Men Like This

by Roxanne Smith

  “Oh, how’d you guess?” She gushed, oblivious to Quinn’s mounting panic. “We’re all here, Dad, Angie, and Seth, of course. We decided you needed some family support. Plus, my boss said I had to use my two weeks of vacation time, or they’re forfeit.”

  Quinn reeled. How had her family come to the conclusion she needed another surprise? Any one of them might get hit by media shrapnel and be the next headline.

  Emily blithely continued. “We called because there seems to be an active mosh pit outside your apartment, and we’re wondering how we’re going to get inside.”

  “I have no idea. Uh, let me find Jack. Hopefully, he’s somewhere putting on pants. Listen to me, Emily. Whatever you do, do not approach the flat. The last thing I need is Seth’s face tied to the story that just hit.”

  “What story?”

  “No time. I’ll call you when I have a plan.”

  She hung up on Emily’s next question and went in search of Jack. He might not have a plan, but he was good for a rough idea.

  Turned out, Jack did have a plan to save Seth and the rest of her family from the front pages of the papers.

  An amateur, poorly executed plan, but a plan nonetheless.

  Quinn launched herself through front door and into the sea of cameras with Glen the publicist at her side, acting as a human shield against the photographers who went chaotic at the sight of her. They’d been waiting hours for their money shot, and she’d finally made their day.

  Together, they raced down the street to an idling car on the corner. Three seconds later, Jack exited the flat and took off in the opposite direction toward a second waiting vehicle.

  Quinn wrenched the door wide and gasped at Angie and Emily. “What? Wait, no, I’m in the wrong car!” She turned to shout after Glen, but he disappeared around the corner. She climbed inside. “Damn it! This is Glen’s fault. He went left. We should’ve gone right.”

  “Don’t complain, you brat. It’s a happy mistake.” Angie pulled Quinn into the best hug possible in the limited space of the cabin. “This worked out fine. Besides, imagine Jack’s surprise when he gets into the other car with a teenager and an old man instead of the two women he’s expecting.”

  Quinn groaned and frantically dialed Jack’s cell. “It’s probably best he isn’t in a cab with you, anyway, Angie. I’ll turn invisible the second he lays eyes on you.”

  “Love is blind, silly. He won’t see me.”

  Jack answered. “Hallo, love. You survived, did you? Good old Glen. Not so sucky now, is he?”

  “Let’s rendezvous somewhere and switch cars until you figure out the rest of your ingenious plan.”

  “Rough idea,” he corrected. “And no, I like it here. You ladies enjoy lunch on me. Put it on my tab at Donovan’s. We’ll meet at Mum’s later. Tata, darling.”

  “Don’t call me darling! You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

  He’d already hung up.

  Emily leaned around Angie to glower at Quinn. Her deep brown eyes narrowed into slits. “He probably guessed getting stuck in a car with your big sister was a bad idea.”

  Quinn sighed. “Jack and I are not in a committed relationship. If he wants to work things out with Vickie, that’s his prerogative.”

  Her sister crossed her arms and glared out the window. “It’s ugly here. What do you find so appealing about this cold, dreary place?”

  “The old-world charm. I think it’s beautiful.”

  “You would.”

  Angie piped in from between them. “Forget lunch—we need drinks.”

  “What a bitch. I’ll strangle her myself.”

  Quinn doubted Angie’s willowy frame capable of such an act, but it was a lovely sentiment. She cast her best friend a doleful glance. “I don’t want Vickie maimed, but thanks, anyway.”

  They’d each ordered the standard fish and chips and three large mugs of local ale. Quinn’s food sat untouched, but she was nearly ready for another round. She took another swallow. “Some reporter is going to have a field day with this. Jack Decker.”

  A beat passed. Emily tentatively mimicked Quinn. “Decker.”

  Angie was the first to burst into laughter. Quinn and a reluctant Emily followed.

  Angie used her pinkies to wipe the tears from the corners of her amber eyes. “Oh, man. You’d make a great journalist if the novel-writing thing doesn’t work out.”

  Emily, the first one to sober up, managed to bring back the heaviness Quinn had aimed to dissipate with her bad joke. “Have you given any consideration to her claims? Even mean people don’t lie 100 percent of the time.”

  Quinn didn’t hesitate. “Her allegations are as false as your platinum highlights.” She hadn’t questioned it once. From the bottom of her soul, she believed Vickie was lying.

  Emily eyed her. “You’re biased because you’re in love with him.”

  “No, I’m right because I’ve been living with the guy.”

  Angie lifted her mug in a mock toast and tossed a wayward lock of golden-blond hair over her shoulder. “We didn’t come here to poke holes in Quinn’s personal judgment. We came to be supportive, remember? If she believes in Jack, so do I.”

  Emily’s ugly smirk overshadowed Quinn’s smile. “Yes, well, I do question Quinn’s judgment. You would too if you’d been paying attention for the past year.”

  One glance at her sister’s empty beer mug revealed the source of her loose tongue. “You’ve had enough.” Quinn pushed the mug away from Emily.

  She snatched it back. “I’ve had enough, all right. You’re where? In England, writing some genre you’ve probably never even read, avoiding your family, sleeping with a virtual stranger, riding his foreign coattails into what, exactly? A publicity stunt?” She popped a bit of fried fish in her mouth. “You’re having a midlife crisis, Quinn. You need to get help. Talk to someone.” She skeptically regarded Angie. “A professional.”

  Angie raised an imperious brow at Emily. “You ever consider she has good reason to avoid her family? Besides, we were discussing Jack, not Quinn. Get off her back.”

  “This is about Jack,” Emily stated.

  Quinn didn’t understand her sister’s sudden change in regard toward Jack. “What’s your problem, Em? I recall you telling me to hook up with him, now he’s the big, bad wolf?”

  Emily gawked as if Quinn were the one not making any sense. “That was before we found out he was beating up his girlfriend.”

  Angie glared at Emily. “You’re being a bitch. If we weren’t in a strange city on the other side of the globe, I’d drag Quinn out of here and tell you to get lost. It’d be easy. This ain’t L.A., sweetheart.”

  Emily angled herself at Angie and held her hands out. “You said our job is to support her, right? You’re her best friend. Mine is to be realistic. You’re the one who says the dress flatters her curves, and I’m the one who tells her she looks fat. Because she does.” She switched her attention to Quinn. “You’re not fat. It’s a metaphor. I’m here to tell you the truth because no one else wants to be the bad guy. You’ve been in a downward spiral ever since the divorce. None of your recent life decisions have been made with any concern for your happiness or well-being.”

  Quinn dared a peek at her best friend. She expected steam shooting from her ears. Instead, Angie bestowed Emily with a sweet smile and patted Quinn on the shoulder in a motherly way. “I finally figured it out. I’m afraid your sister has a terrible case of the greens. Simply put, honey, she’s jealous.”

  “Jealous? I am not jealous.” The indignant protest went ignored.

  “Little sister’s got it going on right now. Taking chances, doing crazy, bold things you’d never have the courage to do. She’s living, and you can’t stand it, can you?”

  Emily’s nostrils flared. “I have never liked you.”

  “Of course not. I lift Quinn up every time her realistic, Debbie Downer sister tells her she’s fat.” She gave Quinn a reassuring squeeze. “Metaphorically. Obviously. My point is, Em
ily, you bring her down.”

  Emily jabbed a defiant finger at Angie. “You’re wrong. I remind her to use her brain. I was totally supportive of Jack until this story broke.”

  “Sure. You wanted her to take a chance on a guy you were certain would break her heart. I dare you to tell me I’m wrong. Had she bothered to call me, her best friend, I’d have warned her away from a heartbreaker like Jack. Fun is fun, but spending so much time with him was asking for trouble, and you know it, Emily.”

  Talking ceased. Angie waited patiently for Emily’s defense as Quinn stared at her sister.

  A tiny corner of her heart broke. “You encouraged me to hook up with Jack because you wanted me to get hurt? You expect him to dump me?”

  “Of course! You said it yourself, you’re no Vickie.”

  “What kind of sister are you?” Up until now the back and forth had been amusing.

  “The kind that wants you to wake up. You’re living in a fantasy. The real world is waiting for you back in California. I figured once you had your feelings hurt, you’d finally be ready to come home.”

  Angie cut in. “In short, she wants you to stop getting global attention by dating a drop-dead gorgeous British movie star—”

  “He’s Irish.”

  “Even better. And stop doing cool stuff like living abroad. Her life is boring and predictable. I guess yours has to be, too.”

  Emily let out an exasperated groan. “This guy is a joke. Ten to one says he’ll invite himself back to L.A. with you.”

  “Oh, right, because he can’t be interested in me by my own merits?” Quinn shook her head. Worst sister ever. “Have you been talking to Blake? I swear, he said the same thing.”

  Emily paused. Her face flushed a light pink. “Some. He’s concerned about you.”

  Angie muttered in a disgusted tone, “Consorting with the enemy.”

  How hilarious was Blake deciding to care now, and how frustrating to have her sister act as his conduit. Laugh now, cry later? Cry now, laugh later? Against her better judgment, she raised a hand to signal for another round. Let the beer decide.

  Emily waved a dismissive hand. “It’s not a big deal. Nothing to get dramatic over.”

  “I disagree. It’s a little dramatic you and Blake are bonding over your mutual concern for me. Blake’s got a new wife and baby to occupy his time, and you, surely you have something more important to worry about. Your job, maybe? Or your own love life to worry about at this point in your life?”

  “You’ve changed. Of course we’re worried about you.”

  Again, Angie jumped to her defense. “Blake’s only worried because he finally pissed her off enough to risk the income Quinn’s child support has been providing. He’s playing the long game, trying to get back on her good side so his new little wifey doesn’t freak out.”

  Quinn bobbed her head. “Kira’s not going to like it one bit when those fat checks stop rolling in. Do you have any clue what I’m worth, or how much those checks come to? It’s no small amount, Em. Blake’s got an ulterior motive, no matter what’s he told you or how well he fakes being worried about me.” She rolled her eyes. “Concerned. Sure.”

  Angie grinned. “Hey, maybe Blake’s swimming the green sea, too. They’re in cahoots of envy, not concern.”

  Emily slapped her palm down on the table. “I am not jealous!”

  Angie ignored her and cast a wide-eyed expression of wonder at the ceiling as if shocked the truth had eluded her for so long. “I mean, Kira used to be this ambitious go-getter, right? But now she’s this whiny, demanding lump on Blake’s pricey leather recliner. You know she hasn’t gone to work since the baby, right? It’s not about the money. Blake’s finally figured out he’s traded down.”

  Emily gave her a sideways glance. “Oh, he has.”

  Angie gawked. Quinn blinked. “Explain.”

  Emily slumped in her chair. “I promised I wouldn’t say anything, but Blake is questioning his life choices. Kira has become a terror. He’s talked about divorce, but there’s the baby to consider. He doesn’t want to give up Hunter. Plus, Kira is nothing like you, Quinn. A divorce from her would be warfare.” Her dark brown eyes finally met Quinn’s. “Blake hasn’t admitted it, but it’s pretty clear to anyone paying attention. He wants you back. He’s not ready to do anything about it just yet, but he will. Count on it.”

  A year ago she’d have gone weak at the knees. A year ago her deepest wish would be coming true. But a year was a long time. For Blake, it was too long.

  “Is that why you’re so keen on rushing Quinn home?” Angie arched a brow, daring Emily to deny it.

  The waiter arrived with their round, and Emily waited until they were alone again to confront Quinn. “Your place is with Blake. This is the chance to make your family whole again. Kira’s days are numbered. Help Blake win the battle against her, help him fight for both his sons.”

  Angie actually reared back and laughed. “Oh, man. Yeah, Quinn, think about Seth, will ya? About how miserable he’s been this whole year with Blake, how easy his dad found it to destroy his life the first time around. Do think about Seth.”

  Emily leaned forward. “Blake made a mistake, but I’m right about Seth needing a family. Blake isn’t the only one having trouble with him, and with his marriage on the rocky side he’s going to have even less time to focus on an angsty teenage kid. You can’t always count on me to be there. I’m out of town for work on a regular basis. He needs you, Quinn. His mother. He won’t tell me what’s wrong, but something is wrong.”

  The keen edge of guilt pressed into Quinn’s gut. “In my heart, I blame Kira. She’s intentionally expanding the gulf that already exists between father and son.”

  Emily shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I’ve had issues with Seth myself. You’ve been busy, and I haven’t had the opportunity to bring it up, but I’m telling you he’s got quite the attitude on him these days. Back talk, refusing chores, ignoring the rules. He’s not the easygoing kid you left behind. He’s different.”

  “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

  “Well, it is.”

  Quinn pressed her lips together and came to a split decision. It felt wrong, even as she convinced herself it was right. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m going home early. An ending and a few edits are all I’ve left to do in the manuscript. Two weeks is sufficient time.” She swallowed hard. “I’m leaving when you do.”

  Her sister sagely nodded, the wise older woman pleased to witness the wily young sprite has sown the last of her wild oats. “It’s for the best.”

  Angie patted her shoulder. “How does it end? Your story?”

  “Not this time, my friend. You’ll have to read it along with the rest of the world.”

  Angie stuck out her tongue and stirred a smear of ketchup with her last french fry. “What does Jack say about you leaving early?”

  Quinn swigged her beer. “I haven’t told him yet.” She hoped a shrug would add an air of nonchalance to the confession.

  Angie didn’t fall for it. “You can’t be serious. You’re not leaving him, are you? Because of the Vickie thing? Have you considered the facts here? I mean, if they were making nice—or any kind of making, for that matter—why the allegations the next day? Seems to me he managed to piss her off even more. That’s a pretty good clue as to what they talked about.”

  Quinn didn’t bother pointing out the obvious. She’d have to be with Jack in order to leave him. “This is about Seth. I did what I needed to do for myself. Now I need to do what’s best for my kid.”

  Her best friend smiled the saddest smile she’d ever seen. “You might be throwing away something really special, Quinn.”

  She tried for humor. “Well, if Emily’s right, he’ll either be glad I’m leaving or he’ll invite himself home with me.”

  Emily bobbed her head. “Either scenario is likely. You’re definitely doing the right thing. Besides, you need to see for yourself how much Blake has changed.”

  Angie s
coffed. “Right. He wants to dump his new wife and let his ex-wife raise their child. After she funds the custody battle, of course. Sorry, Em, but he sounds like the same selfish bastard to me.”

  Quinn agreed.

  Chapter 16

  Madeline Decker smiled brightly at her unexpected guests. “You boys hungry?”

  Jack rubbed his hands together. “Famished. C’mon, lad. Let’s leave the adults to talk, shall we?” With an arm around Seth’s shoulder, he left Douglas Buzzly to fend for himself and guided the boy toward the kitchen, where he expected to find Dawn preparing lunch.

  “But you’re an adult.”

  “I’ve been told it’s a matter of some debate.”

  A second set of introductions were made, and Dawn set the two of them to work on sandwiches and made her escape for the afternoon. Jack was effectively left alone with Seth.

  Seth Cobb: part Quinn, part Blake. Part interesting, part terrifying.

  As if he and Quinn didn’t have enough balls in the air, her family had chosen the most inopportune moment to drop in for a surprise visit. Maybe call first? Check the itinerary? There were undercurrents of unease between the two of them, and he needed time to smooth the waters. It was a difficult task made more impossible thanks to the morning’s events.

  He took a deep breath and chided himself. One thing at a time. Probably best to start with the kid staring at him as if uncertain of his species.

  Where to begin?

  He sat at the dining table and invited Seth to do the same. “Let’s have a chat, what d’you say? There’s generally some sort of tiresome monologue before questions are invited, but let’s skip that part and go straight to Q and A. How ’bout it?”

  Seth’s lip curled in confusion. “How about what?”

  Nice job, Jack. Way to go. “Questions. Do you have any questions for me?”

  “Like, a million.”

  “Time’s ticking, lad, ask away.”

  “Okay, um, are you my mom’s boyfriend?”

  Jack tapped his chin. “Tricky, that one. I’d like to be, though it largely depends on if your mum wants to be my girlfriend.”