He says nothing else, and I feel myself shrinking a little under his steady gaze.
“It’s just that you said something on Saturday. Before Jackson agreed to the project, I mean.”
“About a few of my successful land deals having the opposite impact on him.”
“Yes.”
“Did Jackson ask you about it?”
I think about our conversation in the car. We discussed it, true. But Jackson never asked. “No,” I say, secure in my literal honesty.
He leans against the island, his hands in his pockets. “It’s complicated,” he says, “but the bottom line is that the consortium was badly run—and that provided me the chance to step in and acquire some prime real estate. A business deal, plain and simple, at least where I was concerned.”
“Where you were concerned?”
“If the deal had gone through, you and a lot of other people would have been embroiled in a huge mess simply because you’d worked closely with one of the major players.”
“Reggie.”
Damien tilts his head in acknowledgment.
“Okay,” I say slowly, thinking it through. “How was it badly run? What kind of mess? Would Jackson have been caught up in it?”
“Yes to the latter. As for how and what kind, I think those are questions for Reggie. Do you still keep in touch?”
“A bit,” I say. “He moved to Houston, but he’s been to LA twice in the last five years. We had lunch.”
“If you’re still curious the next time you have lunch, ask him. Otherwise, just let it go, Sylvia. Let it go, and consider yourself lucky.”
“Lucky?”
“If Reggie hadn’t decided to pull up stakes, you might still be working for him. You wouldn’t have Cortez. And I would never have hired a truly great assistant.”
“Oh. Right. Thanks.”
“Sometimes crappy things happen for a reason.”
“I guess they do,” I say. “Thanks for telling me.”
“There’s more, but it’s not my story to tell. Call Reggie if you’re curious. But it was a long time ago. My advice is to just let it go.”
“I will,” I say, though I’m not sure if I mean that I will call Reggie, or that I’ll drop the issue altogether.
We walk back into the party to find that everyone has gathered on the patio. It’s a gorgeous afternoon, and the deep blue of the Pacific spreads out in the distance.
“There you are.” Wyatt takes my hand to draw me into his conversation with Nikki and Jackson. “I was just telling Nikki we need to reschedule your lesson. How about Tuesday? We can do some sunset shots in Santa Monica. That is if you don’t mind coming to us,” he adds to Nikki.
“Fine by me,” she says. “We can grab a drink after, okay, Syl?”
I glance at Damien, because I know that Nikki will be long gone by happy hour. But he nods almost imperceptibly, and I go with the flow. Her trip is a surprise, after all, and we can always reschedule later. “Sounds good to me.”
“And I’d like to schedule a time for you to come to the island,” Jackson says. “I can take a few shots on my own, but depending on the terrain I may want you to put together a more extensive portfolio for me to use for planning purposes.”
“Just say the word. I love it out there. Can’t wait to go back.”
“Damien was there this morning,” Nikki says.
“Not you?” I ask.
“I took an investor,” Damien explains. “Dallas Sykes. I’ve been looking at acquiring a piece of his operation. And I wanted to smooth over his ruffled feathers after he heard the original gossip about Glau.”
“Damien took Sykes and his latest fling,” Nikki says, her tone making clear that we’ve crossed over into gossip.
The conversation continues along those lines—bouncing from gossip to work to families to friends—until Jackson announces that he and I have plans to scout the island, too, and should probably get going.
We say our goodbyes, and I watch as Jackson and Damien shake hands, looking for all the world like two men who don’t have the slightest problem with each other.
I release a slow breath, realizing at that moment how much I’d been worrying, even after I watched the two interact.
But now it looks like things are really on track, and whatever animosity Jackson might feel for Damien has either been resolved or very deeply buried.
And that, if it’s true, is a damn good thing.
eighteen
“A boat?”
I’m standing on a slip near Fisherman’s Village in Marina del Rey looking at a totally awesome cream-colored boat and wondering what the hell we are doing.
“We’d already be on the island if we’d had Clark or Grayson fly us in the helicopter,” I say, but Jackson only shrugs and continues doing whatever it is he’s doing on his phone. “It took longer to drive back here from Malibu than it would have to fly.”
I expect a reply, but he says nothing. “Are you even listening to me?”
He looks up. “Checklist,” he says, holding up the phone. “And I’m messaging the security team that we’re taking her out.”
I cross my arms over my chest and stare him down, trying to decide if I’m irritated or amused. I settle on amused. “Why exactly are we taking someone’s boat to the island?”
“Not someone’s boat,” he says. “My boat. And because I wanted to show her to you.”
“You have a boat?”
“I do.” He points to the boat we’re standing beside. “There she is.”
“And you’re a comedian, too,” I say, but the truth is, I’m kind of delighted. I haven’t been out on a boat in ages, and this is turning into a bit of an adventure. “How fast is she? How long will it take to get to the island?”
“About two hours.”
I glance at the sky. It’s four, and the sun is already making its descent. “It’s October. By the time we get there, we’ll barely have an hour of light.”
“Good thing my bedroom’s on board. We can start fresh in the morning.” He grins, and looks so much like a delighted boy that I can’t help but laugh.
“Fine. You win. Tell me all about her.” I pause. “Wait. Bedroom? You live here?”
“It seemed prudent. And more economical than continuing to bounce from hotel to hotel whenever I was in town. Of course I considered pitching a tent on my land, but the boat has plumbing.”
“You made a good decision,” I deadpan.
“I thought so.”
“The truth is, I’ve had meetings with a few clients in Santa Barbara. This way, I can bring my office to them.” He points to what appears to be the second level, an enclosed space with walls of windows. “She has a huge area just behind the top deck designed for entertaining. I converted it to a workspace. Lots of natural light. Ocean breezes. And I’ve always loved boats.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I told you my dad wasn’t around much, but the one thing he did right was teach me how to sail.”
I let my eyes drift over this monstrosity of a vessel. “This isn’t a sailboat.”
“Look at you. I didn’t realize you were so up-to-date on all things nautical.”
I smirk, then walk the length of the boat until I’m at her end. Which may or may not be the stern. Unlike Jackson, I have no clue about boats. I do, however, know they have names. This one is Veronica.
“Who is she?”