by C. J. Miller
She ran to her guest bedroom, trying not to think about the destruction around her and wondering if this was financially motivated.
Her pearls, a gift from her father, passed to her through Father Franklin on the occasion of her first Holy Communion. They meant everything to her. Her mother didn’t know she had them. While her anger for her father was white-hot and she rarely wore the pearls, she hadn’t thrown the necklace away.
The trunk at the end of the guest bed where she stored extra linens was overturned, the blankets torn out.
It must have taken hours for this much destruction. Or had it been a team of people? Hadn’t anyone noticed something was amiss? Heard the racket and called the police? Apparently not.
She slid her pinky into the notch in the wood and pulled the release. The board lifted and the lock disengaged.
The safe remained untouched. She sat back on her haunches.
“Oh, thank you,” she said. She needed to see the pearls. Needed to know they were okay. With the wreck her house had become, she doubted the vandals would have stolen from her safe and taken the time to close it, lock it and place the floorboard carefully over it.
Jack entered the room. “You have a safe?”
“I had this installed when I moved in.”
“Odd place for it,” he said. “Smart.”
“Office or master bedroom too obvious.”
She dialed the combination and opened the door. The pearl necklace, copies of her important paperwork, a hard drive containing pictures and a few miscellaneous trinkets that were priceless to her.
She held up the string of pearls. “They’re safe.”
“The intruders might have taken something else not stored in the safe.”
They may have. She had some cash lying around for convenience. She had gifts from designers and artists that were worth a good amount of money. “It doesn’t seem like they were here to steal. If they were, there are a dozen items on the main floor easily worth a few thousand dollars each. They didn’t take those. They threw them to the floor and destroyed them. They were after something specific. And before you ask, I have no idea what.”
“What’s the significance of the pearls?” Jack asked.
Marissa touched the beads, loving the way the light glinted off them. “They were a gift from my father.”
“They’re beautiful.”
The police called out from the main floor.
“Why don’t you put those away and secure the safe? You’ll need to do a walk-through inventory.”
Marissa did as he asked, placing the pearls in the safe. She had been worried about the pearls almost above any of her other possessions. Almost no one knew she had them. But in this moment, they had been all-important.
She joined Jack and the police on the main floor, contemplating the bigger meaning of her concern for the pearls.
* * *
Marissa’s plans for taking two days away were shot.
An insurance agent was in her home now, reviewing her policy and cataloguing what needed to be replaced. The West Company had sent an artwork expert to assist with the process.
Marissa had called a cleanup service and repairman to help put her home back in order. Their services were on hold pending the insurance agent’s assessment. In a few weeks, if she was lucky, she could return home.
In the meantime, she was living in a hotel.
Her photo shoot in Boston had been pushed one day. Not enough time for a trip out of town. There had been some squawking from the photographer and talent involved, but Marissa hadn’t slept and she was exhausted and frayed. Exhausted and frayed wouldn’t photograph well.
She was by the open doors leading to her balcony at the Westside Hotel. A cup of hot tea chased off the cold. The day was overcast, her tea was black and her mood was dark. The one upside was that she had always wanted to stay at the Westside Hotel, but because it was located close to her home, she hadn’t had the opportunity.
Jack had arranged for new clothes and personal items to be brought to the hotel. He had even found paints, brushes, an easel and canvas. Painting was a wonderful distraction and it relaxed her.
Sitting on the edge of her chair, she had tilted her canvas toward her. Jack watched her from across the hotel room. Matching colors came fluidly to her.
She was painting him. What captured her full attention was his eyes. They were gray with green flecks.
“Are you going to stare or are you going to come sit for me?” Marissa asked.
Jack walked to her side and looked at her canvas. “What inspired this?”
“You gave me the paints and this is like therapy. I needed to do something with my hands. I didn’t have a plan when I sat down. I guess you’re taking a leading role in my thoughts. If you’d sit behind my canvas, it would help,” Marissa said.
Jack sat on the black chair across from her, turning to face her. “Want to talk about what’s been going on?”
Marissa dipped her paintbrush into the paint. Those gray eyes were mesmerizing. Her fascination with Jack pointed to falling for him. Hard. “Can’t get my head around it.”
“My company is working with the insurance adjuster and repair staff to get a handle on the damages and get you an estimate of how long it will be before things are cleaned up,” Jack said.
He was speaking about what was going on with the case, not between them. A spear of disappointment pierced her. “I’ve lived in hotels for months at a time. Not recently. But I’ve done it when I was younger and busier. I can do it again,” Marissa said.
“Would you prefer other arrangements? Are you happy with this hotel?” Jack asked.
She kept painting, knowing if she didn’t have the distraction of the canvas, she would launch into a conversation Jack didn’t want to have and she wasn’t sure she was ready to have. Given how emotionally fragile she felt, she should tread on safer ground. “It’s fine.”
“I don’t think it is.” He shifted his chair.
Marissa set down her brush, stood and took the two steps toward him. She angled his head, turning it to catch the light and returned to her chair. “It would be best if I moved up my retirement plans. Drop out of the spotlight. See if this stops.” When Jack had suggested it before, she had thought it was the coward’s way out and it would make this drag on infinitely. Now, she wanted to escape.
“We don’t know how Clarice and Avery are connected beyond professionally. Were Clarice and Avery friends?”
Marissa didn’t think so. “I wouldn’t call them friends. They were friendly. They worked together. They were sometimes at the same parties or spent time at the same restaurants. But I don’t think they were close. Avery was famous for her face. Clarice was well-known and well liked because she was good at her job. Most sets wanted her. Photographers and designers were willing to pay extra for her services.”
“Did Avery and Clarice ever date the same man?”
“Not that I know of, but Clarice and I weren’t close enough to talk about her personal relationships. Since they moved in the same social circles, it’s possible,” Marissa said. She turned the canvas toward Jack. “It needs work, but the face is right.”
“My eyes are not that bright.”
Perhaps she had exaggerated the color, pulling from her memory and from observation. “They are after sex,” Marissa said.
He seemed unsure what to say about that.
Marissa dipped her paintbrush into the paint and stepped toward him. She ran the brush along his hand. He looked at the gray paint. Taking his hand, she held it up to his face. “Not after-sex gray, but close.”
Then she swiped the brush across his cheek smearing the paint.
“That’s one way to match a color,” he said.
Marissa reached for her palette of colors. “If you h
ad to pick a color for me, which would you pick?”
“Just one color?” he asked looking at the tray of paints, some pure, some blended.
“Or a mix of colors,” she said. “One is so boring.”
He looked at the palette. “Could be an array of colors. You’re a free spirit. Light blue with white, like clouds floating in the sky.” He dipped his finger in the white paint.
He held his finger close to her face. “I feel like I’m about to deface the Mona Lisa.”
She leaned into his hand, letting the paint smear across her cheek. “I’m just a person. Not a work of art.”
Their eyes connected and that sense of rightness amplified between them. Jack stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. He was strong and handsome and when she was with him, she felt wanted and precious.
“You seem sad,” he said.
She set her hands on his arms. “I’m happy about this. This right now. But the big picture is a mess. My world is falling apart and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.” Her voice broke at the end of her statement.
“We should have found the person doing this. We need better leads. More leads. The police still have Rob as their prime suspect. Rob is either a fantastic actor at playing stupid or he isn’t involved.”
“Look what I did.” The paint on her hand had smeared into his shirt.
“I’m not worried about my clothes. I’m just worried about you.”
She reached to the hem of his navy T-shirt. “Let’s take this off and rinse it out before the paint sets.”
He lifted his arms and she pulled the shirt over his head. Bare-chested he was something worth looking at. Broad shoulders and rippled abdominals. Setting her hands on his chest, she leaned against him and kissed him.
“Let’s close the doors so we’re not cold,” he said.
She snagged his T-shirt from the chair where it had slipped through her fingers. He closed and locked the door to the balcony and drew the curtains.
Ten steps to the bed and Marissa fell into his arms.
* * *
Marissa checked her outfit once more in the mirror. The Boston photo shoot had been delayed because of her and the juggling of schedules. Marissa sensed tension as soon as she walked onto the set.
The staff and talent were either angry that she had disrupted their scheduled or they were whispering in her direction, likely gossiping about what had happened to Avery and Clarice and not bothering to hide it. She had never been in a room with so many people avoiding eye contact with her.
Jack was with her. His unwavering strength and reassurance would get her through this. He waited outside the door for appearances. Though Marissa didn’t care who knew she was involved with Jack, he wanted to keep boundaries when they were working.
She admired the fabric and the shoes she’d been provided for the shoot. The jumpsuit was similar to designs she had seen on the runway, but more suitable for everyday wear. It was constructed of soft and stretchy jean material and the slim orange belt around the middle provided the color and focal point. Her heeled orange shoes were comfortable. The ad they were shooting today would appear in women’s magazines.
She exited her dressing room.
“That’s a nice outfit,” Jack said.
Was that sarcasm? He didn’t seem to care about fashion. His wardrobe consisted of jeans, T-shirts and, depending on the weather, a simple tailored jacket. “Do you really like it?”
He nodded. “Looks good on you. But everything looks good on you. That’s why they hire you to show off the clothes.”
She did a spin for his benefit. “Now my favorite part. Hair and makeup.” She guessed, based on the style of the clothing, it would be big hair and heavy makeup. She wasn’t opposed to that. When she stopped modeling, she would like to experiment with her hair color, like stripes of purple or darker shades of brown. Doing that now would be a problem with her contracts.
“Hey, Marissa.”
Marissa turned at the sound of her name and recognized the woman approaching, but couldn’t place her face with a name.
“Hi.” Marissa waited.
The other woman, a brunette with long hair to her elbows, probably a model from her build and facial features looked irritated. Was she put out by the schedule change? “You must think you’re Queen of Everything.”
Jack tensed beside her, but Marissa shot him a look. She had to handle this herself. Marissa heard the venom. She was too tired and emotionally wrung to engage in a debate. “I’m here to work this photo shoot. That’s it.”
The brunette crossed her arms. “I was supposed to be skiing today in Aspen with my boyfriend. But because you had a break-in at your house, I’m here instead.”
It wasn’t just about the break-in. Avery and Clarice’s deaths weighed heavily on her and the threats against Marissa were serious. She’d needed time to recover. “I’m sorry about that. I’ve had some ongoing issues in my life. Rescheduling was unavoidable.” Unless this woman lived under a rock, she would know that Avery and Clarice were dead.
In response, the other woman huffed. As if that meant anything. Marissa brushed past her on the way to the set.
“What was that about?” Jack asked.
“Another day, another angry rising star trying to mark her territory,” Marissa said.
“Does that happen often?” Jack asked.
“Models getting catty? The competition goes to their heads. Jobs and money are at stake. And maybe sometimes it’s hunger. You’ve seen what models have to wear.”
“I’ve seen you eat,” Jack said.
“I eat. I work out. Some just don’t eat. When I retire, I’m going to eat hamburgers with all the fixings and pizzas with every topping,” Marissa said. She hadn’t gorged herself on food in years.
“Count me in,” Jack said.
Her heart lightened at the suggestion of a friendship that would persist between them. “I’ll need fast food because I’ll be up all night painting. If I invite you over for pizza on a Friday night, what are the chances you’ll come?” Marissa asked.
“Pizza loaded with all the good stuff? Pretty high. Pepperoni, extra cheese, ham—”
“Okay, okay, stop. You’re making me hungry.” She couldn’t eat now, right before a shoot.
“All right, but I think you should be very, very bad and Friday night, we eat pizza.”
Looking at him, at the twinkling in his gray eyes, she felt like she was in high school again. That rush of emotion and endorphins and the absolute willingness to fall under the spell of the handsome guy with great smile.
* * *
Marissa was on the set, posing for pictures. Jack had seen her work several times and today, something was off. She seemed on edge. The longer the shoot, the tension in the room escalating, Marissa’s agitation was clear. When Niles, the photographer, called for a break, she walked to him. They talked briefly and then she strode to Jack’s side. She appeared drained.
“Want to talk about it?” Jack asked.
“Niles wants to do another shoot tomorrow. To give me time to get it together,” Marissa said.
“He didn’t say that,” Jack said.
“He didn’t say it, but I know it’s what he meant. I’m trying to think of the shoes and pizza and fun, but Avery and Clarice are on my mind. If I were new to the job and hadn’t worked with Niles on this campaign before, I would have been fired today. I was a mess. I am a mess.”
“Why don’t we hit the gym? Blow off some steam,” Jack said. If it wasn’t clicking today, she’d get it together another day.
Marissa gestured at him to follow her. They entered her private dressing room. In the middle of the room was a large sink and mirror. Lining the sink were a dozen beauty products. Marissa brushed her hair and then tied it back. Then she turned on the
sink and started taking off her makeup. She moved quickly, picking up the little bottles, pouring the contents on a cotton ball or a small square pad and wiping at her face.
When she was finished and she turned around, her face bare, Jack’s breath backed up in his lungs. Without the makeup, she was more beautiful. She patted her face with a white towel.
“What’s wrong? You look...something,” she said.
“Niles should take your picture right now. The shoot would be done,” Jack said.
Marissa glanced in the mirror. “Without makeup? I’d shock people. I can see the tabloids now.”
“You don’t see what I do. That’s too bad. It’s not the hairdos and the makeup and the clothes. Your expressions and your eyes and your confidence. That’s what sells products. That’s what everyone wants a piece of.”
Marissa inclined her head. “Thank you. That’s kind of you to say.” She set the towel on the side of the sink. “Instead of the gym, why don’t we go to a shooting range?”
Jack was up for it. Was this a regular thing for Marissa? He hadn’t seen it on her schedule. “Have you ever been?”
She shook her head. “It’s time I learn.”
It might empower her. Given what she had been through in the last several weeks, knowing how to use a firearm could help. She wouldn’t learn everything she needed to know in one session, but it was a place to start. “It can’t hurt to know how to handle yourself in various situations.”
“I thought you would say no,” Marissa said.
“Then this was for shock value?” Jack asked.
Marissa shook her head. “I want to learn. I was bracing for the argument.”
The nearest range was thirty minutes from them. After confirming the change in their plans with the rest of the security team, driving to the range, registering and paying their fee, Jack led Marissa to the stall. They put on their ear and eye protection.
