Weathering Jack Storm (Silver Strings G Series) (7 page)

In the midst of this conversation, a beep sounded, and without pausing in speech, he tilted the screen to peer at the incoming text. The doorbell peeled, and remaining intent on what he was hearing on his wireless, he stepped over to push the door closed. Immediately, all sound ceased. The room becoming so quiet, she could almost make out the words coming through the phone speaker.

Some sort of tension was mounting. She could feel it emanating from him, more intense with every second. A rap sounded at the door behind him; he secured the lock, never breaking his convincing argument into the phone.

The rap incessantly sounded again, and he ignored it, instead turning on the phone speaker and positioning the keyboard to type a text as he talked.

Five minutes had passed, and she wanted to check on Tristan, especially since someone had obviously arrived, but as if sensing her thoughts of leaving the room, Jack remained planted in the way.

The voice coming through the phone sounded fortyish, and finally, the conversation seemed to calm as the faceless voice spoke, “Alright Loren.” A flash of irritation crossed Jack’s face. “I’m willing to concede that I somehow didn’t get the message, if you are willing to concede that you did not make sure I got it. There are no acceptable excuses in the future for what happened.”

“Thank you. And again, I apologize.” Jack’s words sounded sincere, but she could see that they came through gritted teeth.

“I am serious. You would do well to remember, I still own you.”

When the ‘end call’ tone sounded, Jack muttered, “For now, asshole.”

“Was that about Tristan’s surgery?” she asked, pondering how it all tied in to whatever major upheaval had resulted.

“Sort of,” he answered, but his mind was onto the next problem of the day. “Listen Mariss, I’ve got some stuff that has to be finalized. Originally, I was going to ask if you wouldn’t mind Dax taking you to a few shops. But then, somehow Randi got wind of it, and she offered, in fact insisted, and well she would know where to go...” Dwindling down, he studiously observed her face, then risked, “Dax is doing great with Tristan...”

“You want me to go shopping with your ex?!” Dropping the drumsticks she had been fiddling with, she gawked.

“She’s not–”

“I know! I know.” Nervously knotting her hair into a bun, she blew out a tired breath. “Not your ex–your fuck-buddy.”

“She’s not!”

“Anymore!”

“Dax can take you. Damn, it was just a question. All you had to say was no.”

“Who was at the door? It was her, wasn’t it? She’s here? Now?”

“I didn’t think it would be a big deal. Dax can still take you—as was the original plan.”

And leave Leanna Miranda here with Jack? Not an option.

Aloud, she fumed, “There was a plan? Because you never told me anything. Except be ready to go by noon.”

A sense of desolation began to settle in her soul. If she had known either ‘plan’, she would have invited Olivia to fly out for a couple of days. Liv could have shopped with her, watched Tristan tonight, and would have been moral support.

Again, Jack defended his actions. “I knew I had to get this stuff done, that I couldn’t go with you. But I didn’t want you to worry about it.”

“I wouldn’t have worried about it,” she fumed and kicked at a wire that tangled her toe as she tramped around the room. “I would have fixed it. I can take care of myself. I have for more than half my life!”

Perhaps stress lingered, and possibly her words hammered at the temper he had reigned in during that phone call. A shadow stole over his expression, and he snarled, “You didn’t have to! You chose to.”

“You are wrong. I had to when I was young. When Tristan came into the picture, yes, I chose to! It seemed more logical then fucking things up more by bringing some irresponsible metal maniac into an already messed up situation.”

“I have been a lot of things, but rarely irresponsible!”

“The only reason Tristan exists is because you were –”

“Dammit, just stop! Mariss my honey, just stop...”

Turning away, she squeezed her eyes shut. Inhaling deeply, she mentally talked herself down. She loved Jack. Jack loved her. Bringing their loving last night to the front of her thoughts, she faced him again.

Finding his hand on the doorknob, she closed the distance and circled his wrist with her fingers. “You’re right. It’s not a big deal. Leanna will be able to help me better than Dax.” She would be damned if he thought she was some jealous shrew. “I’m just tired, and you caught me off guard.”

“It is a big deal if you think it is.” His voice gentled, and his dark eyes searched hers.

“If I think it is?” She laughed. That was such a male statement, right up there with ‘I’m sorry for whatever I did...’

His brows drew together. “I mean if you don’t want to go with her, then what you are feeling is a big deal to me.”

Okay, those words made it sound better, sweet even.

“It’s fine, really.” Shooting a smile for good measure, she smoothed at her hair, preparing to meet this lingerina.

LEANNA STOOD AS MARISSA AND
JACK
stepped
down into the den. Marissa struggled to stop so many reactions. Annoyance, that the woman had been sitting so close to her son. Awe, that the model was just as beautiful in Jack’s house as in an airbrushed catalog.

Ignoring Jack for the moment, Leanna beamed an engaging smile.

“Well hello!” The voice was like licorice, not overly sugary but still deep and sweet. Holding her hands out, the beautiful woman gave Marissa a friendly once over, and after a second of surprise, Marissa allowed her fingers to be informally squeezed during the introduction. “I’m Randi and you are obviously Mariss.”

Mariss? Is that how Jack spoke of her? Thinking back to the previous day, she tried to recall the introductions to Dax, Chris, and the plane pilots.

The prickle of Jack’s intent gaze pulled her to the present, and she hastened to return a smile just as warm. “Marissa, actually.” Supplying the correction, she went on politely thanking the other girl for volunteering as a shopping consultant.

Quietly, clearing his throat, Jack spoke. “Mariss, you feeling better? If you still have that headache, you could wait a couple of hours and Dax can drive. Or Randi could have some things sent over in your size...” Here, he looked at Leanna vaguely concluding, “However you girls do that?”

“We girls go shopping,” Leanna declared. “Once Jeanette gets her measurements, then Mariss can call and have things sent over all day, every day!”

Jack sent Marissa a searching look, and she knew he was feeling guilty about pairing her for a day out with this particular woman. He was giving her an excuse, if she wanted it, but she nodded in agreement with Leanna.

With a last searching look, he muttered something about going upstairs for his billfold, and she couldn’t help but feel happy he was now so nervous.

Shouldn’t he feel uneasy sending two women off together who had both experienced his penis?

Interrupting Marissa’s humorous musings, Leanna declared, “No time to wait. I have accounts. We can settle later.”

With another bright smile, the girl said her goodbyes. First, to Dax who crashed his virtual car while basking in her attention, then to Tristan who did not look up.

Crossing to her tiny gamer for a good-bye kiss, Marissa ignored the voice prompting her to correct her son’s manners. Suddenly, processing what had been said, she paused in horror looking at Jack who was again texting on his phone. No way would Jack let Leanna buy her dress, even on a loan, right?

Fortunately, his judgment was not that far lacking, and returning his phone to its clip, he shook his head. “Thanks, but Mariss may as well set up her own accounts, right? Once you get her addicted to LA shopping, there will be plenty more days like this.”

Jack shot a humorous smile their way before exiting the room, and although she grinned back, mentally she retorted otherwise.

There would be no more days with Leanna Miranda Gavin!

Several minutes later, she was belted in Leanna Miranda’s Bimmer. Gated driveways intersected the winding residential road every hundred feet or so, and the gate guarded houses were no more visible today than they had been in the dark last night upon arrival.

“So,” Leanna broke the ice, “I am in love with Tristan! How adorable is he!”

“Yeah, I agree. But I am, after all, his mother.” Automatically, Marissa answered, but for no particular reason, Leanna’s interest in their son irritated her.

“Nice car,” Marissa volleyed back. She had no desire to converse with Leanna. She was simply upholding a social expectation.

“Thanks! I wanted it in red because the one I traded in was white. But the dealer said it would take a week to order a red convertible. This one was already there. And, what’s the point of a whim buy if you don’t drive home in the whim you bought? You know?”

“Yeah. I know.” Marissa let her smile go wide enough to crinkle her eyes, and then rolled them as she turned away to the window on her side.

An entire afternoon of this?

Marissa already suspected that the dress was going to cost more than she had once made in a single paycheck and had mentally prepared herself for adaptation. However, to have Leanna Miranda prattle on about the inconvenience of purchasing a BMW as an impulse buy, when Marissa had lain awake nights trying to plan how to pay medical bills was maddening.

The sales girl, introduced as Gigi, knew Leanna Miranda on sight and fawned over her like a favored customer. When Marissa handed over ‘Jack Storms’ credit card, the young woman’s eyes lit and this exclusive bubble stretched to include her as well as Leanna.

As Gigi began pecking away on her tablet, setting up a sales account, Miranda quickly led Marissa to an alcove in the store.

“Thought we might want to get a look at the dresses before she begins pushing them at us. She really doesn’t have the best taste.” Leanna scooped her hair over her shoulder and went on to whisper, “I never have the heart to tell her to leave me alone though...”

Maybe the lingerina wasn’t a total snob. Marissa pulled her gaze from the other woman’s sleek mane of hair to the dresses being pulled from various racks. Trepidation caused her hand to shake as she put it out exploring a black gown.

“Not black,” Leanna instructed, and Marissa noticed her accomplice was flipping through brighter colors. Dropping her hand, she nevertheless noted the location of the black for future reference. Jack liked her in black.

The color spectrum of these dresses seemed all hued from black, white, and red. When Leanna held up a deep pink, Marissa vigorously shook her head.

Gigi was soon back, bearing a bucket of chilled wine and two frosty glasses. Leanna graciously thanked the girl and poured two glasses extending one Marissa’s way. When Gigi held up a dress for perusal, Leanna wrinkled her nose and winked asking, “So where is Jeannette today?”

“I will be glad to call her.” Nervously, the girl chose another dress and sent a furtive look to Leanna, then Marissa.

Depositing her glass on the table, Marissa asked, “Where is the dressing room?”

Gigi led the way and insisted on carrying the selections in. To Marissa’s surprise, Leanna trailed her into the lush room and perched on a settee with her wineglass.

Marissa considered asking her to leave, but the atmosphere was already weird enough. Besides, it wasn’t as if she was not used to company while trying on clothing. Olivia was forever peeking over, or opening the door of the tiny dressing rooms in the stores they inhabited. How she wished her missed friend was here, instead of Leanna.

Maybe being a lingerie model made the other woman less inhibited. Maybe Leanna’s interest included women as well as men? Trying not to stare, Marissa rolled her jeans and shirt into a semi tidy mass and used the mirror to covertly observe Leanna’s eyes blatantly moving over her bared skin. Maybe this was just how it was in LA.

Stepping into the lacey black dress, she sneaked another look and found the other woman on the move, closing in to pull together the zipper. Standing back, Leanna’s face filled with awe, and the same expression flooded her words.

“I know I said no black, but you rock that dress!”

Mariss you are so rockin’ that dress. Jack’s words came to mind in response to another black dress. Shaking the sweet memories, Marissa pirouetted, scrutinizing her reflection.

“Why no black?”

“It’s a drop party, babe. Not a funeral! But you are obviously authorized for black!” Leanna retreated to her observation seat and her wine.

“So, is black frowned upon or just not worn often?” Marissa smoothed the flyaways in her hair as she once more admired the smooth shine of Leanna’s hair.

“Just rarely worn. Except by the guys.”

“How many will be there?”

“Guys?” Leanna asked with a goofy raise of one brow. “Many, I hope.”

“Total…” Marissa laughed with Leanna and again eyed the mirror reluctantly conceding against black.

“Five-hundred? Give or take a hundred.” Leanna paused with her glass mid-sip as she pondered. “But they trickle in and out.” Tipping her stem, the other woman swigged the contents of the glass. The carefree attitude vanished with a poof, and Leanna reassured, “Don’t be spooked! Everyone, for the most part, at these things is cool. Can’t say the same for some of the other raves, but drop parties are the best!”