Weathering Jack Storm

by Lisa Gillis

  Jack pulled her into the curve of his arm, declaring he could finally make the introductions, and Candace gave him a hard time saying he was already too late.

  “You do look stunning,” Candace declared. “You two will have a wonderful time. I know it is impossible not to worry about the little guy. Jack told me he has never had a babysitter before.”

  “That’s true,” Marissa replied. “My best friend, his godmother, is like a second mother, so she doesn’t count. And,” she stopped before saying Jack.

  Jack was his father. However, even before Tristan knew that, Jack was the one exception. Selfishly, she had left her son with someone he liked, but barely knew, in the interest of playing her head games with Jack by going out with Joel.

  “Here is my cellphone number, call me anytime tonight and I will give you a full report, put him on the phone, whatever.” With a reassuring smile, Candace passed over the business card, and as Marissa took in the name of a popular lingerie line, the older woman went on. “My daughter, Robin, and Jack’s sister, Meg, were going to bring their kids by for a bit. But that was before they realized you guys were not leaving until nine. Maybe Tristan can meet his cousins in a few days.”

  “Sure. It is already an adjustment. These hours. I may not stay awake all night!” Then, in all seriousness, she said, “Thank you. For doing this. And for coming by early like this.”

  “Not a problem dear.” Candace assured. “I never wanted to leave any of mine until I knew they were comfortable with who was keeping them, and I was comfortable with who was keeping them.” Discrete eyes dropped from Marissa’s face to the pajama attire.

  “I’m going to finish dressing...”

  “Oh, I thought that’s what you kids were wearing these days!” With a wink, Jack’s aunt turned to the den.

  In Jack’s room, music still thumped from the tower speaker. She recognized the end of the current song as one from the album that was about to drop.

  Several minutes later, she was standing in front of the full-length mirror absorbing the full effect of her reflection. The dress, the gleaming earrings, and the shoes that were a mutant between ankle boots and glam heels.

  ‘Clearly from the first kiss I knew; how to hold on, I had no clue.’

  In a contrast to his other songs, the song now playing had easily audible verses layered with the deep growls and screamo verses.

  ‘You came in, you came again and again, you blew, you blew my mind; I thought I owned my own time.’

  The stockings on her legs, called tattoo hose because of the wild or subtle designs, in this case a swirl of musical notes climbing the right leg, were silkier to the touch than any she had ever worn. Beneath the dress, elastic garters secretly kept them from slipping down.

  ‘I loved you, I fucked you; I loved you, you fucked me.’

  It wasn’t the raunchy lyrics that halted her look at the mirror, chilled her veins, and froze her feet to the floor. By now, she was accustomed to the X-rated assault on the ears to a crunchy drumbeat, a thunking bass, and screaming guitars.

  The first few verses with their brilliant use of synonyms were poignant, sad, and deep. Yet, that last verse.

  It was twisted, and twisted.

  Was it about her?

  He had already told her she had been his muse for a few songs.

  Was this one of them?

  Love?

  Had he loved her that far back? That didn’t fit in with her definition of love.

  One thing she did know was that she had felt bonded closer to him after only an hour than any man she had ever thought she loved after many months.

  Love at first fuck? Maybe it was possible to see love when staring into someone’s soul for an hour. Or, maybe it was possible to take the way that person handled a casual hook up and imagine who they were as a whole enough to love them.

  How foolish it would be to think one couldn’t fall in love in an hour if she had felt love in a week or less.

  ‘...my soulmate, my soulhate, leave me as you left me...’

  Over the last week, she had listened but somehow never made it to this song–a fact he would have known when she had joked about needing a lyrics sheet. Now, she felt bad for not noticing enough to talk to him about this song, or any of his songs.

  In particular, she felt like an abhorrent fiancée for not caring enough to listen, from beginning through end, to an album that would be dropped tomorrow.

  The door swung open, and she swung around.

  Guilty. Remorseful. Ready to throw herself in his arms. Yet, the loving adoration in the dark depths of his eyes stopped her.

  Possibly, because of her self-revelation, she was suddenly as emotional as if this were her wedding day.

  “You so rock that dress Mariss.”

  CHAPTER 14

  THE SARDONIC SPARK in Jack’s eyes and the shared joke between them, inched the intimacy of the moment up several degrees.

  “Damn, you’re beautiful...” The thump of her heart was a blissful pain. She would never grow tired of his sweet words. His eyes were all over her as he advanced. “How attached are you to those earrings?”

  Her smile broadened. Maybe she did know him better in a week, than Randi did after years.

  “I was kind of forced into them...” Stopping herself, she joked, “Why? You want to wear them?”

  “Maybe.” He shot that smirky smile. Heaven help her, she couldn’t kiss him twenty-four seven...but she wanted to, again...

  Jack made the decision leaning down enough to plant a quick one on her lips before moving away. He returned with a gift wrapped box.

  Wanting to savor the moment, she back stepped to the bed and sank to the mattress while pulling at the elaborate ribbon. Beneath the flip-up lid, displayed on a bed of black velvet, the diamonds were ice. Tilting the box caused them to glitter and refract the light in brilliant shimmers.

  She hadn’t been around real jewelry enough to even guess at the carets of each earring stone. The two band bracelets contained smaller diamonds mixed with beautiful black stones, and she wondered if there was such a thing as a black diamond. A full diamond tennis bracelet also rested in the box.

  Incredulously, she touched each earring and ran her finger down each bracelet.

  “They come out of the box,” Jack quietly joked, and that was all it took for the tears to break free jeopardizing Thomas’ makeup. Dropping to sit beside her, he viewed the jewelry but left them for her to extract. “Three bracelets, because we are a family of three. If you like them, and want another, well, you know what to do...”

  The tease came a few hard heartbeats before the kiss, and overwhelmed, she gave up the tongue match dropping her forehead to his neck with no care of her hair or makeup.

  “You always make me cry.”

  “Always? Is that good or bad?”

  “Good. Bad. Ultimately good.” A sniff punctuated the unmediated admission. She had cried more in the last week over things Jack did, things Jack didn’t do, good and bad, than she had cried in her lifetime.

  “I’m not sure how to take that answer.” His words were soft and sweet, his breath warm and light against her cheek.

  “It’s a good answer,” she assured.

  When she used her fingertips to dab at her tears, he shucked his tee shirt off and used a corner to help her.

  “We are ultimately good, Mariss.”

  “I know.”

  “Remember that even when I do stupid stuff. Okay? Remember it even when things are just crazy.”

  “I will,” she promised. His words brought front and foremost their conversation earlier in the bathroom downstairs, and the drop party. With a last pat at a damp eye, she centered her gaze on his face. “I like this new album. I meant to tell you before. And I meant to listen to it all the way through. Before now.”

  His lips brushed at her hairline. “It’s okay. I know you don’t like hard metal–”

  “I like your metal,” she interrupted, and with that confession, her ne
rves calmed. To busy herself, she began to disengage an earring from its velvet resting place.

  His forehead rested against the side of her head. “Need some help?” Goosebumps pricked her skin when his lips moved to her ear, his tongue teasing the sensitive parts.

  Closing her eyes, she let a murmur escape as this attention continued–maybe more intent than ever before. Seriously, never had he lingered so long on her ear... With a brush of his head against the side of hers, he pulled slightly back reaching for her wrist.

  Turning it so that the palm was face up, she felt a shudder of expectation when his head dropped to it. But, instead of teasing with his tongue, he spit the ruby earring into her hand.

  Her squeal was part surprised, part revolted, and at least half impressed. “Weirdo!” Her repulsed reproach held a tremor of laughter, and he curved a crooked grin.

  “Want me to do the other?” he offered.

  “No!” Pushing away, she promptly put distance between them and another screech escaped when he playfully tried to grasp her arm.

  “Yes you do!”

  “How many earrings have you stolen from unsuspecting women?!” Taking her gift, she stalked to the vanity in the bathroom.

  Jack left the bed and began to change out what he was wearing. Shorts, for ripped jeans and a studded belt...

  Often the jewelry in his ears didn’t match, and she taunted through the doorway, “Is that how you build up your collection of earrings?”

  He pulled on a long-sleeved Jackal tee shirt and pushed the sleeves up to his elbows.

  “You act like it’s easy.” With an affronted air, he lifted his dark brows before turning away again. Opening the door of a tall jewelry caddy, he plucked from the necklaces that dangled. “You have no idea how long it took to find a girl wearing those–”

  “Do not even dare to think about saying my earrings.” With that warning, she dropped the cotton ball used to clean her ears and the new jewelry and sent a threatening frown through the arched doorway.

  Ducking his head into the necklace strands as he walked, he came up behind her.

  “I ordered those the day before I left for your house.” Her heart pumped harder, but she managed to thread the first into her lobe and clasp the safety. There would be no kissing these out...“Spent half the day at the kitchen bar, then the pool, then the couch, looking for just the right ones.” The next one went in easier now that she was more adept with the design, and she enjoyed the effect in the mirror almost as much as she enjoyed his voice. “Then the bracelets...What screamed Mariss?”

  “These definitely scream Mariss,” she went along caught up in the story dialogue and picked up the tennis bracelet. It bent like a snake in her hand, and the flashy backside oddly begged for attention.

  The inscription had to be done, letter by letter, one on the back of each stone’s setting, and it was antiqued to make it clear.

  ‘M all my heart’.

  On the verge of a great discovery, she picked the next one up, a band with the diamonds set into it. The back read:

  ‘Marissa, love of my life’.

  Her eyes flew to his, and she almost drowned in the emotion swimming in the dark depths. The next band was her favorite.

  ‘Marissa, every song in my soul’.

  “I’m going to cry again...”

  CHAPTER 15

  Jack descended the stairs ahead of her, and if she had preconceived any idea of what he was up to, she would have darted back up to the safety of the bathroom.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, sons and dogs, I present Miss, for now, Marissa, don’t get used to the name, Duplei!”

  The empty hallway quickly filled. First came Tristan, with Rusty at his ankles. Next, Candace and Marc playfully shoved as they raced.

  “What name should we not get used to, Jack?” his aunt goaded while bringing her phone before her face.

  “Aunt Candi, there will be enough pictures of tonight...”

  “I promised your mother.”

  Candace continued her video, and for the first time, Marissa wondered why Jack’s parents had not come to the drop party, or had not at least flown in for the weekend of such an important event.

  The video continued despite the clowning as they got last-minute things together. When Candace switched to camera mode, they dutifully posed for a couple of still shots on the staircase and the panther sofa.

  After snapping several, Candace instructed, “Tristan why don’t you get in the picture with your mom and dad.”

  Tristan, in his day old pajamas, climbed in between them thrilled to be on the panther couch. Never one for patience with pictures, the youngster scampered back to the den area, his crutch barely hitting the floor, and Candace snapped a couple more.

  “Jack, you’ve seen the family pictures. You know the tradition,” his uncle inserted as his aunt had them posing in front of the door. Jack was behind her with his hands resting on her waist.

  “Don’t do it Jack...” his aunt admonished as she centered her frame.

  “Oh paybacks,” Jack sounded pleased. “I was blinded growing up by Mom and Dad’s wedding pics–”

  “Don’t...” Candace actually lowered the camera as she repeated the warning.

  “We gotta go Aunt Candi. Take the pic if you’re going to.” A smile actually rang out in his words. Candace didn’t seem convinced, but she again put her phone’s lens to her eye.

  Before Marissa could more than briefly wonder what was going on, the picture was snapped with Jack’s arms around her shoulders— and his hands down the front of her dress!

  The echo in the hall made her jump although she was responsible.

  “Damn Mariss,” Jack complained carefully rubbing his fingers along his jaw.

  Her fingers tingled from the contact, and she tried to remember if ever in her life she had hit anyone other than her sibling during childhood. Twice now, she had slapped Jack, and she was not proud. Spousal hitting, from either spouse, or in this case, almost spouses, was shameful.

  Jack’s aunt and uncle silently slunk from the hallway, their shocked expressions frozen on their faces. Thankfully, Tristan was nowhere in sight so the scene had not been witnessed by their son.

  “I’m sorry!” The moment they were alone, the apology blurted from her lips. However, the words had not come from her heart, and that surprised her. More than anything, she was angry and embarrassed. Her breasts buzzed with awareness, her fingers continued to sting, and her voice was indignant. “Why the hell did you do that?!”

  “Let’s get going.” With that mutter, Jack pulled open the double door to the left of the one leading to the hallway bathroom and she saw that it was a closet.

  “I’ve, uh, just got to say good-bye to Tristan.” Leaving him pulling on a leather jacket, she moved toward the den wishing she didn’t have to face Candace and Marc. Before she reached that destination at the end of the hall, Jack fell into step beside her. They stopped behind the couch where Tristan was reading his new books, and she flashed a totally humiliated glance at his relatives.

  “Hey buddy.” Ruffling the tiny boy’s hair, Jack explained, “Dad and Momma are going to a party–”

  “Not a party,” she interjected when Tristan’s eyes lit with too much interest. Not yet realizing his mistake and most probably because he was still aggravated, Jack sent a mild glare her way. Withering some beneath that look, she hastily explained to their son, “No cake or presents. Just a grown up thing where we walk around and talk about how our kids stayed in their pajamas all day!” At this point, Tristan howled with laughter when she tickled him, and she swung her gaze to Candace. “I can give him a bath in the morning.”

  “Not necessary,” Jack teased and swung their son into his arms. “I can throw him in the pool in the morning!”

  Tristan laughed in delight at the mention of swimming and then quickly sobered. “Don’t throw me in, Daddy. I can’t swim.”

  Jack’s smile straightened and he promised, “I won’t. But I can ass
ure you, swimming is easy, so easy that you will be swimming like a shark by the end of the day!”

  Marissa watched father and son use their hands as makeshift fins while Candace verified with a few concerned questions such as any allergies and typical bedtime routine.

  Jack sat Tristan back on the sofa, and as the laughing between them dwindled, he inquired, “So can you keep Rusty company? If he gets lonely?”

  “By myself?” Tristan’s eyes uncertainly rose to hers, and she easily read the insecurity.

  “Of course not!” Marissa assured and knelt to pull him close.

  Jack added his own reassurance. “Aunt Candi will be here and Uncle Marc loves games. Get him to show you the surfing one, huh?”

  “When will you be home Momma?” Ignoring Jack, Tristan locked gazes with her, and her heart swelled with empathy. She knew how he felt. This house was strange. These people were strangers. As for this moment, in Tristan’s eyes, Jack was the cause of it all.

  Holding his tiny frame even tighter, she promised, “I will be home before the sun comes up.” Bribery came next. “You can show Aunt Candi your new room. And, if you want you can sleep in my bed. When I get home I will find you no matter where you are sleeping and give you a big hug.” Here, she emphasized her words with a huge hug.

  “Why do you always have to stay out until the sun comes up?” Tristan shoved himself from her arms, and his voice went into whine mode. “I want to stay with Aunt Olivia like I always do.”

  Three pairs of adult eyes hit her face, but it was Jack’s incredulous and angered gaze that she squirmed under.

  “I don’t want to spend the night at Aunt Candi’s...”

  Although Jack’s aunt and uncle had politely averted their eyes, Jack’s look was still speculative.

  Quietly, he searched her face, a new realization dawning, that possibly, she was not the shy woman and responsible mother he thought her to be.

  “I want Aunt Liv! She makes whatever pancakes I want for breakfast...”