The Redhead Plays Her Hand

fifteen

When I opened my eyes the next morning, I was staring into green. Jack was awake, turned sideways on his pillow and watching me. I grinned back at him, snuggling deeper into the covers and into him, breathing in the scent of his warm skin all over me. Kissing the exact center of his chest, I rested my head over his heart, the tiny hairs tickling my nose.

“How long have you been up?” I asked, my voice thick with sleep.

“Awhile.”

“You should have woken me up.”

“I wanted to let you sleep. I know it’s been a busy week.”

“It’s been a busy everything.” I groaned and stretched a bit, which resulted in the sheets pulling down just enough that the boobies made their first appearance of the day.

Just as Jack waggled his eyebrows enough to communicate his intent and make the girls go on point, his phone buzzed on his nightstand. Huffing, he rolled away to get it as I pulled myself together a bit. I sat up to lean against the headboard and could see over his shoulder just enough to note the call was from Adam, although Jack at least had the good sense to not answer it. Rolling back over with a mischievous gleam in his eye, he looked right where he’d left the girls, grumbling audibly when he saw they had been put away.

“But, wait, where did they—”

“Shut it, George. We’re talking.”

“We’re already talking, Grace.”

“If the boobies are out, no talking will happen.”

He snorted and tried to sneak a peek. “Just because you’re incapable of paying attention doesn’t mean I can’t.”

“No way. Uh-uh. No boobies till we talk.” I tucked the sheets under each armpit and clenched my hands at my sides.

“How about one booby? One booby while we talk, and if I can contain myself, then I get them both before breakfast,” he offered, throwing his hands up in the air in supplication.

“How old are you?” I asked, raising one eyebrow.

“You know ruddy well how old I am. Recovery time, remember? Now drop the sheet on the left one and talk, woman.” He poked me in the left shoulder.

Sighing, I adjusted the sheet so that the . . . good lord . . . so that the “left one” was out.

“Okay, what are we talking about?” he asked it.

“Eyes up here, George. It’s out, but you still have to make eye contact.” I grabbed his chin and twisted him to look straight ahead.

He blinked, shook his head, and then looked me in the eye finally.

“Okay, let’s talk about last night, just for a minute. I don’t want to rehash everything, I promise.”

He sighed heavily, then nodded for me to go on.

“I mainly just want to talk about Adam, but in a calm, rational way. I want you to understand more about why I don’t like him. I probably shouldn’t even say I don’t like him. I barely know the guy and—”

“Grace?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t like him. It’s okay. You can say it.”

“Okay, yeah. I don’t like him. But more than that, I don’t trust him. But hear me out. Haven’t you noticed that whenever we’re out, whenever you’re out—if he’s there, the cameras are there? I mean, yeah, they’re there sometimes even when he isn’t around, but have you ever been somewhere with him when they aren’t there?” I nudged his chin once again. His eyes had started to drift south.

With a cheeky grin, he met my eyes once more. “Off the top of my head? No, no, I can’t. So you think he’s calling them, orchestrating all of this? For what purpose, Grace?”

“His career,” I answered quickly. “It makes sense. He was over; he was being cast in all kinds of crap, and then once he was cast in a film with you—the new heir apparent to his golden-boy status—now he’s getting exposure again, right? Maybe he’s ensuring that doesn’t go away. He’s making sure people are talking about him again.”

“Seems a stretch to me. He’s always complaining about the paparazzi. He can’t stand them when they’re around,” he said, but I could finally see the wheels beginning to turn just the tiniest bit.

I didn’t want to lose any ground, so as much as I wanted to smack him upside the naive, I kept quiet, let him think on it for another moment. He chewed on his lower lip, looking pensive, and I let the sheet drop on the right one. He looked back up at me in surprise.

“You’ve earned it.” I smiled.

“Are we done talking? Already?”

“I said what I needed to say. You listened. I appreciate that,” I answered softly as he reached out to cup an exposed breast. His fingers were tender as he stroked me, not sexual this time, but deeply sensual. Comforting. Warm. Coaxing me onto my back, he snuggled into me, head on my breast, fingers now pressing into each tiny dent between my ribs. We breathed together, watching as the sun crawled across the ceiling.

“When are you leaving to go back to the desert?” I asked the top of his head. I hated that he had to leave again, but they still had a few scenes left to shoot.

“Two days.”

“I’ll be glad when you’re done. It’ll be nice to have you at home for a while.” I kissed his forehead.

He was quiet for a minute, then started to get out of bed. He leaned back down over me and gave me a small smile. “Let’s get some breakfast, Crazy.”

Once I had him full of toast and marmalade, we relaxed over coffee, which is what we were doing when Holly called. Kissing me on the head, he took off for the shower before I could even answer, mouthing the words in the shower to me. I rolled my eyes as I answered the phone. I wasn’t sure what was going on there.

“Hey, dillweed.”

“Hey, asshead. What are your plans this afternoon?”

“Um, I didn’t really have any. Was going to go for a run maybe?”

“Nope, you’re shopping with me.”

“I am?”

“Yep, let’s meet at Monica’s at one. I need to get some new dresses—something beachy and cute.”

“Ah. You and Michael going somewhere fun?”

“Perhaps, can you go?”

“Sure, I’ll see you there.”

“By the way, do you still want us all to come over tomorrow night to watch?” she asked. We’d talked about getting together to watch the night the show premiered on TV.

“Yes, definitely. I need everyone here to make sure I don’t go looking for the bad reviews.”

“Can we bring anything?”

“Yes. Vodka. Lots. Not sure what you guys will all drink, but the vodka’s for me.” My heart stuttered a bit when I thought about the fact that my TV show would be debuting tomorrow night for all the world to see. Well, the American world. “Okay, see you in a bit,” I said, starting to hang up.

“Wait, wait, is Jack there with you?”

“He’s in the shower. Why?”

“But he’s been home with you all morning?”

“Yeah, why? What’s up?”

“I’m going to wring that limey’s neck! Never mind. Not your problem. Tell him to check his fucking messages, okay?”

“Okay,” I answered, not wanting to get involved.

“Okay, see you in a bit, fruitcake.” She hung up.

Thoughtful, I sat there for a bit, tossing my phone back and forth. I didn’t want to get involved, but I had to admit I was curious what was going on.

Not your problem. Don’t get involved.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

I headed back toward the bathroom, smiling when I heard him humming in the shower. Opening the door, I reached out for him through the steam.

“Hey, get that sweet ass in here.” He grinned, shampoo suds turning his head into a cotton ball.

“Nope, no time. I’m meeting Holly for some retail therapy,” I answered, dodging his soapy hands. He responded by sticking his tongue out at me. “Speaking of Holly, she told me to tell you to check your messages?” I tried, raising my eyebrows but keeping my tone light. He nodded at me but submerged under the spray. “I’m also going to pick up some things while I’m out today for tomorrow night. I was thinking we’d just make little nibbly things and everyone can nosh while we watch. Sound good to you?”

“Wait, what? We’re having people over tomorrow night?” He emerged from under the spray.

“Yes, Jack, for the show, remember? It’s on TV?”

He stood there, blank-faced, as the shampoo washed down the drain.

“Right, sure, of course. Who’s coming?”

“Holly, Michael, Nick, Lane is going to try, and I think Rebecca too.”

He grimaced. I waited for him to say something, but he was quiet.

“So, nibbly things? Okay?” I prompted.

“Sure, sounds good, Grace.” He nodded again, then returned to the spray, ending the conversation.

“I’ll see you later this afternoon then?” I asked, backing out of the bathroom. He nodded once more, then turned toward the water.

“And then he just went right back under the spray! It’s like he totally forgot about everyone coming over tomorrow night!” I exclaimed into the mirror as I waited for Holly to come out in yet another dress. We’d been at the boutique for only fifteen minutes, but she’d already found several she just had to have.

“Are you sure you told him to call me?” she asked over the dressing room door.

“I did. I told him to check his messages, as directed.”

“Did he?” Her head popped up over the door.

“That I don’t know. I told you, I just deliver the messages. I’m not getting involved.” I sipped the champagne the boutique had so thoughtfully provided. “What’s going on anyway?”

“Thought you weren’t getting involved.” She chuckled, coming out in a strapless dress that was sex on legs.

“I’m not; I’m not. Forget I asked.”

“He’s just really hard to get ahold of right now, and we’re in the middle of negotiating the Time sequel. Not a great time to go incommunicado.” She poofed her cleavage. “What do you think?”

“Hot. Way hot. What are all these dresses for anyway?”

“Michael’s taking me somewhere tropical. Not sure where. He just said bring frilly dresses.”

“Frilly?”

“I figured out that frilly translates to skimpy in Michael language.”

“Not even close.”

“Yeah, frilly means flouncy, which means blowy, which means barely there. That took about five minutes and some show-and-tell to figure out what he meant.” She laughed, a blush creeping into her cheeks.

“I’m so glad you two are together,” I said suddenly. I watched her smile into the mirror.

“You are?”

“Are you kidding? Of course! Things worked out perfectly.”

“Not gonna lie, I wasn’t sure you’d be okay with it,” she said as she turned toward me.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay with it?” I asked her, looking everywhere else.

She huffed as she headed back into the dressing room. After a moment the dress came up over her head. “Grace, shut up. Obviously there’s history between you.”

“Okay, sure, but it’s just that: history. Honestly, I couldn’t be happier for you two.”

She poked her head back up over the door. “I’m pretty happy too. Now we just need to get Jack figured out and my world will be all roses and fucking fairy tales.”

“I’m getting worried, Holly, like, really worried.” I met her eyes.

She nodded. “Me too, fruitcake.”

The next day started out like all Shit Days: totally normal. Sex with Jack—awesome. Breakfast after sex with Jack—delicious. Call-in radio interviews all afternoon—stellar. That night? Oh boy.

Jack was out and about most of the afternoon, which was better for me. Talking about myself was weird, and talking on the radio—selling myself and my show—was hard to do when you have a hot Brit making faces at you and trying all manner of naughty to get you to screw up. Once the interviews were over, I went for a run in Griffith Park to unwind and calm my nerves. No such luck. I was wired. I ran my normal circuit almost ten minutes faster than I usually did, and I could’ve gone another round without thinking twice. I was nervous, I could admit that. Tonight was the real test. Up until now only industry people had seen the show, now it was up to the public to say if it was any good.

I kept busy all afternoon: cutting up fruit for a salad, setting out plates and bowls and silverware for everyone, mixing up a batch of margaritas to go with the guacamole I made with avocados from my trees in back, and I was just putting the finishing touches on a cheese platter when Jack blew in.

“Crazy, you ready for tonight? I’m ready. You ready?” he shouted from the front door. I caught sight of a black Suburban as it left the driveway. Was it Bryan? Or was it Adam? They both drove the same car . . .

Before I could think on it too long, Jack swept me up in his arms and swung me around. “Mmm, I missed my girl!” he murmured, pressing wet kisses all along my neck and into the top of my dress. “Christ, Grace, you know what it does to me when you wear that apron.”

I pulled away from him for a moment, laughing as I smoothed my dress. I did know what it did to him when I wore this apron.

That’s why you put it on.

Also to protect my dress from the avocados. That green stain is hard to remove.

Who are you fooling?

No one. I totally wore the apron to drive him crazy.

Speaking of crazy, Jack was looking all around the house, taking in the spread I’d laid out for our friends.

“Everything looks great, looks great. When are they all getting here?”

“Um, any minute now. I think Holly and Michael were going to—”

“Do I have time for a shower? I’m just gonna take a quick shower before everyone gets here, okay? Okay, Grace?” He started for the bedroom.

I caught his arm before he could get away. Turning him toward me, I took him in. His face was flushed, and his eyes were almost black as he looked down at me.

“You okay?” I asked, smoothing his hair back from his face.

“Of course. Why?”

“I dunno,” I replied as his arms came around me.

He tapped out a drumbeat on my bum, his hands moving fast.

“Totally fine, Grace. Excited for tonight?”

“Um, yeah, I think so. A little nervous but—”

“I’m gonna hit the shower before everyone gets here, okay?” He kissed me soundly on the forehead before peeling away and heading off down the hallway.

I looked around, wondering what the hell just happened. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Holly’s Mercedes pulling into the drive. I shook my head to clear it, then untied the apron and threw it into the kitchen as I went out to greet my friends. This was Michael’s big night as much as it was mine, and I wanted to enjoy it with him. Besides, I had all night to worry over this latest development.

Twenty minutes later I had Michael and Holly slicing up French bread to make little crostini when I heard Nick’s voice at the front door.

“Grace! There’s a big ol’ hunk of man out here on your porch. Let him in!” he called. When I came around the corner, I burst out laughing. Nick was grinning ear to ear at Lane, who stood sheepish with his hands full: literally with bottles of wine and figuratively with Nick and his waggling eyebrows.

“There’s two big ol’ hunks of man out here! I love it! Get in here, you two.” I laughed again as Nick gestured for Lane to go in first, ever the gentleman.

Lane leaned down to give me a kiss on the cheek. “Where’s that idiot boyfriend of yours?”

“He’s in the shower. He’ll be out in a bit.” I swatted him on the butt as he passed.

“The shower, you say? I’ll go get him, let him know everyone’s here,” Nick insisted, nudging past me on the way to the bedroom.

“Hold it, mister. No ogling my man.” I grabbed his arm and swung him around. He pouted a bit.

“You’re no fun now that you have your own TV show,” he huffed on his way to the kitchen, where he immediately began antagonizing Michael. He really was in heaven around our boys. And speaking of boys, where was mine?

I headed to the bedroom, where I could still hear water running. Which is why I was so surprised to find Jack on the bed, sound asleep in his clothes. What the hell?

“Jack,” I called as I moved into the bathroom to turn off the shower. “Jack, wake up!”

His snores confirmed that he was out good.

“Hey, wake up!” I prodded, annoyed.

“Hey, Crazy, what’s going on?” He smiled through his sleepy eyes.

“I could ask you the same question,” I said, and his eyes opened wide.

“Just closing my eyes for a minute before I shower. Can you turn the water on for me?” he asked, rolling over, away from me.

“You already turned on the water. It’s been running for thirty minutes! There’s probably no hot water left, not to mention that we have a houseful of people now. No time to take a shower.”

He rolled back over and looked at the clock, then rubbed his eyes. “Fuck. Okay, just give me five minutes and I’ll be right there.”

I watched him as he rubbed at his face, and he met my gaze through confused eyes.

“I’ll be right there, okay?” he snapped.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever, Jack.” I sighed, leaving the bedroom and feeling the sting of tears.

Once in the hallway, I hovered for a moment, listening as he got up. I wiped away a tear that got away, then took a breath before heading back out to the kitchen. Holly took one look at me and headed me off at the back door.

“Just going to light the candles,” I said before she could say anything. I grabbed the lighter and went to work on the tiki torches.

“Sure, Grace,” she answered, watching me. I kept my back to her as I moved from torch to torch. As I looked at the bedroom, I could see him standing in the window, watching me too. I turned my back to him as well.

He’d better watch it. You’ve got a torch.

That’s for goddamn sure.

Dinner was . . . tense. Jack finally made an appearance, disheveled and tired-looking. Which made no sense at all, since he’d gone to bed with me early the night before and slept in this morning. But he could barely keep his eyes open. Also might have had something to do with the double whiskey he poured himself to go with the dinner, which he barely ate.

As usual, he sparred with Nick, who made a joke about his bedroom eyes. Other than that, however, Jack sat at his end of the dining room table, avoiding my eyes and any topic of conversation that had to do with partying, drinking, clubbing, or being an asshole in general. Holly wisely kept silent about the missed calls. She knew better than to mix business with pleasure. But you could tell it was killing her not to say anything directly to him. Lane was curiously quiet as well. Initially I thought perhaps it was tension about Holly and Michael, but in fact, Michael and Lane got along extremely well. They even made plans to go mountain biking the following weekend.

Then after we’d eaten and were getting assembled in the living room to watch the show, Nick cornered me in the kitchen as I finished cleaning up.

“You know I think you’re pretty, right?”

“Oh boy, what are you working up to?” I smiled into the cupboard, turning around with an armful of coffee cups. He took them from me and set them out for everyone as I got the cream from the fridge. On second thought, I also pulled out a bottle of Kahlúa from under the counter. I poured a hefty dash into my coffee cup, and he nodded when I offered him some as well.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

I scooted around him to grab the sugar bowl, grabbed the carafe of coffee, and gestured for him to help me into the other room. “With what?” I asked.

“Grace, come on. What the hell is up with my pretty boy?” He placed a hand on my arm as I tried to balance everything.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I insisted, not wanting to get into this now.

“Grace, you know I only—”

But he was cut off by raised voices coming from the backyard. I stole a quick glance at the clock. The show was starting in less than ten minutes.

“Unbelievable. What now?” I rushed toward the French doors. Through the glass I could see Jack and Lane, inches apart and looking critical. Pushing open the doors, I moved outside to hear the end of their argument.

“Seriously, dude, get your shit together. This affects other people too, you know!” Lane’s voice was full of anger.

“Oh, come on. How does this affect you?” Jack sneered.

“You think these jobs just roll in? You not signing means my ass could be out of a job. You ever think about that?”

“No way. You can’t put that on me.” Jack walked away, grabbing his glass off the patio table.

Lane followed, talking to his back as Jack drained his whiskey. “I can put that on you, and I will put that on you if you’re the reason this movie doesn’t get made. If you think you can walk away from a franchise like this without it impacting everyone else, you’re insane!”

By now Holly and Michael were perched on the back of the couch in the living room, listening through the other set of French doors as Jack and Lane continued to go at it in the backyard. I wanted to stop this, I should stop this, but I had no idea things had gotten so bad with the Time sequel that Lane even knew. Why didn’t I know about this? Why wasn’t Jack talking to me?

I didn’t have time to follow that train of thought any further because the next thing I knew, Jack turned around to face Lane and saw all of us watching.

“Enough!” he shouted. The whiskey glass he’d been holding now flew across the backyard and hit the side of the house, shattering into a thousand pieces across the patio. I gasped, and then . . .

Quiet.

The quiet pressed in on all sides, the pressure building in my ears and behind my eyes. I was vaguely aware that Michael started to get up from the couch, but Holly held him in place. Later on I could remember seeing Lane back away from Jack, shaking his head. I could still feel Nick’s hand on my arm, his grip tight.

What I was completely and totally focused on at the time was the sight of Jack, barely standing and pale, with splotches of red anger across his cheeks. Shaking. His eyes searched for mine, and when he found me they looked haunted and vacant. Then, punching through the quiet came the strains of the theme song for Mabel—upbeat and bouncy and completely inappropriate for the moment. A glaring reminder of what this night was about, was supposed to be about.

“Out,” I breathed, so quietly that I could barely hear it. “All of you, out please.” I did not take my eyes off Jack. “You, stay right there.”

Nick squeezed my elbow before moving away. I heard Holly and Michael discussing quietly whether one of them should stay, but they wisely left as well. Lane was long gone by now. My eyes never left Jack. I could hear my own voice coming from the living room, as my TV show was now airing across the entire West Coast. The West Coast would have to wait. I had someone to take to the woodshed.