“Why do you think she cranks up the party for you every night?”
“Because she likes the excitement. She likes a good time. Something you obviously can’t give her.” Simon licked his lips and stuffed the button in his pocket.
“Come on, Bosford, Jessica kicks it up a notch every night because that’s precisely what her father doesn’t want.
Jessica’s using you to get back at Daddy. Surely a bright working class lad like you can figure that out.” The truth roared in on him as the dam he’d erected to keep it at bay cracked open. He spun around, leading with his fist, which he smashed against soft flesh, breaking the glasses of the messenger.
Chapter Fourteen
The small print on the form blurred in front of Jessica’s eyes. Richards’ voice hummed at the same frequency as the lamp on her father’s large mahogany desk, and she paid it just as much attention.
Simon had protected her.
Her parents had engineered the little dinner party to humiliate her in front of Simon. To show her who still held the reins of power despite her juvenile efforts. But Simon had taken that power right away from them by pretending she and he had already discussed her relationship to Roger Brett, his new boss.
Simon obviously already knew her identity. Her appearance hadn’t surprised him in the least. Although he played the part for her benefit, she saw the reproach in his eyes and knew she wouldn’t escape his questions for long.
Then what? How could she put a positive spin on the fact that she’d used him to get revenge on her parents? No, that sounded too harsh. It’s not as if she’d dragged him out on the town every night. He participated with gusto. He told her he wanted to up his Q-rating in the States. So she helped him while she helped herself. Nothing wrong with that.
Shouts and screams cut across Richards’ droning voice. Jessica shot to the edge of her seat when the door to her father’s office banged open.
Simon loomed on the threshold, his blood-smudged shirt hanging on him at an odd angle.
“Simon!” Jessica jumped from her chair, knocking it to the floor. Her heart somersaulted in her chest as she grabbed the edge of the desk.
Simon strode into the room, and David catapulted through the door after him, clutching a pair of broken glasses and sporting a shirt bloodier than Simon’s. Mom and Dad crowded into the doorway with R.C. popping his head over their shoulder, a big grin bunching his cheeks.
“Smart move, Bosford. I’m an attorney. I’m going to sue you.” David pressed a handkerchief to his nose, still spouting blood.
“What happened? Did you hit David?” Simon may have delivered a punishing blow to David, but the pain in Simon’s eyes made her flinch.
“We’re getting out of here.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the office.
“Don’t go with him, Jessie. Has he gone crazy?” Her mother tried to snatch her hand, but Simon charged toward the front door, pulling her in his wake.
Her father yelled, “Wait a damn minute.”
“Dumb jock, one, sleazy attorney, zero.” R.C. clapped until David flipped him off.
Simon stopped in the foyer, dragged in a breath, and straightened his shoulders. Jessica could now see that he’d buttoned his shirt wrong, the mismatched buttons as crooked as his smile.
“Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Brett. R.C., I want a rematch.” Then he swept open the door and dragged her out with him. He opened the passenger side of the Ferrari and gestured her inside. He slid into the driver’s side, and they roared out of the gates and into the night.
She stole a glance at his profile, chiseled in stone.
“What happened back there?”
“You tell me.” A muscle in his jaw twitched, and she longed to smooth the creases from his face. “I found out you were Roger Brett’s daughter the same night I found out Roger Brett was co-owner of the Waves. I dropped a lot of hints and gave you plenty of opportunity to tell me the truth.
Why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t want you to change your opinion of me.”
“How would knowing your father was Roger Brett change my opinion of you?”
“Oh please.” Tears pricked the back of her eyes. “It always changes people’s opinions of me. They just naturally assume everything I have, I have because of him. I just didn’t want you to think the same thing.”
“Were you telling the truth to R.C.? Did you think you landed the job at CSM and as my personal assistant on your own? You really didn’t know your father co-owned the Waves?”
“Yes, yes, and yes.”
“Then why didn’t you just tell me that? Why all the secrecy? Why the AKA?”
“Just tell you?” She slapped her thighs with her hands.
“That’s a good one. Like you would’ve believed me. My own brother has his doubts.”
“It’s more than that, isn’t it?” His hands clenched the steering wheel, his knuckles white. “When I first arrived, you told me you had orders to keep me out of the headlines.
What changed?”
“I found out my father co-owned the Waves with Peter Casellas. I found out Evan Chase hired me because he knew I was Jessica Brett. I found out my father told Evan to give me the assignment as your personal assistant.” She stared at her hands clasped in her lap, feeling about five years old. “Everything I thought I’d accomplished on my own was manipulated by my father...again. It was all a big joke on me.”
“So you turned it into a big joke on me.”
“That’s not fair.” She put her hand on his forearm, which was hard and unyielding. “You told me from the get-go you wanted to make a splash in L.A. You didn’t care about playing soccer so much as becoming an A-list celebrity.
What changed for you?”
“This isn’t about me.” The knuckles got whiter and he added a furrow between his eyebrows. “You lied to me and manipulated me to exact some petty revenge scheme against your father.”
There was nothing petty about the control her parents exerted over her through the years, but she bit her tongue.
To reveal her heartache to Simon now would only smack of more manipulation. He didn’t deserve that. She gulped back a sob. “You’re right, Simon. I’m sorry.” He pulled the sports car up to the curb in front of her house and stared straight ahead, still gripping the steering wheel.
“W-we had fun though, didn’t we?”
“Goodbye, Jessica.”
She’d barely closed the car door before Simon peeled away from the curb, doing about fifty in a twenty-five mile an hour zone.
And even the thought that he might get a speeding ticket and wind up in the tabloids again couldn’t bring a smile to her quivering lips or stop the tear from rolling down her cheek.
***
Gemma stumbled over the threshold of the front door and hiccupped. She clapped her hand over her mouth and peered into the darkness, relieved only by the little green and red lights glowing on the electronic equipment stacked around the room.
She kicked off her high heels and tiptoed into the kitchen, flicking on the light above the countertops. Simon must be sleeping, another early night for him in a series of early nights since he started working out with the team.
She’d never known her brother to work so hard. He and Ivo were two of a kind. She called that one spot on. Once practices started, Ivo had dumped her like an old boot. Of course, she wasn’t around much herself.
With Jessica distracted and Simon and Ivo busy with football practices, she’d found a new set of friends.
Besides going out with Jessica had been like going out with an older sister, and Gemma already had plenty of those. Megan didn’t give a shit how much Gemma drank or flirted or partied. Maybe the clubs Megan took her to weren’t quite as posh as the ones Jessica went to, but at least Gemma experienced more freedom away from Jessica’s watchful eyes.
“Don’t tell Jessica we’re hanging out,” Megan had warned her. “Jessica’s very possessive of her friends and Simon. She doesn’t want anyone getting c
lose to him or you.”
Jessica certainly didn’t seem possessive about her friends, since she’d introduced Gemma to so many of them, but Megan was right about Jessica’s feelings for Simon. Gemma saw first-hand how Jessica kept the women away from him. Megan explained that Jessica had already cautioned her to stay away from Simon and wouldn’t be happy that Megan had gotten close to Simon’s sister.
Gemma shrugged and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. She wasn’t sure all the things Megan said about Jessica were true, but one thing she did know is that neither Jessica nor Simon would approve of her new friends and activities. And that just made those friends and activities sweeter.
A loud thump against the front door made her jump, clutching her water bottle. A key scraped against the lock, and she crept to the door then placed her ear against it.
Her brother’s voice, slurred and then singing an old football song came from the other side.
She yanked the door open, and Simon staggered into the room, reeking of booze. She poked her head into the hallway, and then slammed the door. By the time she turned around, Simon had collapsed on the sofa, still singing. So much for the finely-tuned athlete.
“Where were you?” She sat on the edge of the coffee table and surveyed his disheveled state. “Oh my God, Simon, did you hurt yourself?”
“What this?” He plucked at his wrinkled shirt, stained with blood and missing a button. “No, I hurt him.”
“You beat somebody up?”
“He deserved it.”
“Were you with Jessica and Ivo?” She was glad she didn’t run into them, although the chances of seeing them at the Black and Blue Club listening to a Goth punk band were slim.
“I was by myself.” He closed his eyes.
“You didn’t drive home in this condition, did you?”
“Took a taxi.”
“Where’s your car?”
He waved his arm over his head, and then rolled onto his side putting an end to the inquisition.
Gemma let out a pent-up breath. At least Simon had been too pissed to notice her own condition. She still had time to remove the heavy black eyeliner and the purple streaks in her hair. Still had time to sober up too.
Simon wasn’t the only Bosford kicking up dust these days.
***
Several days after her parents’ disastrous dinner party, Jessica whisked up the elevator to CSM’s offices to deliver her resignation to Evan.
She called Simon to let him know about her resignation and to apologize for her petty deceptions, but he refused to answer his phone or return her calls. Probably too busy partying.
In the past week, he broke a photographer’s camera, dribbled a soccer ball down Sunset Boulevard, and locked himself in the ladies’ room at the Cobra Club with the Davis twins. At least no sprinklers went off this time.
She sighed and leaned her forehead against the cool metal of the elevator wall. She’d accomplished her goal without even trying. Ivo had called to tell her Simon missed several practices and management was hopping mad. Dad had to be spitting nails, and she couldn’t even take the credit...at least not directly.
The elevator dumped her off on CSM’s floor, and she waved to the receptionist as she strode into the cacophonous din of the office bay. She exchanged words with a few soon-to-be-ex-coworkers and marched into the jaws of doom.
“Evan?” She tapped on the open door.
Evan glanced up from his computer screen, a smile splitting his face. That smile couldn’t be for her, unless he hadn’t seen the tabloids this week.
“Come on in, Ms. Brett.”
“Y-you know who I am?” She knew damn well he knew her identity. Why was he spilling his guts now?
“Let’s cut the crap, Jessica. I hired you because of your father.”
She winced but kept her gaze steady, hardening her jaw. “I’m sure both of you are disappointed in my performance, so I’m saving you the trouble of firing Roger Brett’s daughter. I quit.”
“Whoa.” Evan held out his hands, the diamond on his pinky finger catching the light and winking at her. “Not so fast. Who said I wanted to fire you?”
“Even if you don’t, I’m sure orders will be coming down from my father soon. Haven’t you seen the tabloids? The Boss is on a rampage, and I can’t do a thing to stop him.”
“I don’t take orders from Roger Brett, or anyone else.” Evan smacked his palm on his desk. “Turns out you’ve done a fine job with Simon. When he first arrived, he didn’t generate much excitement. Now a helluva lot more Americans know who is, and are interested in finding out more about him...and I don’t mean on the soccer field.”
“Pitch.”
“What?”
“Soccer pitch, they call it a pitch.”
“I don’t give a shit what they call it. I’ve got bigger and better things in store for Simon, and you’re going to help me reel him in.”
“What are you talking about?” She wedged her hands beneath her thighs. She didn’t plan to reel Simon in for anything. She didn’t even have a hook in him anymore.
“Reality show, baby.” Evan flicked a manicured fingernail at his computer screen. “I have a deal lined up for Simon to star in his very own reality show. You know, fish out of water kind of thing.”
“Simon wouldn’t be interested in that.”
“Oh really? If he keeps up the pace he’s going, he can kiss his soccer-playing days goodbye. If I can get him to sign onto this deal now, it won’t even matter. In fact, the show would be better if he’s not playing soccer. A winner is not as interesting as a loser.”
“Simon’s not a loser.” She jumped from the chair, her blood boiling.
“Does this mean you’re not going to help me convince him?” Evan narrowed his eyes, steepling his fingers.
“This means you can go to hell, and in the words of an old country song, take this job and shove it.” She pulled the envelope containing her letter of resignation out of her purse and slapped it on the desk. Then she spun around and ran out of Evan’s office.
***
Like a jack-in-the-box with a painted kewpie doll face, Megan poked her head into Evan’s office. He waved her in, and she clicked the door closed behind her.
“I take it that didn’t go well.” Without even waiting for an invitation, Megan sank to the leather chair facing his desk.
“I thought Jessica would jump at the chance to stick it to her old man. In fact, I thought that’s what she’d been doing all along.” Evan tapped on his keyboard to bring up the email from the producer who’d approached him about a reality TV show for Simon.
“I thought so too, but I have it from a reliable source that Jessica hasn’t even been by his side this week.” Megan shook her head. “He’s been stirring up all this trouble on his own.”
“That’s actually good news. Maybe he’s come to the realization that he can’t compete anymore, and he’ll embrace this reality show like a long-lost lover, or one of those Davis twins in the bathroom.”
Megan shrugged. “Maybe he will, and maybe he won’t, but like I promised you, Evan, I have plan B in my back pocket if Simon isn’t interested.”
“You deliver, and they’ll be a nice bonus in it for you.”
“I’m counting on it.”
***
By the time Jessica got to the parking garage, the tears lurking at the corners of her eyes spilled over. She dropped onto the seat of the car and buried her face in her hands, nose running, shoulders shaking, the whole nine yards.
She must be losing it. She hated football metaphors.
What had she done?
Evan was seriously going to pitch some stupid reality show to Simon all because of her. Sure, Simon may have had some crazy notion in his head about joining the ranks of A-list celebrities when he first got here, but somewhere along the way that goal changed. He had gone all out in his practices with the Waves. He worked hard, was doing great, earning the other players’ respect, and she’d kept dragging h
im out on the town. Why didn’t he just tell her to piss off?
Her chest heaved, squeezing a fresh wail from her lungs. He didn’t tell her to piss off because she kept dangling little, seductive promises in front of him. And she called Megan a whore.
Once he’d learned of her deception, he went into auto pilot self-destruction mode. Gemma told her about the time Simon’s girlfriend dumped him because he’d injured his knee and went out for half the season. He spun out of control then, and this was a repeat performance.
She had to get through to him. She scrambled through her purse for her cell phone and cruised out of the parking garage to get some reception. As expected, Simon’s voicemail picked up.
“Simon, it’s Jessica. I resigned my position at CSM.
I’m finished with Evan, and I’m done playing games. I just want to be your...” Her voice hitched and she cleared her throat. “I want to warn you about Evan. He’s not looking after your best interests. He doesn’t care if you’re successful with the Waves or not. He just wants to use you.” She caught her breath and squeezed her eyes shut as she rolled up to the red light. “I’m sorry, Simon.”
***
The tea bag hung suspended from Simon’s fingers, dripping onto the counter as he stared at incoming call on his phone. After several minutes, the display indicated a voicemail. Maybe he should just delete the message without listening to it. He didn’t need to hear any more of Jessica’s excuses. Spoiled rich girl. Just like the kids at his posh public school. Just like Fiona. Users, the lot of them.
Poor Jessica, raised with wealth and privilege. So her parents forced her to parade across a stage in a few child beauty pageants. How bad could that be? He should’ve seen the warning signs when she’d told him that she sabotaged her parents’ wishes by mucking up in the pageants. This time she used him to do her mucking.
He gulped his tea to drown out the little voice bubbling up, reminding him that he’d made it clear to Jessica from the beginning that he wanted to raise his profile in the States. He managed to scald his tongue instead, while the little voice beat against his ear drums. Wasn’t she just doing what he’d asked?
Kick It Up Page 20
