Lead (12 page)

I pushed up my glasses. “I see.”

“Yeah. Honestly, it’s really unattractive, Lena. No one wants to see that shit.”

“R-i-ght.”

“Four. A bunch of them sort of rolled into one here, again. Go out with friends. Try something new. Get fit. Pamper yourself. Have fun. Enjoy life. Go on a trip. Paint your toenails, whatever the fuck. Blah, blah, blah. You get what I mean.”

“Mm.” I nodded.

“That’s pretty much it.”

“And I’m supposed to follow this?”

He gave me a long look. “You said you didn’t really wanna leave, that you liked the job. Prove it.”

I laughed ever so slightly manically. The decision had been made and it hadn’t been an easy one. Backtracking now did not seem wise. “Jimmy, please. It’s just some stupid magazine article probably written by a bored intern on their lunch break. This is not science. It’s not going to fix anything.”

“Then why was it lying open at this page?”

Good question. Strands of black hair hung over his forehead, hanging in his eyes. Without thought, he pushed them back. My fingers itched to do just that, to brush back his hair and sooth his fevered brow. Now that he seemed particularly hot in the temperature sense.

And he thought some wisdom out of a magazine could cure me.

“Never know, Lena. It just might work.” He dropped the magazine in my lap, gaze pinning me to the spot. “And I think you owe it to me to try.”

My chin went up. “I do, huh?”

“I gave you a chance. Gave you this job, and made every effort to accommodate you. Not fair you’d just take off after not even two months without giving it your best shot. You owe me”

“You hired me because you thought I’d be easier to manipulate than another actual counselor and because Mal and David harangued you. Let’s not lose sight of the truth here.”

One thick shoulder rose and fell. “Does it matter? I gave you the job, you said you like the job. Least you can do is give this a chance.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You do that.” A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I know all about addictions and wanting things that aren’t good for you, Lena. End of the day, it’s up to you to decide whether to take control and fight it or not.”

Jimmy Ferris as an illegal, dangerous, controlled substance. Funnily enough, I could see it. The man affected me on all the levels no matter how much I tried to resist, damn it.

He headed for the door, closing it slowly behind him. “Night.”

“Night.”

# # #

A bang like a shotgun startled me from sleep. I shot up in bed, blinking into the semi-darkness. What fresh hell was this? A blurry shadow stalked toward me.

“Wha—”

“Get up,” ordered Jimmy. “We’re going jogging.”

“Have you lost your fucking mind?”

“Rise and shine. Day one of your intensive desensitization-to-me program is about to begin.” He threw back the drapes, letting the weak sunlight seep in. “You got tennis shoes, right?”

I fumbled on the bedside table for my glasses and shoved them on my face. The world unblurred. “God, Jimmy. It’s barely past dawn.”

A black Nike flew in my direction. I only just managed to deflect it. “Hey!”

“C’mon. Move it.”

Next came a set of baggy old grey sweats, chucked onto the end of my bed. His lordship was already decked out in all black designer running gear. Ready and raring to go. “You got a sports bra in here somewhere? Girl your size, I’m thinking you’d need one.”

“Get out of my drawer.” I threw back my blankets and stalked over to him. “Do not go through my underwear, you asshole.”

He ignored me and kept right on burrowing through the drawers. “In my line of work, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. C’mon. You need to get ready.”

“I repeat, are you insane?”

“Told you, I’m not breaking in another companion, so I’m going to help you help yourself. We’re going to work our way through that little list of yours so you can get past these silly feelings of yours. If anyone can kill a crush, it’s me.”

“You know where you can shove the list. And if you need help, let me just fetch a rubber glove and some lube and I’ll be right with you.”

With a sigh, Jimmy straightened. He held his fisted hand high, slowly uncurling his fingers. Way up high over my head dangled a pretty pair of black silk panties. “Say you’ll go jogging with me and I’ll give them back.”

“I’m so tempted to just punch you in the junk right now and be done with it. I mean, it has to happen sooner or later, right?”

He made no move to cover himself, showed no weakness. Instead, one side of his mouth curled upward and a dimple appeared. My stomach dropped. I’d been right, definitely at least one dimple. He gave the panties in his hand a jiggle. Given my lack of height and Jimmy’s abundance of it, there was no way I could reach them.

“Do you actually expect me to jump around like an idiot?” I asked in a withering tone.

“It would amuse me.”

“Don’t make me kill you at this hour of the morning, Jimmy. It’s not civilized.”

The semi-smile disappeared and he dropped the panties into my waiting hand.

“Thank you.”

“You give the list some thought?” Hands on hips, he stared down at his nose at me.

I had, long and hard, in fact. While getting away from Jimmy might make sense, it also hurt. Guilt snuck in every time. Maybe he and my replacement wouldn’t get along, I mean, Jimmy and I often didn’t get along. But we did it in a way where he stayed sober and on track. So I guess in the main way that mattered, this lopsided partnership was a success.

“What do you want here, Lena?” He rubbed at his temple. “I know you’ve dealt with some dickheads in the past, but that’s not the situation here. I’m not out to do any damage. I just want you to keep doing your job.”

“I know.”

“Man,” he groaned. “Would it help if I said ‘please’?”

“I‘m not sure,” I answered honestly. “Maybe. Do you even know how to say that word without attaching any undue sarcasm and irony to it?”

He is head fell back as if in a silent plea to heaven. “Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Come jogging with me. Do the list. Stop this shit. Lena, please?”

He seemed sincere, and he was right, I didn’t completely, one hundred percent want to leave. Also, it was important to reward good behavior.

“Okay, Jimmy. Let’s give it a go.”

# # #

“Oh good god, I hate you.” I panted, dragging my sorry ass after the bastard to whom the sentiment belonged.

“See? It’s working already.” Jimmy hadn’t even broken a sweat yet. The athletic ass might as well have been out for a stroll. “Plus, you’ll be healthier. Everyone wins.”

“I’m healthy. I eat fruit.”

“In pie doesn’t count.”

If only I had laser beams for eyes. Damn the lack of technology.

“Not saying there’s anything wrong with you,” he said, turning to face me. Still jogging, the fucking show-off. If only he’d fall on his ass, I’d enjoy that so much. His gaze flitted over me, lingering overly long, though not unappreciatively strangely enough, on my hips. “I like a little junk in the trunk.”

I whispered expletives because there wasn’t enough breath in me to actually say them out loud.

“We jog every day, slowly work up your distance, you can eat more pie. How does that sound?”

It sounded like he was a patronizing judgmental asshole. I flipped him the bird.

“Lena, look at me.”

I stopped, I looked. Also, I slumped over and gasped for breath because multitasking is important for the modern woman.

“You’re a pretty girl and your curves are cool,” he said, still moving on the spot. “Getting a little healthier won’t hurt, though. Raise your energy levels, stuff like that.”

Jimmy thought I was pretty?

Of course, he could have just been being kind. Either way, it didn’t matter, not really. So my belly should just stop swinging about all lunatic like and be still. Though the jibe about pie still pissed me off. People from a local restaurant stocked the fridge, there were salads, grilled meats, pasta, and yes, occasionally pie. Like I made them put it in there at gunpoint or something. What I ate was none of his business and his opinion shouldn’t even matter.

It shouldn’t and yet it did.

“I don’t need to conform to your ideas of beauty,” I said, once my breath had been located.

He’d been staring off at the oversized houses and fall trees around us, but now his gaze snapped back to me. “Course you don’t, never said you did.”

“Not all of us are born looking perfect like you, Jimmy.”

“You’re pissed?” He stepped closer. “Lena, I’ve got a lot of flaws. We’ve been living in each other’s pockets for a couple of months now so you of all people know that. Not liking the way you look isn’t one of them. You want to chew me out over something, pick another topic, you’re way off on this one.”

Neither of us spoke for a moment. We faced each other, our breaths misting in the cold morning air.

“I might be slightly defensive about this,” I admitted eventually.

“I might have noticed.” He pushed his hair back from his face. “I probably also didn’t say it right. Add it to my list of flaws, has trouble expressing himself.”

“Especially in ways that are socially acceptable.”

He gave me an amused look. “You think that matters, what everyone thinks?”

“Sometimes. To a degree.”

He snorted. “You can’t affect what people think, Lena. They wanna think the worst, they will. I’m not wasting energy trying to make everyone happy. I have enough on my hands just keeping my own shit together.”

There was wisdom in his words, though they weren’t entirely accurate.

“People judge you whatever,” he said. “People fucking love their own opinions and are all too happy to throw ’em at you, whether you ask or not. You have to be happy with yourself.”

“Yes. But you care what the guys think,” I said.

“Sure.” He started jogging again, more slowly this time, thank you, god in heaven.

Ever so reluctantly, I fell into step beside him. My poor calves and thighs burned. Without a doubt they hated me with a fiery passion and I didn’t blame them at all. “And Ev and Anne. You care about them.”

He grunted.

“And Mr. Ericson.” Sadly, I struggled to keep up even at this lesser speed. “Though you do mangle your words occasionally, don’t stop to think before you speak. But don’t we all?”

“Let’s move onto another flaw,” he said.

“All right.” I searched my besotted mind for ammunition. “How about…”

“I’m self-centered.”

“Yeah. That’s true. You’re pretty arrogant and narcissistic.”

A lady jogger bounced on by, clad head to toe in form fitting Lycra. She gave Jimmy a wide inviting do-me-on-the-spot smile. He nodded to her, then concentrated on the path once more.

“Not entirely without cause, granted. But you don’t date,” I said, stopping (he halted too, happily). Jogging and talking at the same time just didn’t work for me. Of course, neither did jogging and breathing. “Why is that? You put all this effort into your looks, buff up your body, buy the best clothes. And hey, kudos to you, it works. But you don’t go out unless it’s business or something to do with the guys, you’re basically a hermit.”

“There a question in there somewhere?”

“Why?”

“Why do I take care of myself or why am I a hermit?”

“Let’s start with the first one,” I said.

He shrugged. “I’m vain. What are you gonna do about it?”

Huh. “So you’re completely happy with yourself?”

“With how I look? Sure.” He raised a brow. “My looks are the one thing that’s always worked for me, always gotten me attention. If I’m pouting on the cover of some magazine, then that helps sell records. It’s a fact. I’m not a poet like Davie or crazy talented on an instrument. I sing okay, sure. But what I have is this face, that’s what I contribute. And in this business, you use every advantage at your disposal.”

I frowned up at him, amazed. “You actually believe that.”

He frowned back at me.

“Jimmy, you’re more than just a pretty face. You’ve got a beautiful voice.” And I should know. He sang me to sleep on my iPod most nights. “God, how many Grammys have you won?”

“That’s a popularity contest as much as anything.” He licked his lips. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you happy with the way you look?”

For once, I took my own advice and actually thought before moving my lips. “Obviously not given our conversation of a moment ago. But I try to be. It’s not always easy with all the media representations of beauty, blah, blah, blah. I’m never going to be six feet tall with legs up to my armpits, and as you said, I like pie. I’m not willing to rule out eating it for the next fifty years just to have less dimples on my thighs. Little pleasures matter.”

“Yeah, they do.” A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “My going-out-wise, I don’t want to fall back into bad habits. Sex, drugs, alcohol, they all went together for me. If you’re changing your life, stopping the destructive shit, then you have to know what your triggers are.”

“You haven’t had sex since you dried out?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

My eyes felt as wide as they could possibly be and then some. “Oh.”

Wow, extreme, but it had obviously worked. The man had conviction. In truth, his openness and honesty stunned me. I guess he was serious about my deprogramming.

“You never drank or did drugs when you were alone?”

He flinched. “Yeah, I did. That’s why you or one of the guys are usually around, just in case.”

“We’re not all the time. But you’ve still stuck to it,” I pointed out. “I think it takes real courage to do what you’ve done, to turn your life around.”

He scowled. “Don’t make excuses for me, Lena. I am not a nice person. I fucked my brother’s first girlfriend. Did you know that?”

I shook my head.

“Yeah, broke his heart. I was so jealous of him I could barely breathe. I lied. I cheated. I stole. I destroyed everything that meant anything to me and hurt everyone around me. I blacked out constantly, OD’ed twice, nearly died. What do you think that did to them … to the guys? Visiting me in the hospital, seeing me like that?” He looked everywhere but at me.