Weathering Jack Storm (Silver Strings G Series) (18 page)

The next puddle of batter sizzled in the pan, and she looked up abandoning all thoughts of faking a casual interrogation. “Why?” This time, her question was genuinely curious. Last night’s broadcast haunted her memories, specifically the picture of Jack and Randi.

“Why Daddy? Mom was pretty on t.v.”

Was. Although now she currently wore a cute summer outfit from one of Olivia’s mandatory mix and match sessions, her only primping today had been to pull the straightener through the uncombed wet hair she went to bed in.

“Yes, she always is. Beautiful.” Jack’s eyes held hers, and she melted in the dark glimmers. Then he said, “Can we talk about this later? Right now, we need to talk about today. Tristan, buddy, your physical therapist will be here at two–”

“Miss Dana is coming to California?”

Both did a double take at the correct pronunciation of the state. While Jack quickly explained that a new PT was going to be coming, Marissa dished up two more pancakes and poured two more into the skillet. If Tristan continued his progress rate, a PT would only be necessary for a couple of more weeks.

“Mariss, I’ve got a couple of meetings. Emma will be here any second, and–”

“Already here,” Emma sang as she glided into the room waving.

Feeling suddenly territorial of the house, Marissa concentrated on her cooking. Was Emma also privileged enough to let herself in at leisure, in the same manner as Randi?

“I guess I’m running late,” Jack drawled.

“You always are,” his publicist retorted with an uncharacteristic sunny smile.

Unprovoked, Jack picked up a pancake rolling it into finger food the same way Marissa had the day before. “Chill pill, Emmajesty.” Dipping his breakfast into the generous puddle of syrup spilling off Tristan’s stack, he sent a meaningful glance over the island to Marissa. “We will talk later. About everything. Okay?”

“You may as well tell her now, Jack.”

Jack glared at his publicist and sent a reassuring look to Marissa before pivoting away. His long legs carried him quickly across the kitchen. “I’ve got to get dressed.”

Emma watched him ascend the stairs and then began to help herself to the single serving coffee maker. While the coffee was brewing, she cast a manicured finger toward the pancakes. “Do you mind if I have one of those?”

Although Marissa politely gave the other woman the go ahead, conflicting feelings barraged. A touch of guilt for her lack of manners by not offering, but mostly that possessive feeling again. The pancakes were cooked for Tristan and Jack, and if anyone else, Dax.

“Don’t you hate it when men do that?” Emma asked while cutting a tiny bite of the pancake.

“I can’t stand to be late myself,” Marissa agreed.

“Oh, I am quite used to that with Jack. That is why I insist on picking him up for these scenes. I always tell him the appointment is thirty minutes earlier than it really is.” Emma’s snicker aroused Marissa’s hackles even more. The hint of familiarity with Jack was quickly forgotten when Emma went on, “I meant the ‘talk to you later thing.’ You shouldn’t have to wait–when it would just take a few minutes to tell you.”

“In all fairness, he thinks he’s running late,” Marissa reveled in pointing out.

“How did you enjoy the party?” Emma extracted the coffee cup from beneath the maker’s nozzle.

“It was fine.” Marissa shrugged and began running water in the batter bowl. For the first time, she noticed the sink was clean, and wondered if Dax pulled kitchen duty as well.

“And you haven’t seen the reviews?”

“Of the album?” Marissa played dumb and did not imagine the exasperation flashing in Emma’s eyes.

The other woman had something she was dying to impart, and at last, she burst. “The drop party. The media is having a rough time accepting that Jack and Randi are no longer together.”

“They never were. Together.” Marissa prided herself on how smoothly the rebuttal left her lips.

“They were together as far as his fans are concerned. I was curious to see how this thing with you and him would go over.”

“And how did it go over?” Again, Marissa played dumb.

“The general consensus is they belong together. Jack and Randi.”

“Oh well.” Marissa shrugged. Hearing the truth aloud, and so blunt, stung, but she wasn’t about to let on.

“It’s actually not that simple.”

“How so?”

“So? It’s a game. We play for Jack to win. The fans don’t want to see him chained to some groupie from a hundred years ago–no disrespect. He is a rock god, and rock gods hit the hot models.” Emma tilted the coffee mug to her lips.

There it was. The unusual reference Jack had made the previous night. Something about proof to the tabloids that he wasn’t marrying a groupie. Was that what was being said about their hookup five years ago?

“Why are you telling me this? He’s not going to break up with me because his fans say so.”

“Of course not.” Emma’s tone was deceptively soothing, and the bracelets on her wrist rattled like a snake as she continued cutting into her pancake and sipping her coffee. “That’s why behind every public figure is a publicist. We do what they don’t have sense to do.” Here, she stared over the coffee mug rim. “I work for the record label, not Jack. Don’t ever get that confused because it’s very different. Every decision is in the label’s best interest, which is ultimately Jack’s best interest. Jack’s best future interest is something you should want also. If you don’t want all this to go away.” Emma encompassed the kitchen and the pool area outside in her sweeping gaze. “Now, what we need to decide is how far to take your relationship, publicly, of course. Because his public will lose respect for him if it drags on too long. And that’s never good for sales, no matter how good the music might be.”

“Jack’s not going to go for this.” Marissa felt like a parrot.

“Again, that’s my job. See I know all about his plans. That he will refuse to sign the label again. That he is done with metal and wants to reinvent as Jax with an X and be some blues-rock mutant like his dad. It’s my job to make sure Jack Storm is still sellable even when he no longer exists.”

Jack had mentioned going in a different music direction, but never expanded on the subject, and it was annoying for Emma to have details that Marissa herself did not have of her own fiancé.

“I really don’t know what you are wanting from me.” Concentrating on flipping the last two pancakes, she tried not to feel needled.

“Just your understanding. For anything that is about to happen.”

“Which is?”

“For starters, not being seen in public with Jack.”

An icy tingle trickled down her back, but she bravely scoffed, “You can’t lock me in the house.”

“Of course not,” Emma patronized again. “Jerry will be paid to selectively snap his shots. Shooting none of you, and some of Randi coming and going, will keep the image alive. I am not saying these things to be mean. I just want to prepare you because the way it is looking, it will be best if you don’t go on tour.”

This time, shock shot through every vein, and Marissa couldn’t help but be in awe of the evil way the last part had smoothly been added into the stakes. A dry laugh heaved from her mouth and she fell against the counter. “Good luck with that. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go, but Jack wants us there.”

The first leg of the tour began in two weeks. Jack’s eyes always lit up when talking of it, and of Marissa and Tristan coming along. At the thought of Tristan, Marissa twisted her chin. When she found him keenly watching this barbed exchange, she smiled as if this were a friendly disagreement similar to the ones that sometimes occurred between her and Olivia.

Emma came closer, setting her mug down next to the plate of pancakes and tore off a piece of one although she had not finished her own.

“Love, you are misunderstanding this entire conversation. I am just telling you how it is. Jack with Randi sells albums. Do not take anything I am saying personally. It’s business. You won’t be on that tour. It won’t be approved unless Randi’s favorability index goes way down and yours up. Which isn’t likely.”

PUNCHING AT THE BUTTON
that switched the burner off, Marissa gathered her thoughts and spun around.

“You are way out of line to tell me this stuff. Shouldn’t there be some confidentiality agreement where Jack is concerned? You should not be discussing business related to him, even if I am part of it. And why would I need to know any decisions about the tour when that is weeks away and they are not firmed up?”

Emma was clearly taken aback, and Marissa wondered if she had unknowingly made some valid points while randomly stabbing with her words.

“My medicine tends to make me talkative. I apologize for upsetting you.”

Was the other woman actually going to blame every evil thing just said on some prescription in her purse?

“You’re a bitch!”

“Momma...”

The woman had sweetly read a story to Tristan just the night before, and all along, she had been poison!

Circling the bar, Marissa protectively grabbed Tristan balancing him on her hip. Carefully, stepping down into the den, she put her stunned son on the sofa and promised to return with his unfinished breakfast.

“Marissa, love–”

Marissa shot a glare that ceased any further discussion as she retrieved her son’s food and drink. Jack sprinted down the stairs, and instead of feeling relieved to see him, she felt an unjustified prick of betrayal.

Jack had grown up in the music business as a child and had lived it his entire adulthood, which most likely meant he knew everything that was about to happen. A new thought struck, and she stopped in her tracks to the den. Before they even came to California, had he withdrawn the ‘official proposal’ to wait until he was no longer ‘owned’ by the label?

“Mariss? Don’t always think the worst of me...”

No. Jack did not know a thing about this. The question now was whether she should tell him, or let Emma do it. She pictured how he would go off on the evil woman and smiled.

“Alright Emmajesty, let’s get on the road, get this over with!” Clueless and completely on the opposite side of the mood scale, Jack breezed into the kitchen dropping a kiss to Marissa, then a casual arm onto Emma’s shoulders. “Wait, where’s Tristan?”

Inclining her head to the other room, Marissa followed, watching him hug up on their boy and offer up encouragement about his physical therapy. Marissa set Tristan’s breakfast on the sofa table, and when she straightened she was in Jack’s arms.

During a mind bending kiss, he whispered, “I’ll be back ASAP. You guys have fun. Go swimming? Order some food? I’m leaving Dax for you. I’ll text you his number.”

The kiss had her smiling despite watching him laugh and joke with Emma as the two disappeared through the arch to the hallway directly before the front door clicked.

Seconds later, her phone beep sounded from the kitchen, presumably with Dax’s number, and she pondered again the assistant’s wide range of duties. As far as she was concerned, he could sleep all day. No doubt, he needed a break.

Tristan’s PT was punctual, and the young man spent a few minutes putting Tristan at ease with some knock-knock jokes before laying out his therapy plan, which centered on the pool.

Marissa ran upstairs for his swimsuit and then talked with him out on the patio while Tristan changed in the outside restroom. While watching the two of them exercise in the water, she tried to call Olivia. Voicemail greeted her even though her friend’s normal work schedule was graveyards.

“He’s doing well, isn’t he?”

A startled smile reflexively curved her lips as Dax eased on one of the stools. Nodding, she took her gaze to the glaring water surface and the beginnings of a California tan on the body of her son.

“You want me to get you anything? A drink or something?” He poked at his phone as he made the inquiry.

Shaking her head, she replied, “No thanks. Oh, I left you some pancakes in the kitchen.”

“Seriously? Those are mine?” He seemed surprised and immediately hopped up, thrusting aside his phone. Returning with a happy grin, he sat down again and began to eat. “Do you mind if I hang out?”

“Of course not.”

“I should have asked before I guess. Just tell me to get lost and I will. Anytime.”

She could not ever see herself being comfortable enough to dismiss someone, even someone on her payroll, even in a nice way. Again, she was hit with the vast differences between her life and Jack’s, but she shrugged with a smile.

“These are great! Thanks.”

“You are just lucky you got some. I thought Emmajesty was going to eat them all.” For the first time, Marissa used the nickname for the publicist, and it must have dripped with the hatred she felt, because Dax raised interested eyes from his plate.

Tristan was laughing at something his PT was saying and she turned her embarrassed look that way.

“I heard her giving you a rough time.”

Grateful for the opening, she looked back to him and blinked as her eyes adjusted to the shade again. “Yeah. What the hell?”