by Mia Moore
“Change of plans,” she croaked.
Brenda started to come through the door, and Jessica waved her back and out. She grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes.
Damn him.
And burst into tears again.
She had fully expected him to call her on Sunday night. She would have made him squirm a little bit- he lied to her after all. But they'd talk and patch it back up. After all, he had said he loved her.
She sat back in her chair looking out the window. Her mind’s eye recalled the evening after Paradox’s. He said it over and over and over again… he emptied himself professing his love… and she held him, they had clung to each other though that wondrous moment. She had found THE ONE. She was so happy in that moment…
Which was over in minutes, leaving her confused, wounded and angry.
And now sad.
Oh for Heaven's sake! Snap out of it!
She leaned over her desk calendar, and counted the number of days since they had met, and it was less than 31. Not enough time to justify this level of grief. Four weeks? Come on!
Not enough time to become a couple- to know each other so well that they finished each other’s sentences. Mom and Dad do that all the time!
But Mom and Dad were married for seven years before they even had Jessica. Let alone their courtship. How long did it take for a couple to finish each other's sentences anyway? She and Craig weren't there yet by a long shot.
If anything, she acknowledged, they cut each other off with a comment or digression.
Well, sort of.
Jessica did most of the cutting off and digressions.
She recalled how Craig would be pontificating about some rum jigger, and she'd insert a comment. Some crack out of left field.
And he’d stop dead in his tracks, processing. He'd look her in the eye, and then look away.
And …he'd do that crooked smile thingy. That cute as hell, crooked smile he'd do, clueless of how goddamn cute it was! Unaware how it made her feel; the ahhhh… whenever he did it. Damn that smile.
And then he'd look back to her and chuckle.
And say something like “Lecturing, huh?”
And she’d say “Yeah professor.”
That was kind of finishing sentences wasn't it? It was a start, right?
Oh please no, it’s not! Please no! Not him!
She grabbed her calendar book and tossed it aside. It wasn't even a REAL month.
He should have called. Bastard.
She stood up, feeling her lack of sleep. She needed a cup of coffee, a lot of coffee.
Brenda glanced up from her desk, about to make a comment as she passed by. Jessica held up her hand to shush her and headed to the cafeteria, determined to get coffee, and dry toast to ease her tummy.
Screw that- she'd have a bagel with cream cheese.
Extra cream cheese. And a cheese Danish. And cream in her coffee, not skim milk. And sugar, not that sweetener crap.
And a brownie too!
How do you like THAT, Professor!
She returned to her desk carrying the take out tray from the cafeteria. Setting it down, she took a sip of coffee and grimaced.
Ugh. It was so bitter and too sweet. She had gotten used to the way she had been drinking it.
She took a bite of the cheese Danish.
Ugh. It tasted like flour paste and jello.
Oh maaan.
It was going to be a very long week- no matter what that cabbie had said; it was going to be tough.
She took a deep breath, and booted up the files for her latest article. She was just going to have to endure it.
And she had been so damn joyful on Friday. I’m such a fool.
Chapter 16
Craig was almost on top of the world when his plane landed back in Toronto Tuesday afternoon. His meeting with the New York Times had gone better than he had hoped for. The feature article they had met about was a lock, and then they had floored him with an offer. They wanted him, Craig Forsyth, to become a regular contributor! Every two weeks, 1,500 words discussing the relationship between Canada and the USA.
From a Canadian's perspective, not a Yank's.
The earnings from the column alone were more than his current royalty earnings from the books.
The Times even had his business cards printed, confident that he would accept their offer.
They all agreed it was about time for such a column; the two countries were each their biggest trading partners, and in so many ways closest allies. There were so many similarities between the two cultures and yet such stark differences. The Times felt these ideas needed regular exploration, and Mike Forsyth was their guy. Hell, even Frum didn't have a regular gig with the Times!
He got into a taxi to take him home, and called his agent with the news. Hugh ramped the excitement up another notch.
“Oh man, Mike- a three time bestselling author, and now a columnist for the Times! Do you have any idea how much you're going to get paid for speaking engagements?”
“Speaking engagements? You kidding me, Hugh? All I've ever done were readings at book stores, man!”
Hugh laughed. “Welcome to the NFL, Mr. Big Shot Professor! You're going to be getting $25,000 minimum for a 45 minute speech, buddy. I can line up two or three a month for you right off the bat. You kidding me? Wall Street's gonna’ want to hear what you have to say, Bay Street, Montreal, Vancouver, ohhh boy!”
Hugh was already counting his commission- he'd make a three grand a speech and not even have to go!
Mike was astonished. “You're serious, aren't you?”
“You bet! The money you made last year, in the entire year, is gonna be less than what you're gonna pay in income taxes, buddy!” Hugh was ecstatic; Craig making the big time was going to put a lot of money in everyone’s pocket! Hugh loved this guy. He really, really loved this guy!
Craig was stunned. He just tripled his income in twenty four hours. At the minimum. Holy cow.
“Look, Mike, you gotta get in here so we can plan a strategy and get busy, okay?”
“Uhhh… sure?”
“Alright then, I'm going to transfer you to Jennifer, my secretary so we can set up some meetings.”
Hugh rang off and Jennifer came on the line. They set up two meetings for Craig and Hugh, and then started chatting. As usual she was very sweet, complimentary and a little flirty. Somehow, dinner came up in their conversation and he found himself accepting an invitation to have dinner with her for Thursday night at Chez Louis. She gave him her address, and finished by telling him how much she was looking forward to it.
After hanging up Craig felt uncomfortable. But he shook the feeling, rationalizing that this was probably a healthy thing- and it wasn’t a dalliance with some prostitute, right? It wasn't like he and Jessica were married or something, right? Damn right. A date was just the thing he should be doing.
He pictured Jennifer in his mind – blond, shoulder length hair, 5’8”, deep blue eyes and pretty face, nice boobs and generous, full, (okay, maybe a little too full,) butt. Overall an attractive, young woman. Oh what the hell…it’s just a date.
He was home a few minutes later, and walked into his house. It was dark, and a little chilly.
And he was alone.
Maybe a dog wasn't such a bad idea.
Yeah. Right.
When he had gone to Vancouver for his honorary doctorate, he had missed sharing the accolade and trip with Jessica. The meetings in New York City made the doctorate in Vancouver pale in significance. And his house was empty.
Who's he trying to kid- a dog wouldn't have made any difference.
Dammit.
***
By Wednesday evening, The Dragon Lady had vaporized and Jessica had returned. The sting and pain of Monday had eased to a dull ache. She was trying to attain the 'acceptance' stage of grief; not having a lot of success, but she was trying.
In her living room, three days of dinner dishes; take-out bags from Chinese, Indian and a local Ita
lian restaurant were piled haphazardly. Clean up would be a snap- each order had included plates, napkins and cutlery, so aside from a couple of coffee cups, her kitchen sink was clear. She sighed. Nothing wrong with that, is there?
She was watching the drivel on TV - some reality show about people racing around the world organizing closets and having a cook off contest before being kicked off for not losing enough weight. Or something like that. She had to watch TV because she couldn't concentrate enough to read.
She jumped when the telephone rang. Is it him?
On the third ring she answered, after glancing at the call display and seeing an 'A Nolan'. A Nolan? Who’s that?
“Hi Jessica? It’s Annik.”
Jessica thought for a second, and then recalled Paradox’s, “Yes Annik! How are you?”
“Great! I’m going shopping on Friday and wondered if you’d like to come along? I know some great little shops and I get good discounts.”
Jessica was silent for a moment. It had been such a week that she felt a shopping excursion, retail rehab might get her mind off things and besides she had liked Annik. It might be fun to spend some time with her.
“You know, that sounds like a good idea. What time were you thinking on Friday? I’d like to come along with you. When and where will I meet you?”
“I was thinking the afternoon. Let’s have lunch first. I can pick you up at 1:00, if you’d like.”
She gave Annik her address and promised to be in front of the building so Annik wouldn’t have to worry about parking. They chatted about some of the items they were thinking of buying and rang off.
Jessica looked forward to seeing Annik and wondered about Paradox’s and the alternative lifestyle. Would she go to Paradox’s if she and Craig didn’t get back together? Well maybe not Paradox’s…it would be too painful seeing him there with someone else. But there had to be other clubs around and guys who were interested in that scene. She’d give it some time, but wasn’t going to rule it out. Maybe Annik could tell her about other places.
Even so, she couldn't see herself with another man as her Dom.
***
On Thursday evening as Craig rode in the cab to pick Jennifer up for their date his mood was optimistic. He acknowledged that it had been a hard week. He’d missed Jessica far more than he wanted to admit- missed sharing his success in New York and missed her laugh. Why did things have to be so damned complicated?
But now it was time to take a break and celebrate. And he had wisely decided to take a cab. If he wanted to have a few, hell, tie one on, well why not. Get back into the bachelor swing of things.
When he arrived at her apartment building he asked the cab driver to wait, tearing a fifty, and giving one half to the driver. He gave Jennifer’s apartment number and asked him to buzz when the fifty was used up.
Craig stepped from the cab, entered her building and rang her apartment. When he reached her door on the seventh floor, and she answered, his mouth dropped.
Oh my God, she’s still in her housecoat? Towel around her head? Dammit! The reservation is at 7:30! No way we'll make it!
“Hi handsome. You’re early. Come in.” She invited coyly.
"Hi Jennifer. Our reservation is at 7:30. I’ll be back in a sec, I’m going to let the cab go. It’s gonna take you a while to get ready.”
“K. When you said 7:30, that usually means eightish.”
He turned and went back down to the street to let the cab go, muttering under his breath, “No, 7:30 means 7:30.” He was tempted to just forget it. Bail and take the cab back home. But he was determined to remain positive, even as the thought crossed his mind that Jessica had always been punctual, a quality he valued.
Her apartment door was open a crack when he returned and he announced himself entering.
“Hi, again lover boy!” came a voice from the bathroom. A moment later Jennifer emerged, still in a housecoat, carrying a drink in one hand.
“Just a few minutes, and we'll be ready to split,” she said, pursing her lips for a kiss.
Craig automatically leaned over and brushed her cheek with his lips. With a sniff, he noted that the drink she carried was definitely not her first of the evening.
“I better call the restaurant and see if we can get them to hold the table” he said.
“Just give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready. And if they can’t hold the table, we can go somewhere else. Who cares. Make yourself a drink- bar's open!” She gestured to an array of liquor bottles on a credenza and headed to the rear of the apartment.
“Oh. Okay. I guess. “Any chance of a beer?”
“Beer's fer wussies,” she called over her shoulder.
Riiight. He looked at his watch. Aww man, 7:20.
He got the restaurant’s number from his phone and called them to see if they would hold the table until 8:00. The Maître‘d hemmed and hawed until Craig told him there was an extra twenty in it for him. That changed everything.
“Why of course, Mr. Forsyth. We’ll hold your table, but please only until 8:00. It’s very busy tonight.”
Craig called out to Jennifer “Almost ready? We have to be there by eight.”
Jennifer answered from her bedroom “Ready in five.”
Ten minutes later she emerged from her bedroom and entered the living room. “Hey you look great. I’ve only ever seen you in office clothes.”
“Glad you like it” she said as she pirouetted slowly around for him to see the whole effect. Jennifer wore a low cut, periwinkle blue dress that fitted closely to her waist and voluptuous rump, ending a few inches above her knees.
Stepping up to Craig, she threw her arms around his neck and planted a real welcome kiss on his lips that he couldn't escape. His hands and arms circled Jennifer’s waist to return the greeting. He couldn’t help but mentally compare how large Jennifer seemed compared to Jessica.
He suggested they call a cab and get going.
“Oh, you didn't bring your Jag? I was looking forward to riding in it.” Jennifer lowered her face, peered out through her eyelashes, pushing her lower lip out, in her very best little girl pout.
“No sorry. I thought with parking being so difficult, a taxi would be better.” Craig apologized. What the hell am I apologizing for?
Once inside the cab, Jennifer’s cell phone played a Brittany Spears tune, alerting her that she had a text message. She read the message, laughed and told Craig it was her friend Stephanie.
“I just want to let Stephanie know that I’m in the cab with you. Not the Jag,” she pouted once more.
A nanosecond later, her mood brightened. “To be honest, I can’t believe that we’re here! I’ve always had a bit of a crush on you,” she confided.
She then spent the rest of the cab ride texting with her friend Stephanie.
They arrived at the restaurant, went in and Craig approached the Maître‘d. He introduced himself and while shaking the Maître‘d’s hand, slipped him the twenty for being kind enough to hold the table. The Maître‘d exclaimed loudly how good it was to have the well known author Craig Forsyth dining with them. He then seated them and left.
Almost instantly a waiter appeared and handed them menus, asking if they would like drinks. Jennifer asked for a double vodka martini, shaken not stirred. Craig glanced at her, surprised that she would ask for a double. He ordered a scotch rocks for himself.
“So what's this with the Times?” she asked. “Hugh makes it sound like a big deal.”
“I take it, you don’t read it?”
“Well no, I like the papers with Sudoku,” she said. “Is it a big deal? Hugh thinks so.”
Nahhh… not so much; just the most influential newspaper in the world. What The Times runs on Monday, you'll read in your paper on Tuesday. My stuff's going to be read by captains of industry, movers and shakers, and world leaders. Nahhh… not so much.
Craig bit his tongue. “Well, it's got some potential.”
“Do they have a Page Three Girl? I'd love to be a Page Th
ree Girl. Stephanie was one once, and lords it over me all the time.”
“Uhhh… no, I don't think they do.”
“No Page Three Girl? Sounds boring.”
Oh man. “Yeah, pretty stuffy, I guess.” He was ordering a double for himself, next round for sure. Maybe two of them… Oh man.
She asked if he’d seen any good movies lately and before he could reply, embarked on a litany of movies she had recently seen, highlighting the plots, actors and actresses, heavy on horror flicks and low brow comedies. The drinks arrived, providing a welcome break to her movie reviews. Craig asked her if she had read any good books lately.
“Don’t tell my boss, but I really don’t read for pleasure, aside from articles in the magazines at my hairdresser’s.”
Craig smiled, promising to keep her secret. Politics and economics just left the building as topics to chat about. The waiter returned for their dinner order and Jennifer said “Chateaubriand please.”
The waiter and Craig exchanged looks.
“That dish is for two people” Craig said. “I was more in the mood for salmon.”
“That’s okay. What I don’t eat I’ll take home in a doggie bag and share with Stephanie,” she said. “What are you cheaping out on me or something?”
Just before the waiter left, Craig asked “Would you care for wine with dinner Jessica?”
“Jessica! Whooze Jessica?” She patted a boob, “This is 'Jen',” and patting her other one, “and this is 'Fer', keep it up and there'll be nothin' fer you!” She giggled at her joke- it always got guys to toe the line. “And yes, wine with dinner would be nice. I’d also like another double vodka please.”
She turned to the waiter, “Right now.” The waiter scurried off.
This date was going to be an endurance contest and he didn't know if he had the strength. He had a vision of himself running screaming from the restaurant. Fuck getting laid.
Jennifer’s drink arrived. She asked him what music he liked. And again, before he could open his mouth to speak, she gave him a musician and music review. Half of the bands, he’d never heard of. He smiled and nodded, feigning interest, eyeing the door.
