Haze (38 page)

Something inside of me just wouldn't activate. His offer seemed like the greatest thing possible, along with the
worst
. But why? I didn't even know. I couldn't come up with a reason—I could only
feel it
. Was coming up with a solution on my own better than what he was saying? It sounded like a dream job.

"Work for you." I said it as if it were an outfit I grabbed off the rack and had carried into the dressing room to see how it fit me. I guess it was my vulnerability that made me so distant in that moment, my reptilian brain falsely claiming that it had discovered
danger
and that I should flee to save myself.

Wrong, wrong, wrong. Stupid.

"Well?"

My nerves were starting to loosen from the alcohol. "I'm not sure I can answer," I said honestly.

"I hope you believe me. I didn't know that this was going to happen, that Sam was so much of a fucking creep."

"Yeah," I said quietly, suddenly remembering that incident. It started to race through my veins like venom. Had a snake just bitten me?

"This all just sort of
happened
," he said. "I've been thinking about it so much, and it's the only thing that makes sense to me."

My composure started to weaken, but I battled to control myself. "It sounds pretty good, but—"

"But
what
?" he asked with rising intensity. "Why does
wanting you
have to be at odds with your goals? Why can't we just be happy together instead of deconstructing everything? What's wrong with wanting
us
to be a real thing? It'll be everything we've ever wanted and more. It'll be
perfect
." He stopped and stared right into me. "Effie, if I can't wake up next to you every morning, I don't know what I'll do with myself. I've never wanted anything more than I want you."

I was back at square one, furious at myself, furious at these walls I had constructed for no reason at all. I couldn't seem to shake them, couldn't seem to admit to myself that what Jack wanted was actually the
same thing I wanted
. Why couldn't I just say the fucking words?

Like an unwanted visitor, the tears arrived, spilling down my cheeks and settling on my lap. I started to sob, the chokes of agony the culmination of so many ups and downs, highs and lows, moments when the answer wasn't clear. I felt washed up, like a movie star past her prime, forced to confront a harsh reality head-on and deal with it.

By the time my crying peaked, Jack was there, his defenses down, his body cradling mine as if he'd just rescued me from a burning building. I felt safe in his arms as I always did, the feeling I tried to ignore when I had to make decisions like these. If it were up to my emotions alone, I would have said
yes
in seconds. Nothing could touch me when I was with him.

"It's okay, Effie." His words were like a plea, an instinctive, sympathetic response to my breakdown.

But something inside of me wanted to remain logical, to be the rational, sane, thinking person that I'd always strived to be. I was unfairly comparing the term
emotional
to the scene that Timothy had created in the coffee shop, trying to distance myself from that sort of unfiltered insanity that ruined lives and humiliated people.

Just because you made a plan didn't mean that you couldn't deviate from it. Just because you felt something didn't mean you should hide it.

"I'm not the enemy," Jack said as he peppered my forehead with gentle kisses. "I feel like you suspect me every step of the way of having some ulterior motive for what I do. But I don't."

He was
right right right.
The tears grew even worse; his hug tightened to compensate for the spike. I thought about all of the times I had worried, the things that had troubled me only because I had invented the idea that they were a problem. Our first meeting here, the gifts, the stuff with Stacy, his offer.

Everything was lined up and sorted in my mind, a list of misdeeds that I felt like I should burn. "I want to help you thrive," he said. "I want to take care of you, but I also want you to grow, to become better."

This was not unlike torture, I suspected. Everything he said made me feel better and better—but instead of getting happier, I just cried more and more. My lips tasted salty from the spillage of tears taking place along my skin.

Jack straightened up at once. "I want to say something."

"Please don't say
that
." It was purely a gut reaction. I already knew what was going to happen—and I knew how dangerous it felt.

"Why?" he asked, his beautiful green eyes burning into mine.

"If you say it, I won't be able to say no to you." He was unfazed.

"I love you, Effie. I do. I have since the beginning." He kissed my forehead as I cried even more. "
Shh. Just relax. Don't say anything."

Yeah, I was right.
Now, I didn't know what to do about all of this.

"Don't answer me. Just think, Effie. Be calm. Relax." He whispered the words into my ear and my brain accepted them like gospel. Jack stood and disappeared for a second, my body feeling like my bones had vanished when he wasn't supporting me.

He returned with tissue that I used up immediately, discarding it in a small trash bin that he had brought as well and left on the floor beside me. Jack held me again, my mental and physical support system that I had tried to deny.

"My...
my... my phone is busted," I said miserably. I wasn't sure why I announced it, but I did.

"What happened?" He perked up, ready to act.

"I dropped it right after Sam fired me. I haven't been able to text anyone and I can barely make calls." In my depressed state, it all felt so utterly hopeless. "I was running out of money when you paid for my apartment." I felt so small, so tiny and helpless—and with him, it was okay.

"I'll take care of it tomorrow. Let's just relax. Are you hungry?"

My stomach growled in response to his inquiry. "I guess," I said, downplaying my organ's very bold input.

"I'll make you some eggs."

I groaned. "That's all I've been eating. Eggs."

"Not like these. Just sit down and chill out. Stop worrying so much. I don't want to hear you talk again until you're saying 'Wow, Jack, these are the best eggs I've ever had in my life!'"

I started laughing uncontrollably, my emotions strapped in on this wild rollercoaster that had just gone down another steep hill and then turned upside down.

I didn't feel like I needed to say anything just yet. For once, I was just going to do what
he
told me to do and not be such a control freak.

He finished the food a few minutes later, bringing a huge pan of eggs out and setting them on the monstrous, empty table. Two plates were out a couple seconds later, and then I was taking my first bite.

"It's eggs with goat cheese and fresh roma tomatoes," he declared proudly.

I chewed and swallowed, marveling at how tasty they were. "You're so predictable at
being too good
," I said. It was so very true.

"So that means they
are
the best eggs you've ever had?"

I laughed again, the feeling so therapeutic. "You narcissist. I don't know if I
should
be honest."

After I said it, he took a very long, drawn out, exaggerated bite where he pretended to be
overwhelmed by flavor. "Wow, I can't believe someone actually made something like this! It's incredible!"

I shook my head and continued eating, polishing off more food than he did. I was really surprised at how hungry sadness could make you.

Dinner behind us, he tidied up the enormous walnut dining table—if we had been a dozen people instead of two, the huge table still would have been adequate—and dumped the dishes in the kitchen. We ended up sitting on the couch near the window, the blinds open and the visuals of the city pouring into our eyes.

I was calm and relaxed for the first time in days, my emotions neutral, numb in a way. I was apathetic, just taking a break from the turmoil inside my body. Jack seemed to understand, our tacit agreement to just
be
exactly what I needed. The usual flourishes of desire were silent tonight—and he seemed to be okay with that as well.

We eventually moved to the bedroom, our bodies curling up until he was spooning with me. His arm around my waist, I fell asleep peacefully, ready to face the uncertainty of the next day.

Chapter 20

Buzz!

I shot awake, my eyes staring in every possible direction until I found the source of the sound. There was an incoming call—and I couldn't read the full number. I didn't recognize it anyway, so I guess the cracked screen didn't really matter.

"Hello?" I cleared my throat after my voice cracked, trying sound as if that I hadn't woken up seconds ago.

"Hi, is this Miss Jacobs?"

"Yes."
What was
this
about? The voice sounded professional; then again, so did most telemarketers these days.

"Miss Jacobs, my name is Ryan Hiller and I work in the HR department at MCI Records. Currently, we're investigating a number of allegations against Sam
Beckermann. We'd received word that you had been dismissed in the midst of our investigation, and we wanted to invite you in to ask you some questions about your experience."

"What?" I blurted out. "Is Sam there right now?"

"He's been suspended without pay for the time being. You won't need to interact with him at all. Would you be willing to stop by our offices this afternoon? At one?"

"Y-yes," I said. "Okay."

"All right, Miss Jacobs. We're on the fourth floor, conference room forty-five. We'll see you then."

By the time I set down my phone, Jack's head popped in the room, tie wrapped loosely around his unbuttoned collar. "Who was that?" he asked curiously.

"None of your business!" I said. I felt bad immediately since his face appeared to suggest that I had offended him. "I'm just kidding. It was MCI."

"MCI?" He looked initially worried, but it faded fast. "What the hell do they want? If it's Sam, you just tell him—"

"They are investigating charges against him." I shifted in the bed and sat up proudly against the pillow.

"What kind of charges?"

"I don't really know. They are just building a case against him. Or maybe it's more."

"Well, go do your thing," he said. "It'll help you gain some closure. Hit him where it hurts."

I liked that idea. I imagined myself in a boxing ring with Sam, the flashbulbs going off as I stood above him, his body crumpled up on the ground.
A real knockout by Jacobs!

"I will."

"I made some more eggs and coffee if you want some. It's all waiting in the kitchen."

"Okay." I said. After the performance last night, eggs made by Jack sounded just fine.

"Are you gonna stay in Manhattan until the meeting? I have to go meet with an international distributor. Lexy's album is getting close to finished and so we've got to, uh, put it in people's hands."

I nodded and smiled. "I get it, Jack.
Y'know, how
selling a product works.
"

"You're such a smartass—and I love that." He walked toward me on the bed, leaning down and kissing me, his kiss harmonizing with the slow crawl of his fingers through my hair until they were gently massaging the nape of my neck.

Once again, I was feeling invincible.

"I've
gotta go though," he said into my mouth, mid-kiss. "We can get something to eat after the meeting. Call me—well, if you can. We'll get your phone taken care of after we eat."

I smiled again. "Okay, Jack. See you later, then."

His tie tied, his shirt crisp and unwrinkled, his posture impeccable, his looks beyond sexy, Jack headed toward the door. "I left you an extra key in the kitchen," he called. "It's by the coffee. I thought you'd actually notice it if it was there."

"Thank you!" I shouted back.

The door opened and closed and then he was gone.

I took a deep breath and relaxed; I wasn't going to get moving just yet. This afternoon was going to be interesting, so I needed to prepare myself mentally.

***

The
fourth floor
seemed so scary for some reason. I walked up the stairs quickly, sprinting past my usual floor as quickly as I could and then resuming my previous slower pace. I didn't want to see it or even remember how it looked at that moment. Too many memories. I was resolute about the decision and I didn't want anything to affect that.

I got to the long hallway, the fourth floor very different from the one I was used to. There were more individual offices, administrative sort of stuff. There were some boardrooms, but mostly just offices belonging to people with exclusive titles.