The Will

by Kristen Ashley

  “Why not?” she asked back incredulously.

  I nodded.

  “Because, girl, he’s Jake Spear.”

  This didn’t explain her words or reaction for I knew he was Jake Spear and I was still confused.

  “Alyssa—” I began but she cut me off, rolling her little stool even closer to my side.

  “Listen to me, Josie. You haven’t had a man in a while and the ones you had before were first class asswipes so you don’t get this. But when you got a man, that man bein’ Jake Spear, you do not inform him that the hot guy who’s been in love with you for decades came to your home and lowered the boom when he was not around to look after you. You definitely do not tell him that hot guy laid one on you. Not when it’s fresh. Not five years down the line. Not ever.”

  I didn’t think this was good advice, not with Jake. He was very open and candid and in being so, I would assume, would appreciate the same.

  So I said, “I’m uncertain Jake would like me keeping that from him.”

  She shook her head. “Babelicious, I’m gonna tell you a story ‘cause Junior’s cut from the same cloth as Jake. Now, it happens we go out for a drink and I might have a guy look at me. And it happens that one will approach, not givin’ a shit I got a kickass rock my man gave me on my finger. This happens when Junior isn’t close by because if he is, that shit never happens. But if he’s around, say, comin’ back from the john, and he sees it, I get that guy gone and I do it quick and when Junior asks me what’s up, I say the guy was askin’ for the time. Or if I knew the score of the game. Or whatever. I do not tell him the guy was comin’ onto me. If I did, Junior would stalk his ass, whip his ass and then I’d be scrapin’ together money to pay for his bail.”

  This news was alarming on a variety of fronts.

  “You lie to your husband?” I asked.

  “Abso-freakin’-lutely.”

  How odd.

  “Do you think Jake would seek Henry out?” I inquired.

  “Abso-freakin’-lutely.”

  Good God.

  “But Henry’s flying to Paris tomorrow,” I told her.

  “He’d have to go to the fuckin’ moon to get away from a pissed off Jake Spear who learned that guy paid you surprise visit number two, was an asshole again and that conversation ended in a kiss. Won’t matter to him that kiss went nowhere because you’re all about Jake. Right or wrong, a man like that takes a woman as his woman, she…is…his and no one goes there. I don’t care if you and that Henry guy were unrequited lovers since you were fifteen and learned what sex was by sneakin’ a watch of Blue Lagoon. They definitely don’t blindside her with a nasty confrontation. He might have let shit play out between you and this guy once, allowing you to handle it. That guy instigates a part two,”—another shake of the head—“unh-unh.”

  “He has asked quite frequently if Henry’s been in touch since that first time,” I confided.

  “I bet,” she replied.

  “And when he ordered me to break my date with Mickey, he stood right in front of me with his hand on my neck when I did it.”

  “I bet he did that too.”

  I bit my lip for these things gave credence to her advice.

  Alyssa didn’t bit her lip. She spoke.

  “He asks you if that guy’s been in touch, you say no. Later, you tell him Henry phoned and it’s over between you two. You never tell him about that kiss. Ever. You hearin’ me?”

  I nodded my head.

  I was hearing her.

  Her face softened and she kept speaking.

  “Honey, I’ll tell you this straight, a woman’s got it in her to handle a guy like Jake, like Junior, the reward…shoo-ee.” Yet another shake of her head. “Nothin’ better. They don’t give as good as they get. They get what they get and give better. Knock themselves out doin’ it. Work themselves in the ground doin’ it. You give it good, he’ll rock your world and do it again and again.”

  That sounded marvelous and I knew it to be true since Jake was already doing that.

  However, Alyssa wasn’t finished.

  “But as that’s happening, you gotta learn to handle him. The way you look, the way you dress, the way you are…sister, Jake’s all that and I’m pretty sure he knows he’s got the full package, that don’t mean he isn’t gonna know he’s got it good with you. And he won’t want anyone turnin’ their eye to you and he’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. He dealt with Mickey”—she lifted a hand and gave a sharp snap of her fingers—“gone. They’re friends, he saw he had competition and he swiped you right out from under him and did it fast. Now, what would he do to keep you from a famous hotshot photographer? And what would he do if he thought this guy was harming you in any way or makin’ a play?”

  “Hmm,” I mumbled.

  “Hmm is right,” she agreed.

  “I’ll think on this,” I told her.

  “You think on it hard. You still got feelings for this Henry guy and he has the same for you and he doesn’t like Jake for you for more than just that he wants you for himself. Jake finds him and rips him a new asshole. What’s this Henry guy gonna do?”

  I saw her point.

  She leaned into me and her voice lowered when she repeated, “Learn to handle him. Do your part to keep it good. Yeah?”

  “Uh…yes,” I haltingly agreed because although I saw her point, and it was a good point, I was still uncertain.

  However, seeing as she was very certain, I decided agreement was my best option for now.

  “Jesus, now I need a drink. And bad,” she announced, pulling the brush back out of the bottle of varnish. “Let’s get you finished up and get our asses to some vodka.”

  “Alyssa,” I called as she stroked a perfect brush of a very attractive wine color on my forefinger.

  She looked up at me. “Yeah?”

  “Thank you for listening.”

  Her eyes lit and her lips smiled. “Anytime, honey.”

  “If you…well, anytime for you too, I hope you know.”

  “Oh,” she started, tipping her attention back to my nail, “I’ll take you up on that. Junior does my head in. My hooligans do my head in. And I got a lot of good friends and a lot of good clients but most of them got big mouths.” She finished with my forefinger and looked back to me. “I’m guessin’ you know how to keep a secret.”

  “I do,” I assured her.

  “Then I just slotted you right up high on my Gotta Find a Sister to Bitch at List.”

  I liked the idea of being high on that list, so I smiled.

  She turned her attention to my thumb. “Anyway, finally got someone to sit with at the matches. And that’s awesome.”

  It was.

  It was indeed.

  All of it.

  Especially Alyssa.

  * * * * *

  “But do not, under any circumstances, get the Brazilian blowout. They use formaldehyde. You must get the keratin treatment,” I said to Paulette, the blonde dancer at Jake’s club, sitting next to her at a dressing table in the dressing room during her break. “Alyssa at Maude’s House of Beauty has informed me she does keratin treatments. They’re more expensive but they’ll leave your hair shiny, very soft and actually treat the hair to make it stronger.”

  “And this will make it sleek?” Paulette asked.

  “Perhaps too sleek,” I told her. “It’ll be a risk. If you prefer more body, discuss that with Alyssa. But yes. It will leave it quite straight and very sleek. And you’ll find your preparation time cut by half, at least.”

  “It takes me for-freaking-ever to blow out my hair,” she murmured.

  “Then perhaps you should try it. And anyway, when you do that move with your head and your hair swings out, imagine how it will catch the light with some shine and settle down your back. I would guess it would be quite magnificent.”

  She grinned at me. “Yeah, that would look awesome.”

  It would indeed.

  I smiled back.

  A sharp knock sounded o
n the door and then Jake’s voice could be heard calling, “Man entering the room!”

  “Okay!” Paulette called back then leaned into me, pulling her robe closer around her so it was no longer gaping, exposing her rather abundant and totally nude cleavage. “He’s the only guy here who does that. “

  I felt my brows draw together. “But he’s already seen your charms.”

  “Yeah, he’s seen my charms, like, a million times,” she agreed on a giggle. “Still, he does it. It’s cool. And sweet. The other guys just walk in like it’s all the same to them, even though Jake’s always up in their shit not to do it. If he isn’t around, forget it.”

  I found this didn’t surprise me. Jake was cool.

  And sweet.

  And further, Jake should know his employees weren’t following orders.

  “Yo,” Jake greeted as I had this thought and I turned from Paulette to see him moving through the rather cluttered dressing room, his eyes going between us.

  Obviously, I was at the club. And I was in the dressing room because after Jake showed me around, introduced me to the bouncers, waitresses and bartenders, one of the bouncers told him he had a call and he left me at the bar with a martini to go to his office and take it.

  I watched the show for a bit but saw Paulette duck to the back and thus I decided that since I would be around and often, I’d take my chance, introduce myself to her and share about the benefits of a keratin treatment.

  Therefore, I followed her to the dressing room.

  And now here we were.

  “Take it you met Paulette,” Jake said to me as he stopped close to us.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “Your babe is awesome, Jake,” Paulette put in and that felt nice so I smiled at her again.

  “As are you,” I told her.

  She gave me a huge grin. Then she stood, shirked off her robe, exposing her fabulous, toned, tanning bed tanned, oiled body and strutted to the door, saying, “Time to shake it. Later.”

  “Later, Paulette, lovely to meet you,” I called after her.

  “Back at cha, babe,” she replied on a wink before she went out the door.

  I looked up at Jake.

  “You tell her to straighten her hair?” he asked.

  “I did extend that advice,” I answered.

  He grinned and shook his head before he bent, grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the chair, murmuring, “Your martini’s warm. Gotta get you another one.”

  I said nothing as I followed him for I had nothing to say. Another martini sounded lovely and I definitely did not like warm vodka.

  Jake held my hand as we moved through the club and he seated me at the side of the bar. Only then did he let me go before he slid between the stools to stand close and jerked up his chin to the bartender (the same one from the last time I was there, his name was Adam). In very little time, a fresh martini was placed in front of me as was a fresh bottle of beer for Jake.

  He picked it up and took a tug.

  I did the same but took a sip.

  When I put my glass down, Jake got closer and I looked up to him as he leaned into the bar on a forearm and his hand came to the small of my back, slid under the hem of my sweater and up so he could trail his fingers in a lazy pattern on the skin there.

  I touched my tongue to my bottom lip in reaction to how nice that felt.

  Through the dim light, I saw Jake’s eyes drop to my mouth and he leaned in closer, his fingers ceasing their trailing and pressing into the waistband of my trousers.

  His head dipped close and I knew he was going to say something, something that I’d like, something that might make the tingles I was experiencing in a variety of places get stronger.

  But for some reason, I spoke before him.

  “Dinner was lovely, thank you.”

  He grinned. “It was just cheeseburgers, babe.”

  It was. With Velveeta slices. I was finding Velveeta was a staple at the Spear house. I was also finding I didn’t mind this. They melted rather well on a thick, hot hamburger and quite enhanced the taste.

  “Seems like Conner’s in good spirits,” I noted for it did. He’d arrived after his shift at Wayfarer’s and behaved like the dramas of the day before hadn’t occurred.

  “He’s suckin’ it up and beatin’ it down,” Jake replied. “He’s not over it. He’s just not gonna let that show.”

  My brows drew together. “Why on earth not?”

  “Because he’s a guy, he’s his father’s son and he’s got no choice.”

  “He’s safe to feel the way he feels around his family, certainly,” I remarked.

  “He is,” Jake agreed. “But no purpose in draggin’ everybody down, especially Ethan. He needs me, he knows I’m there. But only choice he’s got is to keep on keepin’ on. He knows that. He’ll get over it. He knows that too. We just gotta cut him some slack and let him handle it the way he sees fit.”

  This seemed a sound strategy so I nodded.

  Then I informed him, “The men in your employ walk into the dancers’ dressing room without knocking.”

  He stared at me only a second before he shook his head and murmured, “Little shits.”

  “I’m uncertain from Paulette’s recounting of this that she really cares. However, she does feel it’s sweet you show that respect.”

  “I’ll have a word with the boys”—he paused— “again. But it’ll be a stronger word this time.”

  I leaned into him and repeated, “I daresay she doesn’t care, Jake. But—”

  Jake interrupted me. “They got a job, they do it. Onstage. That doesn’t make them free-for-alls. Back there is their space. They feel safe in it. They decide who they show themselves to, not my boys. She might not give a shit but I do. If my boys who work with them can’t show respect, how do I communicate the customers should?”

  “An excellent point,” I stated.

  Jake grinned.

  I inquired, “Can I ask you a question?”

  “You can ask me anything, Slick.”

  I nodded again.

  Then I wondered if I should do what I was going to do.

  I looked into Jake’s eyes that were looking right into mine and thought of all he’d shared with me in a very short period of time. He didn’t hold back. He didn’t hide. He didn’t prevaricate. He wanted me to know him and he set about doing that from the start.

  Thus I felt safe in feeling there was nothing between us except what we hadn’t yet gotten around to sharing.

  And I was relatively certain (relatively) that he wanted nothing between us.

  That said, in making it so nothing was between us, I would have to “handle” it.

  And do it wisely.

  “Okay, then, as a hypothetical,” I started carefully, held his eyes but licked my lips for a different reason this time, then went on. “Say something happened that I knew you would not like. If that should occur, is it better not to tell you, since I know you wouldn’t like it? Or should I tell you because you’re quite candid and wish for that to be returned?”

  When I finished speaking, his bearing had not changed but it had.

  Tremendously.

  And not in a good way.

  Apparently, I wasn’t doing very well in “handling” this.

  “What happened?” he asked, his voice terse.

  “I’m talking hypothetical,” I reminded him and I was.

  I also wasn’t.

  “What happened?” he repeated.

  “Jake—” I started but got nothing more out.

  His fingers disappeared from my waistband and wrapped around my hand. Then I was off the barstool and being dragged though the club.

  The door to his office was at the side of the club and he took me directly there. There was a keypad that unlocked the door and when we arrived, without delay, he lifted his finger so he could jab in the numbers.

  The keypad screen went green and Jake pushed open the door.

  We’d been in there earlier and I�
��d noted his office was rather roomy and also quite nice. There was a thick rug on the floor with an attractive pattern on it in blues, blacks and beiges but mostly reds. A plush black leather couch against one wall. Midnight blue leather chairs in front of his large but not too large wooden desk.

  There weren’t a lot of accoutrements, it was clear he didn’t spend a great deal of time there, and when he did, it was for business only, and thus he didn’t bother with the décor. But he had still made it a nice space.

  It was also four steps up so that the large one-way window that faced the club had an elevated view so it would not be obstructed by patrons.

  It was further mostly soundproofed. Not entirely, the music could be heard, but once the door closed, it was significantly muted.

  This was what happened right then. The door latched behind us, the music was drowned out, and Jake pulled me up the stairs and across the rug to the front of his desk. He positioned me there facing it, and dropped my hand so he could stand in front of me, back to his desk, and cross his arms on his chest.

  When he’d done that, he repeated, “What happened?”

  “You left our drinks at the bar, Jake,” I told him and I had to admit it was to buy time. He was making me somewhat anxious.

  “What…happened?” he again repeated.

  I studied him a long moment (buying more time, it must be said) then began, “First, can I just say that Alyssa told me that I shouldn’t—”

  Jake interrupted me. “Babe, what works for Alyssa, and I’m guessin’ the way this is goin’, Alyssa and how things are with her and Junior, is not us. We are not Alyssa and Junior. You really fuckin’ aren’t Alyssa. And how I am with you is not what Junior gives Alyssa.”

  “But they seem to have a very strong, healthy relationship,” I noted.

  “They do. But Alyssa’s got a good family who’s all living, love her like crazy, have her back and always did. Then she got Junior and got a lot more of that. You had Lydie. That’s all you had. Until you got me. But you got me when you lost her. So shit goes down for Alyssa, she’s had a lifetime of having a solid foundation and she can take it. Or she’s got a lot of folks she can go to to give it to if she can’t. You only got me.”

  As Alyssa had her points, Jake had his too.

  “So, Josie.” He leaned toward me. “What happened?”