by Lynn Forth
He could see Jane was puzzled. Jack had clearly fed her a line, so it was up to him to put her straight about the great Jack Clancy.
‘If Bruno was as bad as Jack makes out, why did my mom choose him to be my agent?’ he asked her.
Jane had no answer to that. Seeing that his question had hit home, Scott relaxed back in his seat, grinning triumphantly.
Jane was puzzled. Jack spoke so fondly of Robyn, so why would she push him out after a visit from Bruno? Did Bruno threaten her?
But Bruno was Scott’s agent. She remembered Jack saying so. Why would Robyn choose a man who threatened her, to be her beloved son’s agent?
It didn’t all hang together somehow.
Clearly, she needed to probe Scott a little more to find answers.
‘So, you say your mum kicked Jack out. Where did he go?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I think he moved in with his girlfriend’s family.’
‘Oh, Carmen, of course,’ Jane nodded. ‘That would be with Hank, wouldn’t it?’
‘Who?’
‘Hank, the security guard.’
‘How would I know?’ Scott said impatiently. ‘Jack did get a job as a security guard or something for a while. But I expect he was giving you the full poor me, all on my own.’
‘No, he wasn’t,’ Jane began hotly. ‘He glossed over a lot of upsetting stuff and—’
‘Oh, there you go. Sticking up for him, just like my mom. I can tell you, loads of people helped him out. I know my mom spent hours on the phone, saying what a good guy he was, how he needed a break…yadda, yadda. She really pulled strings for him, got him his first writing job. He owes everything to her. She always falls for his sob stories. Just like you have.’
‘For the umpteenth time, Scott, Jack didn’t tell me a sob story, he just told me the real reason why he and Bruno don’t get on.’
‘OK, if Bruno was so bad, why did Jack turn up tonight?’
Jane paused, reluctant to reveal why Jack had returned to a place he hated so much. She still could hardly believe it herself.
‘I’ll tell you why,’ Scott said triumphantly. ‘It was the bet.’
‘Look, what is this bet you keep banging on about?’ she snapped.
‘Jack bet me he could seduce you before I did.’
‘What?’
‘Jack likes silly bets on stupid stuff…always has.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘I knew you wouldn’t. I said you were like my mom. She thinks he’s such a golden boy, can do no wrong. But it’s true. That’s why he’s been sneaking around after you, behind my back. Taking you shopping and to lunch at the beach.’
Surprised, Jane gave him her full attention.
‘Didn’t think I knew about that, did you?’ he crowed. ‘But I have my spies. The paps go everywhere, know everything. That’s why you soon learn not to upset the gossip columnists. I keep them sweet, on my side. Tell ‘em stuff, and they tell me stuff.’
Jane couldn’t think of anything worse. To live your life knowing someone somewhere was watching you. To assume everything you did was fodder for scandal and comment. No wonder Jack had always been hyper-vigilant when he took her out.
To no avail. It seemed that even their innocent outings had been fed back to Scott, fuelling his jealousy and determination to keep hold of her. It explained a lot.
But Scott hadn’t finished. ‘So why else would Jack do all that running around? Why would he take you everywhere you wanted?’ His jeering tone was hitting a nerve. ‘Come on, tell me, why would he?’
Jane couldn’t answer.
‘It’s to spite me. From the beginning, he didn’t want you to stay with me, did he?’
Reluctantly, she had to admit that was true.
‘No, of course not.’ Scott was clearly on a roll. ‘He’s been wheedling around you…taking you out, telling you “poor me” stories. The truth is, he can’t stand the fact that I had got you when he wanted you. You fell at my feet, remember? But there he was muscling in at the hospital, looking all worried. He’ll do anything to win that bet.’
Jane closed her eyes, trying to shut out the doubts that were creeping in, tarnishing the golden glow of Jack’s embraces.
‘Look, Scott, you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.’
‘Oh, yes I do…but you don’t like hearing it,’ he jeered. ‘I bet he made a move on you tonight, didn’t he? Just because I spent all that money on you to make you look gorgeous.’
As if suddenly aware of just how gorgeous she was, Scott made a sudden lunge across the back seat and trapped her in a tight clinch. As he fought to plant passionate kisses on her resisting lips, Jane could smell the stale alcohol on his breath.
‘Stop it, Scott!’ she snapped.
Scott pulled his head back in surprise.
‘I said stop it, and I mean it.’ Even to her own ears, Jane’s tone sounded distinctly schoolmarm-ish.
But it seemed to work. Scott slowly disentangled his arms and slouched back to his corner of the car.
Jane briefly caught Manuel’s admiring glance in the car mirror.
Her phone buzzed. It was a text from Jack asking her where she was. She sent him a swift reply, assuring him she was fine and was going home with Scott.
‘Was that Jack, checking up on you?’ sneered Scott. ‘Doesn’t want you to escape, not before—’
‘Stop it, Scott. In fact, it was my mum asking if I’m having a nice time.’
‘And are you?’ Scott asked.
With a sinking feeling, she realised she wasn’t so sure any more.
Chapter Seventeen
This was the fifth time he had rung her and, at last, Jane answered her phone.
‘Are you OK?’ Jack asked anxiously.
‘Yes. Fine.’
‘Got back safely?’
‘Oh yes, no bother. I insisted on leaving straight after you. Amazingly, Scott decided to come as well. He’s definitely in Bruno’s bad books, so I think he was rather encouraged to leave. As you can imagine, he was thoroughly fed up with me.’
Jack was relieved. ‘I daren’t try to take you home with me. It would have caused a fight. Bruno and his heavies were spoiling for it, but Hank got me to my car and I got away unscathed. He manhandled me a bit, so I don’t think they twigged that he was really protecting me.’
‘Oh good. I’d hate him to get into trouble.’
‘And me. But I think he was more worried about Dolores than Bruno. She would really have torn him off a strip if anything had happened.’
‘Yes, I expect she would.’
Jack had expected a chuckle, but something in the flatness of her replies didn’t sound quite right. He probed further.
‘Was Scott OK with you?’
‘Yes, although he was quite drunk and very talkative. He said all sorts of things. Not very keen on you, is he?’
Jack was perplexed, as much by her statement as by the tone. ‘I do sometimes get a feeling of resentment from him, but I’ve never really understood why.’
‘I think he dislikes the way his mum idolises you.’
‘Oh, so that’s it. Yes, you are probably right.’
‘He feels he’s in constant competition with you.’
Her words confirmed Jack’s suspicions about why Scott was so keen to keep hold of Jane. He knows I’m interested, so he not only wants to make Savannah jealous, but me as well.
‘Where is he now? I mean, will he be…um, bothering you?’
He heard a hollow chuckle. ‘He’s not really with it. Manuel has put him to bed, so I don’t think he will be stirring much tonight.’
Jack grinned, relieved.
‘Anyway, I always lock my door.’ He heard a suppressed sigh.
‘You sound tired.’ Jack wondered if that’s why all the spark had gone out of their conversation.
‘Yes, I am a bit.’
‘I’ll phone you in the morning.’
‘OK.’
Was he imagining t
he restraint in her voice? This wasn’t the passionate person who had kissed him and responded so fervently to his embrace. Surely he could rekindle that fire by reminding her of their intense encounter.
‘Your first Hollywood party was quite an eye-opener, I would have thought. I hope at least one part of tonight was very enjoyable. Very enjoyable indeed.’ Could Jane hear the smile in his voice?
But there was no corresponding warmth in her reply. She seemed to want to end the conversation as quickly as possible.
‘Yes, some bits were. But I’m so tired, Jack. I really must—’
‘Of course, of course. I’ll speak to you in the morning.’ He wanted to add ‘darling’, but didn’t.
He could tell he had lost her. But how? Why?
Jane could not bring herself to tell him what Scott had revealed about the bet. Still in the warm cocoon of her first kisses with Jack, she had initially dismissed it all as jealous, drunken ramblings
Then, with a sinking heart, she remembered overhearing some sort of silly wager between Jack and Hank that day when she first arrived at the studio. Which she somehow knew was about her.
So, Jack obviously did enjoy a wager, and just as obviously there were aspects of him she didn’t know as well as she thought she did.
Looking at Scott, slumped and rambling in his seat, she realised he was too drunk to fabricate a lie.
And hadn’t Jack acknowledged something about a bet when Scott had accused him of it at the party. He’d denied it, of course, but then he would in front of her, wouldn’t he?
Was Bruno really such a monster? She had certainly felt real fear when she had been trapped by him and could well believe he would have resorted to violence to get his way with her, so she believed Jack’s story. But if he was such an awful person, why would Robyn ask him to be Scott’s agent?
There were enough unanswered questions in Scott’s incoherent jealousies, enough kernels of truth, to plant seeds of doubt in Jane’s mind.
And the competitive bet between the two men would explain why Scott had been so keen to pursue her, and why Jack had charmed his way under her defences and been so nice to her, despite their initial sparring.
All the exhilaration and joy of their shared passion evaporated in an instant. What a fool she’d been.
Was it like Darren all over again? He had charmed her and duped her with his fancy stories. He had made her feel good, desirable, and sexy. And all to wheedle his way into her life, her flat, her finances. She had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker, overlooking all the slight anomalies in his stories, ignoring all the little warning voices in her head. What a naïve, trusting fool she had been. And she’d promised herself, never again.
But this time… Oh, this time, it hurt much, much more. This time her heart was…no, not broken, but…
Anguish swept over her.
Obviously, someone as rich, as powerful, as amazingly good-looking as Jack couldn’t possibly fancy a nobody like her…unless there was an ulterior motive.
She had already discovered she was a pawn in the game between Scott and Savannah. But it looked like she might have been an innocent pawn in another game – one between two sparring men?
Up in her room, she forlornly divested herself of all her borrowed finery. Her first instinct was to phone Jack and rage at him, and let him know what she thought of his underhand tactics. But she was too exhausted to summon up the energy for a confrontation. She just slumped on her bed, totally disconsolate.
At first, she ignored Jack’s phone calls, but eventually she summoned all her reserves of willpower and answered him. Hearing his warm, apparently concerned, voice on the phone, she could barely stop herself from breaking down into sobs. But pride wouldn’t let her reveal the extent to which she had been duped by his show of tenderness, his pretence of honesty.
She cut the call short, pretending tiredness, and then, hit by a maelstrom of feelings ranging from mortification to anger, bewilderment to hurt, she curled up under the covers and wept hot tears.
Why was she such a bad judge of character? How could this be happening again? Darren had known a guileless fool when he had seen one. Bruno had made a beeline for her, sensing her open trusting nature. And Jack, like his father, had also homed in on her naivety.
With Darren, she had been mainly flattered by his attention, and it was mainly her pride that was hurt – and her bank balance – when it all went wrong.
But her feelings for Jack were stronger than anything she had experienced in her life before. He was the first man she had ever wanted so completely – emotionally, intellectually, and physically. She ached for him. Yet somehow, again, she had got it so wrong.
How ironic that she – the romantic novelist, who wrote so convincingly about passion and love – had never actually felt the full force of either of them. Until now.
Watching her sisters’ heady raptures with a kind of wry detachment, she had almost dispassionately stored up her observations to use in her novels. They had provided her with more than enough material and dramas to write a dozen novels. And even when Milly had fallen desperately in love with the wrong man, it had reinforced Jane’s wariness of this strong but unreliable emotion. She had been determined that no man was ever going to hurt her like that.
Feeling adrift in London had wrong-footed her, which had allowed Darren to worm his way into her life. But even then, she had always held part of herself back.
Until now.
In the study, her passion had been ignited as never before. She had been seized by a fiery hunger to love Jack; all of him.
How ironic that these intense longings had, for the first time, actually made her wonder if this was the proverbial love at first sight. How stupid.
How naïve.
How idiotic.
How stupidly, romantically, stupidly stupid.
I bet he was laughing at me, at my tales about the family, about my writing, about… Jane pulled the sheet over her blotchy face and cringed at the memory of how open she had been. How parochial she must have seemed to this urbane, cynical, Hollywood big shot.
And yet…
And yet their conversation at the beach restaurant had seemed real, and spontaneous, and funny. His slow smile had seemed genuine. He’d seemed as if he really wanted to know about her family and looked almost wistful as she had recounted tales of their noisy, loving lives.
No doubt, the tortured story of his childhood had caused him real pain, and she had felt so honoured that he had opened up to her.
She hadn’t doubted that much of the story was real – but had she been duped again? Things which Scott had said later, meant the story didn’t all add up.
Was it a cynical ploy, a ‘sob story’ – as Scott implied – which Jack used to reel in all his girlfriends?
Probably, she sighed, her heart heavy. Any girl would want to reach out and comfort such a wounded man. Just as she had done.
But, wait… Why would he resort to such ploys? Someone as gorgeous as him would not need to use any sympathy-inducing subterfuge to seduce anyone.
It didn’t add up. None of it made sense.
She tossed and turned in a turmoil of contradictory feelings – one moment trusting her instincts, the next deriding herself for her naivety.
Eventually, seeking relief from the air-conditioned coldness of her bedroom, she stepped out onto the hot veranda, trusting Scott would still be lost in stupefied sleep. A hot clamminess enveloped her, clinging damply to her naked arms. She breathed in the stifling humid air, still reeking of the hot concrete sidewalks. Somewhere, a garden plant was giving off a cloying, sickly perfume. A cacophony of crickets sang loudly, and monotonously.
Of course, this was Hollywood. An alien land. A La-La-Land, where nothing was as it seemed to be.
With a deepening dismay, she knew she was adrift in an unknown, duplicitous, and often nasty world. All her normal points of reference were absent.
She was completely alone, and a long, long way from home.
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Chapter Eighteen
Jack had endured a similarly restless night, and was determined to get to the bottom of the sudden change in Jane’s tone towards him.
He knew how much she had wanted him in that small darkened room. Her eyes, her body, her kisses had spoken of unleashed passion, yet she clearly didn’t feel the same way during their later phone conversation.
He wanted more of Jane, much more. Yet it didn’t seem like she felt the same. What had happened to change her attitude?
Desperate to find out, he phoned early next morning.
‘Hi Jane. How are you today?’ he began warily.
‘Oh hello, Mum. How good of you to call me. I was just telling Scott here that I needed to speak to you; you must have read my mind.’
There was a brief pause as Jack took in the situation.
‘I take it you can’t talk because Scott’s in the room?’
‘Oh yes, that’s right. It is gloriously sunny here.’
‘Are you OK?’
‘Of course.’
‘Look, I need to see you. We need to talk. Can you escape today at any time?’
‘I’m not sure, Mum. Yes, of course I want to come home to see you all, I’m just not sure when I’ll be able to find a flight.’
In the background, Scott’s voice said tetchily, ‘You can’t leave yet.’
‘I’ll have to go, Mum. I’m just “fixing breakfast”, as they say over here. And this call must be costing you a fortune. Tell you what, I’ll phone you later. OK?’
‘Yes. I’ll be waiting.’
‘Bye, Mum. Love to all the family.’
Jane knew she sounded strained.
And she was.
She was in the middle of placating a hungover and very grumpy Scott, and reassuring him she would stay on a little longer.
In spite of what she had planned.
When she had woken at first light, after very little sleep, she had been determined to leave Scott and get out of this whole complicated mess. Careful to leave behind all the jewellery, shoes, and clothes which Scott had given her for the party, she had packed her small suitcase then silently crept downstairs to write him a note. She planned to leave by the back gate and phone a taxi once she had got far enough away, so the paps couldn’t see her.
