chapter 17
After a short shower that was more fooling around than washing, we went out for brunch on Sunday morning, sharing over-filled plates of deep-fried French toast and blueberry pancakes. On the side were the usual breakfast suspects—eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, orange juice, and mere cups of coffee, no fancy drinks. Oh yeah, and real maple syrup.
Gluttonously good.
To be honest, the breakfast joint we chose actually had great coffee. At the very least, it was brewed in a French press; I noticed the oil on the surface. And it was fresh since we did the pressing ourselves.
Jack looked so urbane in his sports coat and dress shirt, diligently sipping coffee while he paged through a newspaper that had been left on the table next to ours. Every now and then he'd take a cute little nibble out of the remaining piece of toast and place it back on the platter.
"Is that actually interesting?" I asked. There was only a small piece of French toast left, the cream cheese filling leaking out of it like a very sugary puncture-wound. I decided to end its suffering and drowned it in the syrup—and then it disappeared. "Can't you just look news up on your phone?"
He gave me a wry smile. "I like the feel of the paper. I'll probably never get over that."
"What about ebooks? Do you really like carrying around physical copies of books?"
"I'm getting used to them," he said, pausing to sip coffee at the end of the sentence. "I like the idea. I mean, look what it did to music. Can you believe I had a hundred-disc CD changer in my car in high school? It was full too. Now I can just use an MP3 player."
"I hadn't really thought about that," I said. "And you're crazy for needing a hundred CDs on the go."
"I don't disagree with that observation one bit. Prior to my parents stepping in and saying no, I was ready to fork out the cash for a 300-disc changer. Now with an MP3 player, I carry around thousands of CDs with me at a time. Am I crazier now?"
I tapped my chin, thinking aloud and gave him a studious look. "Quite possibly."
After eating, we went back to the hotel and got our things together. It was nice not having to plan to go through airport security. Hell, I could bring entire bottles of shampoo in my carry-on on Jack's plane, and no one cared at all.
I didn't want to leave the comfort of the room, but then again, I was fairly certain we'd be back soon. A lot had happened here in the room—well, mostly sex—and it had definitely been significant to me. Hollywood had been significant too. I had a new friend who was perhaps even more famous than Jack!
The room tidied up, we checked out and hopped into the limo, tossing our bags near the front to keep the driver company. Jack asked for a few minutes to himself to respond to an email on his phone, so I obliged.
In that moment without Jack-related distractions, I started to think about the fact that on the plane ride back, we'd finally talk about work and the deal, coming up with a plan—well, more like a slap in the face, actually—that would cement me back in reality. Dammit, I didn't want to go back and lose this feeling at all. But honestly, no matter how idyllic this had been, I sort of felt like it was only because of the tedious nature of my regular life that made this so desirable, a real escape.
People talked about that all the time, that you needed the bad to fully appreciate the good. Was it because that was a real thing, or maybe because their individual situations were less than ideal and they needed some way to justify them? As Hollywood crawled by, I kept thinking about days with Jack and how spontaneous and fun they were. I wished I had a time machine so I could figure out if time with Jack could ever be boring.
I sincerely doubted it.
I watched Jack tap away on the touch-screen, his mind presumably working faster than his cramped fingers. He looked so innocent and relaxed, a man who had made his own way by standing up for what he believed in, rather than just compromising his values to make a quick buck. Talent was the tool that enabled him to create what he wanted, and he possessed an overabundance of it.
No, I didn't want to be jealous of the world he had. But there was something so appealing about living every day exactly how you wanted to live it. How many people got to say that was the case? Sure, you could be satisfied with what you have, but that doesn't mean that it's exactly what you want.
This was heavy material, for sure, so heavy that I couldn't believe that we were already at LAX by my first break in thinking.
"God, I'm sorry, Effie," Jack said. "I meant for that email to be a short one. It didn't happen."
I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "It's fine. Really. The scenery is mesmerizing to me."
"I forget that sometimes. To me, it's like being in my own backyard. It's nice, but I don't get excited when I look out the window."
"Maybe because the grass is overgrown and you don't want to deal with it?"
"Maybe."
We boarded our private jet and Jack spent a few minutes up front, laughing and joking with Tim. His name alone was enough to bring my mind back to my own former Timothy problems. Shit, he was supposedly still in New York City too, not that I actually knew for sure. He could have been lying, for all I knew.
Life was getting too confusing for me, the answers approaching gray instead of black or white. But gray wasn't totally a bad thing either.
I settled down briefly, buckling myself up for takeoff. Soon after, the plane rose into the sky and I said a silent goodbye to Los Angeles.
***
"Can we talk about it now, Jack?" The flight was roughly half over, but our own meandering conversations had kept us away from serious business.
Jack ran a scratched his forehead and straightened out his posture. "Effie, I'm not going to beat around the bush anymore—I'm not going with MCI. We decided to release it ourselves and go through a bigger company for distribution. I'm starting my own label, finally."
I gulped, feeling words rising in my throat like hot air. Should I even mention what Sam said?
Sounds started to emerge from my mouth, but I stopped them immediately. Jack looked upset about the fact that I had blatantly censored myself.
"Effie, say whatever you want. I'm here for you. You're not going to offend me."
"Well, it's just that Sam, well, Sam said—" I buried my head in my hands, wishing that this wasn't a part of my life.
"What about Sam?" Jack asked. "Did he do something to you?"
"He's been suspicious this whole time. I don't understand why, but he acted like he knew about us from the beginning."
"Well, so what?" Jack said defensively. "You had nothing to do with my decision. He's just paranoid because he's not the wunderkind he used to be."
"He's not acting rationally. He said his wife is divorcing him and he needs money to pay for legal troubles."
"His wife?" Jack asked suddenly.
"Yeah." I nodded.
"I don't think Sam's ever been married. Too focused on his job to settle down."
F*ck. What was going on here? Honestly, I believed Jack more than Sam, but I had no idea how to juggle the information. Was it just a weird coincidence? Had Sam actually said that stuff or had I just imagined it?
No, he definitely said it.
"Well, whatever," I said, not as a dismissal, but because I didn't know where to go with the information.
"He was probably just trying to get you to feel sympathetic for him. To make you feel bad or something. To take it out on someone else so he doesn't have to face the facts. His deal sucked. Period."
"Is MCI doing badly as a company?" It seemed like a good question.
"Not too bad. Not great either. Most labels aren't. That's why they want someone like Lexy on their rosters. I say f*ck 'em all. Independent is the only way to do it right now with something this hot."
Well, that made sense. "So what do I do?"
"With what? This isn't your problem. Relax. Chill out." He tapped his fingers together as he talked.
"What about that Dan guy? The jerk at the party?"
"He probably doesn't even work for MCI. I wouldn't worry about him. He acted like an a*shole. Deserved everything he got."
Jack was right about that. But I didn't have to see Dan every day, or ever. "Sam's always on my ass about stuff. And he's stressed out all the time, ever since I first met you."
"If Sam's being ridiculous, tell him to go to hell."
I was starting to feel flustered. "I can't do that every day, Jack. He's my boss!"
Jack slowed down after my heated retort. "Okay, I'm sorry," he said, "I know this means a lot to you, so I shouldn't be so dismissive of it. The more important thing is that it's out of your control, always has been. You can't do anything to improve it."
"Yeah," I mumbled, adding nothing to the discussion.
He wrapped his arm around me and kissed the top of my head. "Effie, you'll be fine. You have to trust me."
His words felt good, but hollow, only hollow because that's the way they felt to me at face value. He was a man of his word for sure, someone who followed through and did the right thing. But it wasn't enough for me at that moment, not yet.
"What does that mean, Jack? That I have to trust you?"
"Everything will work out. This is worrying you far too much for your own good. I'm happier than ever right now with you. I couldn't think of a better place to be. I've got nothing to complain about."
My eyes welled up with tears, his words like a full body caress. Who was I kidding? I felt incredible whenever I was with Jack. Even the worst situation could be something beautiful when he was around. I took a deep breath, and with my lowered defenses came calm. Things were moving so fast, but I couldn't think of any better speed than that. I think I wanted to say I love you, but my lips wouldn't move.
Or maybe I was afraid of the possibility.
"Me too," I said. I meant it.
I fell asleep with his arms around me, dozing off in that comfortable place in the sky.
***
The rest of the plane ride was uneventful since I slept through almost all of it. My body, coping with a combination of jet lag, a hangover, and stress from my situation, just aborted consciousness. I couldn't resist.
After landing, Jack took me home and told me to take some time to relax and think about things on my own. "You need some time to let everything sink in. Don't sweat it. Try to accept the worst possible scenario. It's usually not as bad as you think it is."
It sounded like he had been reading self-help books. The advice was solid, nevertheless.
"Easy for you to say, Mr. Millionaire. Dividends probably pay your rent."
Jack laughed, giving me that engaging grin. "I know a lot of formerly rich people who have nothing now. Spending can be like a disease, even with dividends."
"I'll watch out," I said.
He pulled me toward him, possessing my mouth with his tongue. It was both tender and passionate, and I mirrored the intensity. When the kiss broke, I hugged him, our bodies staying like that for a few minutes. Percy didn't care since Jack was obviously covering the bill.
"So I'll see you tomorrow?" I asked.
"Of course. You need to rest and let the dust settle in your mind."
I grabbed my bag and hobbled toward the open door, immediately wondering what I should say now. "Thanks, Jack. For a great time." I kept it simple.
"You're the one that made it fun. It would have been boring otherwise. Thank you for coming."
He cradled my hand with his own and then I climbed out to the sidewalk. When I got to the stoop, I heard him yell my name. Was he about to say it?
I left my bag there and walked back to the limo. "Yeah?"
"You forgot your phone. It fell out of your purse when you stood up."
I let out a cackle, but he probably didn't know why. "Thanks, Jack. You're the best."
He grinned and then lightly closed the door.
The limo drove away as I stood immobile, silently pondering my unique situation and the upcoming future.
Jesse was inside waiting for me, immediately curious after noticing the limo in the street. "Another fun weekend, huh?" He was sitting at the kitchen table with papers strewn about. I grabbed a chair after setting down my bags in the hallway.
"I guess you could say that," I remarked quietly. "We went to—" I paused, feeling bad after realizing I hadn't even had the courtesy to tell him where we had ended up after running into him right before I left. "L.A.," I said, my voice almost a whisper.
"You were in California all weekend? Why didn't you bring me along?" It was obvious he was kidding, but I was somewhere else entirely and not about to return to normality anytime soon.
"I'm so sorry," I said, ignoring his joke and instead pursuing my apology. "Jack just asked me to go on a weekend trip and I said yes and then we were on his private jet and—"
Jesse put his hand on my shoulder and interrupted me. "Effie, I was only kidding, I swear. I'm not mad at all. That's really awesome. Did you see anyone famous?"
His question ejected me from my funk. "Stacy Levons!" I shouted it loud enough that he jumped.
"Holy shit. Isn't she his ex? Was it weird?"
"Yeah, she is. And no, not weird at all."
Jesse gave me a warm smile. "Shit, and a private jet, huh?"
"It was surreal. And surreal is the understatement of a lifetime."
I went on and on after that, spilling the whole exciting story to him, minus the obviously private details. He sat and listened, a look of pure fascination on his face. I also omitted the detail about the record label employee at the party, wanting to give myself some time alone with that. Something told me I already knew what Jesse's perspective would be.
"That's so awesome, Effie," he said. "Just a spur-of-the-moment trip to the other side of the country. I kind of feel bad for my initial skepticism about this guy." His revision of history helped to put me at ease.
"He's just—" What did I want to say about him? I mean, my unfiltered mind used the word perfect, but I wouldn't say it aloud right now. "Just awesome."
His lips curled into a wry smile. "I hope Laura says that about me when I'm not around."
"Oh, I'm sure she says a lot more than that," I chuckled.
"Damn, should I be worried or something?" He raised an eyebrow.
"I think you've got nothing to worry about." I smiled back at him and stood up. "But listen, I've got to finish some things before work tomorrow. I'm gonna leave you to these papers here, okay?"
"Sounds just fine. If I don't see you again, goodnight, Effie."
I was thankful to have found a roommate like Jesse. He genuinely seemed to care, even though there was no real reason for him to.
Despite the fact that Jack and I had showered that morning, I showered again, happy to see my familiar dank bathroom interior. It wasn't terribly nice, but it had character—and a leaky faucet and improperly sealed shower walls. I pushed all of the bad things out of my mind and just relaxed in the steam.
I wanted a clear head going into the next week. And little did I know, I was going to need it more than ever. The weekend had been beautiful, almost like a vacation away from the world. Things were progressing fast with Jack, and I wouldn't obsess over the details anymore. I just wanted to ride along.
Honestly, I didn't give the situation much thought that night. After the shower, I threw on an episode of 30 Rock and passed out before it ended.