Sparring Partners

by Leigh Morgan

  "Fourth– we live in Wisconsin, not Japan. I'm your wife, not some dip-shit call girl you prettied-up for company. And...and...I don't like your tie. Or your shirt. Or your shoes all that much...and that mean smile you're wearing sucks."

  She'd managed to shake out most of the pins holding her unruly curls in place. Damn she was lovely spitting fire at him. What the hell was he doing here – what was he doing to her?

  "Are you done?"

  She thought about it for a second. Then nodded. "Yes."

  Jordon reached out and tucked one curl behind her ear, then before she could protest, he pulled her to him, holding her forehead to forehead. "I'm sorry. I should have prepared you for this weekend, and unfortunately I don't have time now."

  Reed sniffled but didn't pull away.

  "This weekend– this deal– it means everything to me, Reed. This deal with Takahara is everything I've spent the last eighteen years of my life working to accomplish. It's who I am. I need you to help me make it happen. Can you do that? Please, Reed. Can you suck up your pride and help make this happen?"

  Jordon felt her stiffen and then relax. He knew what he was asking went against everything that made Reed, Reed. He even felt a millisecond of guilt, until an image of Peichin Takahara's offended smile, as he bowed to Reed, crushed his reluctance to use her this way.

  "Okay. I'll help you. But don't ask me to do this again. I'm perfectly able to hold my own in any room, Jordon, I just won't stand for you looking ashamed of me ever again."

  Jordon stopped listening at 'okay', a lapse in judgment he'd be punished for later.

  "Now go. Change into that pale yellow dress I picked out for you to wear. The one from Paris. There are matching pumps in the garment bag."

  Jordon didn't see Reed's dejection. His mind was already back with the men in the study. Absently, he kissed the top of her head as he pushed her out the bathroom door.

  "I'll see you at dinner. Oh, and you might want to do something with your hair." He said, straightening his tie, not bothering to look back.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Jordon woke before dawn, as was his habit before he moved to Potters Woods. It was as if some internal time clock wouldn't let him sleep past four a.m. That wouldn't have been an issue if he'd actually fallen asleep in his bed last night, but he'd been up past two in William's study, pouring over earnings statements and potential liabilities if B.H. were to acquire Takahara's current holdings and his new concept for alternative health facilities in the west.

  Takahara had some good ideas, most of them would turn a reasonable profit, but Jordon had some questions on how they would best be implemented. Potters Woods had implemented various programs to stimulate and foster the mind-body-spirit approach to health care Takahara seemed to favor. If only Jordon could wow him with how to integrate the two, he just might beat Jay Giles to the punch, something he'd been savoring since William brought Giles in. Giles really wasn't a bad guy. He made B.H. tons of money since he started working there. Jordon begrudgingly respected Giles's wit and his uncanny ability to spot a long-term business winner.

  What Jordon couldn't stomach was the relentless competition. He used to thrive on that competition. Now, it had him sleeping on William's desk while Giles slept soundly with his perfectly attractive, perfectly behaved, always pleasant wife.

  Jordon hadn't seen his wife since she retired after dinner, a dinner where his fire-haired, fire-hearted wife said nothing if not spoken to directly, and smiled so blindingly at everyone that even Charlie was concerned enough to quietly ask Jordon if Reed was sick.

  Charlie was a better ex-husband than Jordon had been a husband since they got here. Jordon knew it, and still he couldn't seem to help himself. Somehow he'd make it up to her after he finished this deal. When he was running B.H., the pressure would be off. He could spend more time with her then and properly teach her how to handle herself as an ambassador for B.H.– for him.

  Of course, she was going to have to change her name to Bennett. No more of this Mohr crap.

  Jordon shook off the cobwebs in his head, put the papers he'd read and re-read back into his case, locked the case in the closet safe that was reserved solely for him, and headed to the kitchen. What he needed was a pot of coffee, not that herbal tea crap he got at Potters Woods. How many pots did he drink during a normal day before Potters Woods– he couldn't remember. He hadn't really missed it until now.

  "Ms. Reed didn't look so well at dinner."

  Jordon moved to the thirty-six cup sterling coffee server which, evidently, Thorson had filled. For that at least, Jordon was grateful. For the commentary, the jury was still out. Overall, it wasn't starting out well.

  "Good morning, Thorson."

  "Mr. Bennett."

  Jordon leaned against the long kitchen counter, within reach of the coffee, and eyed the man who had worked for his family since he was a child. The only name Jordon had ever heard him use was Thorson. Whether that was his first or his last, Jordon never knew, and until this moment hadn't been all that curious about.

  "Since when do you call me Mr. Bennett, Thorson? You've called me Jordon all my life."

  "Seems to me you're not trying to be Jordon anymore. Seems to me you'd rather be Mr. Bennett."

  "Am I supposed to understand what you're talking about?"

  Thorson took another sip of whatever it was he was drinking, then, Jordon noticed the teapot. That made more sense. Thorson made coffee, but Jordon couldn't actually remember him ever drinking it.

  "Don't expect you to." Thorson said, in that slow manner of his that used to calm Jordon as a child. Now it only pissed him off. "At least not anymore." Thorson said more to himself it seemed than to Jordon. Then he let it drop.

  Jordon had bigger things to worry about than Thorson's mood swings.

  "As I was saying, sir, Ms. Reed didn't look well last night. Perhaps something she ate didn't agree with her."

  Jordon set his coffee down and ran both hands through his hair. "Reed's fine. She's just not used to company of this caliber, that's all." Jordon stopped, hands still in his hair and pierced Thorson with his gaze. "That's the second time you've referred to my wife as Ms. Reed. Are you trying to tell me something, Thorson?"

  The older man shrugged and took another sip from his cup. Jordon looked more closely at the mug, eyes narrowed. Neon stripes of yellow, purple, orange and green flanked the top and the bottom of the pink mug that read: Instant karma's gonna get you.

  "Where did you get that mug?"

  "Ms. Reed gave it to me when I said I liked the color."

  "Will you quit calling her that?"

  "That's her name."

  "Her name is Reed– " he almost said Mohr, stopped himself and said, "Bennett. Reed Bennett."

  "That's not how she signs her checks." Thorson shot back.

  "Well it will be."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes." Jordon gritted out, not moving his teeth.

  "Why does it matter to you what name she uses? A rose is a rose after all."

  This was one of Thorson's favorite games. He played it with Jordon while Jordon was growing up and helping with odd jobs around the house, gardening mostly and seeing to the horses. Thorson had some bit of wisdom to impart, and it was Jordon's role to learn the bit of wisdom and to recite back to him any literary or historical references Thorson used to make his point. They hadn't played in years, and here the old man was challenging him again.

  "The bard? Really? Little off your game, aren't you, old man?"

  "Would you have preferred Marlowe? Bussy-Shelly perhaps? Or maybe it's Mary Shelley you prefer. Her work seems to suit you. She wasn't really married, you know, and yet she still took Percy's name. Do you think that made a difference between them?"

  "Just spit it out Thorson." Jordon looked at his watch, swallowed the remainder of his coffee in one gulp, and set his cup on the counter behind him. "I've got work to do."

  "Ahh."

  "Ahh...what?" Jordon demanded,
more irritated than he wanted to be.

  "That work will be a lot easier if Miss. Reed magically becomes Mrs. Bennett, won't it?"

  "That's got nothing to do with it."

  "So you want her to change who she is then, not just what she calls herself. I wonder why you'd want an orchid when it's the wild rose that caught your eye."

  Caffeine induced irritability poured through Jordon's system like Coke over a rust covered screw, eating everything in its path. He watched Thorson pour himself another cup of tea as if he had all the time in the world to enjoy it and no worries to bitter its sweet taste. Jordon wanted to choke him.

  Instead, he left the room without another word.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Reed felt hung-over and ready to kill something. As soon as she brushed her teeth, she intended to get right on that. Right now, however, she needed ten more minutes of sleep. She was pretty sure homicide was an activity for the fully awake.

  Unfortunately, she didn't know who to kill.

  Shay solved that problem for her by hitting her over the head with a silk covered throw pillow. The tassels on the damn thing stung like hell, but they banished the snakes. So much for small favors, Reed mused.

  "What the hell are you doing? Get out of my room."

  Shay grinned at her and hit her again. "Not on your life princess. I don't work for you, I work for your husband, and I've been given the task of playing babysitter. Now get your ass out of bed."

  "Go away."

  "Don't make me move that ottoman. It's going to hurt a heck of a lot more than these prissy-ass pillows."

  "Give me ten more minutes."

  "No."

  "Bastard."

  "I'm not even going to go there baby-girl. I'm in too good a mood."

  "Yeah?" Reed asked, sneaking a one eyed peek at him from under her pillow. "Bring your sparring gear?"

  "Indeed I did. I brought yours too." He slapped her bottom over the covers. "Now get your lazy ass outta bed. It's after ten and you're the only one who hasn't been up for hours. Meet me in the gazebo in fifteen minutes. I've already roped it off. We'll go a few rounds before we break out the sticks."

  With that, Shannon O'Shay backed out of the room. When he made it to the door he threw her running shoes at her head. "You fall back asleep and I've got permission to spank you...and then kick your ass."

  Reed bounded up and threw the shoes at Shay's head. Unfortunately, all she hit was the door. His laughter spurred her into and out of the shower in record time. She quickly threw on her peace frog shirt, blue yoga pants, and her wrist guard and ran to the gazebo. She checked her pink rubber sports watch that ran on light as she crossed the threshold of the front door, waving to Thorson as she jogged by.

  10:08a.m.

  In fighting-mode in under nine minutes. The day was looking up.

  ...

  Jesse felt as out of place here, rubbing elbows with the rich kids from Chicago that were spending their daddy's money, as he had when he first arrived at Potters Woods a lifetime ago. He wasn't the same fourteen year old boy, so afraid of losing everyone around him that he didn't care whether he lived or died, as he was then, but that didn't stop the gut wrenching fear he'd felt then from coursing through his veins now.

  Fear of loss did that to a person, even at almost seventeen.

  He watched as Reed and Shay sparred without gloves or gear, just messing around doing some pre-arranged movements and some not so pre-arranged. Reed knocked Shay on his ass twice, and judging from the smirk on Shay's face, and the fact that he didn't retaliate on at least five openings Jesse saw, made Jesse think Shay deserved it. Shay was Jesse's friend too and he knew enough about the man to know he was trying to take Reed's mind off thinking she was a failure.

  She wouldn't see it that way, but his adoptive mother never admitted defeat. Not as long as he'd known her. Giving up just wasn't part of who she was, not when she could find another way around. That's what she'd done to keep him.

  That's what he hoped she'd found a way to do to keep Jordon. Jesse liked Jordon. He had a sense for people, good and bad. Jordon was a good guy, Jesse felt it in his bones. It was a feeling he'd turned into a skill he depended on to survive, and it had never steered Jesse wrong. That's why it was so hard to understand how Jordon magically turned into a complete asshole within an hour of getting to the cottage.

  Jesse wanted to go home. With his family. They had to get Jordon away from this place before the asshole-ness became permanent. Even Charlie, who thought Jordon was the greatest thing ever to happen to Reed, was beginning to wonder. Something had to give. There had to be some way to make this better for Reed. And Jordon, himself, looked as miserable as he was making all of them feel.

  Jesse pulled at the collar of his starched polo shirt, a gift from Jordon along with five pair of some designer khaki pants that came to a point in front and had to be ironed. Who irons anything these days? The clothes made him itch, and his new boat shoes gave him blisters. Jesse couldn't understand why anyone would actually wear these awful things, he slipped coming down the hill because they had no traction. They didn't even come to his ankles, how was he supposed to fight in them? Worse than that, they were cream colored with splotches of green and dark blue. He looked gayer than Charlie, and that wasn't easy.

  Rubbing his neck, Jesse headed toward the gazebo. Maybe Reed would let him go a few rounds with Shay, it might make him feel better.

  "That red-headed boy looks like a girl." The most beautiful woman Jesse had ever seen said, as she brushed past him.

  He recognized her: Giselle Gabbiana. Her face was spread all over town, advertizing everything from perfume to motorcycle batteries. Wow. She looked even better in person. She was walking with Mrs. Giles and another woman he'd yet to be introduced to. They all ignored him.

  "That's Jordon's wife." Mrs. Giles said, nothing in her tone but respect.

  "You've got to be kidding." Giselle laughed, and the sound rippled through Jesse like warm rain. He re-adjusted his pants, hating when that happened.

  "I'm not kidding, and you'd do well to hold your tongue. I've met her. Reed's very nice." Mrs. Giles smiled, somewhat evilly in Jesse's opinion, but her tone was sweet when she said, "Of course you could always laugh at her to her face. Understand though, you might be risking that perfect nose of yours."

  Giselle wasn't bothered by Mrs. Giles's suggestion. She smiled her own fifty-thousand dollar a day smile and took a sip of something clear from a twisted over-sized inverted triangle glass. She blew Mrs. Giles a kiss, meowing like a cat.

  The hair on the back of Jesse's neck stood at attention, the same second another part of him deflated. Giselle was a bitch, and he didn't like the way she was smiling at his mother.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  "Ready to say 'uncle' yet Mohr?" Shay said, dancing around her. He was always light on his feet, but today he was dead-spot-on, kicking her tail like the pro he was.

  Oh what it must be like to be tall, powerful and male, if only for a three minute round. Someday, Goddess willing, she'd come close. That day was not today. Still, all things considered, she'd bruised a few ribs, taken a few names and exorcized a few demons. Not the black-hearted-pirate-samurai-caveman-demon she married, but some other lesser demons bit the gazebo floor. All in all, not a bad morning's work.

  "Not unless I can use the words 'uncle', 'William' and 'supreme-evil-jackass' in the same sentence." Reed said, huffing and puffing as she tried to keep up with Shay who was taller, stronger, and had less body fat, not to mention the fact that he'd fought professionally for a time. He was being kind to her now, she knew it and was grateful for the gesture today. Tomorrow?– well she'd see how the night went before she made any promises.

  "Go ahead, Red. I don't work for him either."

  Reed smiled at him and stopped dancing. She held out one arm, the other on her knee as she bent over to get a deep breath. "Thanks, Shay. I needed this."

  "Put some meat on your skinny ass and you just m
ight be able to go more than six rounds."

  Reed looked up at him through her hair, not moving her bent head. "I mean it Shay. I thought I was going to kill the next person who called me Mrs. Bennett in that superior condescending tone that really means, what did Jordon see in you?"

  That wiped the perpetual Irish smile from Shay's merry face. "Who the hell told you that?"

  Reed was please by his ire. "No one. They're far too polite to come out and actually say anything, but it's there. I feel it every time I walk past one of these blue-bloods like a slap in the face. That silver spoon they're born with must be laced with the ability to make other people feel less human. Like malevolent fairy-dust."

  "Are you sure that's not just you being your own worst hyper-critical-enemy? You know you have a habit of doing that when you're unsure of where you stand."

  "I do not." Reed countered, standing.

  "Do too, candy-ass."

  Reed felt her shoulders slump and suddenly Shay's sweaty arm wrapped around her, bolstering them up. "There's no reason for you to second guess why Jordon married you. Every single man I know, and even some married ones, would marry you given half a chance, myself included. Not many of them could handle you though, present company excepted, but never doubt your worth to the male of the species."

  She could have hit him. She could have made light of his declaration. She told him the truth instead.

  "I'm glad you're here, Shay."

  "Me too." He said seriously. Then that happy-wanna-see-my-leprechaun-gold smile was firmly back in place. It slipped only a little with his next topic. "I'm going to see Irma this afternoon. She still hasn't come out of her coma. Wanna come with?"

  Reed felt her first real smile since mistakenly entering William's study last night. "Absolutely."

  ...

  "Things didn't go so well last night with your wife." William said, looking up from his morning paper, one of about five he still got in print format, the other ten or so he read online.