by Lisa Gillis
“In all fairness, he thinks he’s running late,” Marissa reveled in pointing out.
“How did you enjoy the party?” Emma extracted the coffee cup from beneath the maker’s nozzle.
“It was fine.” Marissa shrugged and began running water in the batter bowl. For the first time, she noticed the sink was clean, and wondered if Dax pulled kitchen duty as well.
“And you haven’t seen the reviews?”
“Of the album?” Marissa played dumb and did not imagine the exasperation flashing in Emma’s eyes.
The other woman had something she was dying to impart, and at last, she burst. “The drop party. The media is having a rough time accepting that Jack and Randi are no longer together.”
“They never were. Together.” Marissa prided herself on how smoothly the rebuttal left her lips.
“They were together as far as his fans are concerned. I was curious to see how this thing with you and him would go over.”
“And how did it go over?” Again, Marissa played dumb.
“The general consensus is they belong together. Jack and Randi.”
“Oh well.” Marissa shrugged. Hearing the truth aloud, and so blunt, stung, but she wasn’t about to let on.
“It’s actually not that simple.”
“How so?”
“So? It’s a game. We play for Jack to win. The fans don’t want to see him chained to some groupie from a hundred years ago–no disrespect. He is a rock god, and rock gods hit the hot models.” Emma tilted the coffee mug to her lips.
There it was. The unusual reference Jack had made the previous night. Something about proof to the tabloids that he wasn’t marrying a groupie. Was that what was being said about their hookup five years ago?
“Why are you telling me this? He’s not going to break up with me because his fans say so.”
“Of course not.” Emma’s tone was deceptively soothing, and the bracelets on her wrist rattled like a snake as she continued cutting into her pancake and sipping her coffee. “That’s why behind every public figure is a publicist. We do what they don’t have sense to do.” Here, she stared over the coffee mug rim. “I work for the record label, not Jack. Don’t ever get that confused because it’s very different. Every decision is in the label’s best interest, which is ultimately Jack’s best interest. Jack’s best future interest is something you should want also. If you don’t want all this to go away.” Emma encompassed the kitchen and the pool area outside in her sweeping gaze. “Now, what we need to decide is how far to take your relationship, publicly, of course. Because his public will lose respect for him if it drags on too long. And that’s never good for sales, no matter how good the music might be.”
“Jack’s not going to go for this.” Marissa felt like a parrot.
“Again, that’s my job. See I know all about his plans. That he will refuse to sign the label again. That he is done with metal and wants to reinvent as Jax with an X and be some blues-rock mutant like his dad. It’s my job to make sure Jack Storm is still sellable even when he no longer exists.”
Jack had mentioned going in a different music direction, but never expanded on the subject, and it was annoying for Emma to have details that Marissa herself did not have of her own fiancé.
“I really don’t know what you are wanting from me.” Concentrating on flipping the last two pancakes, she tried not to feel needled.
“Just your understanding. For anything that is about to happen.”
“Which is?”
“For starters, not being seen in public with Jack.”
An icy tingle trickled down her back, but she bravely scoffed, “You can’t lock me in the house.”
“Of course not,” Emma patronized again. “Jerry will be paid to selectively snap his shots. Shooting none of you, and some of Randi coming and going, will keep the image alive. I am not saying these things to be mean. I just want to prepare you because the way it is looking, it will be best if you don’t go on tour.”
This time, shock shot through every vein, and Marissa couldn’t help but be in awe of the evil way the last part had smoothly been added into the stakes. A dry laugh heaved from her mouth and she fell against the counter. “Good luck with that. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go, but Jack wants us there.”
The first leg of the tour began in two weeks. Jack’s eyes always lit up when talking of it, and of Marissa and Tristan coming along. At the thought of Tristan, Marissa twisted her chin. When she found him keenly watching this barbed exchange, she smiled as if this were a friendly disagreement similar to the ones that sometimes occurred between her and Olivia.
Emma came closer, setting her mug down next to the plate of pancakes and tore off a piece of one although she had not finished her own.
“Love, you are misunderstanding this entire conversation. I am just telling you how it is. Jack with Randi sells albums. Do not take anything I am saying personally. It’s business. You won’t be on that tour. It won’t be approved unless Randi’s favorability index goes way down and yours up. Which isn’t likely.”
CHAPTER 22
PUNCHING AT THE BUTTON that switched the burner off, Marissa gathered her thoughts and spun around.
“You are way out of line to tell me this stuff. Shouldn’t there be some confidentiality agreement where Jack is concerned? You should not be discussing business related to him, even if I am part of it. And why would I need to know any decisions about the tour when that is weeks away and they are not firmed up?”
Emma was clearly taken aback, and Marissa wondered if she had unknowingly made some valid points while randomly stabbing with her words.
“My medicine tends to make me talkative. I apologize for upsetting you.”
Was the other woman actually going to blame every evil thing just said on some prescription in her purse?
“You’re a bitch!”
“Momma...”
The woman had sweetly read a story to Tristan just the night before, and all along, she had been poison!
Circling the bar, Marissa protectively grabbed Tristan balancing him on her hip. Carefully, stepping down into the den, she put her stunned son on the sofa and promised to return with his unfinished breakfast.
“Marissa, love–”
Marissa shot a glare that ceased any further discussion as she retrieved her son’s food and drink. Jack sprinted down the stairs, and instead of feeling relieved to see him, she felt an unjustified prick of betrayal.
Jack had grown up in the music business as a child and had lived it his entire adulthood, which most likely meant he knew everything that was about to happen. A new thought struck, and she stopped in her tracks to the den. Before they even came to California, had he withdrawn the ‘official proposal’ to wait until he was no longer ‘owned’ by the label?
“Mariss? Don’t always think the worst of me...”
No. Jack did not know a thing about this. The question now was whether she should tell him, or let Emma do it. She pictured how he would go off on the evil woman and smiled.
“Alright Emmajesty, let’s get on the road, get this over with!” Clueless and completely on the opposite side of the mood scale, Jack breezed into the kitchen dropping a kiss to Marissa, then a casual arm onto Emma’s shoulders. “Wait, where’s Tristan?”
Inclining her head to the other room, Marissa followed, watching him hug up on their boy and offer up encouragement about his physical therapy. Marissa set Tristan’s breakfast on the sofa table, and when she straightened she was in Jack’s arms.
During a mind bending kiss, he whispered, “I’ll be back ASAP. You guys have fun. Go swimming? Order some food? I’m leaving Dax for you. I’ll text you his number.”
The kiss had her smiling despite watching him laugh and joke with Emma as the two disappeared through the arch to the hallway directly before the front door clicked.
Seconds later, her phone beep sounded from the kitchen, presumably with Dax’s number, and she pondered again the assistant’s wide rang
e of duties. As far as she was concerned, he could sleep all day. No doubt, he needed a break.
Tristan’s PT was punctual, and the young man spent a few minutes putting Tristan at ease with some knock-knock jokes before laying out his therapy plan, which centered on the pool.
Marissa ran upstairs for his swimsuit and then talked with him out on the patio while Tristan changed in the outside restroom. While watching the two of them exercise in the water, she tried to call Olivia. Voicemail greeted her even though her friend’s normal work schedule was graveyards.
“He’s doing well, isn’t he?”
A startled smile reflexively curved her lips as Dax eased on one of the stools. Nodding, she took her gaze to the glaring water surface and the beginnings of a California tan on the body of her son.
“You want me to get you anything? A drink or something?” He poked at his phone as he made the inquiry.
Shaking her head, she replied, “No thanks. Oh, I left you some pancakes in the kitchen.”
“Seriously? Those are mine?” He seemed surprised and immediately hopped up, thrusting aside his phone. Returning with a happy grin, he sat down again and began to eat. “Do you mind if I hang out?”
“Of course not.”
“I should have asked before I guess. Just tell me to get lost and I will. Anytime.”
She could not ever see herself being comfortable enough to dismiss someone, even someone on her payroll, even in a nice way. Again, she was hit with the vast differences between her life and Jack’s, but she shrugged with a smile.
“These are great! Thanks.”
“You are just lucky you got some. I thought Emmajesty was going to eat them all.” For the first time, Marissa used the nickname for the publicist, and it must have dripped with the hatred she felt, because Dax raised interested eyes from his plate.
Tristan was laughing at something his PT was saying and she turned her embarrassed look that way.
“I heard her giving you a rough time.”
Grateful for the opening, she looked back to him and blinked as her eyes adjusted to the shade again. “Yeah. What the hell?”
“Who knows?”
“Not me. I felt like I was under attack by a jealous...” Trailing off, she stopped, not having the guts to continue, but her words opened Dax up a little more.
“That’s probably right. Em is a schemer and planner. She has aspirations.”
“Are you saying she is hot for Jack?”
“Isn’t everyone?” His joking grin clamped over his last forkful.
The flame that heated her face could have been because she was surely included in his short quip. Or, it could have been anger at thinking of anyone else included, especially Emma. To cover her embarrassment she retorted, “Are you?”
Using the fork, he scraped the excess syrup before executing his comeback with a wink. “No. But I would be if I went that way.” Then he grew serious. “She’s really just doing her job. She wants to be the best she can be. And I think she wants to move on with Jack when he goes to his dad’s label.”
“As his publicist you mean?”
At this Dax almost fell over laughing. “I’m sorry, your face. The claws. You two are so cute.”
“Cute, who?” For a second it angered her to think that he was referring to the argument between her and Emma.
“You and Jack. Damn. I’ve seen him jealous before, but the last weeks have been intense. And, obviously you are just as afflicted.”
“Are you saying he has been jealous or not been?” Other than Clayton’s name on a text, Jack had no occasion to be jealous.
“Both I guess. Jack is the jealous type. Batshit crazy jealous in the few relationships that I’ve personally seen go more than a night.” Here Dax apologetically halted. “Sorry, you just are easy to talk to and I should think about what I’m saying...”
Crazy curious to see where the conversation was leading, she impatiently insisted, “It’s fine. He’s Jack Storm. I’m not delusional.” Then when he continued to sip, prodded, “Batshit crazy, huh?”
“Yeah. That’s why, you know, the night you guys got here, well, you know, I did not want him to go all ratchet on me.”
“Sorry about that night.” A flush crawled up her neck, and she saw one in his face as well.
“So anyway, yeah. Batshit crazy. But with you he seems calm, you know? Hell, Reed was perving you yesterday. Trying to be discreet, but he was. And all Jack said was, ‘Go find your own puss—erm, woman, loser.’”
“Just what every girl wants to hear. That her man is not jealous of her,” Marissa drawled.
“That was so not the point.” Dax rolled his eyes. His expressions, as well as their instant affinity, reminded her of her brother. “He seems secure for the first time with a woman.” Coming out of the reverie they had fallen into, he warned, “Repeat any of this, I will have to kill you.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.”
“Good. Because Jack Storm in a full on rage is not a pretty thing.”
“Maybe I do want a drink,” she muttered and rounded the bar, but he jumped up beating her to the destination.
“I’m not saying Jack—I mean I hope you didn’t misunderstand. Jack is not the violent type.”
“I know. Now hand over that glass.”
“I got it, girl.” He remained insistent on assisting her with the mix.
“No!” She snatched the glass tumbler from his hands. “Just do what you need to do when Jack is around. But, when it’s you and me, you do not have to get things for me.”
Once they settled again, both pecked at their phones and the conversation became more casual. The PT was assisting Tristan from the pool when Randi called a cheery, “Hello! Anyone home?”
CHAPTER 23
LOOKING EVERY BIT A MODEL, Randi paused poised just over the threshold of the glass doors. Tanned limbs extended from a stylish short set, and a long French braid fell down her back.
Ignoring the return greetings for the moment, the striking woman pulled her designer shades down the bridge of her nose to behold the dripping broad shoulders of the man who was in the motion of turning her way.
Just before the PT completed the arc, Randi looked away sending a secret grin toward Marissa and Dax.
Confused, Marissa’s gaze ping-ponged between Randi and Dax, seeing only the slightest hint of anything resembling jealousy in Dax’s expression.
Marissa made the introductions, and the PT lingered to talk of Tristan’s progress and then centered his interest on polite conversation with Randi before disappearing to change out of his swimsuit.
Tristan remained in the pool, and the therapist left with a final flirty smile to Randi. Dax refilled Marissa’s drink and mixed one for Randi, then left them to the poolside.
“How long do you think until Tristan is crutch free?” Randi sipped the mimosa.
“Why?” Marissa prodded before testing her own drink. “Interested in a certain physical therapist?”
“He’s hot. But I’m not looking.”
Marissa’s lips curved thinking of the secret affair with Dax, but let it drop and answered her question. “A couple of weeks.”
“Perfect timing.” Randi smiled over her glass. “For the tour.”
Marissa said nothing, and Randi chattered on about the shoot she had just come from. It wasn’t until after they both changed into a swimsuit and played with Tristan in the pool that the other woman brought up the drop party.
Sitting on the incline, Marissa was unconsciously staring and comparing the legs stretched before them and Randi began. “Mariss, I have to say something. I’m sorry about the drop party. You know that all they have is that one picture to twist around and say what they want about, right?”
“I know.” Marissa pulled her knees up and stared over them at Tristan. A discussion of the publicity fiasco was not something she wanted to get into with ‘the other woman.’
“I just think that maybe we should have a meeting with Emma to brains
torm on how to fix this.”
The laugh pushing past Marissa’s lips was more of a maniacal cackle, and when Randi twisted her head at the sound, Marissa explained, “Emma doesn’t want it fixed.”
After hearing the entire quarrel with Emmajesty, Randi cursed. “That’s bullshit!” The foul word passed without rebuke since Tristan was underwater.
Marissa watched as he surfaced a second later wearing an oblivious smile, then dove for another ring.
“Don’t worry. Jack won’t go for it.” Randi assured and Marissa finally spoke.
“That’s just it. She made me feel like a bad person if I fight what is best for his image.”
“No. You are fine for his image. And don’t go thinking anything different. Leave this to me, I will take care of it,” Randi huffed.
Aghast, Marissa negated, “No! No. Please don’t.” Splashing some water on her hot neck, she grimly joked, “I’m no Yoko and will never be if I can help it.”
“At least promise that you will tell Jack what is going on. He will want to know.” Randi pulled her braid over one shoulder and like Marissa, dipped her hand in the water too cool her neck.
A bee buzzed around the surface, and Marissa’s eyes anxiously tracked the insect as it flew around Tristan’s play area. After a quick drink of pool water, it disappeared, and she relaxed again. Maybe it was as Dax said. Emma was the bee just looking out for herself. Maybe she didn’t mean to come across as threatening, and things would work out in the end.
“You are not going to promise are you?”
Marissa laughed, and probably because she was not accustomed to drinking three vodka beverages on an empty stomach in the hot sun, her tongue loosened even more. “You make it so hard not to like you.”
A pucker of a frown replaced the slight smile on the other girl’s face. “You don’t like me?”
“No. Yes. I mean, I think I do. That’s the problem.”
“Why is liking me a problem?”
“A conflict of interest I guess. I know this is LA,” Marissa dramatically emphasized the locale, “and everything is different here. But where I come from, we hate on exes.”