Weathering Jack Storm (Silver Strings G Series) (15 page)

The portico was tiled in the same stonework as the rest of the house giving it an appearance of the inside extending to the outside. It was an immaculate outside lounge. The adobe bar, where she now sat, curved around a complete kitchen area with appliances tucked beneath the bar. Across the area was more seating in the form of sofa’s, and chairs plush enough to belong inside the house instead of outdoors.

The mountain view was majestic. Rolling the last slice of bacon in the last pancake, she crossed to a glass half wall. As she passed, she threw a glance at the volleyball game, which seemed to be winding down.

The wind coming over the wall whipped her hair around her face and billowed the thin cover-up around her body. In awe, she took in the treetops swaying and the endless carpet of wildflowers.

“Momma, Daddy said you were going to help him teach me to swim!”

Swallowing the last bite, she turned finding Jack almost upon her with Tristan trailing.

Dax was sunning on the guitar bridge which was actually an island sunk in just a few inches of water. On the part of it extending a foot or so above the surface sat a few tumblers and a bottle of Jack Daniels.

“You look hot,” Jack’s words were husky and his wet arms encircled her waist, pulling her backside against his wet front. Cold wet lips nuzzled her neck. “You smell good.”

This behavior all morning seemed erratic after last night. Was he mad about her promiscuity or not? Maybe he had his sulk and now he was fine? Maybe she wasn’t.

It had only happened a few times in their couple of weeks of becoming reacquainted, but she was not going to encourage him freezing her out, and then expecting her to fall all over him in heat when he decided to forgive her for whatever transgression had set him off.

Pivoting around, she turned away from Jack’s intended kiss to answer their son, but found Tristan stilled a few feet behind them. His tiny eyes clouded with confusion as he took the pair of them in.

“Are you married?” Tristan blurted, and kept his eyes on their faces. Uncharacteristically, he was impatient as he used a foot to lightly kick at Rusty who was licking the water from his ankles.

“
BE CAREFUL WITH
Rusty,” she rebuked. “He is not a big dog like Bally.”

Quickly though, she knelt to his level, as did Jack after shooing away Rusty. Dax helpfully called the animal to his side of the pool and occupied the dog by splashing. Her eyes slid from the dog dancing around trying to catch the water back to their son.

“Tristan, Daddy and I -”

Her words halted when she felt Jack’s hand giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Mariss? Do you mind if I talk to Tristan a second?”

“Uh, well kind of,” she stammered, miffed that he would put her in this position. It was only right that they tell Tristan together, and firmly she met his dark gaze.

“I have something I’ve been wanting to ask him.” Now, he shot her a meaningful look, and it was then that she felt dense.

A few nights ago, as they drifted to sleep talking about exotic honeymoons, Jack had mentioned that he wanted to ask Tristan for permission to marry her.

Leaving the two of them, she waded into the pool. The long neck of the guitar was a gradual incline, and at its intersection with the main pool, the water looked to be a depth of two to three feet.

In her peripheral vision, she saw Tristan’s wide smile and eager nod. Relaxing some, she continued to wade until she was knee-deep.

Jack and Tristan went into the portico, and she observed Jack hold a door open for the boy. Then, using the toe of his foot, he slid a decorative mermaid statue partially propping the door from completely closing. Presumably, it was a bathroom.

Seeing Jack run full speed toward her interrupted her musings, and knowing his intentions were rambunctious, she screamed in protest for the few seconds it took him to close the distance. Wrapping her in his arms again, he dragged her into the water, falling with her.

Sputtering to the surface, she felt the slight drag of the soaked cover-up, but she easily stood in the shallow water.

“Jack-ass!” she yelled and received the quirky smirk she adored.

“Mom, are you ready to help Jack teach me to swim?”

Knowing Tristan had undoubtedly heard her second slander of the day towards his dad, she slicked the hair from her face. “Sure honey.” Looking to Jack, she asked, “Does he have sunblock on?”

Jack answered affirmative, and she enjoyed the glint in his eyes as she hoisted herself to the poolside and removed the clinging, transparent blouse.

The swimming lessons commenced with Dax cheering Tristan on. Jack had not made any false promises. Tristan soon kicked and splashed enough to propel himself from her to Jack, and then from side to side of the pool.

Tristan continued to play. Because of the water’s buoyancy, he needed no help to walk the pool bottom once he was waist deep. She and Jack reclined on the island watching him.

A conversation began, but gradually she realized she was carrying it, and she looked over wondering if he had fallen asleep behind his shades. As if feeling her gaze, he propped up, took a sip of his drink, and fell back again. Beneath the couple of inches of water, the tile was smooth against her skin, and she absently stirred at the water with her fingers.

From the shade of the patio, a ring tone floated across the water, and Jack complained, “You brought your phone out?”

Sitting up, she considered making a dash for the device, until he reached for her arm. “You’re not really going to get that, right?” With a flip of his sunglasses to the top of his head, he held her eyes in some silent challenge.

Looking into his stormy gaze, she let it ring. After a minute or so of silence, the rings began again. Dax, who was watching television in the shaded portico, offered to bring it to her, but she shook her head. She didn’t feel like Jack being pissed at her, although she was getting pissed with his moods.

“I’m hungry!” Tristan was playing with his new toys in the wading area, and never even looked up from his fun as he made the proclamation.

When she moved to get up, Jack quietly stayed her.

“Hey Dax. Dude? You starting those burgers?”

Barely a quarter of an hour later, they were all eating hamburgers, piled high with all of the trimmings. As Dax ate, he tended to steaks and foil packs of vegetables on the grill. When his phone bleeped, he balanced the tongs to jump over to it. Seconds later, Reed was letting himself through the glass doors, and helping himself to food.

“Liz may come by in a bit,” Reed informed no one in particular between giant bites.

“What about Chris?” Jack asked while pooling steak sauce into his potato.

Quickly, she looked away from that less than appetizing sight to the muted flat screen.

“His ol’ lady is not feeling up to it....Hey, last night, that new Strings and Beat journalist, hot huh? Yowsir!”

“I didn’t notice,” Jack returned.

“Oh right, man. I know that’s right.”

Resisting the urge to glare at the Reed and sneak a look at Jack’s face, she kept her eyes on the television. Coincidentally enough, Jack’s image, along with the rest of Jackal, flashed on. Before she could become too captivated, the airing went to its next celebrity.

“Dax, dude...” Jack’s voice sounded peculiarly like a chastisement. Curiously, she brought her interest down from the screen to study the interaction between the two of them and found Jack smiling. “You outdid yourself man, great grub!”

Dax curved an answering smile, but closed his hand on the television remote and the screen went dark.

Picking up her phone, she walked toward the lookout area as she punched at the screen. Ideally, she would go into the house, but leaving Tristan in the pool while Jack’s attention could be otherwise occupied with his friends was not an option.

Darkness was just beginning to fall, and dotting the mountainside was a smattering of lights. They grew denser until, then at the very foot, in the valley, was a massive glow.

“Hey Liv.” Marissa’s greeting was a happy sigh into the phone when her friend answered.

“Hey yourself. I see you survived. Tell me everything!”

Filling her friend in on the details of the party, she left out everything she had wanted to vent this morning.

“So you had a good time? Really, Rissa?”

“I did.”

The music someone had switched on when the television went off seemed louder every minute.

“Sounds like you are at a party now...”

“Sort of, I guess. Some of the guys are over.” Marissa sought Tristan out as she spoke and found him back to playing with his cars at the water’s edge.

“Did you really wreck that bitch’s car?”

Startled, Marissa turned back to the valley where even more lights were now twinkling. “How do you know about that?”

“It’s all over. They are saying you did it on purpose. Because of her being Jack’s ex.”

“What? I did not!”

“Well if you did, respect, Rissa.”

“Where are you hearing this?” The shifty scene between Jack and Dax and the resulting power-off of the t.v. came intermediately to mind.

“I will send you the links, okay?” Then, “Don’t jump into anything with Jack just because he is Tristan’s dad. Promise me that.”

“What are you saying?” Just a few days ago, her best friend had been shoving her to Jack, not that Marissa needed any push.

“I am just saying if it is not what you expected, if HE is not all you expected, come home, okay?”

Almost word for word Clayton’s text. Deciding not to argue, Marissa said goodbye, and jumped at Jack’s voice.

“Who are you talking to?” A scowl clouded his face. His brows drew together, and turbulence flashed his dark eyes. Taking a swig of his drink, he looked down the length of the bottle.

“Olivia.” Closing her phone in her fist, she evaluated his challenging stare. The atmosphere was heavy with something hanging between them, as it had been off and on all day—only more palpable.

Her earlier hunch suddenly returned–that Jack had read Clayton’s text. Had he approached her on the possibility that she was calling an old flame?

“Well com’on.” A lighthearted grin replaced the strange look shadowing his face. “Liz is here, and Em. You are no longer the only shorty.”

She rolled her eyes having heard Reed call women shorties a half a dozen times now, and hoped it wasn’t a term Jack often used also.

Tristan, sharing a couch with Emma, was wrapped in a towel forking up sliced fruit in a cup. Emma had him engaged in conversation over one of his books and Marissa headed that way when Jack veered off to rejoin the guys at the bar. Liz emerged from the bathroom and glanced at the group of guys before changing her direction and seating herself in a chair beside Marissa.

The party rocked on. At first, this gathering was every bit as enjoyable as the after party the previous night. She was still tired from the night before and marveled at Jack’s ability to keep up.

He was the life of the party. His humorous one-liners kept the guys in stitches. Occasionally, raunchy ‘guy only’ talk drifted over to the women’s group as their experiences on the road were recalled in detail.

Each time, Marissa would glance at Tristan, but he was wearing a headphone set and watching a portable DVD player. Jack was respectful of her being in earshot, but she heard plenty from Reed’s loud mouth that left too much to her imagination.

The other girls took it in stride, having their own conversations of guys, but Marissa had heard enough of Jack’s side of the patio to gradually settle into a stony silence.

Tristan fell asleep on his sofa, and she rescued the DVD player from his slipping grasp. Grasping on to this excuse to casually exit, she mentioned taking him up to bed, with the intention of slipping off to bed herself.

Immediately, she had Jack’s full attention, and he sent Dax after a blanket. “He’s fine out here?” It was a statement as much as a question, and he reassured, “If he wakes up, I will take him up to bed, okay?”

Since it was their first night in such a situation, she agreed, but she knew that if this actually was the lifestyle, and not just an extended album drop celebration, she was not going to have Tristan sleeping on a couch amidst a loud party night after night.

When Emma and Liz drifted to the bar, Marissa continued to sit, playing with her phone until she felt Jack’s eyes on her. With a smile she didn’t feel, she reluctantly joined the rest of them silently swearing to be off to bed at the first groupie story.

Instead, she was subjected to a story about herself.

Reed threw back his head in a loud cackle. “That’s so dope, dude. Oh, Mariss, you actually told Musician’s Muse you hated Jack’s music?”

“Hey, that’s just proof that I’m not marrying a groupie, for all those gossip bags.” Jack grinned, proud of his dissertation.

Chris shot back, “Dude? You seriously think the groupies like our shit?”

“Oh they like our shit alright,” Reed retorted, and he and Jack bumped beer bottles.

Jack was in a heated discussion about a recent band breakup. Liz and Emma were also in the middle of it, and Marissa stealthily slipped from the group.