by Jess Bentley
Jake glances over his shoulder at her, following my gaze, and then sighs. “She’s ah… real friendly, isn’t she?”
“It’s your cologne,” I tell him.
Jake frowns. “I’m not wearing cologne.”
“Then you’re a cheapskate,” I laugh. “But no. The only cologne Gloria smells is money.”
He laughs again, and we leave to go on our first…
Lunch. Just lunch, that’s all.
It isn’t a date.
Poetry of Pho is every bit as remarkable as the reviews say, and Jake is, again, a perfect gentleman throughout lunch. We chat about easy stuff — what we did in college, our hobbies. Jake, it turns out, has been training in mixed martial arts for years and after some prodding admits that he’d like to start a gym of his own someday.
“What’s stopping you?” I ask.
He’s quiet, distracting himself with the last piece of goi cuon that I’ve told him he’s welcome to. He looks around afterward, and waves the waiter down for the check.
“Did I hit a nerve?” I ask, confused about the sudden silence.
Jake shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. Want to get out of here?”
I check the time. Nearly four fifteen. “We’re just about out of time,” I inform him. “Per our agreement.”
He chuckles. “Well, we can always catch up on that story next time unless…”
“Unless?” I wonder, intrigued.
“You trust your guy, Chester, to run the place while you’re gone, right?” Jake asks, a smile tugging the corners of his lips a bit.
“Jake, I can’t stay gone too long — ”
“Just a little while longer?” He looks so hopeful that I can’t quite bring myself to tell him no.
“I have something going on at the lounge later in the evening. I can’t miss it, so… a little while but that’s all.” I’m trying to be serious, but can’t keep my lips from turning up at the corners. I don’t even remember the last time a guy made me want to ditch school or work.
Jake is overjoyed, it looks like, and after he pays the bill we leave, and skip the car to walk toward the waterfront. It’s a beautiful afternoon, not too chilly for late summer, and while we start the short walk out at arm’s length I find myself drifting a little closer to him. Jake is easy to talk to, and there’s something about the fact that I know his father wants to put me out of business that makes me feel… secure? I don’t need to have any expectations, which is fine by me. Most people never meet them.
The beach here is beautiful, the sand a clean white, and the midday tide is in, making it a thin strip of white that cleanly divides the great blue from the beige and gray of the city. Jake looks out over the water. “I’d love to start my own gym,” he says, quietly, smiling a little even though his tone seems sad. “But I have some pretty big shoes to fill and it’s my job to fill them.”
“Your dad, you mean?” I lean against the railing with my back to the ocean as he leans to face it.
“The one and only, the great and powerful Reginald Ferry,” Jake announces, as if his father personally brought in the tide. “He thinks the idea of a gym is childish and poorly thought out. Most small gyms never come close to making a profit. I wouldn’t even need it to, frankly, but… Reginald doesn’t appreciate most things that don’t turn a profit.”
I frown; he sounds like he’s talking more about a boss than a father. “You call your dad by his first name?”
Jake shrugs. “Names like ‘Dad’ and even ‘Father’ never really seemed to stick, and now they’re just… awkward, you know what I mean? Like it doesn’t fit.”
“I completely get that, actually.” I sigh, thinking about George and even about my actual father. It takes me a real effort to call him “Dad” and even then… it doesn’t quite roll off the tongue. “My stepfather is sort of the same. I’m not close with him, but my brothers are. They practically worship the ground he shits on.”
Jake laughs suddenly, surprised enough to snort, and there’s his handsome smile again. “They should have been born Ferrys. Reginald would love that. If he misses anything, and I’m not sure he does, he probably misses the person I was before I grew my own conscience.” He stares off across the ocean, remembering. “He seemed like a titan to me when I was younger. Like he had the answer to every question and he was this unstoppable force in the world. He never panicked, never even had to raise his voice very often. He just pointed, and things got done. I wanted to be just like him.”
“And now?” I ask. It’s an important question. There’s no way he’ll answer it honestly, and there’s no way I could believe him if he did — but I do want to know what he’ll say.
“Sometimes, now, I’m not sure I even have much of a choice.”
“That’s part of the whole reason I started Red Hall,” I say. “Not that I feel like I have to become my stepfather or anything but…” Jake looks at me, and for a moment I’m worried about opening up. It’s something I haven’t told anyone before. But he looks so benign at the moment, and so sympathetic that I go on. “I came from nothing. Broken family, narcissistic stepfather that I could never please and probably never will, and a real father that up and left when I was a kid. Red Hall, for me, is my way out of all of that. I can finally stand on my own two feet, and take care of my mother the way she needs me to because no one else is going to do it and… if I don’t succeed here, there’s just nothing for me. I do it because I have to. I love it, don’t get me wrong — it’s my pride and joy at this point in my life. It was desperation that got me where I am, though, and it still pushes me every day.”
“Desperation,” Jake says. “Yeah. That’s a word I understand.”
He’s still looking at me, like we’ve just been introduced. Like he did that first night, except with more honesty. When he leans in this time, I let him.
His lips are generous, and soft, and when they touch mine the heat of it tingles through my cheeks and down my spine. It’s a simple thing, just that little bit of contact, but it’s enough that my whole body relaxes into it and all I want is for him to wrap his arms around me and take me away and —
I pull back. “Um… I’d better…”
“Yeah,” Jake says hastily. “I can take you back. You’ve got a lot going on.”
“I do,” I say.
There’s a pause, and I know we both want to fill it with another kiss. Jake straightens, taking a step away from the railing. “I’m sorry about that, I just — ”
“It’s okay,” I assure him. “Really it was… it’s been a long time for me. Good to be reminded it all still works.”
He chuckles, but he’s disappointed. Nothing I can do about that, though, other than hope that it doesn’t mean he won’t want to meet again. Do I really want to, though?
As we walk back to the restaurant and get into his car I realize that yes, yes I really do.
Fuck.
Back at the lounge, Lacey catches me when I arrive. “Where have you been? The samples are at the chef’s table.”
“Samples?”
She stares at me, aghast. “Yeah, the samples. The hot sauces, Janie, remember?”
Right. God, I’m a mess right now. Janie Hall, you need to get your priorities in order. “Right, of course. Sorry I’m late. Where’s Chester?”
“Back there already, come on.” Lacey tugs me toward the back of house. After weaving through a few patrons — dinner looks like it might actually pick up a bit tonight — and shaking a few hands she takes me to the chef’s table in the kitchen, where there are fifteen carafes with samples of hot sauces made from chilies we sourced from every corner of the globe. Even at a distance a few of them hit my nose.
Gloria wanders over from prep just as Chester is sitting down across from me, and begins to pull up a chair.
“Go man the bar, please,” I tell her.
She looks at me like I might have made a joke. When no one laughs, she sighs, and leaves the chair where it is to hop to it.
Chester at least waits until she’s gone to say anything. “She has been a nightmare all day. She won’t fucking shut up about you and Jake Ferry. Which, by the way, can I just say I can’t believe you went out with him?”
“Neither can I,” I mutter. As if Chester could say no, if Jake was of another persuasion. “All right… Chef Lacey, dazzle me. I desperately need it.”
Janie
“And this one sauce Lacey made from Chimayo peppers she got from a guy in New Mexico that’s managed to cultivate a consistent flavor that’s just… amazing,” I’m telling Mama in her hospital room. She looks excited, and it’s good to see her smiling. “Another one that I really like is the puya base — it’s sort of sweet. I think we narrowed it down to about six really fantastic, high-quality hot sauces, and Lacey and I already have dozens of ideas about how to use them. We’re going to roll out a different sauce each week for six weeks, make it a sort of event. I think this is going to put us on the map, Mama.”
She smiles at me, but there’s a sad edge to it. There’s nervousness in her eyes. “Sounds like you’re going to be a busy bee,” she says.
“Mama… I’ll still come see you,” I tell her. “Come on, have I ever been too busy for you?”
A sigh, and then she pats my hand where it’s resting on hers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Just… it’s good that things are going so well for you, Janie. I’m proud of you.”
“I know you are, Mama,” I tell her. “Thank you. Have you… seen George or the boys lately?”
Mama shrugs her shoulders and waves a hand dismissively, but she won’t look at me as she does. “They’ve all got a lot going on, you know. I’m okay here. The nurses are very nice. And I think they’re sending me home soon.” She doesn’t sound excited about it. I wish she were.
“Well listen, I’ve got to go for now, but I’ll come by later, okay?”
“Okay, love,” she says, resigned. I wish I could just stay with her, keep her company, but there’s nothing to be done about it. I’ve got a business to run.
So I kiss her on the forehead and make my way out of the hospital. I break several speed limits on the way back to the lounge, and pray that I don’t get stopped. If I hadn’t spent part of the morning indulging in fantasies about Jake, I would have gotten to the market on time with Lacey and subsequently been able to spend real quality time with Mama without feeling rushed. But I make it to the lounge with a few minutes to spare and close off the office to change for the evening.
It’s a big night. No one knows that we’re launching the new line of hot sauces yet, or that we have any events planned, but Chester and I both pulled every local string we have between us to get as many people in tonight as we could manage. Lacey has a number of dishes ready to go, just some amuse-bouches the wait staff will be carrying around the lounge with a painstakingly scripted delivery to reveal the upcoming Season of Heat.
From the moment I leave Mama, I’m distracted. All I can think about is Jake and that kiss. All night I’m certain that it shows on my face and I keep having to check myself, make sure that I’m not smiling too much, that I look appropriately professional and not like I’m on some kind of drug.
Because the truth is, I am. I’m high, and I want to come down, but the only way to do that is to convince myself that Jake Ferry is a worthless excuse for a human being who will drop me like a hot rock as soon as he’s gotten his dick wet.
So why can’t I do that? It’s frustrating me. I’m a logical person. I shouldn’t allow my head to be turned by some playboy. But there’s something about him, and it’s more than the perfect looks. He understands what I’m talking about, what I mean when I talk about George, about the company. We’re both up against things that we don’t know if we can overcome. Although I will, I promise, I will fight.
But anyway, back to work.
The amuse-bouches are a hit, and once they’ve made it around the lounge I’m finally able to be distracted enough by the praise and congratulatory cheers about the announcement. Lacey and I mingle among the guests and after an hour of being excited about the hot sauce line I manage to forget about Jake entirely.
Now all I have to do is keep forgetting about him. Easy.
Once the place closes down, Chester pours shots. Technically against the rules and that whiskey isn’t cheap, but we do have reason to celebrate. Hell, even Gloria gets a shot.
“To Janie Hall,” Chester cheers, raising a glass to me. “Our fearless leader.”
“And to Lacey Ming,” I add, cheering my chef, “the brilliant talent behind this place, without whom I’d be forced to cook and we’d all be out of a job.”
We laugh together, and take our shots, and then it’s back to work. Closing duties are assigned, but the benefit of being the boss is no longer having to mop floors or wash tables. There has to be a perk to balance out the stress, right?
I stop cold — or, more honestly, hot — when I walk out of the building. Leaning against a yellow Lamborghini is my drug, and in a second I’m high again. “What are you doing here?”
“Well,” Jake says, sheepish, “I thought we had a good time yesterday and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since… , so, I decided to gamble.”
“Did you, now?” I wonder. “The stakes?”
“Up the coast,” Jake says, approaching slowly, “there is this little cove. Something about the shape of it makes the water unbelievably calm. Clear blue, right to the bottom. Tall, gorgeous cliffs all around it, perfect white sand… and a little house right on the beach. Isolated and quiet, the kind of place that just sucks the stress right out of you.”
We’re almost nose to nose, and I realize too late that his fingers are gently caressing my arm.
“What do you say?” he whispers, his words warm on my lips. “I can have you back by dinner tomorrow.”
“How far is this place?” I ask, clinging to something like pragmatism.
Jake chuckles. “By Lamborghini? Not far.” He brushes my lips with his. “We can go as fast as you want…”
“You’d like that,” I manage to say. His lips are magnetic; mine feel drawn to his and whatever part of my brain is supposed to stop that sort of thing is shorted out.
“So would you,” Jake says. “I promise.”
I believe him. Or at least, my body does — that familiar heat between my legs spreads to my skin quickly, and suddenly the feeling of his fingers on my bare arm is electric.
Jake is just here for conquest. I know that. But honestly… maybe it doesn’t have to be just him. Don’t I deserve a little fun? After all the work I’ve put into this place? It’s just one night. After that I’ll probably never see Jake again, and you know what? I could be okay with that.
“All right,” I tell him, leaning in to bite his lip. “Take me.”
I have to admit — there’s something strangely hot about driving a hundred and ten miles an hour on a winding road. The Lamborghini’s engine is a smooth vibration that courses through the car seat and into me.
Talking is pointless; neither of us could hear anything over the roar of the engine, so the music is up and loud and if we go any faster I might actually somehow be able to outpace all my problems, all my worries.
Jake glances at me, and his lips move.
“What?” I shout at him.
He grins, and reaches over to my seat. His fingers slide my dress up my thighs, and he tugs at the exposed strap of my panties. In another second, he’s under them, and then I gasp as he finds me wet and sensitive from the rumbling of the car.
Whatever he’s up to down there, pinching and rubbing and stroking in slow circles, it’s better action than I give myself and I melt around it. Jake isn’t even looking — he’s got his eyes on the road — but his smile is smug, and when I moan loud enough to be heard over the radio and the engine he laughs and his fingers work that much harder and God I’m close…
As if he’s reading my mind — or at least some part of me — he eases off, explo
ring my lower lips with gentle, light caresses that feel incredible but are just shy of what I really need.
It takes another half an hour before we pull off the highway, and by the time we do I can barely see straight.
The absence of noise when the car stops is jarring, like coming back to the real world from a dream. I can still feel the echoes of the engine in my body. Or maybe that’s Jake’s manipulation of my clit that’s got me buzzed.
Either way, a moment later he’s opening my door and helping me out of the low-riding sports car.
The place is everything he said it would be, even at night. There’s a full moon high in the sky, surrounded by stars that glitter off the surface of a preternaturally smooth lagoon.
Whatever breath I have left is taken away by the sight.
“Want a glass of wine?” he asks casually as he leads me to the door. “I had the place stocked.”
“Did you, now?” I laugh, and let him take me to the bar.
Once there, though, instead of letting him pour me a glass, I pull him to me and press my lips to his. Jake makes a surprised little grunt that turns into a low growl. His hands find the small of my back and pull me to him so that our bodies are pressed together, and I can feel that he’s every bit as hungry for this as I am.
And then he’s dipping a bit to pull my dress up over my thighs, and I’m off the floor, my legs wrapped around his waist as he turns us toward the bar and sits me down on it. Our lips still in contact, his tongue piercing my mouth, he finds my panties and tugs, pulling them off entirely.
I moan when his fingers slip inside me, his thumb massaging my aching, teased nub and his teeth catch my lower lip as he laughs softly at my ecstatic agony, quickly working me into a feverish kind of madness that has me bucking against his hand.
When he lets my mouth go, I almost fall forward chasing him. He pushes my dress the rest of the way up — I want to take the damn thing off — and before I know it he’s spread my knees apart. His lips and tongue clamp down around me, and my toes curl as I make a strangled sound. I have to brace myself on the overhang above the bar to keep from falling.
