The Best Laid Plans (16 page)

Jayne’s email chimed. Finally. She’d already made a six-figure return on a big investment that paid off. Sarah would be a happy lady. Even happier if Jayne doubled it, which was possible. Her stomach clenched in anticipation. This was what she loved about her job. High stakes, high gains, and high excitement. With every success, she proved she was meant to be there, proved her savvy and affirmed her status as one of the best.
Hopefully the numbers are in, and then I can … hang on
. It wasn’t a market report at all.

It was from a Claire Kriss.

No attachments.

Not one of her contacts, but why did that name sound familiar? Jayne opened the email.

Has it already been ten years since we all stood in the park on that sweltering day in June while I gave the longest valedictorian speech ever? YES! Ten years since we graduated! Where has the time gone? What has everyone been up to? Who has changed the most, become the most successful? I know Facebook has sort of killed the surprise from High School Reunions, but here we are. RSVP before the 12
^th
so I can get final numbers!

God. High school. What a horrible place in a horrifying time. Jayne had been such a meek little loser back then. Her face grew hot just thinking about it. They were just kids, everyone said, as if that excused their actions. But she’d only been a kid too, and she’d never have done to anyone the things they did to her.

She deleted the email with a savage sort of glee.

But …

She was definitely a different person now; even her worst tormentor couldn’t deny that. Jayne was a true ugly duckling, though she’d always hated that inaccuracy. Ducklings grew up to be ducks. Cygnets grew up to be swans. She was an ugly cygnet. Physically in the best shape of her life, she’d more than grown into her looks, she’d become a financial rock star in a powerful career. There was really no area of her life where she wasn’t completely successful.

Well. Some women in their late twenties thought success was defined by what your husband did, and how beautiful your children were. Jayne didn’t have either. She did have Malcolm though, a man sexy enough to dazzle any of those shallow bitches. Jayne practically purred at the thought of jealousy in their eyes before shaking herself.

Was she seriously considering going to this reunion?

No one from work, or her life now, knew about her horrid past. Pretending to be a different person who had always been a beautiful, successful, go-getter was easy enough around strangers because they had no basis for comparison. They didn’t witness the awful beginnings that marred the face of her carefully woven tapestry, instead they only saw the image she created. The people at the reunion were there from the start. Some of them would be searching for a loose thread so they could pull who she was apart.

It could all go horribly wrong. She’d only just managed to smooth away the bumps and betrayals of high school in the last few years. Never mind the whole situation with her sister.

But if she went back, amazing, and successful, and showed those bitches what was up, this could redeem her in a huge way. Jayne had always identified with the underdogs. This could be her heroic moment where the underdog confronts the bullies of her past, and smite them with her ferocious awesomeness!

She opened her Deleted Items folder and stared at the email.

And Malcolm would be at her side. She’d dazzle them all, and then they could go back to the hotel and fuck like bunnies.

She opened the message and double-checked the email details. Oh. It was being held at the high school. Well. They’d leave the reunion, go to the hotel, and fuck like bunnies.

A click of the mouse, and she’d moved the email back to her inbox.

Someone once said revenge was a dish best served cold. Someone else said that success was the best revenge. They were both wrong.

Revenge was a dish best served by a foxy redhead with a scandalously sexy musician at her side.

After work, her cell rang the second her cheeks hit her couch. Her mom.

“Hey, Mom. How are you?”

“I’m fine. So have you been seeing anyone?” Pessimistic hope lived in her mother’s all-too familiar question.

“Yes.”

There was a scrabbling sound as if her mom had almost dropped the phone. “You have?”

Jayne chuckled. She knew her mom had hoped she’d meet someone and hated that she hadn’t settled down yet. She never expected a different answer, but asked her the same question every week.

“Yes.”

“Just the one, right?” she asked carefully.

“Yes, Mom. I finally selected one from my harem of male suitors.” Old joke.

“Oh, Jayne, don’t be silly,” she warmly scolded. “So what’s his name, what’s he do? Is he nice? What do you guys do?”

Mostly have mind-blowing sex. “His name is Malcolm, he’s a musician – a proper one doing studio work, not some grungy guy with Peter Pan syndrome trying to be a rock star.” Her mother made an approving sound. “Yes, he’s nice. We,” she searched for a kind euphemism that wouldn’t shock her Mom, “date.”

“When do your Dad and I get to meet him?”

“It’s early days! You definitely won’t be meeting him any time soon. Maybe in a month or two.”
If we’re still together then.

“And he treats you well? Have you met his parents?”

“Yes, he treats me well, and no I haven’t met his parents. No immediate plans to either.”

“Good! Because we get to meet him first.”

“You’re so competitive!”

“Well, you’ve never given me a maybe before! I have hope! This is exciting!”

“Don’t get carried away.”

“Please, I’m old. I want grandkids before I’m too old to enjoy them!”

“Hanging up now!” Jayne laughed.

“Love you, sweetheart!”

“Love you, and love to Dad as well.”

Jayne hung up, flushed and happy. There were no plans to change their relationship, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Malcolm was sexy as hell, independent, smart, and fun. He didn’t try to put her in a little box, or control her like a couple men had tried to do once they wanted to make it exclusive. Commitments changed people and not usually for the better.

Jayne wasn’t stupid. Being awkward in school, and one of the guys in college, had shown her what most guys were out for. Hearing the games her guy friends ran on women had been a real eye-opener. Men were scandalous and would do nearly anything to get their target into bed. Then they were off to the next conquest. Sure, eventually they met someone they wanted to settle down with. But too many times she saw the guys chase the confident woman, only to resent her independent nature once that relationship status changed.

A couple years ago, she’d thought she’d been with someone who loved her. She’d loved once and it had turned out badly. It was her fault for wanting more, for thinking she had it, and for trusting him. He was only looking out for number one. She learned to separate sex from emotions then.

Jayne had no problem at all flipping the script and running the same games on guys. Not like any of them were broken up about her using them – they got their backs scratched as well. They’d have done the same to her. Some tried to do the same to her. But the late nights listening to her guy friends purge plays and compare notches in their bedposts taught her well.

She’d never be one of those girls. No man would ever do that to her, use her as a quick fuck. Wise to their games, she had heard all their lines, and always struck first. Lisa Tristina had helped, but it occurred to her that her usefulness had come to an end with the way her and Malcolm had connected. No, not connected. Hooked up. ‘Making a connection’ was something that hippies did. She and Malcolm weren’t in love, and they didn’t connect. They fucked.

Speaking of which …

She typed out a text.

‘My place tonight. I assume you remember the address. Ten PM. No is not an option.’

***

Malcolm could barely breathe for ten minutes after he read the email. High school reunion. On some level he knew they were customary, that his just loomed on the horizon around his twenty-eighth birthday. But until he’d run into Jayne again, he hadn’t thought much about it. High school had been pushed to the back of his mind, relegated to the settings of some of his favorite movies. Doing the last two years via correspondence had helped with that dissociation.

Then Jayne came and ripped open the old wounds. Still, the way he felt about her now had bandaged them up again. In being with her, a piece of him felt healed. Or it was, until Claire’s email brought it flooding back in a completely different way.

A little note at the bottom in a different font than the rest of the email, made him think the rest was what everyone got, and this addition was something she’d added herself.

Dylan! I hear you’re deep in the music scene now. I saw your name on my girlfriend’s favorite singer’s album and freaked out! Good on you for making something of yourself. Would you be interested in showcasing your talent at the reunion? Nothing major, just a song or two during the slide show or something more if you’re into it? Let me know!

Seriously, how the hell had she even tracked him down? He’d moved two hours away from that small town hellhole and into the big city, changed his name … but he hadn’t really. Claire had been the valedictorian, mostly down to her photographic memory. Fingers in all the nerdy pies, she had always been a bit of a hacker, a member of the marching band, chess club, and she’d been on the yearbook committee as well. She’d had access to everyone’s personal files, would have known his middle name, seen his last name, and looked him up online.

No wonder she’d been put in charge of the reunion. If she could track him down, it sounded like no one would escape her binary arm. Unless they were on a mission in a grass hut somewhere in one of the three places in the world with no Wi-Fi, everyone would be tapped to return to Tall Stone. Would they all show up? Claire was right about Facebook killing the surprise of the reunion – social media made it way too easy to see what people were up to nowadays.

The feel good movies were all the same: The hero rolled up to the reunion, seeing the jocks’ six packs turned to flabby kegs. The bitchy homecoming queen was something lame, but still thought she was fabulous. The geeks made good, came back awesome, shaming everyone who had ever tried to hold them down. The cool girl who hadn’t known she was cool had turned into a beautiful swan.

But real life wasn’t like that.

Was it?

He was in amazing shape, and would definitely turn a few heads. And he worked with famous people all the time. He wasn’t exactly famous himself, but he’d achieved success in a cool job people would love to be in.

And he had the knockout girl. But did he even want to go? Of course he did. But he had to come clean to Jayne first. Dread burrowed into his stomach and built a home for itself. How was he going to bring that up? ‘Hey, I got an invitation to my ten year high school reunion—What? You did too? Where did you go? Oh my god, me too! What a coincidence … ’

Damn.

Maybe she’d bring it up first, invite him as her date? He could weave in the fact they used to go to the same school, act like it was no big deal. Though that felt dishonest as hell. Mostly because it was. He’d just have to ask if she had plans that night. And see her reaction and go from there.

His phone buzzed with a text from her. Speak of the devil. She invited him to her place – a big deal for her. He got the impression she never brought men back to her home. It was a great sign, and would be perfect. He could invite her to his “gig.”

Hopefully she said yes. He typed his response.

‘As you wish.’

She felt a little shy inviting him in. She never had men back here, and he had been inside before only once. Her memory flashed back to that first night they’d met when he’d pressed her against the wall, right there to her left. She shivered remembering that glorious torture. His eyes darkened when she looked at him, responding to her expression.