Haze (4 page)

"Okay, how about something appropriate then?" He flagged down the bartender. "Two dry Manhattans, please."

I let out an awkward chuckle. It was a silly, stupid joke. Jack smiled at my response, and it made my heart flutter. At least I could hide
that
. I sat there silently for a moment, my hands placed neatly in my lap.

"It's so nice to see you again, Effie," Jack said. "I wouldn't have expected this at all."

"Why, because I'm not as
rich
as you are?" I asked, my tone acidic. "Why the facade in front of Tom?"

He looked off into the room, his expression distant and a little cold. "For fun, I guess. You also have quite the effect on me. I don't know what I'm d
oing sometimes." No eye contact, unless the bar itself had eyes.

"That was nearly humiliating!" I
complained.

"Shush. It went fine. That was a great save on your part. Excellent improvisation." He smiled again, and it almost hurt to look at him. The way the light danced against his skin made him even more handsome, his face something of true beauty. A knot formed in my stomach as I tried to digest what was going on. "I'm glad we got to be on stage together."

I started thinking about his rough, unkempt stubble—it looked as if he hadn't shaved since before our meeting—and how I wanted to feel it rubbing against my skin, rubbing against my thighs as he—

I took a deep breath and then started laughing, trying as hard as I could to exting
uish the fire in my belly. "Dammit, Jack," I complained. It was as if he
knew
what was going on in my head. He rubbed my back in light circles, a sensation that felt good in more places than one.
More places
being
my whole body
. Heat filled my core and spread until it reached the space between my thighs, the sensation of vulnerability far more tantalizing than it should have been. It baffled me that this could be happening as a result of this guy barely touching me, a guy that I didn't think I even liked.

Shit, I
wasn’t fooling anyone. I was really into him, even if he was totally out of my league. But this wasn't like me at all, no way.

The bartender brought us our drinks and Jack handed him a hundred-dollar bill. My jaw dropped, even though it shouldn't have. Everybody in the room had money like that; well, maybe other than Jesse.

I took a sip and was blown away by how good it was. "Jack, this is great!" It was also
strong
.

"You've never had a Manhattan? This is one of the few places that does '
em the way I like 'em. It's dry vermouth instead of sweet. I don't like sweet drinks."

Something about a drink being
dry
seemed to fit Jack's personality very well—at least better than
sweet
. I also didn't know anything about fancy drinks, so I did my best to piece together the information. I listened as if he were giving a sermon, accepting his wisdom like gospel. "You know, I don't really like these events," he said quietly at the end, almost as if I weren’t supposed to hear it.

"Why are you here then?"

"Just maintaining appearances. Some of these guys help me manage my money, so they always extend an invitation, and I feel bad saying no."

I drank quietly and listened to his words, not really sure of what to say. "I didn't really know anything about you," I admitted sheepishly. "Sam made a huge deal out of you, but I didn't—"

"I could tell," he said.

"What?" I suddenly felt bad about what I had just said. Somebody this famous probably was appalled that I didn't know anything about him.

"You threw me off. I'm usually on top of things, but you were like a curve ball. You're not like any girl I've ever met before."

I took a big gulp of my drink, my stomach doing cartwheels again. What was going on here? I had assumed he was such a womanizer, and yet here he was, assaulting me with an authenticity that made me weak in the knees. I wasn't even sure what he meant, but I wasn't about to ask.

A lot of things were running through my mind at once, like a montage in a movie. I thought about Jesse, probably wondering what was going on between the famous guy and me. I thought about work, thought about how much the deal meant to Sam. I thought about
myself
and the stress that had led me here to New York City. And finally, the bizarre series of events that dumped me next to this rich, gorgeous man I knew so little about.

"You look stunning tonight, Effie," he whispered, his words tickling my ear as his breath touched that delicate skin.

I blushed again, breaking eye contact and not knowing what to say. "Thanks. Aren't you already dating some famous actress or something?" Jack's features tensed up. It actually looked as if I had offended him. "Effie, you're missing the point here. Do you
really
think I'd be here if that was all I cared about?”

"I don't know," I said
defensively. "I don't know anything about that. I barely know anything about
you
!" I sipped and waited.

"For your information, I
am
single
. I have been since the last Hollywood starlet I dated."

"
Stacy Levons
?" I asked abruptly.

He started laughing. "You don't know
me
, but
of course
you know Stacy."

"I like her," I admitted.
"A lot." It was an understatement, but I didn't want to sound crazy.

"She's a great actor, but not great to be in a relationship with.
Stacy's awesome, but she's always super busy with projects." He nursed his drink and then continued. "You probably don't believe me, but when you have access to Hollywood people, it's no longer the most exciting thing in the world. They're just like you are, flaws and everything. You stay together for the good press even when you hate the other's guts—well, for as long as you possibly can stand it. Breakups with Hollywood people are never simple."

I did my best to look and be understanding, even though these were like
problems from
Mars
to a simple gal like me.

"What if you were around rich people like this all day and night?
The supposed
best of the best
? Would you give a damn anymore?"

A thought experiment
for me, Jack, eh?

"I guess not," I said honestly.

"You probably loved the free food when you walked in. The good drinks. The old, sleazy men that make more in a second than you make per year."

I nodded, following along with his game.

"Okay, so you get my point, then? I'm tired of
this
, Effie." He made a grand swoop with his arm, effectively writing off the whole party. "I love my work, really I do. But this part drives me nuts. Talented people are talented people, one way or another. Some of these guys are just rich and think that because they're rich, they can call the shots when it comes to art. It's bullshit."

I was qui
ckly understanding his position. He had probably witnessed things that changed his life and perspective forever—and he'd never go back. "That sounds kind of unfair," I said humbly, "to the artists." I felt dumb when it came to this serious stuff.

"If I wanted to make an album that's just nothing but belching from beginning to end, I could get some of these guys to fund it because my word means that much. They wouldn't even check on the progress. They'd write me a blank check and go back on vacation."

I started laughing hysterically. "What about when they hear the final product?"

"Oh, they'd be pissed. But I've made them millions—maybe even
billions
if you count touring revenue—so I'd get another chance. It's why I'm shopping around from now on. I want my artists to work with labels that give a damn about art, not just money."

This was heavy philosophical stuff, and although I didn't know a lot about music, he sure as hell did. It felt like he was just looking out for those who had less of a voice than he did, sort of like a Robin Hood of the music industry.

A few moments passed by where we both sat silently. He was thinking as hard as I was, but I had no idea where he'd go next.

"Listen," he said. "I don't want to sound too forward or anything but please, Effie, come with me up to my suite. I want to show you something."

My mind immediately thought the worst, and I let out an awkward laugh. "Jack, I just don't know if that's the best idea."

"There's no pressure, okay? It would just mean a lot to me. I seriously just want to show you something. It's not a code word for
anything else."

God,
I really didn't know what I should do. His intentions weren't clear at all, other than his remarks about it not being a big deal. He kept eyeing me, anxiously awaiting my response. I needed to do or say something, to end this tense moment of trepidation as soon as possible.

"Yeah, okay," I said, hoping that I wouldn't regret my decision later. I finished the rest of my drink
and left the glass on the bar, a relic of our conversation.

"Let's go," he said softly. I stood up with him and we slowly walked together until we exited through a side door that led back into the lobby. My legs felt wobbly, so I was glad that our pace was so slow.

The skeptic in me ran through every possible negative outcome while I continued along this strange path with him. My body appeared to be acting independently of my brain, not concerned one bit about the things my brain claimed could go wrong. Jack led me into the elevator.

"Hi, Jack," the
elevator attendant said. He reached over and pressed
42
before Jack said a thing.

Jack immediately shook his hand and smiled at him. "Martin, how are you tonight?"

"Just fine," he said with a nod. "And
madam
, how are you?"

"Fine, thanks," I said, trying to remain as polite as possible. This guy was just doing his job, even if he didn't really care how I was doing. The door closed and then we ascended.

There was silence for the first couple of floors, well, until I broke it. "You guys know each other well?" I asked.

"Jack has a permanent suite," Martin said.

"I like it here. A lot. Just wait until you see the view." Jack put his arm around the small of my back and pulled me close against him. My head fell slightly until it was resting against his chest. It was pure comfort.

The ride was quick. A few short minutes later, the door was opening into the hall and Jack was tipping the attendant. "Thanks, Jack. Have a nice night, you two," he said. Once again, he was
just being nice. However, I certainly hadn't planned on that moment being the last time I'd see Martin. I'd just see whatever Jack wanted to show me and then leave.

Upon re-examination,
I wasn't so sure I liked what Martin had said. It made me feel a little more like a number than a real girl.

He disappeared behind us as the elevator door closed, and Jack took us into the hall. "Why do you have to tip the elevator guy?" I asked. "We could have run that elevator just fine."

"It's just the way it is," Jack said. "They make a living like anyone else, only theirs is primarily from the tips of rich folks." I didn't have anything to say to that.

After a short walk, we reached Jack's suite. He unlocked and opened the door and led me inside. The lights were out and the room happened to be very dark at that point. Light filled the room as he flipped the switch, the sheer beauty of the suite overwhelming. We were in a living room area that had a huge dining table.

"Do you host a lot of dinners here?" I asked jokingly.

"No, not really." He looked a little perplexed by my question.

"Why don't you get a smaller suite then?" After noticing that there was a whole other, equivalent side to the room around the corner, my mind was blown even further.

"They gave me a deal. Helps with business, I guess. They list me as a customer in some of the promotional materials."

"Oh, so you're a
sellout
then?" I gave him a sardonic grin.

"Whatever you want to call it is just fine. But hey, I'm happy with what I do, one way or another." He fiddled with the thermostat slightly and then led me toward the corner of the room. I was suddenly worried that I had offended him or something and not entirely sure why I should care so much.

"So what did you want to show me?" I tried to sound as excited as possible to drown out the fact that my previous question may have been misinterpreted. He immediately perked up.

"Are you ready?" He
stood at the window, his hand on the lever to open the curtains.

"Okay." I stood there with my hands at my sides, just waiting for whatever. It didn't
look
as if he were going to drop his pants—well, unless rich folks had levers that would do it for them. I wasn't sure.