Part 19 (1/2)
”Janie? You call her Janie?” Ian Stone had called her Janie.
The other man waved a hand. ”I've known her since she was a kid. Her dad was a client of mine at one time. Aren't you going to let me in?”
Letting Frank in could complicate matters. And also postpone Griffin's return to the cove. He glanced at the envelope. ”If that's for her, you can hand it over and be on your way. I'll make sure she gets it.”
”This is yours,” Frank said. ”And I'm here to talk with you too.”
What could he do but open the door? ”I thought you said Jane sent you a text,” he muttered as the other man pa.s.sed him on his way inside.
”To say she was sorry she missed me last night. But when I found out you were both still in town, I decided to drop by.”
”Wonderful. Terrific. Always a pleasure,” Griffin lied. Thank G.o.d he'd picked up Jane's fallen clothes. He wouldn't have wanted to explain them away, he thought, watching the other man toss the envelope onto the table in front of the couch. ”What's that?”
”Stuff the magazine was holding for you. They forwarded it to me since you went missing.”
”If I went missing, how come the book doctor, my sister and my agent all find me so d.a.m.n easily?”
”Why are you so d.a.m.n set on being hard to find?” Frank countered.
Griffin pasted on a smile. ”How are the wife and kids?”
Frank hitched up his pants at the thighs and then settled into one of the room's armchairs. ”Spending about twenty-three hours of the day in the pool. Raeanne is teaching Tim how to dive. Amy can almost swim one whole length underwater.”
Pride puffed Frank's chest so that it nearly matched his belly. Still, since marrying Raeanne, he'd dropped about twenty pounds and his face wasn't quite so unhealthily florid. ”Have you been watching your blood pressure and eating better?” Griffin asked, sitting on the couch across from the older man.
”Sure. Raeanne insists on all that organic age-free c.r.a.p.”
Griffin bit down on his smile. ”I believe you mean free-range.”
”Free-range, age-free, what's the difference? She made something for dinner last night with tutu.”
”Tofu.”
”It wasn't sirloin, that's all I know. But it makes her happy, so...” He shrugged. ”She's been good to me. Marriage has been good to me. I highly recommend it.”
Griffin thought of Tess, who'd run from her husband to the cove. Of David, sleeping in his kids' sleeping bags on the beach. ”Glad to hear it.”
”You know what I'm not glad to hear?” Frank asked, crossing one ankle over his knee. ”Janie says you're not making much progress.”
s.h.i.+t. ”There's an office. Whiteboards. Sharpened pencils.”
Frank just looked at him.
Double s.h.i.+t. ”I've never missed a deadline. You know that.”
And still Frank looked at him.
Griffin s.h.i.+fted his gaze. Outside the window, the sky was that flat blue of summer, as if it had been ironed by the heat. This time of year in Afghanistan, the temperature was brutally hot, matching the increasing violence as insurgents climbed over the mountain pa.s.ses to engage the troops. It was a deadly season that might only be mitigated if the previous year's lousy crop yield forced the other side's fighters to focus more on growing poppies and wheat than killing their enemies.
It was the kind of detail that belonged in his book. And if it was just a succession of those kind of details, he'd have racked up the pages by now. But Jane was insisting on emotions too, which meant writing about Erica and Randolph and all the other young and innocent cherries who'd stepped off the Chinooks as rookies and had been exposed to death within thirty seconds.
Which made them feel so d.a.m.n alive. So d.a.m.n alive until they went home...or weren't alive at all anymore.
If he wrote about all that, would his calm last?
Maybe he should raise the idea of not completing the project, Griffin thought. Though it was true that he'd never missed a deadline and he didn't want to start now, when each morning came, he couldn't dredge up a shred of motivation. Backing out was going to be a pain in the a.s.s, and he wasn't happy about how it might affect him professionally, but waiting for the will to begin work became less viable an option with every pa.s.sing day.
Torn, he pushed both hands through his hair. ”Look, Frank. I've not completely made up my mind, but I need to tell you I'm considering-”
”You should cut Jane loose if you're not going to get serious,” Frank said.
Grimacing, he leaned forward on the cus.h.i.+on. ”I said I'm only considering-”
”This is about her, Griff, not about you.”
Griffin stared at the other man. Then he glanced toward the bedroom door, not sure if he wanted Jane to step out and interrupt the conversation or if he wanted Frank to finish. ”I-” he started, then stopped, resigned. ”What are you getting at?”
”Ian Stone.”
The name made him want to spit, even though Ian Stone was exactly why Jane had ended up in bed with Griffin last night. Knowing she was still hung up on her literary superstar had made it safe for him to even consider s.e.x. And it was clear why she'd accepted-she'd been willing to take her night out of time because a little self-esteem boosting had been in order after coming face-to-face with that a.s.s and the other woman.
”I know about all that,” Griffin said.
Frank raised an eyebrow. ”Then you'll understand me when I say it's not right to f.u.c.k with her.”
Griffin twitched. Jesus! Did it show on him? Was there a sign on his forehead that read I Boffed Jane? He frowned at his agent. ”I don't think it's right to call it f.u.c.king, either.”
That word implied callousness. He hadn't been uncaring. To the contrary, he'd wanted to pleasure her. Was it his fault that she hadn't trusted him to make that happen? His own ego had taken the blow last night, but next time he was going to tie her up- No, of course there wasn't going to be a next time.
”That's what it will be, though,” Frank said, ”if it gets around that you reneged on your obligation when you were working with Jane.”
The words took a minute to sink in, because Griffin's mind had spun away on images of Jane bound by soft rope. Blinking, he came out of his brief reverie to focus on Frank once again. ”I'm not sure I'm following you.”
The agent narrowed his eyes. ”She told you about working with Ian?”
”Yeah. Heard all about that.”
”And that she left him?”
”Because he two-timed her,” Griffin protested. ”h.e.l.l, any thinking person would walk away.”
”Ian Stone hasn't turned in a book since. He'd been a blockbuster well, and without Jane it dried up.”
”Serves him right.” He was supposed to feel sympathy?
”But the blame has fallen on Jane's shoulders. Ian claims to any who'll listen that it's her fault. That her defection eroded his confidence.”
”What a p.u.s.s.y,” Griffin said, disgusted.