thank you. It’s all so new—I’m still adjusting to all of the changes happening in my life. It’s very surreal.”

  “You seem to be adjusting okay.” It’s cute that he thinks that.

  “It has been quite a challenge.” I fill him in on my father’s reappearance and my struggles trying to navigate the media, and then I quickly redirect the conversation. No one wants to get too heavy on a first date. I certainly don’t want him to run screaming. I ask about his work, hobbies, and the usual topics that typical people engage on a date. At least, I think those are normal topics. Either way, the conversation never lulls. It’s comfortable.

  “Ever been married?” he asks me. God, his dimples are precious.

  “No. You?”

  “Unfortunately, with work and everything, I haven’t had the time. The women I meet seem so superficial, and I just want to find someone who wants to know me for me, not for my bank account.” He inches closer to me.

  “Understandable. Between writing and taking care of my brother, Owen, there hasn’t been much time for me either.” He touches my hand. It’s warm and inviting. My eyes meet his, and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck tingle. Our waitress arrives with our drinks, and he releases my hand. I glance over to the bar, and my eyes meet Jameson’s. He looks like he would like to explode, but instead, he nurses his drink while Owen sits beside him, trying to charm the waitress. Christ. On. A. Cracker. I turn my attention back to Grayson and smile, but now my effort to not compare the two is ruined and quickly starts sucking all of the fun out of this date.

  Grayson follows my line of sight and settles on my brother. “Hey, isn’t that Owen? We can have him join us if you like. I would love to get to know him.” Serious points for that invitation.

  “No, it’s fine. He’s hanging out with my publicist, and they’re on the prowl for chicks. Owen would be annoyed if we interrupted his evening.” I laugh because it’s true. He would be extremely snarky.

  “Maybe some other time. Like when we get back to New York.”

  “That would be nice. We would love that.” I grin at him.

  We continue to chat. He asks me more about Owen, which endears him to me even more, and we reminisce about high school, although his experience was much different than mine. I was the quiet bookworm while he was the star of the school.

  Time goes by quickly, and suddenly the bar is closing. I notice that Jameson and Owen are gone, and I’m aware of my disappointment. Grayson walks me to my suite, holding my hand. Butterflies flutter in my stomach. I lick my lips in the hope that he’ll kiss me. He smiles. I smile. His lips are inches from mine. He leans in slowly, tantalizingly, until our lips finally meet. Our tongues tangle. He nips my lower lip. It’s intense. Hot. For the love of Jesus, it is amazing, but instead of Grayson’s face, my closed eyes picture Jameson. What. The. Actual. Fuck. He is ruining everything with his obsessive presence in my mind. Our lips disconnect, and we’re both short of breath.

  He smiles. “Thanks again for meeting me tonight. I’ll call you when I get back to New York.” His bourbon-colored eyes are hopeful.

  “I look forward to it.” I’m still trying to process kissing Grayson and picturing Jameson’s annoyingly handsome face. Was the kiss hot because of Grayson or the thought of Jameson? Shit. Color me conflicted.

  Jameson

  I got the background check on Grayson. It was clean—squeaky clean. I mean, seriously, his list of volunteer stints is beyond impressive. He’s perfect for her. That should make me feel good, but instead, it makes me angry. Never has a woman invaded me like Addie. When she walked out of the suite in that dress clinging to her delectable curves, I wanted to haul her towards me and convince her not to go. I keep reminding myself that she’s just a client, but then I remember the kiss we shared. It was unforgettable.

  “Earth to Jameson! Come on. Let’s go pick up some hot chicks.” Owen grins at me, dressed in a pair of khakis and a polo. The smell of AXE clings to the air.

  “Buddy, how much AXE did you spray?” I cough, and Owen laughs.

  “A lot. The ladies love it. Come on. Just follow my lead.�
� He swaggers to the door. I wish I lived my life like Owen. He has adopted the mantra of total freedom. No limitations. Which is ironic, since society wants to cage him into a stereotype.

  “Let’s just go down to the lobby bar, and then we can get dinner at the hotel restaurant.”

  “Ugh. Are we stalking my sister? Are you going to be a clock blocker?” He narrows his eyes.

  “It’s cock-blocker, and no, I just thought it would be nice to have a drink first…to celebrate our last night here.” It’s not convincing.

  “Uh-huh.” Owen shakes his head. Even he knows the truth. Why can’t I admit it to myself?

  When we get to the bar, I see the douchebag, aka Grayson, practically sitting on Addie’s lap. Seriously, he needs some lessons on honoring people’s personal space. I order a scotch neat and try to peel my eyes away from them. Meanwhile, Owen is working his magic on the ladies. They surround him as he drinks his virgin daiquiri. I look over again to check out the “happy” couple. Yes, I am using air quotes because he isn’t good enough for her…even though his background check suggests otherwise. I keep telling myself I’m doing this to make sure Addie is alright. Safe. That Grayson is being good to her. When our eyes meet, I know that I’m drowning in my own lies.

  “Are you going to stare at them all night? It’s creepy. I told you to follow my lead. Look at all the hot chicks hanging with us.” He grins at me. “You need to loosen up. The ladies like someone relaxed. You always look mad. You don’t need to frown all of the time.” Owen has more game than Harrison, and that’s saying a lot.

  Relaxed is something I am not. I sip my scotch and hope that the amber liquor seeps into my body fast enough to give me some relief. Once we get back to New York tomorrow, I’m meeting with Grady to get the latest information on Addie’s father. I am intrigued. He sent me a text before Addie left for her date and said that he needed to meet me in person. I nurse my drink, occasionally peering over at the cozy couple. She looks happy. Isn’t that what I want for her? God, I am such an asshole. I finish my drink and settle our bill. Owen is less than thrilled about leaving, even just to move to the restaurant area a few feet away, but with the promise of a steak, he complies. Food is an excellent bribe with him.