The Girl From Home (22 page)

The elevator doors open, and Jonathan steps inside. Once there, he turns back toward the apartment and places his hand over the side of the door to prevent it from closing, to allow him one last look at Natasha.

Her appearance disgusts him. He now sees her perfect face as nothing but an ugly mask, hiding the monster that is beneath the skin. How could he not have seen that before?

For a flash, he wishes she were dead. No, not just dead. He wishes that she had never existed at all.

His rage quickly gives way to shame, however. It doesn't take much for him to imagine that through Natasha's eyes, he's even a more repulsive image. Certainly not the master of the universe, which is always as he imagined she saw him. He's nothing more than a homeless man. Like one of those beggars on the street asking for pity and loose change.

Without saying another word, he removes his hand, and the elevator doors close in front of her. When she is shut out of his life, he imagines Jackie on the other side of that door.

J
ackie calls Jonathan at five and tells him that Rick had just told her he had a business dinner. From her tone, Jonathan knows she doesn't believe him, but he also knows that she doesn't care where he spent his nights, as long as she can spend hers with Jonathan.

“I won't be able to stay long, though,” she says. “I don't want the kids going to sleep without my being home. But I can get away for two hours or so, if you'll have me.”

“Of course I'll have you,” he replies. “More than once, if you'll let me.”

*  *  *

Jackie arrives a half hour later, and they immediately go upstairs to Jonathan's bedroom. Jonathan has learned that Jackie likes to be in control when she climaxes, so when she's almost there, she turns him onto his back. He watches her approach the threshold—first her breathing gets fast and loud, then she shuts her eyes tight, losing herself in a rapturous smile, as if she's reveling in a delicious secret that only she knows, and then lets go a scream of pleasure. Perfection.

After, Jonathan listens for Jackie's breathing to slow back to normal. As it does, she pushes herself closer to him, laying her head on his bare chest.

“Can we just lie like this for a little bit?” Jackie says. “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

He strokes her hair. He, too, dreams of a life where he and Jackie can be together. But unlike Jackie, who fears for her life if she tried to be with Jonathan, his concern is that she won't want to have anything to do with him once she knows the truth.

His father's words ring in his ears. If Jonathan is to be a better man, now is the time to start.

“There's something I need to tell you,” he says.

She lifts her head up from his chest to catch his eyes. “Nothing good ever starts off that way,” she says.

“Well, why don't I tell you and then you can decide how to categorize it.”

“Okay,” she says tentatively. “But you're scaring me.”

“It's two things, actually. Two things that I haven't been honest with you about. I . . . I don't know, I was embarrassed and thought this was a fling and so it didn't matter, but now I know I feel much more strongly about you than that, and I don't want there to be secrets between us.”

“Jesus, Jonathan, tell me already.”

“Okay. It's about work.”

He can see her body relax. She apparently doesn't care about Jonathan's job. Of course, she doesn't know what else he's about to disclose.

“I'm not on a leave of absence. I was fired. It had to do with trading issues.”

Jackie smiles at him. “I'm sorry about your job, Jonathan. But you'll get a new job, I'm sure of it.”

“I don't think so, Jackie. Wall Street isn't exactly a place known for handing out second chances. My career there is finished.”

She nods that she understands. “Then you'll find a new career. You're smart—that's really what matters. And if I can be selfish about it for a second, this is actually good news for me, right? It means there's now one less reason for you to go back to New York. More time that you'll be able to spend with me.”

Jackie kisses him and then, apparently assuming his disclosures are complete, returns to her position on Jonathan's chest.

“There's more,” he says.

She doesn't move. “Like what?”

“When they fired me, they froze all my assets, and so I'm not just unemployed, but penniless. And worse still, there's a criminal investigation into my trading.”

This gets her to re-engage. She sits up, but her face still shows no hint of concern.

“Remember Alex Miller from high school?”

“I don't think so,” she says.

That doesn't surprise Jonathan. He doubted that Alex registered with the Cliquesters any more than he did.

“He's a criminal defense lawyer in the city. I met with him yesterday. He says this is going to hang over me for a while. Years maybe, and without any guarantee it ends happily. But he also said I should just go about living my life as if it weren't a factor, because he's hopeful it won't be.”

“That sounds like good advice,” Jackie says.

“While I'm in full-disclosure mode, there's one more thing,” Jonathan says.

“Natasha and I have been separated since right before Thanksgiving. So, I guess on this one I'm confessing that I'm not actually having an affair with you.”

“Why didn't you tell me any of this before?”

“I'm sorry. I guess it was because I didn't want to scare you away. But now I don't want there to be any secrets between us. I want to make a life with you, for us to be together for real.”

His revelation about Natasha has apparently distressed Jackie more than the specter of criminal prosecution. Or maybe it's the totality of the disclosures that has changed her mood. Whatever the cause, she no longer looks unconcerned that everything is going to be fine between them.

“Sometimes I wonder what our lives would be like now if we had dated in high school?” Jackie asks softly. “Or even if we'd met right after college or something. Before Rick and Natasha. Do you ever think about that?”

“You wouldn't have been interested in me then. You had a certain type back in the day . . . handsome and not-too-smart jocks. And that wasn't me.”

“No, that's not right—”

“I'm not criticizing you, Jackie. Believe me, as much as I was crazy about you from afar in high school, just like every other guy in our class, all I cared about back then was getting out of East Carlisle and making as much money as I could, and then showing everyone what a success I'd made of myself. I'm embarrassed to admit it, because I know how it sounds, but Natasha was no different than my penthouse co-op or my Bentley. Just another symbol of all that I'd accomplished.”

“And are you any different now? You just said that you want a life with me. Will you be happy with that life? Think about it, Jonathan. I have kids who don't know you, and you just told me that we'll have very little money. Our lives together won't be all sex. We'll have to exist in the real world. I'm fine with that. The question is, are you?”

“I am,” Jonathan says, and in that moment he believes it with all his soul. If he's with Jackie, he'll be happy. Everything else that once mattered to him—cars, houses—they're all just
things
, and the insatiable acquisition of things is a part of his past. The woman in front of him is his future.

I want what I want.

*  *  *

They decide to keep the real world at bay for a little while longer and engage in another romp in the sheets. After, they fall asleep, but the slumber is broken by the buzzing of Jonathan's phone.

“Damn,” Jackie says, likely because she realizes that she's fallen asleep and needs to head home right away. Jonathan shares the sense of dread, but not for the same reason. It's Amy who's calling, and she never tries to reach him after dinner, the time of day she's completely consumed by the needs of her family.

“Hi,” he says.

His sister's silence reinforces that she's called to tell him something bad. When she sniffles, he knows it's something really bad.

“The hospital just called,” she says. “Dad died.”

“What . . . ? I was just there yesterday, and everything seemed good. I was on my way back there now.”

“What can I tell you, Jonathan? He's dead now.”

His sister doesn't say anything else. Like she said, their father is dead, no matter how he seemed when Jonathan last saw him.

*  *  *

Jackie knows that something life-altering has occurred, because all color has drained from Jonathan's face. If it weren't for the fact that he'd just told her that Natasha is no longer in the picture, she would have assumed that they'd been found out by his wife. For a fleeting instant, she thinks that she has the right idea but the wrong spouse. But if it was Rick that Jonathan had been talking to, the conversation would have lasted longer, and been a hell of a lot louder.

Besides, he'd said something about having been there yesterday. That means the bad news was about Jonathan's father.

“Everything okay?” she asks, even though she knows it's not.

Jonathan rubs his eyes. “That was my sister. She just got a call from the hospital that my father died.”

“Oh God. I'm so sorry, Jonathan,” Jackie says. She places her arms around him and feels him squeeze her back. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Do?” he says, as if he doesn't understand the meaning of the word.

“You know, call people? Arrangements. That kind of thing?”

“Oh . . . no. Amy said she'd handle that. She's flying up tomorrow and mentioned something about the funeral being . . . Thursday, I think.”

“I'd like to come,” Jackie says. “To the funeral.”

After the words spill out, she realizes the utter hell she'd have to pay if Rick found out she attended the funeral of Jonathan Caine's father. Rick doesn't even have a clue that she knows Jonathan, much less what they've been doing together. If he knew that she felt the need to be there for Jonathan in his time of grief, Rick could be counted on to make it a funeral for two.

For a moment, she hopes that Jonathan will decline her offer. But then he says, “I'd like that. To feel like there's someone there for me,” and she feels nothing but elation.

T
he next morning, Jonathan is sitting in the kiss-and-fly waiting area at Newark Airport when his phone rings. He assumes it's his sister calling to tell him that she's just landed, but is happily surprised to see that it's not Amy's phone number but Jackie's on the screen.

“Hey, you,” he says.

“Who is this?” an obviously angry male voice barks.

Jonathan pulls the phone away from his ear and rechecks the number. It's from Jackie's cell, all right, which means that the enraged party on the other end is none other than Rick Williams.

“Is this the asshole fucking my wife?!” Rick shouts.

“I'm sorry, I have absolutely no idea who you are or what you're talking about. You must have dialed the wrong number.”

“Oh, really, dipshit. Here's the way it is, motherfucker. I'm going to find out who the fuck you are, and then I'm going to fuck you up. But first, I'm going to deal with my fucking slut of a wife.”

The line goes dead just as Amy's phone number flashes on the screen.

“Just landed,” Amy says. “It'll take me . . . I don't know, ten minutes to make it out of the terminal. Okay?”

Jonathan still has the other phone call in his mind. When he doesn't answer his sister, she says, “Jonathan, did you hear me?”

“Yeah. Okay. I'm here now, so I'll pull up.”

Jonathan doesn't see any way that he can warn Jackie that Rick knows about them. Calling her cell phone would lead him right back to Rick, but doing nothing means that Jackie will be at Rick's mercy, and God knows what he'll do to her. The only other option is to call the police, which means that he'd be confirming Rick's suspicions, at least to the extent that Rick will realize that the man he'd just threatened to fuck up knows his wife well enough to send the police to his home.

Still. Jackie.

After a deep breath, Jonathan calls 411 and asks to be connected to the East Carlisle Police Department.

*  *  *

Amy is standing under the Jet Blue sign. She laughs when Jonathan's Bentley rolls up.

“Oh my God, you've got to be kidding me. Nothing like being picked up in style,” she says before kissing her brother on the cheek. She places the suitcase handle in his grasp and then gets into the front seat.

Jonathan hasn't seen his sister for nine months, not since their mother's funeral. Her hair is about two inches longer than it was then, and it's straighter than he remembers it from when she was a girl.

His sister's resemblance to their mother is unmistakable. They both have dark complexions, large brown eyes, and dimpled noses. Jonathan wonders whether the similarities between them are more than skin deep. He thinks not. His sister seems sincerely happy, whereas in this regard he takes after his mother—always longing for more, never content with his lot in life.

“Does this thing have an autopilot?” Amy asks, running her hand along the soft-as-butter leather upholstery.

“It's a lease,” Jonathan says, although he's not sure why. He is quite certain that the amount he paid for the privilege of three years of driving was more than the mortgage on Amy's house. “So, did you have a good flight?” Jonathan asks, to change the subject from the price of his car.

Amy begins to tell him something about the large man who was seated next to her, but Jonathan has tuned out after the first few words. He's imagining what must be unfolding at Jackie's house.