Love After All (25 page)

“The complete lack of veracity aside, your obliviousness fascinates me. Look beyond the obvious, Eric. Will there actually be a take?” She smiled, seeing his sudden concern. “Two, five or ten percent of nothing is nothing.”

“Now look who's pathetic,” he said mockingly. “Don't make this more difficult than it is.”

“Me?” she said innocently. “Not at all. I'm just here for the show.”

“You're obviously going to make this personal.”

“You still seem to think that all this is about you.”

“Isn't it?” he asked, completely assured. “Isn't that why you followed me?”

“I told you, I didn't follow you, I was invited.”

He looked over to Jackson and nodded. “By him or someone else?”

She smiled. “Still paranoid, I see.”

He reached his arm out comfortably across the railing letting his fingers stroke her hand. “Look, for the record, I didn't mean to leave like that, but the score was falling apart and I needed to cut and run. I knew you wouldn't go with me, so I left.”

“Yes, you did,” she said. “But a word of warning. I'm not the one you should be worried about.”

“What does that mean?” She smiled her answer as Pamela laughed loud and long, drawing both their attention. Eric noticed Jackson coming toward them. “Look, we need to talk, but obviously not here,” he said. “I'll meet you later. Where are you staying?”

“This is California, Eric. On the beach of course.”

“The beach?”

She laughed.

 

After seeing Jessie and Paul off, Jackson came back inside and looked around for Samantha. He found her outside on the terrace taking with Shauna and Eric. He intended to join them. Just as he walked toward the open terrace doors his father called to him.

“Jackson,” Marcus said. “May I speak with you?”

Jackson turned, and saw his father waiting at his office door for him. He glanced outside at Samantha and Eric, then turned and followed as his father led the way inside his office. As soon as he closed the door, Marcus began. “Bet you didn't think I could do it?” he gloated boldly, then snickered. “I was brilliant.”

“Did it ever occur to you that George handed you this company for a reason?”

“I never would have expected resentment from you. I gave you the opportunity to join me, but you declined. As soon as the board sees this deal they'll have no choice but to instate me as permanent CEO.”

“It's not about being CEO or this cable company, it was about Daley Communications. If this deal goes through we'll lose it. George's reputation—”

“Means absolutely nothing. Now, what's going on with retrieving those originals? This has dragged on too long. If this information is leaked just days before the National Association of Black-Owned Broadcasters awards dinner I'll be a laughingstock.”

“I'm handling it. It's just going to take some time.”

“That's what you said three days ago. If I didn't know any better I'd say that you were sabotaging this for me on purpose,” Marcus said cagily. He looked at his son closely for any sign of guilt. Jackson's stern expression remained the same. “Pay him,” Marcus demanded. “Get this finished. Your mother's mess is not going to screw this up for me.”

Jackson winced angrily but remained calm, remembering Samantha's words of caution. He sat down as his father offered him a cigar. He declined and waited patiently as Marcus lit his.

“You knew about this, didn't you?”

Marcus took a deep drag of his cigar, then exhaled and blew out a long stream of smoke. “No, not exactly. Your mother, yes, of course, but that part of her life was behind us. It was a long time ago. Neither of us asked questions.”

Jackson shook his head. “I don't get it. Why didn't you just divorce years ago?”

“The business,” he answered simply.

“You stayed together for the business?”

“Yes.”

“That's a switch. Usually, it's for the children.”

Marcus chose not to reply to the obvious.

“So you knew who she was, what she was,” Jackson said.

“That was before we met. The company was failing, we needed—”

“Yeah, I know,” Jackson said, cutting him off. “The money she stole from someone else. She gave it to you and that saved the business.”

“You need to understand our position, your grandfather was an icon to the general public, he still is. They considered us the perfect family. We are now the icon. People look up to us. We accepted the role, you accepted the role.”

“You're right, we
are
the perfect family, the perfect illusion. Don't you get it? None of this is real, none of this is really worth it. Look around, it's all meaningless. Look around, all these things you love so much mean nothing if you're alone at the end of the day. Mom knew it, but you don't get it. Love is the only reality.”

Marcus applauded sarcastically. Jackson stood and walked to the door.

“Wait,” Marcus said. Jackson stopped, then turned around to his father again. “Jackson, I called you in here for another reason. There's a meeting I'd like you to sit in on tomorrow morning. I want you in with this next venture I'm planning.”

“What next venture?”

“As you know, George and I have confirmed our deal for the cable company. Eric's handling the finances and final details. He's also putting together another venture for me.”

“Eric?”

“Yes, I trust him completely. He's good at what he does.”

“How can you completely trust a man you just met? You don't know anything about him.”

“I know enough.”

“Dad,” Jackson began, tempted to reveal all, but he knew that his father wouldn't believe him.

“Look, I know you don't think I know what I'm doing,” Marcus said, “but I do. I made over three hundred thousand dollars on a simple investment last week, no gamble, no risk. This cable company purchase will expand Daley Communications.”

The muscle in Jackson's jaw tightened. The reason they were in the red was because of several bad investments Marcus had talked the board into accepting. Jackson was just about to reply, when the office door banged open. Pamela, slightly tipsy from several glasses of champagne, poked her head in, giggling. Jackson turned and walked back over to the door.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” Marcus said.

Jackson nodded and left.

He was on his way to the terrace again when Shauna came up beside him quickly before he got too far. She'd been waiting outside the office door.

“It's good to see you again, Jackson,” she spoke up quickly, then continued, more demurely, “I've missed you, being with you, I mean, our little talks and other things.”

“Shauna…” Jackson began, still walking toward the terrace.

“No, wait, before you say anything,” she said, grasping his arm and holding him still. “Listen, please, hear me out first, okay?” She kept her hand comfortably on his arm. “I've changed. I understand what you were saying back then and I've changed. I really have. I'm no longer that selfish self-centered woman you knew a year ago. I'm different. I'm in the program, two months clean.”

“Good for you, Shauna. I'm really happy for you.”

She reached out and took his hand to gain his full attention. “Jackson, I still want you in my life.”

“Shauna,” he began again.

“No, don't say anything now.” She looked around, seeing her father nodding and smiling at them. “I'd like to stop by later. Maybe we can talk.”

“That's not a good idea.”

“Think about it, okay?” she said gently. “We still have deep feelings for each other. I can see it in your eyes.”

“It's not you, Shauna.”

“Who?” she asked quickly, then followed his line of vision, seeing Samantha outside talking. “Oh, you mean her. You can't be serious. She's so far out of our league, she needn't even try.”

“Again, I'm happy for you, Shauna,” he said, then looked away again. Eric and Samantha were still standing outside on the terrace talking. “Excuse me,” he said to Shauna as he removed her hand from his arm and walked away, leaving her behind.

 

Samantha was laughing.

“Am I interrupting something?” Jackson said, seeing Eric standing too close to Samantha. Eric visibly jumped at hearing Jackson's voice right behind him.

“Not at all,” Samantha answered, still smiling. “Eric was just telling me about the beach.”

“Is that right?” Jackson said, walking over to stand on the other side of Samantha. Shauna came out seconds later and stared at Jackson and Samantha, then stood beside Jackson as Eric stammered and stuttered and began a two-minute monologue about Caribbean beaches.

“Jackson has a beautiful home in Malibu right on the beach. Speaking of which, Jackson,” Shauna said, turning her body directly to him, “did you finish remodeling your home yet? It's such a beautiful location.”

“Yes, about a year ago, but then, you knew that.”

“Oh, that's right,” Shauna said, smiling innocently. “I must have forgotten. But you were still working on your bedroom, if I remember correctly. Did you consider any of the suggestions I made the last time I was there?”

“I had a design firm come in,” Jackson said.

“Oh, the one I told you about?” she asked hopefully.

“No, Jessie gave me a few names.”

“How did it turn out?” Eric asked, hacking his way back into the conversation.

“I like it,” Samantha said speaking up instantly while lying easily, having never seen his bedroom. “I think the openness and the bold design suit you, but then I guess I told you that before.” She smiled, looking at Jackson, then at Shauna. The implication was easily discernible: She'd recently been in Jackson's remodeled bedroom.

Jackson returned her smile. “That's right, you did.”

Eric and Shauna seemed irritated by her remark.

“I'm getting chilly,” Shauna said to Jackson, waiting for him to offer her his jacket or escort her inside. When he didn't, Eric spoke up and escorted her back into the house.

“Interesting woman,” Samantha said, obviously referring to Shauna and her very noticeable fixation on Jackson.

“So that's Eric Hamilton,” Jackson said, evening the score as he sized up the man who'd once had Samantha's heart.

As neither responded to the other's comment, they fell into a comfortable silence, standing side by side at the railing looking out at the captivating bird's-eye view of Los Angeles. Breathtaking, the lights below shone as brightly and brilliantly in the distance as the stars twinkled above.

Like gems on a swath of midnight velvet, the gleam of lights sparkled everywhere she looked. She turned and looked up, observing every architectural detail of her surroundings.

The house was old style, made of a grayish stone and ivory cast marble. It looked more like a movie set from an old black-and-white film with its grand entrance, rounded staircase and huge twenty-five-foot ceilings. Each room that she'd been in looked exaggerated and pretentious. Even the terrace was overdone. Surrounded by dozens of ornamental trees, expertly manicured bushes and a flower garden that looked more like a showcase for a garden center, the fanciful home was beyond belief.

Grand to the point of near ostentation, the Beverly Hills mansion sat high on a lofty perch overlooking the city below.

“This house is really incredible,” Samantha said to Jackson.

“It's big,” he corrected gently.

“And you grew up here, right?”

He nodded.

“How many bedrooms does it have?”

“Twelve, not including the guesthouse and the two one-bedroom apartments over the garage.”

“Wow, that is huge. Where does this path lead?” she asked, pointing into the darkness, then beyond as landscaped lighting led down into the garden and curved out of sight.

“The steps lead to the lower patio, then to the infinity pool, the basketball court and the cabanas. There's another path that curves to the side and leads to the guesthouse, then to the indoor pool and exercise room.”

“It must have been nice growing up here, having all this.”

“They're just things, meaningless things.” Jackson looked out into the darkness of the huge landscaped patio and yard. His thoughts centered on years past. “My mother loved this place,” he began. “She picked out every piece of furniture, every set of china and oversaw every stitch of fabric sewed. All that's gone now. My father completely remodeled after she died. I don't come here much anymore.”

“Why not?” she asked.