Read Ginny Blue's Boyfriends Online
Authors: Nancy Kelly
Ginny Blue's Boyfriends (10 page)
“Is CeeCee here?” I forced out, holding onto my cool with an effort.
“Don’t think so.”
“Hey!” Sean said, having finally gotten past the bouncer and coming up on my right. Jackson gave him an assessing look, not unfriendly, just curious. I introduced them, feeling like I was playing a part in some play as Jill joined us, her head swiveling around in search of CeeCee’s party.
“You know Jill,” I said to Jackson.
“Of course.” He actually rose from the barstool and gave Jill a quick hug, too, which turned her to stone. Over his shoulder her eyes reached out to me in askance. I shook my head, still bemused that CeeCee had invited Jackson.
And she hadn’t slept with him, either.
Jill wasn’t a fan of Jackson. She’d suffered an unrequited crush which had never seriously gotten off the ground. They’d managed some of those almost dates—meet-me-here, we’ll-see-what-happens kinds of things—but as far as I knew it had never progressed much further. For one thing, Ian was always in the background. For another, Jackson Wright never committed. It wasn’t his way. Like me, I think Jill saw that for what it was right away and she veered away from him. Like all of us, she badmouthed him whenever possible.
As I considered this, I wondered why we all acted so strangely toward him. But I knew. We were all half in love/ lust with him and all our nose-in-the-air disdain was merely to hide our own insecurities. The thought made me squirm. I didn’t want to like Jackson. At all.
“What have you been doing?” Jackson asked the both of us.
“Production,” I said.
“I’m a PA on her job,” Sean said, making it sound far more intimate than it was.
“Catering,” Jill said.
“That’s right. You’ve got your own business now.”
“If you can call it that,” Jill said. “It’s feast or famine. I love weddings,” she added with a catch in her voice. “They’re great gigs.”
“What about you?” I asked, though I already knew.
“I’m still a glutton for punishment. Financial management,” he added for Sean’s benefit.
Sean pretended interest. “Yeah? Cool.”
“You still taking care of actors, directors, etcetera?”
“Mostly I’m investing for myself,” Jackson admitted. “And I’m getting involved in some other projects.”
“What kind of projects?”
“Film projects.”
“Really?” I said, totally intrigued.
He shrugged lightly, dismissing it. “Nothing’s together yet. You know.”
I nodded. Until the day it happened, one never knew if a project was really going to happen. In the commercial business we were always waiting to see when the job awarded. No use counting one’s chickens until they hatched, because if you did, those chickens would definitely stay in the shell forever.
“We’ll have to talk,” Jackson said to me.
“Sure.” Whatever that meant.
The bartender came and Jackson insisted on buying us all drinks. Jill and Sean ordered saki bombs and squeezed up to the bar beside Jackson to down them, drawing dark looks from the group of girls who’d staked claim to the bar stools on either side. I passed on Ketel One for a gin and tonic. Bombay Sapphire gin martini in honor of ‘Ginny Blue.’ I was actually toying with adding the moniker as a nickname. I could see myself telling everyone I met that my name was Ginny Sapphire Blue, but it sounded sort of pretentious.
Jackson continued, “When the market went down I lost some clients and had to rethink what I wanted to do.”
“Taking care of other people’s money wasn’t what it was cracked up to be?” I carefully sipped at my martini. Gin is a little tricky, I always think. Especially basically straight gin.
“As soon as I decided to get out of the financial management business, some of my clients came back. Go figure.”
“So, you’re a little of this now, and a little of that.”
He nodded. “Your friend John stayed with me the whole time, though.”
“John?”
“John Langdon.”
The blood drained from my face. I could feel it. Luckily, the place was dark and hopefully my voice didn’t sound as strangled as it felt when I said, “Oh, yeah, sure. Lang.”
“You know John Langdon?” Sean breathed, impressed.
Jackson grimaced, clearly aware that he’d put me in a tough position. I could have kicked him.
“They had a thing,” Jill decided to reveal, “but she doesn’t like to talk about it.”
John Langdon. Ex-File Number ... Four. Okay, he’s the real number four. Mr. Famous Actor.
“It was a short thing,” I said through my teeth.
“How short?” Jill asked, picking up on the double entendre.
Jackson’s brows had lifted and he was looking amused. When I didn’t respond he drawled, “According to Lang, that isn’t the case. He can’t keep his mouth shut about its size and where it’s been and with whom.” I must have looked stricken because he added kindly, “Although he refers to you as the ‘one who got away.’ ”
“Bullshit,” I said.
“Just the truth,” he assured.
Sean was staring at me. “Un-be-fuckin’-lievable!”
To my relief CeeCee and Daphne entered at that moment, followed by a couple of guys and girls I didn’t know. The party swarmed around us and we were carried off to a reserved table. Somehow I’d thought CeeCee’s party was going to be small, but it grew as the evening wore on until we were spilling onto other people’s tables, stealing chairs and tables and absorbing others into our group.
I stayed sober, being a designated driver and finding that I had no desire whatsoever to have another drink. Maybe it was seeing Jackson, maybe it was learning the disturbing news that he was Lang’s financial manager, maybe it was the phase of the moon. Whatever the case, I had become the least happy person around, and I tried desperately to keep my eyes off Jackson until he had the bad judgment to actually come over and engage me in further conversation.
I was not interested with a capital
not
.
not
.
I tried to fob him off, but Jackson can be damn entertaining when he wants to be. For reasons I didn’t want to explore, he seemed to want to be now.
“Someone ought to watch the candles on the cake,” he observed dryly, “or hair, ribbon, packages are going to catch fire.”
I was at the far end of the table from CeeCee who was less interested in the usual birthday accouterments than she was in the long-haired guy to her right. People kept thrusting packages and little birthday bags with huge ribbons in her hands, but her eyes and thoughts and ears were bent toward the guy. Jill had told me he was with the radio station. For a brief moment I’d thought it might be the guy with the cigarette burn, but the backs of both hands were unscarred. This was somebody else, apparently. I was relieved to think the ass-grabber could be history.
Someone said, “What is that? It smells like wet dog.”
Everyone glanced toward CeeCee. The cake, illuminated by twenty-eight tiny candles, was close to a pile of bags and gifts, but nothing was aflame. CeeCee’s hair, which had been growing out a bit, still wasn’t long enough to catch fire but her male companion’s was. I could see the filaments of his mane curl up and singe.
Then suddenly tissue paper went up in a bright yellow
whoosh.
whoosh.
“CeeCee!” I yelled.
Screams echoed through the room. Everyone jumped from their seats. I had to fight to stay where I was. Jackson pushed forward and calmly beat out the flames with a table napkin. Daphne snatched up the cake and held it aloft. The cake teetered for a moment on its cardboard platter and the party collectively screamed as Daphne quickly did a wild balancing act, managing to steady the dessert and miraculously keep the candles flickering merrily away.
“Geez, Louise,” I muttered and sat down heavily. Mr. Mane was examining the blackened ends of his hair as Daphne set down the cake and collapsed with relief into a chair. CeeCee looked amused by the spectacle.
Jill said, “I could use another saki bomb,” which Sean eagerly seconded.
Jackson shot me a look. I shrugged my shoulders and started laughing. Disaster had been averted. Jackson smiled.
Before we could settle back into the party, the grim, white-faced manager came over and asked us all to leave. CeeCee’s answer was to blow the candles completely out, then give the manager the finger. Luckily, he’d turned away for just a brief moment, enough to miss her act of insurgence. Jackson took him aside and talked to him and we were all grudgingly allowed to stay.
I moved toward Jackson as the guests settled back into their seats, a little more alert, a little more sober.
“You can hardly blame them,” said Jackson. “A fire in a public place ... it’s deadly.”
“I see the future and it’s a cold, cold place without birthday candles on cakes.” I glanced to the guy with the burned hair. He was desperately trying to laugh it all off while being totally pissed. “What is it with CeeCee and fire around men?”
“Has this happened before?”
“Not exactly.” I broke down and told him about the cigarette incident. He wasn’t surprised in the least, as it turns out, which made me give him a long look.
He admitted, “I knew about what happened with Richter.”
“What do you mean
you knew
?”
you knew
?”
“CeeCee and I go out for drinks sometimes. She told me about him. It happened about six months ago.”
Richter? I was hurt. CeeCee hadn’t revealed this information—this
seriou
s information, no less—to her girlfriends but she’d managed to blab the story to Jackson Wright, thank you very much.
seriou
s information, no less—to her girlfriends but she’d managed to blab the story to Jackson Wright, thank you very much.
As if reading my thoughts, Jackson said, “She was kind of embarrassed about it. Felt maybe she’d overreacted. She thought he might actually file charges against her and wanted to know what I thought. Jace Richter’s a real asshole, but he’s also a coward. He didn’t want to have to go to court and explain what had provoked CeeCee.”
“You know him?”
He shook his head. “CeeCee’s station manager is a client. I kind of got in the middle of it without meaning to. I did talk to Richter, though. That’s why I’m qualified in calling him an asshole.”
“Well, he likes to grab asses.”
“Specifically CeeCee’s. He’s got a thing for her.”
I thought again how CeeCee seemed interested in him as well. My revulsion must have showed because Jackson asked, “What?”
“I’m worried there might be a reciprocal ‘thing’ going.”
Jackson didn’t immediately answer. I could tell he was holding out on me. It was my turn to ask, “What?”
“My client. The station manager. He’s got a thing for CeeCee, too. It’s a real mess. I told CeeCee she might be better off quitting.”
“No way! She loves that job.”
“She’s got two men interested in her. One of them wants her job.”
“And her ass,” I pointed out.
“They both want that, Ginny. It’s unfortunate, because she really hasn’t asked for any of this.”
I looked over at the partiers. CeeCee was making her way through her gifts. Mr. Mane was nursing his anger in a corner away from the crowd. CeeCee shot him a look but I could tell she was turned off by his little-boy behavior.
I was stung by how much information had passed between Jackson and CeeCee. “You’re really in the know, aren’t you?”
“In this case.”
“Do you know who that guy is?” I inclined my head toward Mr. Mane.
He shook his head.
The evening wore on. I stayed near Jackson, but that was about the extent of our conversation. Sean had somehow managed to get stuck beside a gay couple on one side and Jill on the other. His voice had grown louder and louder with his consumption of alcohol but no one was listening. I thought I should rescue him, as technically he was my date. He finally managed to extricate himself from his chair and I helped him get around the chairs that stood in his way. He half-tripped, then finally got clear. Instantly he slung an arm over my shoulder, his beer teetering somewhere above my right breast. I kept a wary eye on it, expecting it to drop to the floor and drench me on its way down.
He managed to hang onto it until jostled by one of the other drunks. I jumped away and avoided most of the beer spill. CeeCee opened the last of her gifts: some kind of rude sex-shop item, which turned out to be licorice crotchless panties. Yep. Love that kind of good taste in gifts. Turned out it was from Mr. Mane. What a guy.
At the end of the evening I watched as Jackson kissed CeeCee goodbye on the cheek. He scared a smile out of her. It was all very big-brotherly but it depressed me nonetheless. I was definitely going to have to take this up with Dr. Dick.
Jill caught me looking and I shrugged. She left it alone. We all headed outside with Sean totally drunk and stumbling after me. He gave my shoe a flat tire before dropping like a stone into the passenger seat. As I righted my shoe, Jill climbed in the back.
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