Speak Now (5 page)
Harry handed him a silver fountain pen, then watched as Jack underlined something and circled something else. “All right,” he said when the pen came down again. “I’ll go to a million, but not a penny more.”
Jack wrote something on the last page. His signature? Was this really happening? He handed the folder back to Harry.
“I was sure you’d see things my way.” Harry looked at me and suddenly seemed much, much older. “Sorry it turned out this way, Charley.”
I was about to start screaming and never stop when Jack stood. “Thanks, but no thanks, sir.” He looked at me. “Are you ready?” He nodded his head toward the door.
“Goddamn it!” Harry yelled. He held up the last page of the document, where Jack had neatly written “bullshit” across the signature line. “Listen, you little—”
“Harry!” I was finally able to speak. “You know that part of the wedding ceremony that goes ‘speak now, or forever hold your peace’? That’s the reason you weren’t at my wedding. I won’t have you—”
“I don’t care what you’ll have,” he shouted. “That man is not what he says he is, and—”
“Harry, for the love of God,” I interrupted. “Jack’s a meteorologist. Who in his right mind would pretend to be a meteorologist if he wasn’t?” I shot Jack an apologetic look. “No offense, sweetie.”
“A meteorologist? You believe that?” Harry brought his fist down on the desk with a sharp crack. “Any idiot can say anything about the weather!”
“What’s your point, Harry?” I asked.
“My point is,” he bellowed, “he’s a liar. And I’m going to keep digging until even you can see that and have the sense to get out of this mess and get a goddamn annulment!” By the time he finished, his voice was loud enough to shake the substantial rafters.
“It’s not a mess!” I yelled back. “It’s my life and I can take care of myself!”
“Take care of yourself! You didn’t even get a prenup!”
“That’s it! I’m out of here! Jack, let’s go!” I was storming across the room when Jack spoke.
“Just a minute, Charley.”
Not again. I whirled around and saw Jack take a white letter-sized envelope from his inside jacket pocket. “Harry,” he shook his head in what looked like admiration. “Please, keep digging. I’m sure whatever you find will be entertaining, if nothing else.” He placed the white envelope next to the folder on the desk. “This is for you. It’s just a copy, the original is with a lawyer in London.” He turned to me. “Now we can go.”
What the hell was that?
“What the hell is that?” Harry boomed.
Jack gave me a grin and answered without looking back. “It’s a legally binding disclaimer. But you can think of it as a prenup, Horatio.”
I have no idea how Jack found out Harry’s real name. No matter how much I begged, he just smiled and said Harry wasn’t the only one who could uncover a thing or two. So I had to content myself with the memory of the blank astonishment on my uncle’s face as we’d left.
I was a little rattled by Harry’s accusations, although I’d have died before admitting it. I hated the fact that he’d found out anything about Jack, be it good or bad. And I really hated that I couldn’t ignore what he’d said. Finally, I just had to ask.
“Jack, these places you went for the Navy…”
“Um hmm?”
“Harry seemed to think…” I cleared my throat. “It does seem kind of funny to send a meteorologist to all those places when all that stuff was happening.”
“Does it?” He looked at me with a sort of vague surprise, which wasn’t helpful in the least.
I tried to smile. “I know you’ll think I’m crazy—”
“You? Crazy? Never.” Just a little sarcasm there, which I chose to overlook.
“Jack, were you some sort of spy?” I waited for him to laugh.
He thought about it a minute before answering. “If I had been, I don’t think I’d be able to talk about it.”
“Not even to your wife?”
“On the other hand,” he said, “I can talk about weather as much as you’d like.”
Great.
***
We spent the next few days pretty quietly. No unexpected naked women turned up—living or dead. No belligerent relatives dropped by. I made a few more attempts to trap my husband into an admission of a heroic past, but they were unsuccessful. Pretty tame stuff, all things considered.
On Thursday night we had reservations at Farallon and I was looking forward to an indecent quantity of oysters on the half shell. As we walked into the long, undersea atmosphere of the bar I grabbed Jack’s elbow. “It’s the detective,” I whispered. “Inspector Yahata.”
He was standing at the bar, wearing another sharp suit, this time accessorized by an ultra-thin blonde. He spotted us and came over, trailing the date, while we waited for our table.
“Mr. and Mrs. Fairfax. I’m glad to see you’ve recovered from your unpleasant shock.” His speech was as clipped and quick as it had been at the crime scene. I looked at the blonde and wondered if he ever whispered sweet nothings in her ear. And if so, did it sting much?
“Inspector.” Jack held out his hand. “We’ve been wondering about—” his eyes flicked to Yahata’s date, then back to the detective, “the young lady.”
The detective had one of those smiles where the corners of the mouth go down. “I’m afraid as yet there’s been no identification of the young lady.” His stress of the last two words was accompanied by the slightest of nods.
Wasn’t it nice that we could all be so polite and civilized while discussing a corpse in a swank restaurant? Until I spoiled the mood.
“Was she murdered?”
The blonde looked away, as if I’d said something unforgivably crude. But since we hadn’t been properly introduced, I decided it didn’t really matter. Yahata was gazing at me with undisguised curiosity. Again, I had the feeling that the air between us was crackling with energy.
“Yes,” he replied. “Are you still sure you didn’t know her?”
My mouth had gone dry. Apparently I’d used up my quota of smart-ass comments for the evening. I shook my head.
“We’ll know more when we identify the body. But just to be thorough, I’d appreciate it if you could look at the lobby security tapes at some point.”
“Do you think there’s a connection to us?” Jack asked. “I mean, a deliberate one?”
The down-turned smile reappeared. “It’s too early to discount any possibility.” His eyes flicked to a point behind us. “I see your table is ready. I won’t trouble you any further.”
Which was a lie. I’d spent a lot of mental energy trying to convince myself that a total stranger had committed suicide in an anonymous hotel bathroom and it was random chance we’d found her. But a murder implied planning. Had part of the plan been to involve, or even implicate, Jack or me?
“Do you suppose that was a coincidence?” Jack asked after we were seated.
“You mean you think we were meant to find the body?”
Jack frowned. “I meant whether Yahata just happened to be here tonight.” He looked over toward the bar, where the detective and his striking date were no longer visible. “But they’re both interesting questions.”
***
A few days later Simon called and insisted I meet him, Eileen, and Brenda for lunch and gossip. I decided to make the day complete by doing a little shopping first.
I began with Saks for the basics, moved on to Neiman Marcus, glanced in at Wilkes Bashford, popped into Chanel, and wound up at Prada. A morning well spent, in both senses of the word.
I headed for the restaurant where I was supposed to meet the gang. As I paused to admire a glittering display of glassware in Gump’s window, I realized I hadn’t done anything yet about finding place to live with Jack—let alone accessorizing it with the perfect champagne flutes. I felt a little flurry of panic at the thought, so I dashed into Diesel for jeans and some funky tee-shirts. I’d probably wear them more often than anything else I’d bought.
Of course I was late for lunch. I turned into Belden Place, my arms full of packages, and saw the gang sitting at a sidewalk table. Eileen was checking her watch, and as I came up on them from behind I heard Simon say “probably still shagging her brains out—” right before Brenda saw me, kicked Simon under the table, and yelled “Charley!”
We’d agreed to meet at Plouf, one of several small bistros in this alleyway in the financial district. It was one of the few places in the city where you could sit outside and take advantage of the beautiful summer weather, at least on those rare San Francisco occasions when the summer weather was beautiful. It was also close to Eileen’s office, and they served the most amazing mussels in town.
“Well, as long as you’re late for a good reason,” Eileen said, appraising the shopping bags I piled on the pavement before sitting next to her.
“Sorry, sorry, I totally lost track of time—” I began.
“Oh, Charley,” Brenda offered, “nobody expects you on time anyway.”
“We ordered already,” Eileen informed me. “All your favorites.”
All my favorites made for a fairly decadent lunch. Mussels in a white wine and garlic broth as well as mussels in a light cream sauce, calamari and fennel tempura, a warm leek and Roquefort tart, and a tomato and arugula salad with white anchovies. We shared everything, forks clashing as we reached over each other to spear our favorite bites, using chunks of crusty bread to mop up the extra sauces.
After we’d completely stuffed ourselves and the waiter had removed all evidence of the crime, Simon poured me another glass of wine and said “All right, darling, now tell all.”
“About your brunch with Harry,” Brenda added helpfully.
I should never have told them about the invitation.
“Take it blow by blow,” Eileen grinned wickedly. “I want to know how much blood was shed.”
“Harry’s not that bad!” Brenda exclaimed, then looked around in surprise, as if someone else had said it. Quietly, she added, “I’m sure he was very understanding, once he…understood.”
I snorted eloquently.
“Was he?” Eileen asked knowingly.
I told all.
When I got to the part about Jack’s dramatic presentation of the legal disclaimer, Eileen’s eyes narrowed. “A legal disclaimer? So it isn’t a prenup?”
“Not officially,” I explained. “Because it’s not a mutual agreement. I didn’t even know anything about it until Sunday. Jack had a lawyer draw it up in London because he figured some people would think he married me for my money.”
“Oh, Charley.” Brenda seemed wounded by the mere thought of such a cynical perspective, while Simon gazed heavenward and wisely said nothing.
Eileen cleared her throat. “Do you have a copy?”
“With me? Of course not. I didn’t even want to look at it.”
“Well I do,” she said decisively.
I looked at her blankly.
“Charley, I’m your financial manager. I manage your finances.”
Still blank.
“I should see any legal document that might possibly impact your financial outlook.” She waved away the waiter’s proffered dessert menu and ordered cappuccinos for all of us. Turning back to me, she continued. “Even if you don’t take an interest in these things, you pay me to.”
“I suppose…” I hadn’t thought of it like that.
“So fax it to me this afternoon,” she continued briskly. “After all, I’m not saying that Jack isn’t wonderful, but men can be pretty deceitful at times, and—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Brenda exclaimed. “Just because you’ve married a couple of jerks…”
“Is four a couple?” Simon enquired innocently.
It was true that Eileen had been married four times, and each had been a jerk, in his own way. The only positive outcome of her marital experiences was her son Anthony. It was natural for her to be suspicious of Jack’s motives, and not just because of her position as my financial manager. She glared at Simon. “The fact,” she said icily, “that I have been divorced does not color my judgment in any way.”
“Right.”
“So anyway—” Brenda gave Simon a warning look— “what else is new?”
Was this the time to tell them about the murdered woman we’d found in the tub? I looked at Eileen and couldn’t bring myself to add fuel to her suspicions about Jack. She’d probably point out that I’d never found any dead bodies before I’d gotten married. So I shrugged. “Not much.”
Eileen pushed her chair back. “I have to go.” She stood. “I have a very new and very rich client. Don’t forget to fax me that disclaimer.” She bent to air-kiss my cheek. “I am happy for you, sweetie,” she whispered.
“You can’t go yet,” Simon protested. “We haven’t talked about work at all. We need to bring Charley up to speed on the Rep and what we’re doing.”
Eileen consulted a sleek little electronic organizer. “I can move some things and do lunch on Friday.”
“Works for me. Charley?”
“Fine.” I perked up. “Can we do dim sum?”
“Good God.” Eileen gave me a look filled with despair and waved as she left.
“Have you looked at the play yet, darling?” Simon looked at me expectantly.
“I haven’t had a chance to read it. But I will by Friday,” I promised, seeing his face fall. “Chip said it was great.”
“It’s good,” Simon agreed. “It will be great if we can pull it all together. I’ve been trying to get in touch with the writer to set up a meeting. You’ll love her, darling, she’s —”
He might have rambled on forever if Brenda hadn’t cut him off. “If you two are going to get all theatrical on me I think I’d better go. Maybe I can still beat the traffic on the bridge.” Brenda lived in Berkeley, drove an ancient red Volkswagen, and spent a fair amount of her mental energy figuring out how to get from Point A to Point B without getting stuck in the epic traffic backups that were part of the geography of the Bay Area.
Catching a nasty look from one of the waiters, Simon and I decided to call it a day as well, and he gallantly helped me flag down a cab and cram my morning’s purchases into it.
“Don’t worry about the Rep,” he said earnestly, just before closing the cab door. “Everything will be fine.”
Great. Before he’d said that I hadn’t been worried.
“Jack!” I called out as I came through the door. “Are you here?”
Jack stuck his head out of the second bedroom and took in the pile of shopping bags.
“I’ve had a spree. What do you think?” I reached into a bag at random and pulled out a black Donna Karan dress with a plunging neckline.
He shut the door behind me, then turned to look at the dress. He frowned, wrinkling his brow. “It’s just such a waste.”
“I beg your pardon?” I wasn’t used to having anyone comment on how I spent my money. “What do you—”
“Shhh.” He put his fingers to his lips, then came closer and slipped his hands around my waist. “Buying these clothes?” he said, “when you look so good naked?”
Oh. All right then. Crisis over. “Why don’t I try everything on,” I suggested, “and then you can take everything off?”
“How about we start with those?” He pointed to a pair of red stiletto Dolce & Gabbanas that had tumbled out of their box. “Just those.”
“Wait right here.” I bit his lower lip. “And—”
There was the sound of a throat being cleared awkwardly. “Uh…Jack?”
“Mike!” Jack sprang away from me.
It’s possible I screamed. Just a little.
“Charley,” Jack recovered quickly, “this is my friend Mike Papas.”
A tall man with a bad haircut was standing in the doorway to the room Jack had come from. “Hi,” he waved weakly.
I raised my hand in a similar fainthearted gesture. Mike who? Who did Jack know in San Francisco? I looked at Mike more closely. He looked enough like Jack to be his brother—his woefully unkempt brother. He was wearing faded jeans, a stretched-out polo shirt, and socks but no shoes.
“Mike’s an old friend of mine from grad school, in Monterey,” Jack explained, running a hand over his face. “Sorry, Mike, I forgot you were here.”
“No problem,” Mike assured him. “I totally understand.” His eyes sparkled as he advanced toward me, his hand outstretched. “Nice to meet you, if a bit awkward.”
We shook.
“Mike got out of the Navy a couple of months ago and he’s living in Palo Alto now. I gave him a call this morning,” Jack added helpfully.
“Oh.” This is why my conversational skills are in such demand at parties. “That’s nice.”
“I have to admit, I’m trying to steal him from you,” Mike said.
I suspect my polite smile began to register incomprehension.
“Mike wants me to join his company,” Jack offered. “We set up a sort of a makeshift office in the other room.”
“Oh.” That seemed to be the only comment I could come up with. I glanced into the second bedroom and saw the desk and two tables had been pushed together. Two laptops and several piles of paper were scattered across them. More papers, assembled into something that looked like a huge diagram, were spread out on the bed. A pair of well-worn sneakers were visible under the desk. “Oh.” Perhaps all the wine at lunch had permanently stunted my ability to speak.
“I’ll tell you all about it over dinner, Pumpkin,” Jack filled the silence. “Mike, you’ll join us, won’t you?”
“Um, I don’t think so,” Mike said. “I’d better be going.” He eyed me with what I could only interpret as caution. “It was great to meet you.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “Great.”
The minute Mike had gathered his things and gone, Jack collapsed into a chair laughing.
“I suppose you think it’s funny that a perfect stranger walked in on us…half naked…and…and…” Oh, hell. It was kind of funny. I perched on the arm of the chair and Jack pulled me onto his lap.
“Hardly half naked yet,” he pointed out, reaching for my shirt.
“Don’t you for one minute think you can distract me with sex,” I said. “I want to know what you two are plotting in there. Who is that guy? What does he mean he’s going to steal you from me?”
Jack grinned and looked me in the eye as he deftly unhooked my bra. “Trust me, you have nothing to worry about.”
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he could distract me with sex. “But Jack…” I began, then lost my train of thought.
“I’ll tell you all about it later.” He shifted my position on his lap. “First, I think you owe me a fashion show.”
***
Much later, as I surveyed the morning’s purchases strewn around the bedroom, I reflected that they didn’t look much different from the clothes I already owned, strewn around the bedroom. I wasn’t exactly well-known for taking care of my things. Although it really was too much, I thought, to tie an Hermès scarf to the bedpost. I began working the knot as Jack emerged from the shower. “Hey, Pumpkin.” He shook his head, sending water droplets everywhere. “What about sushi for dinner?”
Could life get any better?
We walked down the hill to a restaurant on Geary where you sit at a bar and the sushi floats past you in little boats so you can take what you want. It wasn’t the best sushi in town—for that I’d have to take Jack to the place on Ninth Street near the park—but we hadn’t felt like dealing with a cab.
After I’d had a salmon skin hand roll and the obligatory California roll dusted with tobiko, I felt sufficiently fortified to ask Jack about Mike and the job he had mentioned.
“He’s just getting started. He’s putting a team together, and he wants me to be a part of it from the beginning.”
“Oh.” There was that incisive comment again.
“You’ll like Mike once you get to know him,” Jack assured me, mistaking my reservations entirely.
“Sure.”
“But?” His eyes met mine.
“It’s just that,” selfishly, “I didn’t really think of you as…having a job, I suppose.” Even I heard how weak that sounded.
He looked at me blankly. “Charley, of course I’m going to work.”
Of course he was going to work.
“You knew that, didn’t you?”
I shrugged in what I hoped was a charming, rather helpless way.
“Charley,” he said intently, “you didn’t think I’d just live off you, did you?”
“Well…” Did I? “I don’t think I really thought about it.”
“Well think about it. I couldn’t just loaf around doing nothing and spending your money. What kind of a guy would do that?”
A lot of guys. But I didn’t say so.
“And how long could you stay interested in a guy like that?”
Not long. That was a good point.
“You’re right,” I said, finally. “Of course you’re right. I think I’m just a little thrown. I mean…it seems so soon.”
“I haven’t agreed to anything yet,” he reminded me. “Besides,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “we have many things left to accomplish in that hotel suite.”
“Oh.” Well then. “If you’re talking about taking a job
eventually
,” I grinned, “I’m totally with you.”
“Right. Eventually we’re going to find a place to live, and I’m going to find the right work, and…”
“And?” I enquired.
“And we’re going to live happily ever after.” He kissed me lightly, tasting of Japanese beer and wasabi. A good combination. “Besides,” he asked, “what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Aren’t you going to be working on the new play at the Rep?” He reached for a spicy tuna roll, still looking at me out of the corner of his eye.
“I don’t know.” I watched the passing fish. “I haven’t read the play yet, and I don’t know if they need me for anything.” Simon probably had things completely under control, damn him.
“That’s not what that guy Chip said at your welcome home party.” He dipped the spicy tuna in extra wasabi—brave man—and popped it into his mouth.
“What did Chip say?”
Jack swallowed and reached for his Sapporo, his eyes watering a bit. “He has you practically running the place. Said they were falling apart without you. Said you’d come back just in time.”
“Really?” Is that why Simon had told me not to worry in that way that had made me worry? “Chip said that?”
Jack nodded. “I got the impression I’d be lucky to see you for more than ten minutes together between now and opening night.”
“Don’t be silly.” I reached for a shrimp tempura roll. “I’m not going to abandon you for some play.” Simon had said it was a great play.
“And I’m not going to abandon you for the first job that comes along from an old Navy buddy.”
I thought about it, chewing. “But, Jack,” I asked, “is it a good job? Is it something you’d like?”
“It may be. I’d have to hear more about it.”
“What kind of company is it?”
“Computer security.” He saw the look on my face and grinned. “It sounds boring, I know, but Mike’s a brilliant guy, and he thinks it’s possible he’s figured out a pretty innovative encryption methodology that could radically—why are you smiling?”
Because I couldn’t help it. Because he looked so intense and I had no idea what he was talking about. “Because you sound excited about it.” And he did. He sounded happy and energized and purposeful. “You should go geek out with your friend and see where it leads.” After all, I would probably be pretty busy myself. “Maybe you’ll love the job.”
“You really wouldn’t mind?” He looked doubtful.
“Not at all. Not if it’s something you want.” I sipped my sake demurely. “I’m sure I’ll be able to find something to do with my time.”
***
In the hotel elevator I found myself wondering if I could call the conversation we’d had about Jack getting a job our first fight. If so, I could reasonably expect to enjoy our first make-up sex. I put my hands under Jack’s leather jacket in the hallway as he slipped the card key into the reader, and turned straight for the bedroom as soon as the door was open. Jack reached for my belt and pulled me backwards, saying “Not so fast.” I pushed him against the closed door and slid the jacket off his shoulders. I wasn’t paying attention to anything but the texture of his shirt beneath my hands and the feel of his mouth on mine when the lights came on.
“Oh, don’t,” I whispered.
“I didn’t.” Jack straightened, looking past me. “Hello, Harry.”
This time I definitely screamed.
Jack kept my back to Harry as he pulled my shirt down, then he released me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing!” I demanded as soon as I was decent. “And how the hell did you get in here?”
Harry held his hands up innocently. “Can’t an uncle drop in to say hello?”
Jack moved to the bar cart. “Can I get you anything, Harry?”
“No thanks, I just stopped by for a little chat.”
“How nice.” Jack poured whiskey over ice. “Charley? Some thing for you?”
The pair of them were completely insane. “How about a gun?”
Harry made a “tsk, tsk” sound and came over to kiss me on the forehead. “Is that any way to make an old man welcome?”
“An old man who lurks around in the dark, in my hotel room, waiting for God knows what…and you wipe that innocent smile off your face or I’ll—”
“I was just admiring the lights of the city.” Harry gestured towards the window. “Some view you’ve got here.”
“We like it.” Jack joined us and handed me a large whiskey. “What can I do for you, Harry?”
“I just have a couple of questions,” Harry replied easily. “I hope you don’t mind?”
Jack smiled. “Fire away.”
“What the…Would you two…For the love of…” Of course they ignored me.
“In 1994,” Harry began, “you were an attaché to the royal house of Oman.”
“Was it that long ago?” Jack seemed surprised, whether by Harry’s information or the swift passage of time, I couldn’t tell. And frankly, at that point, I didn’t care.
“I wonder,” Harry pressed. “Just how you got that position.”
“Funny story. One of the Sultan’s daughters—I forget her name—was a huge fan of American music.” Jack eyed the stereo system. “Loved classic rock. Anyway, the Admiral wanted to score some points with the Sultan, and I had the biggest CD collection on the ship, and one thing led to another.”
Harry grunted.
“So, really, attaché is a little bit of an exaggeration. I was more like a music advisor.”
“And you expect me to believe that?”
I did. I could see quite clearly the image of a voluptuous Arabian princess in a silk-lined harem wearing something sheer and midriff-baring, reclining on pillows while being fanned by nubile maidens. And at her feet was Jack, naked, proffering
Quadrophenia
on a silver platter.
Bastard!
“You were some sort of an attaché in London, too, weren’t you?” Harry asked.
“More of a liaison, actually.”
“It seems you were quite the little diplomat.” Harry said the word distastefully. “Don’t we have a State Department for things like that?”
Jack raised his hands. “What can I say? Once the word gets out that a guy can tango, the offers just start pouring in.”
“I didn’t know you could dance,” I said. “Why haven’t we ever gone dancing?”
“You don’t like dancing,” Jack remarked, accurately.
“Maybe if you’d had a decent wedding,” Harry said, “you’d know these things about a man.”
“We had a lovely wedding,” I told him. “And as far as the dancing part of it goes, we’re perfectly open to the idea of having a lavish reception now that we’re back.”
“We are?” Jack looked a little startled, then agreed with me. “We are.”
“Well, that’s just fine.” Harry bit off the word. “People are already calling, wanting to know if they should send a gift or wait for the annulment.”
“And I’m sure I know just what you tell them,” I said icily.
“How the hell would I know what to tell anyone, when you don’t tell me a goddamn thing!” he bellowed.
Neither of us responded, and Harry made a visible effort to get himself under control. I felt a twinge of guilt, but I hadn’t forgotten this was the man who’d tried to buy off my husband in front of me.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a drink, Harry?” I rattled some ice in my now empty glass to get his attention. “Or do you need to be going?” The sooner he left the sooner I could find out some pertinent details about this Sultan’s daughter.
Harry sat on the couch, facing Jack. “Oh, I’ll be out of your way soon enough.”
“Harry,” I demanded, “why are you so fixated on what Jack did when he was in the Navy? Have you noticed he’s not in the Navy anymore?”
“I’ve noticed a lot of things. I’ve noticed that your
husband—
” the word was layered with speculation— “was in some very interesting places at some very interesting times.”
