Ms. Campbell wasn’t at her desk, and not giving it a second thought, I breezed past her desk and headed for Jack’s office. Outside of the double doors of his office, I ran through my carefully worded question: Hi Mr. Stevens. I wanted to thank you for your help in getting me the internship at NBC. I’m working with their Public Relations division. I’m having a great time, and learning a lot, and I’m incredibly grateful, but I was curious to know how much you had to do with me getting the position.
I knocked twice, and not hearing anything, wondered if he was even in the office since Ms. Campbell wasn’t at her desk either. I turned the handle, and pushed the door open. What I saw set me back on my heels. Papers strewn on the floor, woman with bare legs bent over a large desk, and a man, presumably Jack Stevens, standing behind her—presumably fucking her. The woman groaned and turned her head, but she didn’t see me because her eyes were clenched tightly. “Ohmigod!” I shrieked, and quickly stepped back into the hallway processing what I’d just seen.
Using the wall to keep myself standing, I gasped for air. I wanted to run down the hallway I’d just come down and throw myself back into the elevator. I felt like I was going to puke, and I tried to remember which direction was the bathroom.
It’s not her, I told myself. Short pixie cuts are in style. Lots of women have that hair cut. It wasn’t her. It couldn’t be. I thought I’d picked up on something when I was here over Spring Break, but I’ve always had a “fertile imagination,” according to the very woman I thought I’d just seen. The woman under Mr. Stevens. The woman groaning under Mr. Stevens.
Suddenly, Mr. Stevens’ office door flew open and I was face-to-face with my mother!
“Phoebe, honey. Are you okay?” she asked. It sounded so far away…? “I’ve been meaning to talk to you….”
“Mom?” I asked, my voice shaky and thin. I sounded just like I did after I walked in on the bimbos and Dickwad…. I shook my head. DON’T GO THERE! I shouted to myself.
I watched her take a deep breath and blow it out moving her bangs. It seemed comical. A laugh exploded from my chest. What the fuck was going on with me?
“BeeBee,” she said softly, using the nickname I’d banned my family from using when I was fourteen.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, the urge to throw up mounting. I dropped my head between my knees. I was sitting? When did that happen? I started to panic. I was right back in that hallway. The dorm hallway. After he was such a dickwad. Of course, I’d only seen people having sex, then… and now. My mother was under Jack Stevens.
She took my hands and started to rub her smooth hands over mine. This I knew. This calming method of hers was good. “Phoebe, honey. Are you okay? I don’t like this. Look at me,” she pleaded. The one voice I knew. The one voice I trusted above all others. I forced my eyes to hers and I found calm in her big brown eyes. I blew out a big breath.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“You’re sorry?” I asked. None of this made sense. “I’m gonna puke,” I heard myself say. I clamped my hand over my mouth and my mother helped me up off the floor and down the hall in the nick of time. She rubbed my back as my breakfast was hurled into the toilet.
After I was cleaned up, and chewing on some gum that Mr. Stevens offered me, I sat in his office on a chair across from a sofa where my mother and Mr. Stevens sat—holding hands. My mother was talking, but I wasn’t really hearing what she was saying. Mostly I watched Mr. Stevens sit there quietly observing my mom and me. The desk was behind me, but I could still see it clearly in my mind. And my mother!! I had to get that memory erased from my mind or I was going to puke again.
In a far off voice, I heard my mom say, “…and I just didn’t know how to start the conversation. With your internship just getting started, I didn’t want you to be distracted. How do you tell your daughter that her mom and dad are divorcing?” Divorcing!? After twenty-some-odd years? Why now? Wait… Thinking about it, that wasn’t so bad. Hell, on more than a dozen occasions, I’d wondered why they were even ‘together,’ but truth-be-told they were never ‘together.’ Sure, in the same house, but Dad did his thing, Mom did things with me, Bradley, and Carter. “Everything should be final in two weeks,” my mother said. Two weeks?
“How long has this been going on?” I asked.
“This? Your dad and me? Or this, Jack and I?”
“Um, both?”
“Your dad and I have really not had much between us for years. Jack and I have been together since…” she took a deep breath. This was hard for her. But it was also hard for me. And has to be hard for Dad. He was devastated when I talked to him before I visited Mom last month. I thought about that visit. She and Mr. Stevens—Jack—did seem quite comfortable in each other’s presence. And you don’t just go loaning drivers and limos to a casual friend’s kid. They’ve been… How long had this been going on? And what was my mother doing having sex in his office with him? That was something so out of character for my uptight mother. Or maybe this was what she was getting at with her cryptic talk last month of marriage-and-knowing-who-you-are.
“You were with Mr. Stevens when I was here in April, weren’t you?” I asked. The question came out more as an accusation than I had intended.
“It’s not that easy, Phoebe,” Mr. Stevens inserted. I looked at him and I wanted to hate him, but the look on his face was caring, and soft. He didn’t look like a monster. And to see my mother’s face as she looked at him, I don’t think I’d seen my mother ever look at my dad that way.
“Do you…Do you love her?” I asked him. His face broke out into the most impossible smile. Hell, I fell in love with him and that smile.
“More than you could possibly know,” he said warmly, an arm draping over my mom’s shoulders and pulling her in close. The look on her face was one of utter…contentment? And peace? And love?
“This is going to take me a while,” I said.
“I understand, honey. But please understand that Jack didn’t do this to your dad and me. Dad and I have had our problems for years. I gave Dad more chances than there are cabs in New York City. And I truly believe that I was forever meant to be with Jack, we just happened to meet later in life.” Jack rubbed his hand over my mom’s, gently thumbing the infinity ring.
“So, I’m guessing that you didn’t come here to talk to your mother about us,” Mr. Stevens said.
“Oh! Um…” I muttered, trying to remember exactly why I had come here in the first place. Great communicating, Phoebe! I struggled to replay my morning and remember why indeed I had come here. Finally I remembered and, apparently tact having left my mannerisms, I blurted, “Mr. Stevens, did I get the internship on my merits, or did you call in special favors?”
Mr. Stevens laughed. “If I had that kind of power, I’d be a powerful man indeed. No, Phoebe, you got the position all on your own. No one tells Alex what to do. He still has to answer to his higher ups, Burke, Epstein, Greenblat and a dozen or so other executives. He wouldn’t bring anyone on that would jeopardize his position. I simply got you the interview, along with hundreds or even thousands of other candidates. I didn’t call in any favors whatsoever to get you the internship.”
I sat back and felt somewhat better hearing that. But I still couldn’t wrap my head around Mr. Stevens and my mom as an item.
Suddenly there was a beep on Mr. Stevens’ desk and a woman’s voice came through the speaker on his phone. “Jack, your eleven o’clock is here,” she announced.
“Eleven already? I have to go. I’m getting picked up at my apartment in a half an hour to go and get Chase!” I sprang off the chair and dashed to the door.
“Can we do dinner tomorrow night?” my mom asked as I pulled open the door.
“Tomorrow?” I racked my brain trying to remember what I had going on Friday night. “Oh! Ah—I’m going to dinner with Jenny at her parents’ house. Saturday breakfast?” I offered.
“Perfect,” she said. She hugged me and whispered in my ear, “Next time be sure
to wait for permission before walking through a closed door.” I blushed so intensely with that little admonishment, I feared I might pass out.
“Would you like me to have Anand drive you to your apartment?” Mr. Stevens offered.
“Oh, Mr. Stevens that would be nice but—”
“Please, call me Jack,” he interrupted. Yeah, I guess that he and my mom having some sort of relationship would mean I could drop some of the formalities.
“Thank you—Jack—but it really is a nice day, and the fresh air would do me good,” I said, declining the limo ride.
Not exactly the best way to break it to your daughter that you’re divorcing her dad. Could it have been any more embarrassing that she walked in on Jack and me having sex on his desk? How cliché. It wasn’t the first time we’d had a salacious quickie in his office, but it was the first time we were ever caught. As much as it was a thrill to be on the bawdy side of things, I was always nervous that Jack wouldn’t lock the door, and personally I think he liked the excitement of possibly being caught. Hopefully, he’d lock the door from here on out, because I’m certain this wouldn’t be the last time we would be using his office.
I wondered how Phoebe was taking the news. Was she on the phone to her brothers filling them in? Greg and I were going to have to get on the ball and put calls into them ourselves. I hoped that she would hold off until after we had breakfast on Saturday.
CHAPTER 15
On the twenty minute walk back to the apartment, I tried to process what all had just gone down. I don’t know what part of the past forty minutes shocked me most. My mom was getting a divorce, that she was with one of New York’s Most Eligible Bachelors, or having seen her having sex on her new lover’s desk. Quickly I felt nauseous again. Truthfully, the divorce part didn’t really bother me, not as much as it should have. Many of my friends had divorced parents. And having watched how my parents interacted while they were moving me to New York, many things became obvious. How they talked to one another, my dad’s irritation at New York, the ring, and his comment about his flight, and guys with limos… Mom was living in New York! She had to be staying at Jack’s place. Oh! And Shelby’s comment, when I ate dinner at Ed Scott’s that first day working with Chase…about “just missed my mom” at Ed Scott’s. She’s in town. Been in town. This was all too bizarre.
As I approached my building on Eightieth Street, I spotted the Town Car waiting for me. I asked the driver to wait while I ran upstairs and touched up my makeup and hair, grabbed Chase’s clipboard, and a bottle of cold water. On the drive to Chase’s hotel, I tried to push my insane morning to the back of my mind. I needed to be on my game to battle wits with Chase.
I texted him just as we approached the building and sat back running through the schedule. I asked the driver how long the drive to New Jersey, where today’s shoot was taking place, was going to be. He said it would take about an hour. Shit. I was going to be confined to this small space with Chase… for an hour… twice today.
The car came to a stop in front of the hotel, and I was shocked to see Chase out front waiting for us. And if it were possible, Chase looked better than I’d ever seen him. In the previous days he’d worn tattered jeans, and sorta slouchy clothes. Today he wore a crisp button down, with the top three buttons undone, and the sleeves rolled up to just above the elbow. His neck, that hollow where the collarbones come together, was especially attractive. My eyes dropped lower and I had a glimpse of that amazing chest. He had a super light sprinkling of golden hair. The guys I had always dated were smooth and I had never been attracted to guys with hair on their chest. Chase was hairy… there was just the right amount. I could imagine running my fingers through it. Stop it!! I scolded myself. You’re not dating him. You work for him. He’s your job. You don’t need another Dickwad Danny. You swore off dating for the summer. Remember?!
He pulled open the door to the car and hopped in, slipping off his sunglasses as he did. He defied every law of physics by taking up more space than was available in this car with his mega-watt smile, perfectly styled hair, and violet-blue eyes looking even darker today.
He leaned over and kissed my cheek, his lips lingering longer than they should, and giving me the perfect opportunity to take in the scent that was Chase. Did I just moan? He sat back and just grinned, looking over my black and red ensemble, really enjoying my boots. I shook off his disarming gaze.
“Well, hot-damn, Phoebe. I like this look. Yes, I do,” he said, drawing my attention to him. He ran his tongue along his lower lip and continued, “Very much.” Shit!
Professional. Work. Summer of no dating, I reminded myself. “So, New Jersey today. Do you have your script?” I asked, ignoring his comment and doing everything in my power to keep things about business, and keep my mother’s drama out of my mind.
He licked his lips and nodded. “Actually, I do,” he smiled.
“Good,” I nodded.
“So, tell me about Phoebe Fairchild,” he said, settling in as the car headed into the crazy mid-day traffic.
“I’ve already told you everything,” I responded. We’d chatted before over dinner. He knew the basics. He wanted to play the whole getting-to-know-you game, and I was not going to be played. I was afraid to go deeper. I was afraid he’d take what he learned and somehow use it against me. Single Summer. I don’t need a guy. I was going to be that strong woman that my mother was trying to teach me to be. Shit! My mom had left my dad and was hooking up with Jack Stevens. Her leaving my dad couldn’t be an easy thing to do no matter how destined you feel you are for another guy. Fuck, I was distractible today. “Small town, northern California girl going to school. The end.”
“Who was your last boyfriend? Was he in school with you? Older? Same age? Were you dating him since high school? What did he do to hurt you?” I looked at him perplexed. How did he know? As if reading my mind, he continued, “You mentioned it the first day when you thought I was coming on to you… you got a little worked up over it.”
I blushed recalling the incident in the car that fateful Tuesday after my induction to the world as #ChaseSmythesGirl.
“Why?” I asked him.
“Why what?” he asked innocently…too innocently. “I’m interested. I want to know why you’re so challenging.”
“I’m not challenging. I’m a strong, independent woman.”
“I’ll give you that. But be honest. Is it because someone broke your heart?”
I bit my lip to not let it quiver. Yes, Danny broke my heart.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me. But I hate him for it. I also kinda like him, because if you were still together, we wouldn’t have met and I wouldn’t have a chance.”
“Who says you’ve got a chance? I don’t need a man to define myself, and I don’t do flings anyway.” Okay, so I was challenging.
Chase laughed out loud sending electrical tingling through me and warming my body with the deep, throaty sound. God, could anyone have a laugh that was more sexy? I didn’t think so.
Chase’s phone rang and he answered it. He got quiet and listened to the other person. He was a completely different person listening to whomever was on the other end of the call. I felt weird sitting there. The conversation seemed intensely personal. Unintentionally overhearing the word hospital from the caller, I busied myself with my phone, avoiding Twitter and scrolling through emails and Facebook posts of my friends, I tried my hardest to ignore the few words Chase spoke.
“Thanks for calling. I’ll buzz her tomorrow morning, what’s her room number?…Call me if things change…I don’t care what she or my schedule says. You got it?…Good…Thanks, Brock. Yeah, bye.” He ended the call and stared out the window.
The tension in the car was thick. Not the typical, electric charged tension that usually loomed in the space. Chase looked like he was hurting. “Everything okay?” Dumb! Of course it’s not okay! Look at him!
His eyes swept to mine. He searched my face. Not like he’d done in the pa
st. Not like he was figuring out a puzzle. Not like he was planning on jumping my bones. He searched for…a friend? “Yeah. Has to be,” he whispered. His voice wasn’t the confident and strong Chase I’d seen the past three days. He wasn’t the ‘player.’ He was unsure. He was broken.
“Well, if you need a friend to talk to, I’m a really good listener,” I said quietly, reaching out and taking hold of his hand. And like the atmosphere in the car, this wasn’t the electromagnetic pulse that accompanied our touches. This was a different physical connection.
He looked down at our hands, studied them, and gripped a little in response. He didn’t let go. He just held my hand. We drove the rest of the way to the shoot, which took a little more than forty minutes, in silence just holding hands. The ride wasn’t strained, exactly. It wasn’t comfortable, exactly. But it was a connection. Like Chase was holding on for dear life.
When we pulled up on set at five minutes to one, I watched Chase morph in an instant before my very eyes. He turned on a dime from melancholy and pensive to bright and excited. Once again he was the charismatic Chase Smythe that I, and the world, was familiar with.
For the next several hours I watched Chase work, but not like he had in the previous days. Today he was wickedly focused. All business. Still super friendly, laughing with other actors and very cooperative with the producers, but I could see that something was different. We didn’t head off set on our own for dinner, but maybe that was because he wasn’t as familiar with the area. We ate with the crew at the ‘craft services’ tables, which was a spread catered in burritos that were only so-so.
The whole afternoon and night, my mind battled between my mother’s drama and that call Chase took in the car. My mom’s situation was more or less straightforward, but Chase’s call was cryptic. Who was the ‘her’ and ‘she’ in that phone call? I hadn’t read that anyone in his family was sick. He didn’t say so the other night. Was he one of those celebrities that were dedicated to an ill fan? Was a ‘fellow’ actor not well, a friend? A past girlfriend? Maybe one who was in ‘trouble’? Had he gotten someone pregnant? Seemed the most likely. If I was totally honest with myself, I was a tad bit jealous of this mystery girl. And at the same time, annoyed that he knocked someone up. Typical man. But it was kinda sweet that he cared to be interrupted with whatever he was doing to take care of her. And it wasn’t like I wanted a relationship with Chase, so it was all good. Right?
Chasing the Dream: Dream Series, Book 3 Page 11
