Weathering Jack Storm

by Lisa Gillis

  Jack, however, wasn’t through playing. With a roll, he was atop her, and his hand went from her hair to pin one of her wrists. Although she tried to flay the other away from him, he imprisoned it as well.

  “So it would be creepy if I tied you up the first night?”

  “You are not tying me up any night.”

  Her assurance only heedlessly bounced from his smug face. “We’ll see.”

  With another quick kiss, he rolled with them. She landed on top of him and discovered that any extra movements could swiftly bring on a test of the soundproof claim. Jack’s smile grew broader upon watching whatever was in her face as she made this observation. However, ignoring his body’s response he eased off and she eased away.

  “I’m going to go back to my room so I don’t have to wake up again until Tristan does. Hopefully he will sleep late.”

  From the foot of the bed, she picked up her towel grasping again her clothing dilemma.

  “I can get your luggage if you want. Or you can wear something of mine?” The last part rang hopefully as he crossed to his closet.

  Following him, she found a room almost as big as her bedroom back home. Jack pulled a tee shirt from a hanger and passed a pair of boxers from a drawer.

  As they both pulled on clothing, she asked, “What if Tristan needed us? And we were in here? With the door closed?” Banging our brains out in the soundproof room?!

  “His t.v. has a webcam type of camera. It can be pulled up on my t.v. or either of our phones.” His half smile quirked as he piled back into bed admiring the way his clothing draped on her frame. “I forgot tonight though. Left it off ‘cause you were in there with him. Then got distracted...”

  Distracted was putting it mildly.

  Recalling every second of their time tonight burned and bothered her body making sleep elusive for almost an hour. The mirror images branded her brain. His touch left her skin singed. His taste remained in her mouth and on her lips...His ringtone jarred her from a dead sleep.

  Several disoriented seconds passed before she fumbled her phone from the nightstand. By then, voicemail intercepted the rings. Without waiting to see if he left a message, she hit the send button return dialing his phone.

  “Hey Mariss.” His voice was cheery, alert, and she could hear Tristan happily gaming in the background. “You going to be ready to go shopping in an hour?”

  Deducing that he was calling from downstairs, she refrained from asking him all the motherly things she wanted to, like if Tristan had eaten breakfast. And lunch. She squinted at the clock on her phone seeing that it was noon. Lying, she assured him she would be ready in an hour.

  She would be ready, but never ready.

  The drop party was terrifying to dwell on. In college, she was a party type of person, but that urge had waned over the years, and altogether disappeared when Tristan came along. Even if she liked large social gatherings, this was different.

  Tonight, she would be arriving to a place where she was sure to feel out of place. Jack would be the only familiar face. If that were not bad enough, he was one of the guests of honor, which meant that attention would be on him and spill over to her. On the opposite end of that spectrum, there might be times when the focus was solely on him and she could be left to fend on her own.

  Rubbing her eyes, she found her luggage lined up just inside the doorway and marveled that she had slept so soundly for so long. Picking through her clothing, she randomly tossed aside most of it, envisioning it unfit for the ritzy clothing stores on Rodeo Drive.

  Narrowing the choice to a couple of shirts, she bit back a frustrated curse and let the lid fall closed. In thinking of this day, she had never given forethought to what to wear into the store.

  Tugging the zipper on the suitcase containing her jeans, skirts, and pants, she thought of the black dress slacks that were part of her work ensemble. Mentally, she began matching them with one of the nicer shirts just pulled from the folded stacks. However, once the next suitcase was open, she fell back in surprise.

  CHAPTER 7

  EVEN FROM THOUSANDS of miles away, in any fashion nightmare, Olivia saved the day. Instantly, she sent her friend a grateful text and hurriedly put herself together.

  Descending the stairs, she could not stop looking down at the pair of designer jeans and blouse. The tags were upstairs in the trashcan, and as the denim stretched with each step, she marveled that Olivia could size her so well.

  The kitchen table had cereal remains on it. One bowl with milk splashed around it, and automatically, she moved to clean it up. Even in an unfamiliar house, this routine was familiar.

  Outside the large window, the sunny day and shimmering placid water caught her eyes, and she froze at the breathtaking sight.

  Sunken, in the colorfully blended stone of the patio, was a guitar-shaped pool. The long water-filled neck extended toward the covered patio area, and a detailed effect of strings was clear beneath the placid surface.

  After sparing a few more seconds to admire the view, she crossed to the sink and ran water over the bowl. She wiped the milk from the table and then followed the Xbox noise finding Dax, not Jack, in an intense game with Tristan.

  Taking his eyes from the television for only the briefest second, Dax attentively informed her that Jack was in his music room. As a testament to Jack’s soundproofing claim, she heard nothing until she cracked open the door. Then, what was obviously some type of business call became loud and clear.

  “That was pushed back six weeks–and yes, he did know that...my son had unexpected surgery, not that it is really any of your business...” At this point, the door was open enough that Jack noticed her. Admiration, when his eyes skimmed her figure, joined the stormy emotions that clouded his face.

  Stepping over wires, he stopped before her so close that she could hear the bitching from within the phone. His spare arm took comfort in drawing her near, and she wrapped around him dropping her face to the tee shirt stretched across his chest.

  “Sharon,” he spoke into the phone again, “I need for him to return my call. I love you sweetheart, you know I do, but I need to talk to him, capish?...Yes, you CAN promise, you always get the impossible done, and I know he falls under the impossible...” Here, Jack laughed at whatever ‘Sharon’ said, and spontaneously Marissa pulled away from him, pretending to study the array of guitars.

  Though she winced at the word love and the endearment included to this voice on the phone, she knew it for what it was. Charm worked; in her line of work, she had used it many times. However, that same husky laugh that she had thought was hers alone had just rumbled into a wireless broadcast to this invisible vixen.

  “Alright, thanks sweetheart. Before tonight, please. I don’t want his hairy-eye on me all night...”

  The call ended, and he tossed his phone aside with the fury withheld from his words. After staring, for a second or two, at the table where it clattered to a landing, he seemed to shrug the mood off.

  “Sorry. Music’s not always fun.” With a wry grimace, he eyed the guitar in her sights. “Get caught up on some sleep?”

  She nodded, shooting an appreciative smile for the extra rest beyond Tristan’s awakening, but she couldn’t ignore the fatigue in his eyes.

  “What time did Tristan wake up?”

  “A couple of hours ago–” As he spoke, his phone sounded. “I’m sorry, I have to–”

  Nodding with understanding as he retrieved the phone, she crossed to the door, but he elaborately gestured for her to stop as he spoke a greeting to the caller.

  The conversation began calm, however, it was easy to sense when it became hostile on the other end. Jack was trying to maintain his cool; she had seen that look a couple of times before. With a semblance of patience, he was repeating the same explanation and reciting the same defense as in the previous call.

  In the midst of this conversation, a beep sounded, and without pausing in speech, he tilted the screen to peer at the incoming text. The doorbell peeled, and
remaining intent on what he was hearing on his wireless, he stepped over to push the door closed. Immediately, all sound ceased. The room becoming so quiet, she could almost make out the words coming through the phone speaker.

  Some sort of tension was mounting. She could feel it emanating from him, more intense with every second. A rap sounded at the door behind him; he secured the lock, never breaking his convincing argument into the phone.

  The rap incessantly sounded again, and he ignored it, instead turning on the phone speaker and positioning the keyboard to type a text as he talked.

  Five minutes had passed, and she wanted to check on Tristan, especially since someone had obviously arrived, but as if sensing her thoughts of leaving the room, Jack remained planted in the way.

  The voice coming through the phone sounded fortyish, and finally, the conversation seemed to calm as the faceless voice spoke, “Alright Loren.” A flash of irritation crossed Jack’s face. “I’m willing to concede that I somehow didn’t get the message, if you are willing to concede that you did not make sure I got it. There are no acceptable excuses in the future for what happened.”

  “Thank you. And again, I apologize.” Jack’s words sounded sincere, but she could see that they came through gritted teeth.

  “I am serious. You would do well to remember, I still own you.”

  When the ‘end call’ tone sounded, Jack muttered, “For now, asshole.”

  “Was that about Tristan’s surgery?” she asked, pondering how it all tied in to whatever major upheaval had resulted.

  “Sort of,” he answered, but his mind was onto the next problem of the day. “Listen Mariss, I’ve got some stuff that has to be finalized. Originally, I was going to ask if you wouldn’t mind Dax taking you to a few shops. But then, somehow Randi got wind of it, and she offered, in fact insisted, and well she would know where to go...” Dwindling down, he studiously observed her face, then risked, “Dax is doing great with Tristan...”

  “You want me to go shopping with your ex?!” Dropping the drumsticks she had been fiddling with, she gawked.

  “She’s not–”

  “I know! I know.” Nervously knotting her hair into a bun, she blew out a tired breath. “Not your ex–your fuck-buddy.”

  “She’s not!”

  “Anymore!”

  “Dax can take you. Damn, it was just a question. All you had to say was no.”

  “Who was at the door? It was her, wasn’t it? She’s here? Now?”

  “I didn’t think it would be a big deal. Dax can still take you—as was the original plan.”

  And leave Leanna Miranda here with Jack? Not an option.

  Aloud, she fumed, “There was a plan? Because you never told me anything. Except be ready to go by noon.”

  A sense of desolation began to settle in her soul. If she had known either ‘plan’, she would have invited Olivia to fly out for a couple of days. Liv could have shopped with her, watched Tristan tonight, and would have been moral support.

  Again, Jack defended his actions. “I knew I had to get this stuff done, that I couldn’t go with you. But I didn’t want you to worry about it.”

  “I wouldn’t have worried about it,” she fumed and kicked at a wire that tangled her toe as she tramped around the room. “I would have fixed it. I can take care of myself. I have for more than half my life!”

  Perhaps stress lingered, and possibly her words hammered at the temper he had reigned in during that phone call. A shadow stole over his expression, and he snarled, “You didn’t have to! You chose to.”

  “You are wrong. I had to when I was young. When Tristan came into the picture, yes, I chose to! It seemed more logical then fucking things up more by bringing some irresponsible metal maniac into an already messed up situation.”

  “I have been a lot of things, but rarely irresponsible!”

  “The only reason Tristan exists is because you were –”

  “Dammit, just stop! Mariss my honey, just stop...”

  Turning away, she squeezed her eyes shut. Inhaling deeply, she mentally talked herself down. She loved Jack. Jack loved her. Bringing their loving last night to the front of her thoughts, she faced him again.

  Finding his hand on the doorknob, she closed the distance and circled his wrist with her fingers. “You’re right. It’s not a big deal. Leanna will be able to help me better than Dax.” She would be damned if he thought she was some jealous shrew. “I’m just tired, and you caught me off guard.”

  “It is a big deal if you think it is.” His voice gentled, and his dark eyes searched hers.

  “If I think it is?” She laughed. That was such a male statement, right up there with ‘I’m sorry for whatever I did...’

  His brows drew together. “I mean if you don’t want to go with her, then what you are feeling is a big deal to me.”

  Okay, those words made it sound better, sweet even.

  “It’s fine, really.” Shooting a smile for good measure, she smoothed at her hair, preparing to meet this lingerina.

  CHAPTER 8

  LEANNA STOOD AS MARISSA AND JACK stepped down into the den. Marissa struggled to stop so many reactions. Annoyance, that the woman had been sitting so close to her son. Awe, that the model was just as beautiful in Jack’s house as in an airbrushed catalog.

  Ignoring Jack for the moment, Leanna beamed an engaging smile.

  “Well hello!” The voice was like licorice, not overly sugary but still deep and sweet. Holding her hands out, the beautiful woman gave Marissa a friendly once over, and after a second of surprise, Marissa allowed her fingers to be informally squeezed during the introduction. “I’m Randi and you are obviously Mariss.”

  Mariss? Is that how Jack spoke of her? Thinking back to the previous day, she tried to recall the introductions to Dax, Chris, and the plane pilots.

  The prickle of Jack’s intent gaze pulled her to the present, and she hastened to return a smile just as warm. “Marissa, actually.” Supplying the correction, she went on politely thanking the other girl for volunteering as a shopping consultant.

  Quietly, clearing his throat, Jack spoke. “Mariss, you feeling better? If you still have that headache, you could wait a couple of hours and Dax can drive. Or Randi could have some things sent over in your size...” Here, he looked at Leanna vaguely concluding, “However you girls do that?”

  “We girls go shopping,” Leanna declared. “Once Jeanette gets her measurements, then Mariss can call and have things sent over all day, every day!”

  Jack sent Marissa a searching look, and she knew he was feeling guilty about pairing her for a day out with this particular woman. He was giving her an excuse, if she wanted it, but she nodded in agreement with Leanna.

  With a last searching look, he muttered something about going upstairs for his billfold, and she couldn’t help but feel happy he was now so nervous.

  Shouldn’t he feel uneasy sending two women off together who had both experienced his penis?

  Interrupting Marissa’s humorous musings, Leanna declared, “No time to wait. I have accounts. We can settle later.”

  With another bright smile, the girl said her goodbyes. First, to Dax who crashed his virtual car while basking in her attention, then to Tristan who did not look up.

  Crossing to her tiny gamer for a good-bye kiss, Marissa ignored the voice prompting her to correct her son’s manners. Suddenly, processing what had been said, she paused in horror looking at Jack who was again texting on his phone. No way would Jack let Leanna buy her dress, even on a loan, right?

  Fortunately, his judgment was not that far lacking, and returning his phone to its clip, he shook his head. “Thanks, but Mariss may as well set up her own accounts, right? Once you get her addicted to LA shopping, there will be plenty more days like this.”

  Jack shot a humorous smile their way before exiting the room, and although she grinned back, mentally she retorted otherwise.

  There would be no more days with Leanna Miranda Gavin!

 
Several minutes later, she was belted in Leanna Miranda’s Bimmer. Gated driveways intersected the winding residential road every hundred feet or so, and the gate guarded houses were no more visible today than they had been in the dark last night upon arrival.

  “So,” Leanna broke the ice, “I am in love with Tristan! How adorable is he!”

  “Yeah, I agree. But I am, after all, his mother.” Automatically, Marissa answered, but for no particular reason, Leanna’s interest in their son irritated her.

  “Nice car,” Marissa volleyed back. She had no desire to converse with Leanna. She was simply upholding a social expectation.

  “Thanks! I wanted it in red because the one I traded in was white. But the dealer said it would take a week to order a red convertible. This one was already there. And, what’s the point of a whim buy if you don’t drive home in the whim you bought? You know?”

  “Yeah. I know.” Marissa let her smile go wide enough to crinkle her eyes, and then rolled them as she turned away to the window on her side.

  An entire afternoon of this?

  Marissa already suspected that the dress was going to cost more than she had once made in a single paycheck and had mentally prepared herself for adaptation. However, to have Leanna Miranda prattle on about the inconvenience of purchasing a BMW as an impulse buy, when Marissa had lain awake nights trying to plan how to pay medical bills was maddening.

  The sales girl, introduced as Gigi, knew Leanna Miranda on sight and fawned over her like a favored customer. When Marissa handed over ‘Jack Storms’ credit card, the young woman’s eyes lit and this exclusive bubble stretched to include her as well as Leanna.

  As Gigi began pecking away on her tablet, setting up a sales account, Miranda quickly led Marissa to an alcove in the store.

  “Thought we might want to get a look at the dresses before she begins pushing them at us. She really doesn’t have the best taste.” Leanna scooped her hair over her shoulder and went on to whisper, “I never have the heart to tell her to leave me alone though...”