In the Details

by H. Claire Taylor

  “Whatever happened to not getting sloppy in public?” Jessica asked.

  “I think we already established that we’re both pretty stupid.”

  “Ooh! You know what we should do?” she said.

  Jameson leaned forward, elbows on the table.

  “We should send a selfie of us to Cash.”

  Jameson shut his eyes slowly, biting his lip in a sensual way that pulled back the bedroom curtain just a little too far for her comfort, and he moaned. “Yes.” He opened his eyes. “Yes, we should do that. They will die. Here, scoot this way so we can get a good one.”

  Jessica did, moving her chair next to Jameson’s. He put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close against him. His body was a warm comfort she’d missed these last couple months, and she had no impulse to move away. As he held out his phone in front of them, still fiddling with the settings, she caught the blink of other camera flashes. Someone was taking a picture of the two of them taking a picture.

  Jameson snapped a half dozen selfies of them grinning up at the angled lens until they got a good one. Jameson didn’t bother adding a filter before he sent it on its way.

  “Great,” he said, tucking his phone back in his pocket. “We have a few more dishes on their way out, but we should probably start thinking about dessert.”

  “What is there to think about?” she asked. “I’m in.”

  He flashed her a sly half-grin that made her mind jump to Chris, and as his arm bushed against hers, she realized she was still sitting right next to him. She quickly scooted her chair back to its original spot at the table and stuffed a large piece of salmon sashimi into her mouth.

  Her phone buzzed in her back pocket, and for some strange reason, she was sure who it would be before she answered. That was how things had always worked with her and Chris. It was like they were on the same emotional timer. Maybe it was because he was an angel and she was the daughter of God, but she thought there was something more magical to it than that. Had his face flashed in her mind a moment ago because he was thinking of her, or had the cause and effect gone the other direction? What if, as she’d considered only a handful of times before, she and Chris were destined to be together, and this was just a bump in the road? Was she betraying that destiny by enjoying herself with Jameson?

  She unlocked her screen.

  The message was from Cash, not Chris.

  I will murder you two if you do not make babies TONIGHT.

  Her stomach tightened and she felt the blood drain from her face. When she looked up at her dinner companion, he was already looking back at her, the screen of his phone still lit up in his hand. “Sorry,” he said, “I don’t procreate on the first date, either.”

  She laughed because she couldn’t think of what else to do. “And I don’t procreate before marriage.”

  He laughed at her presumed joke. Good.

  The other Jessica dropped off the next round, and Jameson raised his glass. “I’m glad you came out with me. It’s been fun.”

  “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “It has.”

  “Do it again sometime?”

  She hesitated, then said, “Yeah, that sounds great.” And she meant it.

  Chapter Twenty

  “It feels a little like we’re in detention,” Jameson said, slinging an arm over the back of his leather sofa. Although, technically, it wasn’t his sofa; it belonged to whoever owned the short-term rental he was living in during his months off work. The space looked like it’d been designed by a serial killer who’d been very good about limiting his evil impulses to non-human animals. A mounted deer head above the electric fireplace stared glassy-eyed at Jessica, while the stretched leather lampshade on the coffee table made her doubt her original assumption that the serial killer had managed to limit his impulses before. She half expected to see a dried nipple on the thing.

  Wendy Peterman stood on a bearskin rug facing the couch, her fists on her hips, her fuchsia heels digging into the rug in a way Jessica appreciated greatly. Maybe it would ruin the morbid decoration.

  For anyone else, Wendy’s posture would have been considered a power pose, the kind one does to psych up for a big opportunity but then ceases the second she’s in the company of others. For Wendy, though, it looked meditative, almost restrained. “Maybe it feels like you’re in detention because you two are easily my worst clients and my patience has worn thin.”

  Jameson held up a hand to stop her. “Okay, I know that’s an exaggeration. You represent Jeremy Divorak.”

  “Who?” Jessica asked.

  Wendy’s eyes remained locked onto Jameson. “Not anymore. I fired him.”

  He furrowed his brow. “You believed the allegations then?”

  Wendy rolled her eyes and blew a half-hearted raspberry. “Even if I only believed one out of every ten allegations, that’s still a lot of women to grope.”

  Jessica felt the need to contribute: “One is definitely too many women to grope.”

  Wendy pointed at her. “Correct, but you’re not off the hook.”

  Jessica sank back into the couch.

  “Speaking of which,” Wendy said, narrowing her eyes at Jameson. “You haven’t groped anyone who didn’t want it, right?”

  “No!” He glared at her.

  “Not even a little bit?”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “No nipple tweaks?”

  Jameson rolled his eyes. “No.”

  “And no dick pics?”

  “Nope.”

  She sighed. “Good. I swear, I’m never taking on another male client again.”

  Cash, who’d been sitting on an ottoman to the right of the couch and hadn’t looked up from their phone once since entering Jameson’s death shack, said, “Women aren’t exactly angels, either.”

  “Nuh-uh,” Wendy snapped, pulling their attention away from the screen. “Just because you don’t play for either team doesn’t make you the referee.”

  The social media consultant rolled their eyes and returned to scrolling on their phone.

  “Can we get on with this?” Jessica said. “I promised my mom the meeting would only take an hour, and it was fifteen minutes just to drive here from work.”

  Wendy nodded. “Fair enough. I’m happy that you’ve taken my advice, Jessica, and connected with someone who can help you navigate these waters, but a freaking heads up would have been wonderful. Cash has been playing clean-up on paparazzi stories all day. You know how many photos you two took with randoms last night?”

  Jessica did not, but she ventured a guess. “Twenty?”

  “Try forty-seven and counting,” said Cash. “Those are just the ones I’ve found on public accounts.”

  Judging by his bored expression, Jameson had been through this kind of thing before. “You wanted me to get out more on my time off. And you wanted Jessica to amp up her social interest. I don’t understand why you’re so pissed.”

  “Oh, this isn’t me pissed,” Wendy said.

  “It’s really not,” Jessica said. “I’ve seen her pissed. You throw Jimmy Dean in the mix, and then she’s pissed. But who isn’t, really?”

  “Jessica’s right,” Wendy said. “And, truthfully, I’m not that upset with her.”

  “Sexist,” said Cash.

  Wendy ignored it. “There’s no way for her to know that these kinds of relationships need to be arranged in advance with the help of publicists who carefully orchestrate the outing, including fan interactions, or lack thereof. You, on the other hand”—she jabbed a manicured finger at Jameson, and Jessica thought the bloodred nail polish seemed appropriate—“know how things are done, and you did whatever you wanted anyway.”

  Jameson tossed his arms into the air. “Maybe I’m tired of those rules. Maybe that’s part of the reason I went to It is Risen to ask her out in the first place! I wanted to be around someone who didn’t have all these rules rattling around in her skull.”

  Jessica would have corrected him on that last bit, explaining
that she had more rules orbiting her than possibly any other living being, but she was too preoccupied with the revelation that Jameson Fractal had visited It is Risen the day before with the intent to ask her out. He wasn’t just looking for a gluten-free bite to eat and to say hello to an old friend. She’d thought she had been the one to initiate the outing, but no. She’d played right into his hands.

  And she’d loved every second of it.

  Wendy grabbed her laptop bag off the oak coffee table and rifled through it. “I’m glad you’re taking this journey to find yourself, Jameson, I really am.” By her tone, she was not. “But in finding your bliss, you left Jessica open to be blindsided.” She pulled out a small stack of papers and tossed them on the couch cushion between her two clients.

  Jessica grabbed the print-out off the top. She read it aloud, hoping for some insight from the others. “The Temptation of Jameson?” Below the headline was a photo to presumably illustrate the point. An over-the-shoulder shot had her in plain view and only the side of Jameson’s face visible. She was giving him the most obvious bedroom eyes she’d ever seen. Or maybe she was just about to blink. Her lips were slightly parted like she was preparing for a kiss at any moment. Or maybe she was just chewing rice. The caption read, Jessica McCloud sloppily seduces Hollywood nice-guy Jameson Fractal.

  She looked up at him. He was grimacing. She looked at Wendy. The publicist’s smirk was one of vindication.

  Jessica grabbed the next print-out. Across the top was the logo for Thornton News. This wouldn’t be pleasant. “Self-Proclaimed Messiah Rebounds with the Anti-Chris.” She read it again silently. “What in the hell is this nonsense?” She glanced down at the photo and when it sank in what she was seeing, she felt like tearing the paper in half. Maybe burning it. Possibly even salting the ashes.

  Below a picture of Jessica making the most grotesque face she’d made in her life while Jameson walked next to her on the sidewalk, beaming, looking generally care-free as he guided her forward with an arm around her shoulders, was the caption of, Is Jessica McCloud spiritually manipulating men to get back at beloved ex and pro football sensation Christopher Riley?

  “No!” she shouted at the page. “I’m not! And I’m sneezing in that picture! Doesn’t a girl get to sneeze in public?”

  Wendy shook her head. “Not anymore.”

  Jessica rounded on Jameson. “You took me to a cat bar! You knew I would sneeze!”

  “I couldn’t have known. Not everyone is allergic to cats,” he said.

  “No,” said Wendy, “I’m pretty sure everyone is allergic to cats. It doesn’t matter, though. The point is that your life has changed, Jessica. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve read shampoo bottles more interesting than your life over the last year. Whatever attention you had before is nothing compared to what will result from you dating a well-known actor.”

  Jessica held up a hand to stop her. “First of all, if you’re talking about Dr. Bronner’s shampoo, I’m not offended. Also, we’re not dating. We went on one date as friends.” She looked to Jameson for corroboration, and he nodded.

  “It’s true. We were just hanging out. I walked her home after dinner and we hugged on her doorstep. I didn’t even go in the building because I didn’t want any rumors starting.”

  Wendy sighed. “Small victories, I guess. But regardless, you know better, Jameson. There’s no ‘one date’ in Hollywood. No being friends with single women, either.”

  “Couldn’t we just tell someone in the press we’re just friends?” Jessica asked. “I mean, that’s your job. To release information about us.”

  Wendy wrinkled her nose. “Oh yeah, I could do that. But I’m not going to.” When she paused, the hint of a grin appearing, Jessica assumed it was for dramatic effect and didn’t jump in with the obvious question. She was correct. “The notion of you two dating is the best thing that has happened to me in years. It might also be the best thing that’s happened to you.”

  Jameson jumped in this time. “Like Jessica said, maybe it was a date, but we’re not dating.”

  “Oh yes, you are,” said Wendy firmly. “Everyone thinks you’re dating, so you’re dating. I honestly don’t care what you call it, but next time you two go hang out as totally platonic friends, do yourselves a favor and flirt just a little more.” She brought a hand to her chin and nibbled her bottom lip at she stared pensively at the ceiling now. “And then you walk her home again, and … the two of you need to have a moment on the doorstep, but it doesn’t happen. Yes!” She wagged a finger at them for the grand finale: “And then Jessica, you grab him by the shirt collar and pull him inside and up the stairs!”

  When she returned her gaze to her clients, Jessica wasn’t sure if she would have to be the one to burst Wendy’s bubble, or if Jameson would resurrect chivalry and do it himself.

  To his credit, he took the lead. “I’m not going to make Jessica invite me up after we hang out. That’s creepy.”

  Wendy waved him off dismissively. “Oh please. I’m not saying you have to go upstairs and sleep together. Hell, you could go upstairs and watch reruns of The Office and then go home. In fact, that would probably be a better time, considering the complete lack of chemistry between you two.”

  Jameson’s head snapped back. “What do you mean, lack of chemistry?” and Jessica nodded along, offended even while she understood the odds of an Adonis like him and someone as bland as her lacking genuine sizzle were high.

  Wendy rolled her eyes. “Don’t take it personally. Jameson, everyone thinks they have chemistry with you, and Jessica’s need for a rebound is about as clear on her face as her need for a good night’s sleep. And Jessica, you play right into Jameson’s need to chase after women who make him feel inferior. Two suitable pathologies does not chemistry make.”

  When Jameson opened his mouth then quickly shut it, Jessica couldn’t have agreed more.

  “The point,” Wendy said, “is just to make everyone else guess what’s going on between you two.”

  “What if I don’t want people guessing?” Jessica said.

  Wendy groaned and rolled her eyes. “Just call him and tell him the truth then.”

  Jessica’s mouth fell open. “Call who?”

  “Chris,” said Wendy. “You said you don’t want people guessing and what you really meant was you don’t want Chris thinking you’re sleeping with Jameson. That’s the only thing it could be, because everyone wants the world to think they’re sleeping with Jameson.”

  When Jessica looked at Jameson, he shrugged; clearly he didn’t disagree with the assessment.

  Oh, to have that level of confidence.

  “You want me to talk to him?” Jameson offered. “I don’t mind. I like Chris. I can just tell him we’re friends and this is just for PR.”

  It was tempting, like most things about Jameson. But she said, “No, I can talk to him myself.”

  “Outside of Chris,” Wendy continued, “you’re fine with people thinking you’re hooking up with Jameson Fractal?”

  Why was she making a big deal out of this? Of course she was fine with that! She might even email links to the more favorable articles about it to a few select frenemies from Mooretown.

  She shrugged as casually as she could. “Yeah, I guess that’s okay.”

  “Great.” Wendy finally sat down on the leather armchair behind her. “Now we should talk about what to expect. Those pieces”—she pointed at the papers on the couch—“are just the beginning. If the angle of you seducing him doesn’t work, tabloids will find some other unflattering way to paint you. I assume they’ll go for the money angle first, like you’re only with him because your business is failing and you’re desperate for cash.”

  “But my business is failing, and I am desperate for cash.”

  “Right,” she conceded. “But you’re not asking for handouts from him.”

  Jessica cringed. “I mean, I live in a condo he owns, rent-free.”

  The publicist had forgotten about that, if her
slow nod was any indication. “Yes, but people don’t know that yet.”

  “They will,” said Cash. “They’ll dig into all her financial records once they suspect she’s hurting for money.”

  “Fine,” snapped Wendy. “We’ll deal with that.”

  Jessica looked down at the print-outs again. She flipped past the first two and found a second one from Thornton News. The photo was grainy, and she couldn’t figure out what was happening in—

  “Oh sweet hell!” She flipped the page facedown on the couch so she didn’t have to look at it for another second, but more importantly, so Jameson didn’t glimpse it.

  “Yeah,” Wendy said remorsefully. “Pulling no punches.”

  The actor looked back and forth between the women. “What? What is it?” He reached for the paper but Jessica snatched it away. The secrecy only drove his interest. “Oh come on!” He leaned forward, reaching for it again, but Jessica extended it as far over her head as she could, leaning back against the arm of the couch. It didn’t deter him as he crawled over her, pressing her into the leather cushions. She got a face full of his toned chest a moment before he grabbed the top half of the page, tearing the thing in two and escaping with his piece.

  Jameson only needed the top half to see the problem. As she attempted to right herself again, he inspected the picture quickly and said, “Oh, it’s just this one?” He tossed the torn half onto the coffee table, the gruesome photo of his assassination landing face-up. “Sort of a stretch. Stupid headline. ‘Savior Complex’? Not even original.”

  Wendy said, “Yeah, well, this is Eugene Thornton we’re talking about. Or at least his publication. More likely than not, some unpaid intern was forced to write that after days of workplace harassment.”

  “How are you okay with that picture?” Jessica demanded. “Isn’t it weird to see yourself with your jaw …”

  “Nearly shot off?” he said. “Yeah, it’s weird. And the look on Monica’s face is upsetting, too. But trust me when I say I’ve been through a lot of therapy since that event. Like, so much. So, so much.”