That Man 3

by Nelle L’Amour

  “Thank f—God.” I managed not to say the f-word in front of Josh. Springer was lucky. Man, if I had found him, I would have cut off his balls and maybe cut out his heart. I could never forgive him for what he did to Jennifer. Or to poor Eddie.

  Vera’s husband Steve was also relieved.

  “Who’s Don Spwinger?” asked Josh, who had an adorable speech impediment because he was missing a front tooth.

  Vera ruffled her fingers through his sandy hair. “No one you know, mister. Now get going. Daddy’s going to take you bike riding this morning.”

  Finishing his milk, Josh jumped up. “Come on, Daddy. Hurry. Let’s go,” he shouted as he scooted out of the room.

  Steve rose from the table. “Gotta go. Will I be seeing you later, Blake?”

  “Not sure. Probably not.”

  “Well good to see you, man, and thanks for the cigar.” He winked at me. “Don’t mess with my wife.”

  Steve knew about my reputation as a player, but he had a sense of humor about it. Moreover, his marriage was rock solid, and he knew I loved and respected Vera. She was more than a fellow employee. She was a dear friend and almost like a sister to me.

  “Don’t worry,” I said with a little laugh. He gave Vera peck on the cheek and followed his son out the door.

  Vera sipped her coffee. “I’m glad that’s over.”

  “Me too. Springer’s going to be doing a good amount of time.” Life behind bars would be better, I silently added. The fucking animal.

  Vera smiled. “Well, I guess you can go back to Boise and spend the rest of your holiday with Jennifer.”

  I twisted my mouth. “Can’t. Jennifer doesn’t want to see me.”

  Vera’s knitted her brows. “What do you mean?”

  “She hasn’t answered any of my texts or calls.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “She probably thinks I came to Vegas to see some babe. I didn’t tell her the real reason for splitting.”

  Vera rolled her eyes. “Jesus, Blake. Why didn’t you tell her?”

  “I was afraid to. She was with her parents. I didn’t want to upset them or her.”

  “Well, Blake, she’s a big girl and could have handled it. Call her again and tell her the truth. If you don’t, I will.”

  “It’s futile. She’s not going to pick up her phone. She’s stubborn that way.”

  “Well then, call her house.”

  “The number’s not listed.”

  “Blake, I’m sure you can get it from Mrs. Cho or your Human Resources person. It must be listed on some form she filled out asking for emergency contacts.”

  I twitched a smile. Vera was right. Why didn’t I think of that?

  Where’s there’s a will, there’s a way. I pulled out my cell phone from a pocket of my sweats and immediately speed-dialed Mrs. Cho’s home number. My super-organized secretary would for sure have it in some file. A glimmer of hope slithered through me.

  I nervously drummed the table with my fingers while waiting for Mrs. Cho to pick up. She did on the second ring. Two minutes later, I had all the phone numbers associated with Jennifer’s parents. Both their home number and their cell phones. Spotting a loose crayon on the table, I scribbled them down a paper napkin. God bless, Mrs. Cho.

  “Bingo,” I shouted as I dialed Harold McCoy’s cell phone. I didn’t want to run the risk of Jen picking up the home phone and hanging up on me.

  As I anxiously waited for him to pick up, my eyes stayed riveted on smiling Vera. Her robe had given me another idea.

  If things worked out with Jennifer—man, they’d better—I was going to call Gloria and Jaime up next and ask them for a favor. Things were looking up.

  Chapter 10

  Jennifer

  I’d cried myself to sleep. When I woke up in the morning, I felt worse than last night. Blake Burns had ripped my heart apart. He had told me loved me, given me the best twenty-four hours of my life, and then left me bereft. Yeah, some big emergency in Vegas. Maybe one of his bimbos was having a breakdown from Blake withdrawal or her breast implants were leaking. Or a Vegas orgy. Calling Blake Burns.

  A sadness like I’d never known consumed every cell of my body. Why couldn’t I feel numb or angry? At least, if I were angry, I could make some decisions. I’d never felt this way when I broke up with Bradley whom I’d known for over five years. I hadn’t even known Blake for five weeks and the ache in my heart was unbearable. My eyes stung and my throat constricted. I could barely breathe.

  Slowly, I rolled out of bed and took small, unsteady steps to the bathroom. I could hardly walk. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked worst than I thought. My eyes were red and puffy, my lips swollen, and my skin blotchy. I watched as another round of tears trickled down my face.

  Somehow I managed to get downstairs. My early-riser parents were already seated at the kitchen table. They stared at me. Given what I looked like, I expected my mother to grow panicky and run up to me and give me a big hug. She didn’t.

  “Jan Lunden called me late last night. She took her granddaughter to a movie yesterday and told me she saw you there.”

  Jan was an old friend of my mother’s. A bridge pal. I froze.

  “She said she saw you with your fiancé. Kissing him.”

  Silence. The only thing that roared in my ear was my hammering heart.

  “I asked her what he looked like.”

  My heart beat faster.

  “She described someone that sounds exactly like Blake.”

  I could no longer hold back. I burst into sobs. A torrent of tears stormed down my face.

  My father spoke softly as I stood there heaving, bawling un­control­lab­ly. “Jennie, come here and tell your mother what’s going on.”

  I staggered to the table and collapsed into a chair. “Mom, I fell in love with Blake Burns and last night he broke my heart.”

  My mother was wide-eyed with shock. My father looked at me com­pass­ionate­ly.

  “Now, honey, tell your mother who Blake is.”

  “My b-boss,” I stammered through my tears. I didn’t tell her he was the head of a porn channel. I glanced at my father. Did he know? His knowing eyes told me did. Please, Dad, don’t say anything. Please! I just didn’t need to make matters worse. My mother would have a stroke if she knew.

  To my relief, he said nothing as my mother jumped up. She gabbed a linen napkin and came around the table.

  “Darling, why didn’t you tell us?” She gave me a much-needed hug and dabbed my tears.

  “I don’t know. It’s complicated, and it all happened so fast.”

  The tears kept falling. I took the napkin from my mother and brushed them away.

  “But, darling, I don’t understand. Why do you think he’s hurt you?”

  “Mom, he’s a player.”

  A puzzled expression swept over her face. She didn’t know what that meant.

  “He dates lots of girls. I’m just one of them. He went to Vegas last night to see someone else. ”

  Mom furrowed her brows. “What makes you think that? He seemed so serious when he took that call. He said there was a crisis.”

  My father responded. “I agree with your mother. I trust Blake.”

  How could he trust him after only knowing him for twenty-four hours? I loved and respected my father, but he didn’t know my boss the way I did. My father continued.

  “He gave me his word he wouldn’t hurt you. Jennie baby, I believe him.”

  Before I could say another word, a phone rang. I recognized the ringtone. My father’s. John Lennon’s “Love,” my parents’ wedding song.

  Retrieving it from the kitchen counter where it was plugged in and recharging, he spoke into it as he headed back to the table.

  “Yes, Blake, she’s right here. I’ll put you on with her.”

  How the hell did Blake get his number? My heartbeat went into a frenzy. I was practically hyper­vent­ilat­ing. My dad sat back down at the table and told Blake to “hold
on.”

  “Dad, I don’t want to speak to him.”

  “I’m your father. Please hear him out.” He handed me the phone.

  I took a deep breath to fortify myself and swiped away my tears with my free hand. Trembling, I put the phone to my ear.

  “Hello.” My voice was small and shaky.

  His voice was loud and strong. The sound of it rattled me. He told me he wanted me to take the call away from my parents. He had something to tell me.

  “Okay.” I breathed out the word, and rising, told my parents I’d be right back. I moved into the living room and slumped onto the couch. I let Blake know I was alone.

  Blake: “Jennifer, you need to know the real reason I went to Vegas.”

  Me: “And what might that be?” My quivering voice was dripping with sarcasm.

  Blake: “Don Springer.”

  The mention of his name stunned me into silence.

  Blake: “Jen, are you there? Can you hear me?”

  Me: “Yes.” My voice was just above whisper.

  Blake: “He beat up the producer of Private Dick.”

  I gasped and every muscle in my body tensed. I knew Blake couldn’t be lying. Not about something like that. Guilt stabbed at my heart. I should have trusted him.

  Me: “Oh my God. Is he okay?”

  Blake: “Yes, and they’ve got the motherfucker in custody.”

  A new round of tears assaulted me. Tears of relief and remorse.

  Me: “Oh, Blake. I’m so sorry.”

  Blake: “Sorry about what, tiger?”

  Me: “That I mistrusted you.”

  Blake: “You had the right to. I fucked up. I should have told you the truth. I was afraid.”

  Me: “I understand.” My man wanted to protect me, shelter me from the monsters of the world.

  Blake: “Baby, I love you.”

  Me: “I love you too.” Oh God, did I love him!

  Blake: “When are you heading back to LA?”

  Me: “The thirty-first.”

  Blake: “I have some Springer shit I have to deal with in Vegas and then I’m heading back. I want to spend New Years with you.

  A new year. A new beginning.

  Me: “Okay.” A squeak.

  Blake: “Send me your flight info. I’ll pick you up.”

  Me: “I will.”

  Blake: “Tiger, just know. I love you. There’s no one but you.”

  I fingered the gemstone heart around my neck and glanced at the snow tiger I’d left on the couch. With my free arm, I reached for him and hugged him tight against me.

  Me: “Blake, I love you too.”

  We ended the call, and I found myself crying more buckets of tears. Except they were tears of joy. There were no Scrabble words to describe how much I loved Blake Burns.

  Chapter 11

  Jennifer

  The next five days at home were happy ones. I told my parents things were again great between Blake and me. That there had just been a mis­understand­ing. There was no way I was going to tell them about Don Springer. They’d freak. The past was the past. He was going to jail, and I was going to put him out of mind.

  Both my parents, however, were concerned about how I was going to handle my relationship at work. I told them Blake and I were going to figure things out. I also told them Blake’s father was the head of Conquest Broadcasting. Dad already knew that. I was positive my inquisitive dad had googled Blake and knew he headed up SIN-TV. I was grateful he didn’t tell my mother while I was home. Though at some point, she was going to have to find out.

  Although I enjoyed spending time with Mom and Dad, I counted the days, the hours, and the minutes until going back to LA and seeing Blake. He called and texted me all day long. We even Skyped. When I saw his gorgeousness on my computer screen, I wanted to jump through it and be in his arms. I lost count of how many times we exchanged the words “I love you.” I couldn’t say or hear them enough.

  Finally, the thirty-first rolled around. Bradley had cut my time with my parents short because he had planned to take me to a New Year’s Eve party given by one of his boring dentist friends. I actually looked into getting a flight home sooner—I so badly wanted to be with Blake—but the cheapskate had booked a non-refundable ticket that you couldn’t change. On top if it, there were no flights available.

  My flight was in the morning. I was grateful there wasn’t another snowstorm. After hugging my mother good-bye and collecting a bagful of cookies she’d baked for me to take back, my dad drove me to the airport. His favorite classical music station played while I held Blake’s plush tiger on my lap and stared out the window dreaming about him. Dad’s soothing voice cut into my reverie.

  “Jennie, what are you doing for New Year’s Eve?”

  “I’m spending it with Blake, but I don’t know what we’re doing.”

  He nodded. “He’s a good man. I like him a lot.”

  Somehow, I felt like this was the moment to ask him. “Dad, do you know exactly what he does?”

  “He heads the porn channel you work at.”

  Though his voice was nonchalant and nonjudgmental, my skin bristled.

  “How do you feel about that?” I asked nervously.

  “My Jennie, you’re a big girl now. You have to make your own decisions.”

  “Dad, I really love what I do and I’m good at it.”

  A small smile played on his handsome profile. “I know. And I’m proud of you, Jennie McCoy.”

  I was beaming. “Thanks, Dad.” I paused. “Are you going to tell Mom?”

  “Yep.”

  I swallowed hard. “How do you think she’ll react?”

  “You’ll hear her shrieking from Los Angeles, but she’ll get over it.”

  I laughed with relief. I so loved my dad.

  In no time, we arrived at the airport. At the curb, I put the tiger into the large shopping bag with the cookies and hugged my dad good-bye. About to enter the terminal, I turned to wave at him. “I love you, Dad,” I shouted out. He blew me a kiss I caught with my heart. The next kiss was going to be Blake’s. My heart raced. I couldn’t wait.

  *

  Exactly two hours and ten minutes later, he was there. Waiting for me in the LAX terminal at arrivals. It was impossible to miss him. Besides being the most devastating man in the crowd, he was holding a monstrous SpongeBob balloon that said, “Soak it up!”

  I soaked him up. My heart almost beat out of my chest. Dressed casually in jeans and a tee, he wore a cheek-to-cheek smile on his ravishing face and looked hotter than hell. I dropped my bags and ran into his arms. He crushed his delicious lips on mine and spun me around and around. I was still wearing my winter coat and wooly hat.

  “Oh, Blake! I’ve missed you so much.”

  “Me too, baby. C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

  *

  Within ten minutes of being in Blake’s Porsche, I realized he wasn’t taking me home. We were on the 10 Freeway heading toward Santa Monica. The whole country was experiencing frigid conditions, but here in LA the weather was unseasonably summer-like. The top was down. I’d shed my coat and hat, and my hair blew in the warm wind.

  “Where are we going?” I shouted above the loud whooshing sound.

  “The balloon is a clue.”

  I gazed up at the silly balloon. He’d tied the long string around a side mirror, and it was whipping around in the air. SpongeBob lived in the ocean. So, maybe he was taking me for lunch at On the Beach, the restaurant where we’d shared our first meal together after our unforgettable Santa Monica Steps workout. The memory of that day flashed into my head. How he’d carried me up all those steps when I’d gotten a cramp and then massaged my leg to the point of arousal. Tingling all over, I smiled as the 10 turned into the Pacific Coast Highway and the ocean magically appeared.

  Being from the landlocked Midwest, the view of the white-crested Pacific Ocean on one side and the flower-covered craggy hills on the other, never ceased to amaze me. Today the water was a rare aquam
arine, the waves majestic. There was only one view more breathtaking—that of the man sitting next to me with one hand on the wheel, the other on my thigh. As the wind ruffled his dark silky hair, I absorbed the invigorating salty scent of the ocean air. The Lumineers were playing on the radio. Between the gusting wind and blasting music, it was difficult to talk and be heard. But I was fine with the silence. Intermittently, a smile slid on Blake’s beautiful face and I wondered what he was thinking. Hopefully, the same thing I was: I belong to you; you belong to me.

  To my surprise, we passed by On the Beach. We didn’t stop. Blake had another destination in mind.

  “Okay, Mr. Burns, tell me where we’re going.”

  He tugged at my flapping ponytail and smiled wryly. “It’s a surprise.”

  The throbbing between my legs intensified and my heartbeat quickened. Blake was all about surprises. And usually a surprise came with one thing. His spectacular cock. My breathing hitched.

  About forty minutes into the ride, the scenery along the PCH became significantly more rugged. The beach houses lining the narrow highway disappeared, replaced by towering cypress trees that obscured the ocean view. I begged Blake again to tell me where he was taking me.

  Blake stole a look at me and smiled his heartstopping dimpled smile. “You’ll see in a few minutes.”

  Sure enough, five minutes later, the car turned left onto an almost hidden road. Blake slowed down as he expertly navigated a rocky serpentine path. On either side of the rustic road, tall trees mixed with wild grass and flowers. The scent of the foliage mixed with that of the sea and was divine enough to bottle. A staggering all-glass structure came into view. Blake pulled into the impressive pebbled driveway. Semi-circular in shape, it could easily accommodate a dozen vehicles.

  I gawked at the arch­itectural­ly magnificent edifice. It was something straight out of one of those expensive interior design magazines with its multi-level planes and angles. And it was huge. Like a mini museum or something. Most amazing of all, it sat on a cliff and overlooked the ocean.

  “We’ve reached our final destination,” Blake said as he hopped out of the car and came around to open my door. I stepped out of the Porsche.