Just To See Her (The Bancrofts: Book 8)

by Barrett, Brenda

  She was doing a minor in Music Education and had to teach an instrument for seven hours per week. She had chosen the piano as her instrument; after all, she had learned to play it when she was just four years old. As result, she thought that teaching it would be a walk in the park.

  Her students were the ones who assessed her after each session. She glanced at the questionnaire on the desk behind her and sighed. She wanted to graduate next year, so she just had to grin and bear it. Though she wanted to wring the neck of her current student, she was smiling with him vaguely as he banged out the most tuneless sound ever to come from the piano.

  She had told him time and time again that he was doing it the wrong way, but he refused to listen. She closed her eyes and imagined that the timeless Beethoven’s “Fur Elise” was playing instead of the garbled nonsense her student was torturing her with.

  Inevitably, she thought about Clay when she closed her eyes. Since Saturday night, he had been on her mind constantly. She found herself thinking about him at the oddest moments and smiling to herself.

  She had watched him in action on Saturday night—calm and cool. He was the guy everyone wanted to talk to, and he didn't even do anything to invite the attention. People just liked him. Women just liked him, she corrected. All of the Block 1 women had been buzzing around him like he was the center of a hive, especially that Tracy Carr. She had found an excuse to speak with him at every turn, and Clay had handled the attention with equanimity.

  He was mature and wasn't overwhelmed by the attention. Jessica liked that—his maturity and his smile. He had a way of smiling slowly; it started with a small upturn of his lips and then it slowly spread across his chiseled lips and moved to his eyes. It lit her up inside. She was a goner for sure, but then she had the worrying thought that she was probably too immature for Clay.

  Maybe she needed to tone down her youthful exuberance. What did Ramon call her—a livewire?

  She was forcibly dragged out of her reverie when her student ended the piece on a maddening crescendo. She cupped her ears.

  "That's the most ear auditory abuse I've gotten in a while."

  Her student looked at her, a frown marring his brow. Jessica looked at his name badge. His name was Ronald.

  "Is that good or bad?" he demanded.

  Jessica opened her eyes wider. "It depends on if you like auditory abuse."

  "Huh?" He got up from around the piano and hissed his teeth. "Where's the evaluation sheet?"

  "Over there." Jessica pointed at the stack of papers on the table and glanced at her watch; it was a Khaled limited edition timepiece with Khaled's face in the middle. She looked at his face and it failed to raise a smile out of her. She was really moving on.

  She studied him as she heard Ronald scribbling his evaluation. He had a smooth caramel complexion, shiny curly hair—some of it was in his face. He had green eyes and extremely white teeth.

  Deidra always teased her that Khaled looked too pretty. She had to agree now. She had never really seen it before. To even think it was being disloyal to him. She looked at him, comparing him to Clay's more manly, rugged features.

  She jumped when Ronald slapped down the evaluation on the desk and walked out of the room without telling her goodbye.

  Ungrateful, she thought, feeling amused: after he had abused her ears, he had the audacity to walk out on her.

  She got up and picked up her backpack. She loved teaching music, but teaching Ronald made one thing clear to her: she would much rather work with children; they grasped the concepts faster and handled the instruments with more adeptness than adults.

  She had to face it; she might have to end up teaching music unless she was going to open her own recording studio. It would be nice to open a studio with Clay. The thought flitted across her mind and she shoved it back. He was doing chemistry. He wasn't interested in the studio life anymore.

  She had it in the back of her mind to ask him to give her a tour of his uncle's studio, but she didn't want him to think she was asking because she wanted to meet Khaled in person. She did, but that was not why she was interested in Clay.

  She walked to the porch of the building and realized that outside was prematurely dark even though it was just five-thirty. It was going to rain. The dark ominous clouds in the distance looked like they were going to burst any second now.

  She wished she had driven to school instead of taking the ten-minute walk over. Now she, her bag, and the evaluation sheet were going to be soaked. Maybe her evaluation by Ronald could do with a good soaking; she wouldn't mind.

  She had to call someone to come and pick her up. She took out her phone, and her hands hovered over Ramon's name. She scrolled through her contacts list and called Clay instead. She wanted to see him. Why not?

  He answered on the first ring. "Jessica?" His smooth, honey voice calling her name almost had her stammering.

  "Can you come pick me up?" Jessica asked, "I didn't drive this morning."

  "Sure. Where are you?" he asked eagerly.

  She smiled after she hung up. He didn't even hesitate. He liked her all right.

  *****

  Clay drove up in a black Range Rover. Jessica's eyes widened; she had no idea that he drove such a luxurious vehicle. As soon as she slammed the door behind her, the first splatter of rain hit the windshield. "You reached here in record time," she grinned at Clay.

  Clay nodded. "And at the right time too. It is going to be a wet night." He wiped away a wet spot that was on her cheek. "You look gorgeous, you know that?"

  Jessica flushed. It was the almost fortuitous Smoky Robinson's song, Cruisin', that came on the radio at that moment. She couldn't keep eye contact with him; his stare was so intense. Jessica started humming along to the song.

  Clay looked through the windshield. "Where do you want us to cruise to?"

  "I was thinking to my home." Jessica put on her seatbelt. Her day, which had seemed as slow as molasses, was now brighter. The rain was coming down in earnest now, and they could barely see through the downpour in front of them.

  "Or we could wait for the rain to subside and then head to Alligator Pond and eat fish on the beach," Clay said.

  Jessica nodded vigorously. "That would be great."

  Clay grinned. "I have been wanting to do that ever since I moved here in the summer. I hadn’t found anybody to go with whose company I would enjoy, until now."

  Jessica smiled. "I am willing to go on any new adventure with you...er... that is if you want to."

  Clay looked at her. The rain on the glass was creating patterns where the shadow hit his face. "I want to."

  They watched as the rain drove against the glass like a silvery sheet. Clay turned on the heater in the car and they listened to the old hits playing on the radio. It felt as if they were in a comfortable cocoon. Jessica loved the feeling. She wondered if Clay was thinking the same.

  "Can you sing?" Jessica asked him after a short silence.

  Clay smiled. "I'd rather not say."

  Jessica grinned. "Your voice can't be that bad."

  "It's not." Clay looked at her. He opened his mouth to say something and then stopped.

  "Your voice sounds like it would make a lovely tenor," Jessica said helpfully.

  Clay laughed. "Thank God you didn't say soprano."

  Jessica chuckled. "Why did you break up with your last girlfriend?"

  Clay turned around in the seat and looked at her in the half-dark. "That's a very creative way of asking if I have a girlfriend."

  Jessica nodded. "So, why?"

  "It was a year ago. She migrated to Canada."

  "That's it?" Jessica asked, feeling jealous of the faceless, nameless girl.

  "That's it." Clay shrugged. "It was without fireworks or fanfare. She called from the airport and told me sayonara. Literally. She said, Clay I am leaving you, sayonara."

  "Khaled sang a song about that," Jessica said eagerly. "Sayonara to Kara, no tears, just cheers, don't worry I know that you are sorry."r />
  "I wrote that," Clay said simply. "And yes, her name was Kara."

  "You write songs for Khaled?" Jessica asked in awe. "Why didn't you say something?"

  "It's no biggie." Clay shrugged. "When you are at a studio and you write poems, all you have to do is put music to them and have a decent hook, voila a song is born."

  Jessica moved closer to see his eyes in the dark. "No biggie? I thought Khaled wrote all his songs."

  Clay shook his head. "No! I don't think he wrote any of his songs."

  Jessica was itching to ask Clay a million and one questions, but she could see from his response that he was reluctant to talk about Khaled. There was just something in the way he tensed up when she mentioned the singer. What was it that Clay knew about Khaled? He always answered any Khaled questions cagily.

  The song “Just To See Her” by Smokey Robinson came on and Clay looked at her. "Now that's my favorite song. I love the lyrics and his voice."

  Jessica nodded. "I like it too. I think Khaled should do a cover of it."

  "He's retired, remember?" The rain was easing up slowly and Clay looked out. "Still want to go with me to the seaside? This doesn't feel like seaside weather."

  "Most definitely want to go." Jessica nodded.

  *****

  The rain had stopped by the time they reached the town of Junction, and it had not even touched Alligator Pond, where they were heading. The night was pitch dark on the road leading to the location, and the air felt muggy. As they turned toward the sleepy fishing village, Jessica could smell the sea, which she knew was not far from where they were.

  "I am really looking forward to this," Jessica said excitedly. "The sea always excites me."

  "That's because Mount Faith is so landlocked." Clay replied.

  He glanced at Jessica's brown sparkling eyes and smiled. Jessica was interesting company. She laughed with gusto, sang when a particular favorite song of hers came on the radio, and she was completely uninhibited and fun. He needed a little of that in his life.

  He wondered when in the last few years he had been around anyone who made him feel so comfortable and happy at the same time. He really liked Jessica's approach to life; it made him feel carefree again, a feeling he hadn't felt for years.

  As if to underscore the futility of his latest thoughts, his cell phone rang. He answered as he drove up to the popular Little Ochi Restaurant, which was right on the beach; there were quaint little thatch-roof huts that were fashioned out of canoes. He had been admiring them when he answered his phone without looking on the call display. He was almost sorry that he did.

  "So you are alive?" Noel Reid asked.

  "I am." Clay glanced at Jessica. She was looking at him, an easy smile on her face. "Now is not the time, Uncle Noel," he hissed. "I am on a date."

  "Clay, we are in trouble! The stupid boy is about to destroy the brand."

  "Which boy?" Clay asked.

  "Don't act dumb," Noel hissed. "You know who. He has gone and decided to court trouble. Six years of managing him and managing the media carefully and he decides to give a tell all interview."

  "Run that by me again," Clay said quietly.

  "According to him, he is retired." Noel snorted, "Now he can do what he wants, just like you did. You started this Clay. You know he has always copied everything you do. I wanted one more album and this is what happens. This is your fault."

  "And you were too greedy," Clay said. "I have to go."

  "Don't you dare leave me to handle this fall out alone," Noel groaned. "We have to come up with a plan. This is just as much your business as it is mine."

  "This whole thing was your idea," Clay said calmly. "Maybe it's time somebody did a tell all. Nothing stays hidden forever. Khaled is really retired. No more albums." He hung up and looked across at Jessica, whose mouth was wide open.

  She closed it hurriedly.

  "Well, I couldn't help overhearing. It would have been awkward for me to leave the car and just stare into thin air," she said faintly.

  Clay nodded. "Yes. Let's go eat. I am famished, and these people make the best fried fish this side of Jamaica."

  He saw the curiosity in her eyes, but he couldn't bring himself to answer her or give her an explanation though he knew she was dying to have one.

  He got out of the car, and Jessica followed him. "Are you serious? You mentioned Khaled over the phone to your uncle and had a totally cryptic conversation and then you just say ‘let's go eat.’"

  She was feverishly taking off her shoes to walk in the sand. Clay sighed. He had to give her something or he suspected that he would not be hearing the end of it all night.

  He took off his shoes as well, all the while contemplating what he should say to her. He settled on, "It's just the inner workings of a studio. My greedy uncle is just facing some issues stemming from some creative decisions he made a long time ago."

  "So what about Khaled?" Jessica asked, confused more than ever at his reply. "Why are you so insistent that he is retired."

  "My uncle wanted another album from him, but Khaled is retired and staying that way, and I can't help my uncle at the studio at the moment. I need a break." Clay sighed. "Hey, Jess, were you serious about growing up and growing out Khaled?"

  Jessica stopped walking. They had both been heading toward the sea instead of to the restaurant. She nodded. "Well, I am trying to. I really am."

  "Good." Clay took her hand in his. "It's the here and now that really matters, and the real."

  Jessica swallowed. "And what is it that's real?"

  "The sand under your toes, the warm sea water lapping the side of the shore. My hand in yours." He hugged her to him, and they stayed like that for a long while, watching the dark sea.

  Chapter Six

  Clay walked into the science lab on Tuesday morning, earlier than usual, with his phone jammed firmly to his ear. His uncle was in full panic mode.

  "The Jamaican Insider is going to carry the story and the fool is going to be doing a tell all interview with Michelle Sommers on Channel 4." Neil Reid sounded like he was going to cry. "She is ruthless; she has chewed up and spat out more formidable people than Khaled."

  Clay chuckled and sat down at the front of the lab. He waved to Stewart, who was already there. Obviously, he was not the only one who was off to an early start. Ray was there as well and had set up the ingredients to make the gunpowder on his table as a demonstration.

  Stewart frowned at Clay and called him over to their regular table. Clay shook his head and held up his finger. He didn't want Stewart to hear the conversation that he was having with his uncle.

  He folded his arms and tried to talk to his uncle sternly. Their roles were now well and truly reversed. His uncle, his father's eldest brother, was the father figure in his life and the one who Clay had relied on for advice, but he was now asking Clay for advice. He wondered if he should be finding the situation as funny as he was. He learned a long time ago that nothing really lasted forever. The last few years with Khaled were profitable for them, but all good things must end eventually.

  He really hoped that Khaled did not tell all, as he was threatening to do. If he did, he would have a huge legal battle on his hands. They had all signed a confidentiality agreement, which would not expire for at least another year. The contract had a seven-year term; until that time elapsed there should be no revealing of the inner workings of the iJam studio. He figured his uncle was now regretting that the contract period wasn't longer.

  "Khaled can't tell all," he reminded his uncle after the older man had gone into a heavy silence.

  "Why on earth not?" His uncle asked, pained. "I always knew that boy was as dumb as a doorknob. If he can't interpret the contract, he'll tell all right."

  Clay chuckled. "We've always known that one day something like this would happen. Let's hope that is not too damaging."

  His uncle sighed. "At any rate I have PR working on a slant to this whole thing just in case that moron goes on national television
un-coached and ruins everything."

  "What about your best of Khaled album?" Clay asked.

  "I have to scrap the release date until the talk that this interview is going to generate dies down. Maybe I can't release it for years."

  "Or maybe you could come clean and have this whole thing straightened out," Clay said, probing to see if his uncle was willing to tell the truth to the world.

  "No," His uncle said abruptly. "Not yet. I'll have to hear what ‘Dumbo’ says in the interview before I do anything."

  Clay said contemplatively, "This is all your doing, you know, your brilliant idea."

  "Yes," Noel said, "but don't kick a man when he's down. Saying ‘I told you so’ won't help me at this time. I always come up with something." He paused and then he asked. "How was your date last night? What's her name?"

  "Jessica," Clay said lightly. "It was a great date. I like her."

  "I hope we don't have another Kara on our hands," his uncle said heavily. "She used you to get close to Khaled, remember. When that oddball messed with her mind and promised her forever she dumped you."

  "How could I forget?" Clay murmured. The sorrow he had felt after that event was no longer there. "Jessica is nothing like Kara."

  His uncle snorted, "Well, I doubt she will want to be near Khaled when he does this tell all interview."

  "When is it going to be aired?" Clay asked. Even though he was not as anxious as his uncle to hear what Khaled was going to say in the interview, he felt a bit apprehensive. Maybe he should watch it with Jessica. She would probably feel the most put out by the revelations.

  He hung up the phone and glanced on the table where Ray had spread out his gunpowder ingredients. On the table, he had what looked like ground sugar beside the charcoal. That made sense. In times past, ground sugar was used to make gunpowder as well. He could see that this was going to be an interesting class. He glanced at his watch; class would start in five minutes. More students had trickled in while he was on the phone. He looked over at Stewart who was busily grinding an ingredient with a small mortar.