by Dyanne Davis
Pain filled him and he knew there was one more reason. He wanted to make her tell him that she’d lied, that the baby had been his. He felt it in his heart, but he needed to put a period after it. Only one person in the world could tell him what he needed to know. And that was Mary Jo.
Chapter Seven
The pile of clothes lying on their bed was beginning to resemble a small mountain. Simon stood there observing her, the amusement fading after he realized the reason for her distress.
“I don’t see why you’re having so much trouble finding something to wear for a business lunch.”
“I want to send the right message.”
He picked up the most recently discarded pants and blouse and held them up. “What’s the right message?”
She leaned out of the huge walk-in closet and frowned at him.
“Did you go to so much trouble for our first date?” he couldn’t help asking.
Janice walked out of the closet, a burnt orange sweater making her golden skin glow. He sucked in the whistle. He didn’t want her looking this good for another man. But it wasn’t the clothes that worried him, it was the glow in her face. She was excited, more excited than he’d ever seen her and it hurt that her excitement had not a damn thing to do with him.
“I don’t want you following me,” she ordered and moved to her mirror to apply makeup that she didn’t need.
“I don’t follow you.”
“Then I don’t want you having me followed.”
“I was thinking that I would like to help. I’m sure that there are things that I can do.”
“You have work to do, you don’t have to come with me.”
“You forget I don’t have to do anything; there is no one who can make me come into the office. I’m my own boss. What’s wrong? You don’t want me with you?”
“Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong? Why are you acting so possessive? You don’t own me, Simon.”
He turned from her and winced wondering why lately ‘you don’t own me’ were the only words she appeared to know. For God’s sake, she was a writer; she should be able to think of something. Those words had the power to destroy him. He didn’t want to own Janice, he wanted to marry her.
“Are you telling me that there is nothing I can do to help?” He walked up behind her. “I don’t want him upsetting you.”
“And I don’t want you fighting my battles. I am not looking for a white knight, Simon.”
“Is that the problem after three years, you don’t want me with you because I’m white?”
“Grow up, Simon, do you think I give a damn about that?”
“Maybe you’re worried that Tommy Strong will accuse you of selling out. Maybe that’s the real reason you don’t want me there.”
Janice struck a pose, her hands on her hips, her lips pursed in concentration. “Why would you worry about Tommy? I’m sure that the million dollars you gave him will do what you intended. He’s too indebted to you. If you think he’s going to rekindle something, think again. He hates me as much as I hate him. You saw the way he glared at me. Money is more important at this stage of the game than him trying to get into my pants. Don’t worry.”
She walked to Simon and kissed him playfully, surprised when he crushed her to him and held her for a long moment. “Simon, what’s going on?” She looked at him. “You’ve been behaving strangely for months now. Are you ill?”
“If I were, would you care?” he asked, releasing her at last.
“Of course I’d care.”
“Why?” he asked. “Why would you care?”
“Because contrary to public opinion I’m not completely cold. I can care.”
“Tell me something. Why in three years if you care have I never met your family? Are you afraid they wouldn’t approve of me?”
Janice laughed. “They’d approve of you, they would love you. It’s me and what I write that they don’t approve of.”
“Then introduce me to them, set it up.”
“Are you asking me to prove something to you?”
“I’m asking you to introduce me to your family as the man you’re going to marry.”
She stared at him, hating the change that had come over him. They had said they would avoid all the usual relationship pitfalls. They had more of a merger, she’d always thought, but now he was behaving strangely, as though, she shivered, as though they were in love and he was jealous. “Simon, if you want you can come with me,” she offered.
“Are you giving me an either/or choice? Either I come with you to Tommy’s lunch or I meet your family?”
“You can do both.” She frowned slightly, dabbed on a bit of lipstick, put her hair in a ponytail and walked away.
Simon stared after her, not liking the way he was feeling. He hadn’t been indecisive in twenty years. He’d always known what he wanted and had gone after it, and that included Janice Lace. He’d wanted her from the moment he’d first laid eyes on her. She, however, had not wanted anything to do with him. She’d looked him up and down, smiled coolly and walked away from him the same as she’d done now. It was only after she’d learned who he was that she’d taken the time to give him a second glance.
He’d approached her and asked if that made a difference. She hadn’t hesitated when she raised her eyes and smiled and told him, ‘Of course.’
He’d laughed at her brutal honesty, at her refusal to pretend and he’d set about to woo her, get her to change her mind, though she kept reminding him that she wasn’t into commitments. He’d proclaimed it also. In the beginning he’d thought he meant it until he woke one morning with her in his arms and knew that he wanted her there for the rest of his life. He’d tried to tell himself that he didn’t love her, that he wasn’t sure. So many excuses and all of them a lie.
He’d worked hard to keep his past from her, probably as hard as she’d worked to keep hers from him. But with money, hers had been easily uncovered. If he’d found one person to tell him that Janice had dumped Tommy Strong he would have left it alone, but he hadn’t. Simon knew they had never really ended it and now Simon had a funny feeling that he’d started something that wouldn’t be so easy to stop.
Chills raced up and down his spine with lightening speed and he wanted, no, needed to be near Janice. He followed her into the dressing room, wanting to make love to her, lay claim to her body if not her love. She looked ravishing in the sweater, much too ravishing, he thought as he eyed her critically and lied. “That sweater makes you look fat,” he stated in a matter of fact manner.
She turned and glared at him, then at her reflection in the mirror. “Are you sure?” she asked.
“I’m sure.”
She turned from side to side. “I thought it looked nice.”
“There is just something about it that makes you look washed out. Maybe you need some more makeup. I don’t know.” He hunched his shoulders and stood rooted to the spot as she began changing again, this time asking his opinion, which he freely gave. Finally she pulled a shapeless top covered with flowers over her head. A top he hated, had hated from the moment she’d bought it. He’d told her so and had always believed she’d bought it out of spite.
“That’s the one,” he stated. “You look professional and warm, not cold and callous. That one will be perfect.” He turned and left, disappointed that she was putting so much time into looking just right for a man she claimed to hate. He couldn’t even be pleased that no man with eyesight would find her attractive in that hideous outfit. Well, they could, but the blouse would definitely peg her as a woman without taste.
* * *
Janice smiled to herself as she tugged on the top, wondering if Simon really thought she was not on to his little ploy. He hated that top, and as a matter of fact so did she. She’d only bought it to put him in his place. He’d gone shopping with her and had expressed too many opinions on her choices. In the beginning it had been fun, but then he’d started acting in a high-handed manner, giving the saleswoman the things that he
approved of and discarding the things that he didn’t.
He’d discarded this top and Janice would have left it on the discarded pile, but she thought she saw a smirk around the corners of his mouth and she wasn’t having it. So, she’d grabbed the blouse, pleased when he protested. Matter of fact, that day she’d worn the thing home and generally only wore it when she wanted to annoy Simon.
Now she would wear it for a different reason. It was ugly, and like Simon, she didn’t want to have Tommy think that she was trying to impress him. She surveyed the blouse again. This should do it, she thought, and left the dressing room.
“I need to put in a couple of hours writing.” She walked toward the door before stopping and glancing over her shoulder. “Come and get me in two hours. You know how I lose track of time.”
“You still working on the same book?”
“A little, but that will be hard to sell. So, I’m working on the one I’m contracted for.”
“Hard to sell? Are you kidding? You want it published, you’ve got it.” Simon narrowed his eyes and waited.
“Stop trying to manipulate my career. Two hours, then come to my office and get me,” Janice repeated as she headed down the stairs to her office.
* * *
For two hours Janice had sat with Simon while Tommy laid out his plans. One thing was certain: It would take up more time than she had. He had more graphs and charts with market studies than she would have thought possible. It was evident he’d done his homework and now he was expecting her to do the same.
“Have you forgotten I’m a writer? I have deadlines; I can’t possibly put this much time into the bookstores.”
“Of course not,” Tommy said in a cool voice. “I forgot you work, unlike the rest of us who are trying to help.”
“Look,” Simon interrupted, “she’s trying.”
“Really?” Tommy countered. “So far all I’ve heard is that she’s willing to do a few book signings.”
“I said I would also donate books,” Janice interrupted. “You’re leaving that out.”
“I can help,” Simon offered. “I can do some of the things you have lined up for Janice. I can go into the communities and where I go the press will follow. That will create a buzz.”
Tommy turned slowly from staring at Mary Jo to gaping open-mouthed at Simon Kohl. “That’s very generous of you but I was really looking for a high profile African American to do the promo, no offense.”
Watching, Janice saw the little muscles that twitched in Simon’s jaw and she felt anger toward Tommy for treating him that way. He’d been barely civil to him during the entire meeting and she was sick of it.
“Tell me something, Tommy. Why is Simon’s money good enough for the cause but he isn’t? You didn’t complain about the color of his skin when you took his check, did you?”
She watched while Tommy’s head snapped back to Simon with his eyes narrowed. His mouth parted as though he were going to speak but he remained silent. The two men eyed each other and she tried unsuccessfully to decipher what was passing between them, what unspoken message they had exchanged. It was Simon who finally broke the silence.
“Don’t worry about it.” He squeezed Janice’s hand. “I understand Mr. Strong’s objections. I’m sure it wasn’t anything personal.”
“No, it wasn’t anything personal,” Tommy offered, yet there was a hidden message there and Janice didn’t miss it.
“Janice, you can stay. Just let me call for a car and you can take the limo.” Simon smiled in Tommy’s general direction. “I’ll loosen things up for you with your deadline. Take all the time you need to help with the bookstores.”
“Thanks for giving Mary Jo your approval and your permission. I didn’t know that anyone but the writer dictated the time that was needed to write a book. It’s interesting that after all these years of running a bookstore, I’m just now finding out it’s the publisher pulling the strings.” Tommy smiled at Simon, the smile not reaching his eyes. “Do you also do her writing for her?”
“Simon doesn’t do my writing or my planning. I take care of my own schedule and I run my own life. You don’t need to make arrangements for me, Simon. I can get home on my own. You take the limo.”
“Yes, Simon, you take the limo. I’ll bring Mary Jo home when we’re done.”
Both Mary Jo and Simon turned and glared at him. “Sorry,” he said. “After a lifetime of knowing a person it’s very hard to just adjust to calling them by another name.” He smiled. “Somehow Janice Lace doesn’t fit you.” Tommy cocked his head to the left and squinted. “But then again, neither does Mary Jo. I think Mary Jo died about twelve years ago. Am I right?”
The question was asked politely but it was a loaded one and all three of them were aware of it. Both men wanted to see how she handled it. “Yes, Mary Jo died twelve years ago,” Janice answered Tommy, “but that’s because she grew up.”
“And became Janice Lace.” Tommy smiled.
“And became Janice Lace,” she admitted.
“So you went from a determined young woman wanting to be a positive role model for African Americans to a woman who with the power of her voice, could use words to change things for the better, to write about good things that African Americans do…to being what? What do you do? A hatchet job on us. Now it’s hard to tell that you yourself are black. On second though, it might be easier to package Simon Kohl off to the community, pretend that he’s black. At least they are aware of who he is.”
“Janice has done a lot to be proud of.” Simon defended her, his voice angry, his stance defiant.
This time Tommy wasn’t polite. “Maybe Janice has, Mary Jo hasn’t. Mary Jo would never have allowed any man to take over and fight her battle.” He smiled sadly. “I guess you’re right, Mary Jo did die.”
“Janice doesn’t need me to fight her battles.”
“Doesn’t she?” Tommy laughed.
“No, she doesn’t.” Janice glared at Simon. “I can handle my own battles, though I didn’t know we were at war, Tommy. How can our petty fights help with any cause?”
She waited while silently he fumed. She sensed an underlying anger beneath Simon’s polished veneer but she wasn’t giving into it. She wasn’t going to be in the middle of a testosterone posturing contest. “Simon, I’ll see you at home later.”
“What time do you think you’ll be there? I’ll wait dinner for you.”
“I don’t know,” she said, a bit annoyed seeing the smirk on Tommy’s face. “Don’t wait up for me. It will probably be late before I get home.”
Simon looked at her and bent his head toward hers to kiss her and she turned her face slightly, causing his kiss to fall on her cheek. She saw the quick flash of hurt in his eyes and turned away.
“Okay, Tommy,” she said, “let’s get started.” She was aware that Simon was still standing there but there was nothing she could do about it now. The one thing she wouldn’t do was have Tommy Strong think she’d changed so much that she was now a weak female. She ignored the silence and pretended that Tommy staring over her head at Simon had no significance.
“I trust you’ll take good care of my fiancée, Mr. Strong. Make sure she gets home safely,” Simon said, emphasizing the word fiancée. Then he walked out of the bookstore at last.
“What the hell was that all about?” Janice said as soon as the door slammed shut.
“I didn’t ask for Simon Kohl’s help, I asked for yours. Why don’t you tell me what the deal is with you and that guy?”
“You know what the deal is. We’re engaged. You were there the day he announced it.”
“Tell me something, did he check out your teeth as well as everything else?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you and that guy and his attitude toward you. He acts as if he owns you. I’ve done a lot of research on him.”
“Why?”
“When a man hands me a million dollar check, I want to know something about
him, like why. And what the hell he’s trying to buy.”
“He was only trying to help the bookstores stay open.”
“I don’t believe it,” Tommy answered. “He found out about us. I may not have the resources to get the information as quickly, but I can still get it. He’s been digging into your past, our past,” he amended, “for months and I don’t like it. I know how the guy treats people, like he owns them.”
“He’s not Donald Trump.”
“I know he’s not. He’s richer and more devious. He thinks money buys everything, including people. I just don’t want you hurt.”
“When did you start worrying about what would hurt me and what wouldn’t? You sure as hell didn’t give a damn about my feelings twelve years ago,” Janice snapped. She wanted badly to throw something at him. He had a nerve talking about Simon. It wasn’t Simon who’d hurt her, it was Tommy.
“Do you think you know everything about Simon Kohl that you need to know?”
“If I don’t it’s my business, isn’t it? It’s my life.”
“Are you sure about that? One minute you tell me you have to write, that you don’t have time to help me, the next he gives you permission to do so and look, here you are, your schedule is freed up.”
“Simon didn’t give me permission.”
“That’s what it looked like from where I stood.”
“He doesn’t own me.”
“Right.”
“He doesn’t.”
“Whose house are you living in?”
Janice cringed and refused to answer.
“Who pays your salary?”
“I earn my money.”
“Yeah, right.”
Again Janice cringed. “Why are you doing this?”
“Just conversation.” Tommy smiled. “Tell me who manages your money.” He looked at her face and smiled again. “Don’t tell me, Simon Kohl. You don’t think he owns you, think again. You sold your books to him, and then you sold yourself.” He picked up her hand and flicked his thumb over the sapphire and diamond ring. “You’re everything you said you would never be.” He hunched his shoulders. “But like you said, it’s your life.”
