Cecile lifted her chin. “I’ll need a wheelchair, as my leg hurts.”
Ford went to a hall closet and brought it out. “You kept it here,” she said with a musical lift to her voice and smiled at him. “Most of my stuff is still here too. You’re just upset right now with your lover here. I know you’re showing off for her, so I forgive you. I’ll go.”
She may not have said it, but in my head, I heard, “I’ll go for now.” I wanted to feel relief, but there was a kernel of doubt too. All I could think was: was it too soon to feel so much for this man?
FORD
I always have time for you
“Did Cecile say anything to you?” I asked Jasmine.
“Nothing I hadn’t said to Angelique or thought in my head about Angelique.” She lifted her shoulders. “Even though I know she cheated and disappeared, I still kind of felt guilty with how upset she was. But showing up without even calling you? She has some audacity. I’m sorry I didn’t hear her. Why didn’t I?”
“The master bedroom is soundproof,” I told her.
“Oh? Ohh,” she drawled out and blushed.
I grinned despite everything. With all Jasmine’s talk about posing nude for an art class or selfish summer flings, not to ignore all the ways I’d already fucked her and took pictures of her naked, she still blushed at the thought of loud sex. “It was done by the previous owner.”
“Okay, but I still feel guilty that I didn’t know she was here,” she said and lowered her head.
I went over to her and took her hips in my hands. “You don’t have a damn thing to feel guilty about. I broke up with her. She had a key—”
Something out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. A lump under the rug?
“What the fuck?” I hissed and stalked over to the spot. Bending down, I threw back the rug and uncovered the Luke Skywalker’s collectible helmet out of its case digging into the polished floor.
“Oh, no,” Jasmine gasped behind me.
I snatched it from the floor, my gaze laser focused as I assessed the damage. A piece was missing from the back.
“It’s chipped,” Jasmine cried, bending down to pick up a broken piece. She sounded as devastated as I felt.
I grounded my teeth, my muscles tensed.
“Ford, let me take it.” Jasmine eased the helmet out of my tight grip.
“I need to check—” What the fuck else Cecile messed with of mine.
“Say no more. I understand,” she said.
I believe Jasmine did.
The helmet was a prop, but Star Wars meant something to me. I thought of Luke’s journey as my journey. The movies were my escape from my drunken mother and the poverty we’d been left by my father. The artwork inspired my career in art and engineering. Lucas Arts gave me my first real job and the financial means to support my brother and little sister. George Lucas, my idol, had personally presented it to me. Seeing it damaged reduced me to the little kid trying to be brave again, like Luke Skywalker, and fight for everything I had.
Why would Cecile do this? What was her game plan for messing up my shit? To hurt me for breaking the promise that I’d been a fool to make for her? To show her jealousy?
But wasn’t it always Cecile’s way? Or had I romanticized her after the accident?
Cecile had been sweet in the beginning, though at times, she’d thrown tantrums. I’d fed her childish antics because I liked her fiery and naughty. I got off on it because her brattiness used to lead to sex. She’d push my buttons, and I’d rip the clothes off her, fuck her until I couldn’t think straight. I’d been sick on her. Sick with her.
Then again, what did I know or care about Cecile other than that she was beautiful and sexy? Hell, all I ever expected of her was not to complain about my work hours and be ready to fuck me. The only thing she talked about was what she wanted to buy and where she wanted to go. She loved having her photos taken, and I’d loved photographing her. Was that all?
“That wasn’t there,” Jasmine said, calling me from wherever the hell I went.
Cecile’s picture that was in the drawer was on the mantel. She’d put all her pictures back. Then my eyes roamed to other things out of place: the half-eaten bagel and glass of water condensing on the coffee table left next to a coaster.
Jasmine hurried over and lifted the glass, and wiped it with the sleeve of her shirt, and picked up the bagel, frowning at the crumbs left on my leather couch and on the box that contained the dress I had delivered. I didn’t have to look to know the dress was ruined. I’d been too distracted by seeing Cecile and hadn’t noticed. What else have I missed? My studio!
“Leave it,” I called over my shoulder and hurried to my darkroom. Some of the pictures were off the clotheslines dampening the counters. Fuck me. Hell, there were pictures out of the drawers stacked on the counters. I left them and went into the studio. The blinds were open wider than usual, and the sun shone bright through the casement windows. Jasmine’s painting was uncovered. My eyes did a quick scrutiny but didn’t see much damage yet. But then, the fact that she disturbed it was just as destructive.
I draped the cloth back over the picture and pressed the remote control to close the blinds.
“Is everything okay in here?” Jasmine asked. “I found the refrigerator door slightly open, and I shut it. Wow, Ford. I can’t believe she’d behave this way. But then I didn’t handle the cheating well myself. I ran out of Randall’s office with his and Angelique’s clothes and dumped them in the bushes outside.”
“I was no better. I punched Andre when I found out he’d fucked her and was driving during their accident. I thought she was going to die.”
“How could they do that to you?” she asked.
“Andre has always been a hound, but Cecile thought he was a faster ticket to more fame and notoriety.”
She’d been naïve and reckless, but I’d been inattentive and preoccupied with work.
I tunneled my hands through my hair. “Shit. I’m sorry, Jasmine. I need to go over everything in my place to see what’s been done to it.”
“We can take a rain check on going out tonight. Tam has to return tomorrow, and I haven’t had the heart-to-heart conversation with her. We can catch up about Boston, and she brought some of my mail from home.”
I turned my head, and my stomach lurched. Home. Jasmine’s real home was in Boston. My heart was moving too fast to her. I’d let myself move fast with Cecile, and where did that leave me?
I looked at Jasmine; the concern on her face went into my heart. Too fucking late. I didn’t want to hold back.
“We can still go,” I said. “She doesn’t get to disrupt my time.”
She came over and wrapped her arms around my neck. “It’s just a night. We can do something else together if you’re not traveling.”
I sighed. “I am.”
My packed schedule will take me away again. Shit, I worked every day—even last Christmas. I didn’t have to, but I chose to. Cecile didn’t care; she used my money to go shopping and celebrated with her friends, so she told me. Probably Andre, but I hadn’t even cared that much. Maybe we weren’t good together at all. Maybe I didn’t want to be alone.
Shit. I’d wasted months on what I couldn’t see.
But with Jasmine, things were already different. I wanted to truly know her. And I also wanted to take time off.
“I’ll give you my schedule. You plan, and I go. Anywhere you want.”
“Gulliver’s Gate! Superhero Store. Karaoke!” She started rattling off a bunch of places she wanted to see in the city, and although some of them I would have chewed off my own arm to get away from, they were Jasmine. I not only wanted to see her, but I also wanted to hear her talk all about it.
Jasmine was different from anyone I’d ever been with. She had her nerdy quirks similar to mine, but she was also so mature. She was hardworking and dedicated—smart, appreciative, kind to everyone—but I also saw another side of her today. She had so much pain and sadness. I’d call it
love neglect. Her parents didn’t treat her the way she needed. I wanted to fill that need for her and take care of her. She looked unsure when I walked in as though she didn’t know if I’d choose her.
I took her in my arms and kissed her deeply, gliding my tongue against hers in a way that made her writhe.
I dropped to my knees and pulled the flannel bottoms down her legs.
“Ford, seriously? Now?” she said.
“Now,” I said and continued to kiss down her stomach to the top of her mound, circling my tongue around her clit, making her shiver.
The door chimed. It could be security with the new codes and keys, but they’d have to wait. I needed to assure Jasmine she was the only one I desired.
I grabbed her ass, rubbing my tongue against her clit. Jasmine didn’t want me to stop. She panted and her thighs shook against my face as I moved farther between them, pushing my tongue inside her.
“Ford, someone’s…” She couldn’t finish what she was saying. That’s right. Give in to me, baby.
She grabbed my head and writhed against my mouth. I swirled and sucked her sweet cunt until she trembled against my mouth.
“Oh.” She was unsteady, and I scooped her up and placed her down on the couch.
“I always have time for you.”
She moved to pull her pants up, and I stopped her. “Just leave them off. We’re not finished.”
After building security left, Jasmine gave me space to check my place. Cecile hadn’t damaged anything upstairs. Her selection was deliberate. She wanted to punish me for breaking my promise. A promise I regret now, but that was too late to change. But in truth, she broke it as well, leaving for months and never answering a call. She played on my loneliness. She thought she was my only muse and the key to the success of my art. She must’ve got off on her power, but fuck her now. Fuck me for being such a fool.
The front door chimed, and I went over to check the video feed. Martin and Tam.
“What’s wrong?” Martin said when I opened the door.
“Wow, this is beautiful,” Tam said as she walked past me.
“Thank you. Welcome. Jasmine is just through there in the kitchen.” I called out to Jasmine, who popped in and greeted Tam. “Sorry, Jasmine. Tam. Would you excuse us for a moment?” I motioned for Martin to follow me into the studio.
“No problem. We’ll go find some nibblies,” Jasmine said. She knew why I needed to spend time with Martin.
Once in the studio, he immediately went to Jasmine’s painting and uncovered it, then he stood back and studied it.
“Cecile showed up,” I said, and then told him what I’d discovered that she’d done.
“And boiled your bunny,” Martin said. “Fuck. You can sue her ass.”
“I could,” I said.
“But you won’t,” Martin said, his eyes focused on the painting. “Damn, you’ve been busy. Did you do a shoot with Jasmine?” He went to the art table.
I hesitated. “Shit.”
Martin brows rose.
“I feel weird about exposing her.”
He laughed. “You’re completely gone on her now. Naked means nothing to me without feeling. I care about what I feel, so get out of your feelings, and show me.”
We went into the darkroom, and I pulled out all that I had taken of Jasmine.
He was instantly drawn to Jasmine on the bed after we had sex the first time. “This one breaks my heart. It speaks to me, tells me her story. She’s been in this situation before where she shared her body. She’s wounded, scarred. She’s afraid she’s going to be hurt again. I mean there is joy, but the hollowness in her eyes, she’s on the verge of tears. I’ve been here…” Martin’s voice broke. “Give me a second.” He took a deep breath. “This image is pure gold. I want to purchase it for the gallery. Fuck, everyone will want this image. We can name a price.”
I sighed heavily. I’d seen the same too, but I gave Jasmine my word.
“Sorry. I promised Jasmine I’d never sell it.”
“Change her mind,” Martin grumbled. “Come on, Ford. Yes, there are other images here, and I can surely arrange a few pieces for a test show to a private audience. But that image would raise your New York art profile higher than Cecile’s ever did. The fire angel ones stand out. She’s beautiful, relaxed, and playful in these photos. You can see her joy at falling in love.”
“Jasmine’s not in love with me,” I told him.
“Keep telling yourself that,” Martin said while he looked at a few other images. “They are all good. But please think about it. I’ll have my assistant come over and collect the samples tomorrow so I can sit with them, and you can avoid any more surprises.”
“I’ve changed the locks,” I told him.
Martin harrumphed. “You should have done that straight away. I’ll take Tam and Jasmine home. You stay and get your house in order.”
I needed to do that in more ways than one.
Twenty minutes later, Martin had left with both Jasmine and Tam. Given the dress I’d bought Jasmine was actually ruined, they left for Graham and Soraya’s place first. At that moment, I was so angry with Cecile. Where did she get off in destroying someone else’s property? When did she become such a cruel, heartless woman?
It was time to end this.
And I was ready.
Two rings after I hit dial, Cecile purred, “Hello, Ford.” That brought back all the anger again.
“You answer calls now,” I snapped. “Why are you back?”
“Because I love you. You already know that, and I know you’re upset. I’m upset too. Maybe I made a mistake with the phone calls, but I’m sorry now. Let’s meet up tomorrow and talk this out.”
I curled my lips. She actually thought what she did was forgivable. She broke into my home and violated my trust. But she also cheated on me, and she got away with that. Why wouldn’t she think I’d get over it?
“How about St. Tropez, do you remember?” she said.
St. Tropez was our first date. I was so lust-struck that I couldn’t make it out of the restaurant and fucked her in one of the stalls. Now? Now my anger was so strong that I wanted to rip into her about the damage she caused, but she wouldn’t care. And it wouldn’t take away the feeling of violation.
“There’s no point rehashing the past, Cecile. As I said in my message, I don’t want to get back together anymore.”
“Because of that girl? She’s not really your type. Come on, Ford. I’m sorry. So let’s move on, okay? Or we can talk over dinner.”
I was going to say no, but I needed this talk. I’d waited months for it.
“I’ll be there at noon.”
“I prefer dinner,” she said.
“I prefer not to meet up with you at all after the stunt you pulled today, and tomorrow at noon is the only time I have. I’ll be there. If you don’t show, don’t call me again.”
She hung up.
JASMINE
Application incomplete
After Ford kissed me and said goodbye to us, we headed for Martin’s sports car. The car was comfortably built for two, but I managed to get in the back seat.
“You know, Jasmine, Ford showed me some of his work,” Martin said. “He’s got talent and an eye for composition. I was moved, and I’ve seen everything, trust me.”
“Yes, he does amazing work,” I said, and I glanced out at the traffic passing by.
“Art is bigger than the individual. I’d love to hear about what you think of the photography at the Guggenheim,” he continued.
“It’s beautiful, but I’m more of a people watcher.”
“Hmm, I see. What I’m hoping you’ll find is that it captures the core of human experiences. Its beauty connects all of us. It should be shared.”
“Yes, art should be shared,” I answered slowly. Martin’s conversation had me confused. What is he talking about?
“Martin, you obviously want something from Jasmine. Spit it out,” Tam said to him.
“I want a photo Jasm
ine doesn’t want to give. It’s not tasteless or graphic. I feel this photo would be good for Ford. We’re considering a private show.”
Martin didn’t need to tell me what photo he meant. He could go on and on about sharing art, but he wasn’t the one so exposed. The photo had made me feel more naked than when I was nude. I looked weak, fragile. Lost. Ford had somehow captured all my insecurities and sadness. How much I wanted Ford to care about me, how afraid I wouldn’t be enough for him. There was a part of me that wanted to say yes and help Ford, but I didn’t want to decide under Martin’s pressure.
“Ford agreed not to show or sell it.”
The car went dead silent.
“Let’s turn on the music,” Tam said and reached for the radio. Soon, BTS’s “Dynamite” filled the car, and we all went to our happy places. I couldn’t help but think of Ford and our first ride. I’d thought him rude, but I discovered he was so different. So much had changed and some things for the better.
We reached the apartment and found Graham in the driveway. He waved at Martin before he took off.
“Jasmine, can I speak with you before you head inside?” Graham asked. I walked over to his car and saw he had the newsletter I’d created for hospitality.
“Sorry, Graham, I know I should have cleared it with you first. But Quinton thought it was a hoot, and—”
“And you’re right, you should have cleared it. But I read it,” Graham said. “You, like Soraya, have a talent for writing. Do you have more?”
My mouth dropped open. “Seriously? I mean, I have a few I’ve written for myself I can send to you.”
“Do it,” he said. “I’d like to test you out on a research project with our marketing team. As far as your sociology articles, I’d like to have them printed up for our company blog and distributed globally.”
I screamed and hugged Graham. He laughed. “It’s a test run, but I’m glad you like the idea.”
“I do. Is Soraya here?” I asked. “Does she know?”
“She does, but she’s out with Lorenzo at mommy and me class.”
Mister Know It All: A Hero Club Novel Page 21
