by Jayne Blue
“We’ll talk about it later,” he said. “Tonight’s about being seen. I told you I hated that dress, Tora.”
Here we go again, I thought. As soon as Jack left our room, we’d had an argument about my wardrobe. Seth had a low cut red dress picked out for me. If I’d worn it, it would have been less obvious if he had written “slut” across my forehead with a sharpie. I’d gone with a white Versace halter dress. It was revealing enough with its open back and short length. I reminded Seth he wanted me to look like money, not cheap. He finally relented. But he sulked for the rest of the night.
He chose a table near the back of the room where he could survey the surroundings and make a mental note of everyone in attendance.
The beauty of tonight’s dinner setup was the opulent seafood buffet. Getting pawed by George Pagano was enough to kill my appetite, but every time Seth or I walked up to fill our plates, it gave him an opportunity to say hello to another potential campaign donor. Or it would have if he hadn’t spent most of the evening sulking. If I actually cared about whether he got elected, I might have grabbed him by the ears and slammed his head against the table for it. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. Seth plopped himself down after his third trip up for crab legs. I swear I channeled the ghost of Miranda.
“What’s the matter with you?” I said through my plastered-on smile. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to make a bad impression. Sit up straight, put a smile on your face and pretend like you’re excited to be here. Do you want these people to get behind you or don’t you?”
Seth slammed his fork down. It clanged against the edge of his plate, loud enough to get the attention of the people sitting at the tables closest to us. He reached under the table and clamped a hand hard on my knee. “I shouldn’t have to work this hard and you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
Son of a bitch. I decided to pick the fight. “I know you’re expecting everyone here to just fall in line like they maybe would have if your mother were around. She’s not though, Seth. And people in politics have short memories. They’re gonna move on to the next shiny thing pretty quick if you don’t give them a reason to keep looking at you.”
“Do not presume to tell me anything about my mother. She was a lot less help to me on this than you think so keep your mouth shut on things you don’t have a clue about.” His fingers dug into my flesh hard enough that I cried out. People were watching.
“Baby,” I said, trying a softer tack. “It’s been a long day. I’m sure you’re tired. There’s a lot to keep track of. But Jack was right, you need a real campaign manager. Someone who can help you make these big decisions and take the pressure off you. Do you have someone in mind?”
He loosened his grip on my knee. “I do,” he said, throwing his napkin on the table. “And he was supposed to be here tonight. He was supposed to eat dinner with us, actually. I don’t know what happened.”
“Is that all?” I said. “Maybe it was just a misunderstanding. Why don’t you just give him a call? Meet him in the lounge for a drink. We’ve pretty much seen everyone here that is to be seen, right? Why don’t I just turn in and leave you to do what you do without me as a distraction?”
Seth nodded. “I was going to suggest that anyway. Go on back to the room and I’ll meet you up there later.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice. A twitch had started in the corner of his right eye and I knew it as a sign of agitation and simmering rage. I rose and leaned down to give him a quick kiss on the top of his head; his blond curls tickled my nose. He smiled and lifted his drink to me. Then I left him there. I got a few knowing stares from some of the women closest to us who had witnessed his fork-slamming temper tantrum.
It’s not what you think. I thought. It’s not what any of you think. No. It was actually much worse.
I walked out of the main dining room and headed for the elevators. This took me past the bar. I should have kept on walking. Stuck to my original plan. But having a drink right about now seemed like a better plan.
A few heads turned when I walked in and I kept my back straight and my eyes forward. I took an open, high-backed stool closest to the bartender. He was about fifty, with thick, greying hair and a Clooney-esque vibe. He looked at me with kind eyes and asked me what I wanted.
“She’s a mojito kind of girl.” The voice behind me sent ripples of goose flesh down my arm just as it always seemed to do.
I smiled and nodded to the bartender as Jack took a seat next to me. “Dave,” he said. “Allow me to introduce you to my sister-in-law. Tora Manning, meet Dave.”
Dave the bartender’s smile grew even wider as he wiped his hand with a white towel and extended it for me to shake.
“Pleasure to meet you, Dave,” I said. “I’m sure all of the stories I’ve heard are greatly exaggerated.”
Dave gave a broad laugh. “Jack, I think she stole your line. Well, Mrs. Manning, you make a refreshing addition to the family. I hope you enjoy your stay here with us. If you need anything, make sure you give me a call.”
“Thanks,” I said. “The mojito will be great for now, but I’ll keep you in mind.” Dave nodded and moved to the other end of the bar to make my drink.
“How much did that hurt you to say?” I asked as I turned to face Jack. He looked so good wearing a black zippered sweater and dress pants.
“Not as much as it hurt leaving you in a room with him,” Jack said. I intended light conversation but his words skewered me. I deserved that and more.
“You didn’t have to come,” I said.
“Do you wish I hadn’t?”
“There’s not a simple answer to that question and you know it.”
Dave came back with my drink and I thanked him. He looked like he was about to say something but a quick jerk of the chin by Jack and Dave nodded, smiled, and made himself scarce.
“I saw you with Pagano,” he said. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m as okay as I can be under the circumstances. But we made arrangements to have dinner with him tomorrow night.”
“You, Seth and Pagano?” Jack’s brow knit and some of the color drained from his face. “Tora, I don’t like you around that guy. I saw the way he looks at you. It’s a bad idea.”
“Well,” I sipped my drink. “It’s a start. And I took your advice, anyway. When I say we, I mean you. You’re joining us. At Pagano’s personal table in someplace called the Boar’s Head. As long as that’s not what they serve, I’m sure it will be just lovely. Six o’clock. Unless you have other plans.”
“Fat fucking chance,” he said. “I’ll be there. I mean it. The less time you spend in Pagano’s orbit, the happier I’ll be.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I really mean that. And I’m sorry, Jack. Most of the things that have happened since I met you happened at my instigation. It’s not fair to you and you matter to me. I’ve done a pretty bad job of making that clear.”
He fingered the rim of his glass and stared into it. “You matter to me too. Just enough to make it dangerous, I’m afraid.”
I took another sip of my drink but the warmth I felt flooding through me wasn’t coming from the alcohol. I wanted to touch Jack. I wanted to feel his arms around me and give into the things we did together so well. I craved it like a drug and his words hit it dead center. I cared enough for him to make it dangerous too.
“Seth’s scheduled himself a golf outing tomorrow,” Jack said. It was my turn to stare into my drink.
“He didn’t say anything to me about it,” I said.
“It was at my suggestion. He’s got a foursome with Ed Jeffries, Senator Bradley and the guy he ought to hire as his campaign manager. Jeffries refuses to use a golf cart and they’re playing eighteen. They’ll be gone until late afternoon.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I said as my blood heated and my heart raced. I should get up right now. The minute he asked me I knew I’d give in. Distance was the smart play here and we both kne
w it.
“Franco will be working the concierge desk in the morning,” Jack said. “You’re going to call down at seven and tell him you want directions to the South Beach.”
“What’s on the South Beach?”
“Sand and water,” Jack smirked. His smile broadened when I gave him some side eye. “Rent yourself a kayak and paddle east.”
I laughed. “That sounds pretty mysterious. Like I’m searching for pirate treasure. Any other special instructions, Blackbeard?”
“Yeah,” he said, getting off his stool and waving Dave back. “Charge Mrs. Manning’s drink to my room and anything else she orders.” Dave nodded.
Jack put a hand on my back and leaned close to my ear. “Just paddle east and try not to tip over.”
Chapter Eight
Jack
Few things in life parallel the joys of open water, a hot sun, cold beer and fish jumping on a line. My father taught me that and on days like today, I missed him the most. The clouds broke early and just a hint of breeze rippled the top of the water as I zinged my line past a cluster of lily pads. I found a crappie bed and in the last ten casts, I’d hooked six keepers. My hand felt tension in my line and I reeled it in.
I almost didn’t hear her approach. But her paddle made a rhythmic slosh as Tora cut through the water and I turned. In that brief moment, with the sun still in her eyes, I could see her in yet a new light. Flooded with sunlight, her eyes flashed like pale emeralds. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail and her skin glowed gold. She wielded the paddle with skilled confidence in her toned arms. Tora was fierce and beautiful and unguarded. I held my breath, hoping for another moment to look at her. But her eyes traveled across the water and she saw me. Her smile lit her face even brighter than the sun and made my heart catch. She angled the tip of her red kayak and headed toward me.
I set my pole in the bracket near the starboard side and leaned down to catch the edge of the kayak as she came alongside me. I pulled her close and held the kayak as steady as I could.
“Just step in the boat and I’ll tie this to the bow.”
“Stand still,” she said. She tucked the paddle into the front of the kayak and gripped my shoulder to steady herself as she took one agile hop and got herself inside the vintage Chris-Craft. I tied the kayak at the bow and stern to keep it from knocking against the boat’s wooden hull and turned to face her.
Tora had already grabbed my pole out of the bracket and reeled a good-sized crappie. She grabbed it by the head when she got it into the boat and measured it against the palm of her hand. “Not quite,” she said. With deft fingers she worked the hook out of the fish’s mouth and tossed it gently back into the water. There was a flash of gold and the crappie disappeared under the lily pads.
“So you’ve clearly done this before,” I said.
“A few times. What are you using?”
She took a seat in the passenger chair at the bow of the boat and I sat in the driver’s seat. “Good old-fashioned night crawlers,” I answered, lifting the small Styrofoam cooler from the storage space at my feet.
She lifted the trap door to the live well at her feet and surveyed my morning haul. “That’s a big ass cat,” she said, whistling low. I’d caught a three-foot catfish on my first cast of the morning. “What do you do with them?”
“The dock hands will send them up to the chef to fry them if I want,” I said.
“You caught that with night crawlers?” she asked, looking dubious.
“Nope,” I said, pulling the other container out from under my feet. “Day-old chicken livers.” I held the container up and lifted the lid. Tora wrinkled her nose.
“I’ll stick with the worms,” she said. Tora set the pole in the bracket and wriggled out of her life jacket. She wore a white tank top and black running shorts and once again, I knew I glimpsed the real Tora. The girl I wanted to know more and more.
“Who taught you how to fish?” I asked as she cast a clean line straight past the lily pads.
She didn’t answer at first and I watched the muscles of her shoulders ripple as she drew in her line. A lock of hair, black as midnight, sprang free from her ponytail and she tucked it behind her ear. “My dad,” she finally answered. “We had a house on the lake. We lived there with my grandparents until I was seven or eight.”
“Are they still around?”
Again, Tora hesitated before she answered. It was a simple question, but I knew how much the answer and the memories might cost her.
“No,” she said. “My grandma died when I was in kindergarten. She had ovarian cancer, I think it was. I didn’t understand it at the time, but my grandpa didn’t really recover from losing her, I don’t think. He died a couple of years after that. My dad always said it was a blessing later.”
“Because of what happened to him?”
Tora shrugged. She reeled in an empty hook. “Turtle,” she said shaking her head. “At least it didn’t snap the line.” She grabbed the Styrofoam box and set about twisting a new worm on her hook. She cast again and I thought she meant to evade the question. As soon as she had her line settled, she turned to me.
“Yes. My dad said if Da wasn’t already dead, seeing his son in prison would have killed him. I didn’t really understand what any of it meant at the time, but I think he was right.”
“Black Irish,” I said, repeating something she’d told me in another moment we’d shared of unguarded truth. “You told me once your grandparents came over from Ireland. Are those the ones you mean?”
“Aye,” she said in a perfect Irish brogue. “My grandma was pregnant with my dad when they came over. Rumor was my Da was a bit of an outlaw. So maybe fled is a more apt description than came over.” Her eyes shone when she spoke of them and I felt deep regret at not having had the chance to meet them so I said so.
“I miss them,” she said. “What about you, Jack? Did your father teach you how to fish?”
I nodded. “We weren’t lucky enough to live on a lake but my uncle had a place on Lake Bliss. We spent a few weeks out of every summer there and my dad eventually bought a boat. And I had a few cousins about my age that were a bad influence. One year we took it out and wrecked it.” I had to laugh at the memory now though at the time I was pretty sure he wanted to kill me. “I was fourteen and my cousins were older so they took the brunt of the punishment. I got away with claiming I was just along for the ride but I think my dad knew better.”
“You had to have scared him half to death,” Tora said. “Did anyone get hurt?”
I shook my head. “Mostly we just tore the hell out of the prop. Ran it into a sandbar.”
“I wish I could have met him,” Tora said. “Your dad, I mean. There are touches of him in that house still, I think, aren’t there?”
I nodded. “Maybe a few. He was good with his hands. The woodwork in the kitchen, we refinished that together. Someday I’d like to figure out a way to get up into that attic. I want to see the things you found. His computer, the family photos.”
Tora reached over and put her hand on my knee. “I’ll figure out a way to get them out of there. You should have them.”
“Thanks. I’d like that.”
“Why was Miranda so threatened by that stuff?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I think at her core she was a deeply insecure person. Before my dad married her and kind of legitimized her, she had a reputation as somewhat of a man-eater. The rumors about Seth’s real dad weren’t kind. He was her law professor. His involvement with Miranda ruined his career. At least he married her. My dad was in such deep grief when she came into his life. He was vulnerable and Miranda seemed so beautiful and strong and smart and he believed she’d take care of him. Of us. I don’t know. Miranda couldn’t handle the fact that my father stayed in love with my mother. So, she got rid of the physical reminders of my mom whenever she could.”
Tora ran a hand along my jaw. Her touch sent a shudder through me and I leaned into her and kissed her hand.
�
��And you were the biggest physical reminder of all, weren’t you? You look so much like her. Like Emily, your mother. I wish I had gotten to know her too.”
“No one ever tells me that. They mostly see my dad in me. She would have liked you, I think,” I said. “The real you.”
Tora barked out a laugh. “You mean she wouldn’t care for the one parading around as Seth’s wife?”
I had to laugh myself. “You know, she probably would have liked that the most about you. Shit used to happen in that house and I always wondered if it was my mother’s ghost just messing with Miranda for sport. Vases would fall over. The windows in what would have been my mother’s art room used to blow open by themselves.”
Tora’s smile was bright. “I’ll have to watch out for that. I think I know what room you mean.”
“Are we still on for our dinner performance tonight?” I asked, wanting to deflect the conversation away from my sad memories.
Tora nodded. “Pagano said he was looking forward to it.” Something changed in her face ... a shadow crossed over it.
“What is it?”
She shrugged. “It’s none of my business.”
“Tora, what?”
She tucked the same errant strand of hair back behind her ear. “Pagano just made it clear there are just as many rumors flying around about you as there are of me. He said you don’t normally come to these things alone.”
I took a breath. I figured Seth would be the one to clue Tora in on my history. That said, I couldn’t tell what emotion was currently clouding her expression. Was it jealousy? I hated that I had enough of an ego that it made my heart swell a little. But I am who I am.
“Like I said,” she continued, “it’s none of my business.”
“Are you asking me if I came here alone this week?”
She laughed at herself. “No. Not really. I’m just being silly. Except that ... I’m a little curious.”
“Tora,” I said. “I think we need to be done with lies and half-truths. Just ask me whatever it is you want to know.”
