Inferno Anthology (33 page)

I didn’t have a problem hailing a cab right in front of the hotel and I even made it out without too many odd looks. Walking around Times Square in a man’s tuxedo shirt and compression shorts, while holding an evening gown, didn’t even raise any eyebrows compared to the really crazy looking people out there.

M
y days off were usually Sunday and Monday, so I had two full days for my pity party. I spent the balance of Sunday going over the last twenty-four hours in my head. Monday morning I was convinced that Jack was my destiny and I needed to find him, needed to confront him and make him see the light. By Monday evening I had decided that he was a bipolar sexual deviant and if he ever tried to come near me again I would get a restraining order. Needless to say, I was confused and distraught and I was left with no choice but to fess up to Sienna and seek counseling.

All it took was one simple text.
Had a bad night Saturday night … saw Jack, slept with him, he disappeared again
. She was at my door in less than half an hour with a bottle of tequila, two quarts of Ben and Jerry’s, and her guitar.

“Spill, babe, and start from the beginning. We have all night.” Sienna grabbed two shot glasses from the kitchen, which were, incidentally, also the housewarming gift that she gave me when I moved to New York last month. She plopped herself down on the couch, cracked open the tequila, poured us shots, and I started at the beginning.

As I told my tale, I added in bits and pieces about Jack’s relationship with his dad that I had learned on our trip to Hawaii. By the time I was done, and we had analyzed everything that had transpired, we were both convinced that Jack’s dad had known who I was somehow and was using me in some sort of demented game he was playing.

There truly was no better friend in life than Sienna. She was pissed at anyone who didn’t adore me, and hated anyone who screwed with me, without question. I found it interesting that my best friend knew more about my relationship with Jack, that had transpired over an eight day period, than she did about my relationship with Michael, which had lingered over seven years. Why did I share so much about Jack with her, yet I’d never felt the need to talk about Michael, even after a fight?

I started to wonder why my eight day relationship meant so much more to me than my seven year relationship with the man that I had planned to marry. Had I ever really loved Michael, or was he just my safe place? As I rewound time in my head I realized that Michael had never taken my breath away. He’d never made my heart beat out of my chest so loud that I thought the whole world could hear it. And he’d certainly never made my body quiver uncontrollably with just a kiss. Jack did, and the realization tore my heart out.

T
he week went by slowly and each day I walked into the Heston it got harder. The hotel reminded me of Jack and what we’d had together. What I had lost, again. Luckily, Lyle didn’t find out what had happened backstage after the conference. Or at least he didn’t mention it to me if he had heard. He did, however, tell me that Mr. Heston’s office had called to tell him that I did a great job and that Mr. Heston was very satisfied. I really didn’t care what Mr. Heston thought, but I was grateful his call seemed to make Lyle happy, which meant he left me alone all week.

Friday night the hotel club was extra busy and the band convinced me to stay an extra hour past the end of my normal shift to keep the crowd partying. I was drained from the long week without contact from Jack, but agreed to stay anyway. I was becoming good friends with the guys in the band and we seemed to have found our stride together. The drummer, Travis, and I had even had lunch together twice, and when we were working he established himself as my resident bodyguard.

Travis Toomey didn’t look like a typical hotel club band drummer. He had long dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, a goatee, and what could only be described as dark brown almond-shaped bedroom eyes. His arms were covered in tattoos and he was physically enormous. He towered above most people with his six foot six frame and shoulders that spanned the width of two regular-sized men. When I first saw him sitting behind the drums, I remember thinking that he made the full-size drum kit look like he was playing a children’s set. His handsome face was marred by a deep scar going the length from just beneath his eye to his chin. He looked like he just gotten out of jail and had ridden to the bar on his motorcycle to find a woman, club her over the head, and drag her out the back door, unconscious. He looked the epitome of the phrase
dark and dangerous
.

But the truth of the matter was that Travis rode a bicycle to work and was married to Tom, a man he had been with for more than ten years. He didn’t care what people thought and I was pretty sure he liked people to think that he was a rough and tumble badass. It worked for me because I had seemingly become a magnet for drunk single men who thought I would be sufficiently impressed by their slurring pick-up lines. Travis always kept an eye out for me and would come to my rescue by putting his arm around my shoulder and calling me babe. Every man quietly disappeared with his tail between his legs within thirty seconds of Travis’s appearance.

Travis also always walked me outside and waited until I was safely in a cab before leaving. Friday night there were extra crazies out in the city at one in the morning, so I was grateful that Travis was such a good friend. He kissed me gently on the cheek before I folded into the cab and he gave a sour warning to the driver to take good care of “his woman.”

An hour later I was drifting off to sleep when I was startled back to consciousness by a loud banging at my door. It wasn’t a normal knock. Before I even made it three steps from my bed, the person on the other side of the door was pounding my door again furiously. Thoughts ran through my head: there was a fire in my building, or a neighbor was being attacked and needed help.

I opened the door a crack and left the chain on for safety. I probably should have asked who it was first, but I was reacting to the anxious knocking at the door and wasn’t thinking. My pounding heart stopped dead when I saw Jack standing there, his forehead pressed to the doorjamb, which was holding him up. I wasn’t afraid of him physically, but I didn’t release the chain either.

His beautiful green eyes were bloodshot when they locked on me. “Can I come in?”

I could smell the liquor on his breath as he spoke and his words were slightly slurred. A pause and then, “Please.”

I looked into his eyes and saw sadness and pain. I nodded my head and released the safety chain. He walked in slowly, never taking his eyes off of me. We stood there for a moment, facing each other, just looking and watching each other’s reactions. His hand slowly reached for my hip and I took a step backwards. He flinched at my reaction and balled his hands into tight fists at his sides.

“Is that why you are here? A middle of the night booty call?” I was becoming more and more pissed off each second.

“No.” His voice was defensive, but he dropped his head in shame.

“So why are you here then?”

His eyes lifted from the floor to find mine. “I don’t know. I just couldn’t keep away.”

Jack’s words touched me and I let my guard slip slightly. My words were no longer bitter, but I still needed to know more. “Why did you leave and not come back last weekend?”

He visibly flinched again at my question. I watched as he thought and his eyes filled with emotion. “Because I’m a fucking horrible man and you deserve better.”

For me, alcohol was my truth serum, and I hoped it was the same for Jack. “Why are you a horrible man?”

He looked tortured and conflicted and I couldn’t bear it any longer. I reached out my hand to him to provide comfort. I saw relief flood his eyes. He took my hand and held it, waiting for me to allow him something more. “I have no idea how to have a relationship.” A long pause. “I hate my father for who he is, but I’m just like him.”

I couldn’t bear anymore. I needed to take away his pain, even after all the pain he had caused me. I closed the space between us and laid my head to his chest, wrapping my arms around his waist tightly. His arms wrapped around me, engulfing me into his pain. I listened with my ear at his chest as his racing heartbeat slowed and he clung to me tightly.

We stayed that way for a long time. My emotions were running wild, but I felt more alive than I had that whole week. I pulled back to look at his face, and I could tell he was reluctant to loosen his grip. His face was full of concern. “Would you like to stay and talk in the morning?”

Jack didn’t respond with words; instead he pulled me back into his arms and wrapped me inside of his hold even tighter. I brought him to my bedroom and sat him on the edge of the bed. I reached down and removed his shoes. He watched me hesitantly, making no move to touch me. He was afraid of overstepping his place for fear I would change my mind.

“Do you want to take off your pants?”

He looked at me and shook his head no, but reached for me as he lay back on the bed and positioned me with my head on his chest, his arms wrapped around me so tightly I couldn’t move if I wanted to. But I didn’t want to move. I hated to admit it, but there was nowhere else I would have rather been.

The next morning Jack was still sleeping when I woke up. His sleep only slightly loosened his hold on me and I had to pry myself from his arms in order to get up. He stirred when I snuck out of bed, but eventually he settled back into sleep. Nature was calling, and I needed an extra large cup of coffee and two aspirin for my pounding headache.

I decided to make bacon and eggs, hoping that Jack would stay for breakfast this time and make good on his promise to talk in the morning. I sang softly to myself, trying not to wake him. I didn’t know how to cook without singing. In fact, there were a lot of things that I found physically impossible to do without at least quietly humming a tune.

I turned the bacon and caught Jack standing in the doorway out of the corner of my eye. His frame filled the doorway and he rested his arms on the doorjambs as he watched me.

“Good morning.” I spoke quietly, suddenly aware that I was still only wearing my old Yankee t-shirt that barely covered my ass. Michael was a diehard Red Sox fan and hated the shirt, which was probably why I had made it into my official pajamas most nights since moving to New York.

“Good morning.” His voice was raspy and deep and sexy as hell.

I smiled at him. “Hungry?”

“Starving.” His tone told me we might not be speaking about the same thing. He made no attempt to move into the kitchen, appearing content in watching me.

“You just going to stand there and watch me?” One eyebrow arched questioningly.

“I am.” The corner of his mouth turned slightly up, hinting at a smile.

I shook my head and laughed, turning my attention back to the stove. He didn’t move from his position until I placed our plates on the table.

We sat together at the table and ate our breakfast and it felt so normal and right. “How did you know where I lived?” So many unanswered questions rattled through my brain.

“Your personnel file.”

My face clearly showed my astonishment. “If you own half of the Heston, I guess that does technically make you my employer, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” He made no attempt to hide his lack of feeling guilty for using his position for his personal needs. The hesitant, insecure man from the night before was gone and confident, alpha Jack was back with a vengeance.

“I take it you didn’t know I was performing at the conference?”

“Definitely not.”

“Why did your father hire me?”

“I have no idea. I’ve got a call into the resort in Honolulu to find out if he made contact with anyone there.”

The Hawaii resort had never crossed my mind. But it dawned on me that we had stayed at one of the hotels he owned, explaining why everyone had known his name. I stood to clear the table and Jack grabbed my arm, gently pulling me into his lap.

“I like your t-shirt.” He looked down at me on his lap. My shirt rode up over my skimpy underwear. His warm hand cautiously moved to my thigh. As always, his touch sent a jolt through my body. I needed to separate my body from his or we would never have that talk.

“Yankees fan?” I jumped out of his lap. It was obvious what I was doing and he seemed amused at the reaction that I was having.

“Now I am.” His voice was low and gravely and I felt his eyes burning into my back as I stood with my back to him, rinsing the dishes. I took my time, hoping the fire inside me would quell with distance.

Jack knew what I was doing and wasn’t going to allow it. I felt the heat from his body behind me and his breath on my neck. He stood with his front to my back, only inches separating us.

“Can I touch you, Syd?” I knew it must have been difficult for him to ask permission. Jack wasn’t the type of man that asked. He took what he wanted.

My mind was foggy from his close proximity and my answer came out breathless. “Yes.”

His hand brushed over my breast and I had to grip the edge of the counter to keep my weak knees from buckling. The man made me feel like a teenager getting touched for the first time.