Part 19 (2/2)
”The movie,” Evelyn repeats. ”Reed may be dead, but I'm afraid the movie isn't.”
eighteen.
”I can't believe it,” Ca.s.s says Friday morning. She's come downtown because Siobhan has a job interview at the Museum of Contemporary Art, which is just a stone's throw from Stark Tower. Now we're sitting outside by Java B's coffee cart, sipping lattes and eating chocolate-filled croissants. ”I met him once, didn't I? At some work party you dragged me to?”
I've just finished telling her about all the drama with Trent, and I nod. ”Last year's Christmas party. He hit on you.”
”Oh, right. I let him down easy. Told him it wasn't personal. He just had the wrong equipment.”
I hide my grin by taking a huge bite of my croissant. ”I actually liked the guy. Maybe if I hadn't, I would have seen it sooner.”
”Don't kick yourself. It's hard to see the worst in people. Has Damien strung him up?”
”Fired him. No references. And he called Calloway, too.”
”The one who owns Lost Tides and dragged Trent into the whole mess? Would I have loved to be a fly on the wall during that conversation?”
”I know, right?”
”Is Damien making him shut down Lost Tides?”
I shake my head. ”Nope. He said he'd let the market decidewhich is fine by me, because Cortez is going to kick serious b.u.t.t. But he also said that if he catches even a whiff of more dirty tricks, he'll string Calloway up by his b.a.l.l.s. And that's pretty much a direct quote.”
”And Damien could manage it, too,” Ca.s.s says. ”Calloway must be p.i.s.sing himself.”
”I hope so. The one I feel bad for is Rachel. She really liked Trent, and now she's pretty much destroyed. I called and told her everything last night. I didn't want her to come in and get slammed with gossip unprepared.” I make a face. ”She's taking the day off.”
”So your good deed landed you more extra work?”
I nod. ”But that's okay. The busier I am, the less time I have for worrying.”
”And Jackson?”
I crumple the bag from my croissant, then hold my coffee in both hands, wanting the warmth. ”He's worrying enough for the both of us.”
”About what Evelyn told you about the movie?”
”About everything,” I say. ”But the movie's got the big neon sign over it at the moment. It's like he's having to deal with all of the h.e.l.l of being a suspect, but the upside was that at least the blackmail threat was gone and the movie was a bust.”
”And now he's still a suspect and the movie may actually happen, so it's like fate just kicked him in the b.a.l.l.s?”
”That's about it,” I admit. On the whole, I think he handled the news pretty well. We'd actually gone to my apartment last night, then spent the evening walking the Third Street Promenade and then all the way down to the pier. After that, we'd watched late night television in bed and fallen asleep in each other's arms. On the one hand, it had felt nice to just be together. But that niceness was colored by worry and frustration.
”I just want a reality that isn't full of drama and uncertainty.” I sound whiney and mopey, but since I'm only talking to Ca.s.s, I don't need to try and put on a good face.
Ca.s.s puts her arm around me, and I lean against her. ”I know you do. You'll get it.”
She says the words firmly, but I don't believe her. Every day, I'm getting more and more scared. Because every day seems to prove the adage that the good never lasts. It just gets swept away with the drama.
h.e.l.l, wasn't that the story of my life? My childhood destroyed by my father.
My romance with Jackson interrupted by my own horrible nightmares.
And now every time we take a step forward in our relations.h.i.+p, we're slapped back. Sabotage. Murder. Even the little victories get ruined. Like yesterday. We solved the riddle of the sabotage, only to learn that the d.a.m.n movie was barreling down on us all over again.
And what really scares me is the pattern. Because if the good is always followed by the bad, then doesn't that mean that I'll inevitably lose Jackson? Either because he ends up behind bars? Or, G.o.d forbid, because we just can't make it work?
I pick at the label on my coffee, frowning. ”There's more,” I say. ”About Ronnie, I mean.”
Ca.s.s, who knows me well enough to understand that I've got something major on my mind, turns to face me directly. ”I'm listening.”
I lick my lips. ”Jackson wants me to be Ronnie's guardian if he goes to jail.”
”Whoa,” Ca.s.s says. ”I'm not surprised, though. I mean, he loves you. Who else would he want his daughter to be with?”
”I know. Believe me, I get that. But”
”But you're scared.”
”f.u.c.king terrified,” I admit.
”Don't be. He's not going to jail.”
I make a face. Considering everything that's happened recently, that kind of optimism is nothing more than a plat.i.tude.
”And if he does, I think it's great that she'll be with you. You'll do awesome, Syl. I know you, remember? And I know what you're capable of.”
Her words are encouraging, and I cling to them like a lifeline. Ca.s.s had a great relations.h.i.+p with her dad, and I know that she believes that I can do this, and her faith warms me up from the inside. But that warmth doesn't burn away my doubt.
Ca.s.s is watching me closely. ”You don't have to be someone else, you know.”
I frown. ”I don't know what you mean.”
”You don't have to be Mommy, or Aunt Sylvia, or whatever it is that she might call you. Just be Sylvia. Just be yourself. You'll be fine.”
I lift a shoulder. ”Maybe. I don't know. It scares the c.r.a.p out of me.”
”I know it does.” She puts an arm around me and squeezes. ”But it's going to be fine. Is he bringing her out here now?”
I shake my head. ”He's thinking about it. He told me last night that he considered bringing her out this weekend, figuring that way he could spend time with her in casewell, in case he's arrested and there's no more time to spend. But then this thing with the movie ramping up happened and he's worried about dumping her into the spotlight.”
”Makes sense. Poor Jackson, though.”
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