by B. B. Hamel
I take a deep breath to keep myself under control. Julissa has been with us for a few weeks now, and she was a horrible mess when she first arrived. I remember the way she was, and although she’s improved a lot, she hasn’t improved enough.
Still, she’s improving, and I’m not about to let some personal hygiene issues ruin her recovery.
“Just try and clean up after yourself, okay?” I ask her. “I don’t want to keep having this conversation with you. It’s as boring for me as it is for you, but I’m more stubborn.”
She rolls her eyes and I dismiss her. She heads off to her room and I walk slowly back down the hall and climb the steps toward my office.
It’s been a long day. First the dishwasher broke down, which had to be fixed, because lord knows these girls aren’t going to hand wash their own dishes. They barely do them as it is. I had to plunge a toilet, calm a fight, listen to Katie cry for the millionth time about her parents, and to top it all off, Julian hasn’t been home all day.
I don’t know what he’s doing, but my back is killing me, my feet are sore, and I’m so done with these girls today.
I reach the top of the landing and turn right. My office is at the end of the hall, and I head inside, shutting the door behind me. I turn toward my desk and stop when I find Julian sitting in my chair, grinning at me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him. “I thought you were working with Kenny.”
“Surprise,” he says. “Don’t act so upset to see me.”
I give him a little look as my husband gets up out of his chair, comes around the desk, and kisses me.
Tingles run down my spine, just like every time.
“Okay, I’m happy to see you,” I say softly. He smiles and leads me around the desk, helping me sit down in the chair.
I’m seven months pregnant and getting around isn’t so easy anymore.
“Here,” he says, sitting on the desk. I kick my foot up and he rubs it as we talk. “How has it been here?”
“The usual,” I say, sighing. “One fire after another.”
“You love it, though.”
“I do,” I admit. “Mostly because we’re helping people.”
“And because you lie to be busy.”
“That, too.”
He laughs softly and I glance down at my computer. There are a million emails to write, a million proposals to write, a million tasks to get done… and not enough time.
It doesn’t matter. Ever since we opened a halfway house for woman, I’ve been happier than ever.
After the shit with Hunter, we left Jersey for good. We drove south, fast and far, heading away until we hit the bottom tip of Florida. Julian entered a few amateur fights and won some money while I worked as a waitress.
Things were good. We got married after a month together, and I didn’t think I needed more. But then a check appeared in the mail randomly, attached to a letter from Alex.
It said, Dear J and K, things are good in the land of Avalon. As suspected, my family couldn’t decide whether they wanted to punish me or reward me, so I chose for them. I spoke with Hunter’s father, and it turns out that a sizable chunk of the Oakes family fortune was left to me. I’m busy mopping up the rest of the upstarts, but it won’t be long now.
The check is for your trouble. Well, it’s really the profits from that briefcase you left on the beach. Not a bad little sum, huh? Feel free to come back to Avalon. I’ll be in control soon enough, and you two are more than welcome.
Miss you both. Especially you, Julian. Who else is going to kick my ass if I need it?
Love, A.
P.S. Isaac tried to sneak back, but we caught him. I think I’m going to make him suffer for a while.
The check was for half a million dollars, way more than those drugs were worth, but we cashed it. Sure enough, the money appeared.
We opened Women’s Help after that and put most of the money into it. There are a lot of shady halfway houses and recovery places, a lot of really shady stuff, but we’re doing it for real. I want to help these girls get off drugs the same way Julian helped me, and this is the best way I know how.
It’s frustrating. It’s hard. It’s sometimes really thankless. And doubly all that considering how pregnant I am now. But I love it more than anything in the world, and every time a woman leaves this place with her shit together, it’s like winning a victory all over again.
“Look, I’m supposed to keep you up here,” Julian says.
I arch an eyebrow. “How’s that?”
“The girls are doing something for you.”
I groan. “I thought you weren’t telling them.”
“I lied.” He grins at me. “This was my idea, just so you know.”
“Oh, yeah, sure, I bet. You know I hate birthdays.”
“Too bad, little girl.” He leans forward and kisses me before going back to rubbing my foot. “Anyway, you’ll like it. Just a little party.”
“Is this what you’ve been up to?”
“I did see Kenny,” he admits. “But not for very long.”
Kenny’s his prize student, a wiry little Cuban boy with fists that move faster than lightning and a jaw that can take a punch. Julian trains people in mixed martial arts now, and he’s starting to get something of a reputation in our new home of Florida.
“How much longer?” I ask him.
“Enough time to do your other foot.”
I laugh and we switch feet. He tells me about Kenny’s training, how it’s going, and I half listen while he rubs me. I’m drifting off into my happy place, and I know nothing can hurt me here.
Julian’s been my rock through all this. Starting Women’s Help was impossibly difficult at first. I don’t think I would’ve done it if he hadn’t been there to help and encourage me. When things looked bleak, he pushed me through, and now here we are. Eight months later, and business is booming. We have ten girls, all ten beds full, and a waiting list a mile long. There’s no end in sight. We’re helping girls, making money, and killing it at life.
And soon, we’ll have a real family. Soon we’ll have a baby.
“Okay,” Julian says finally. “I think that’s enough time. You ready to do this?”
“Ready.”
He hops off the desk and helps me up. We walk together to the steps and head down all the way into the kitchen. As we round the corner, the girls all shout, “Surprise!”
I’m genuinely surprised even though I knew it was coming. Julian winks at me as the girls all come over to give me a hug.
“Sorry I was such a bitch, Miss Kay,” Julissa says. “You know, like, I figured if I was too nice and shit, you’d think something was up, you know?”
“Smart girl,” I say, pulling her in for a hug. She laughs as Julian goes and cuts the cake.
This is what I’ve always dreamed off. I have my amazing husband, a baby on the way, and a family. It’s a family of girls that’s always changing, but they are like my family. At least I treat them like that. I help them the best I can, get them up on their feet, and sometimes I help support them when they go. Every girl here is important to me, and I’m so proud of them all.
“What’s the matter?” Julian asks, bringing me some cake.
I shake my head. “Just happy.” I laugh, realizing I have tears in my eyes.
He nods and kisses me softly. “Happy birthday, my love. We’ll have a lot more.”
“Yeah, we will.” I kiss him again, letting him linger, until the girls start laughing and making noise at us. He breaks away, shushes them and goes to cut more pieces of cake.
This is how life is meant to be. This is where I feel the most alive. Helping people, being with my husband, preparing for my baby. It’s going to be crazy, but I’m crazy and I like crazy. I don’t even think about what happened back in Jersey, not any more.
There’s only my future with my incredible husband. Nothing else matters but my family, my joy, my light.
THANK YOU!
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Second Chance Husband Preview
1
Piper
The flamboyantly-dressed Elvis impersonator winks at me, and I have to stop myself from gagging. “Do you take this man as your lawfully wedded husband?” he asks in that cheesy fake twanging baritone.
“I do,” I say, and I swear a part of me dies in that moment. I can feel it keel over deep down inside and just roll away into some shallow grave tucked away in the darkest parts of my mind.
Just another dead shred of dignity sacrificed to the glorious gods of my career.
Jace grins that famous, lady-swooning smile of his and turns to the Elvis. “I think she’s a little overeager, don’t you?”
“Only eager to get to the honeymoon,” the Elvis says, hamming it up and winking again.
I want to vomit in my mouth as the two men laugh. I resist the urge to punch Elvis in the throat for ruining this, but I manage to keep my hands to myself.
“And do you take this lady as your lawfully wedded wife?” the Elvis asks Jace.
“I do,” he says, his eyes meeting mine. I feel a little something spark in my spine, although I don’t know what it is. I can only hold his gaze for a brief moment before looking away. He’s almost too handsome, like a star burning too bright. Except he’s more like a supernova, an explosion threatening to take everyone down with him, if only he can get close enough.
“By the power vested in me by the State of Nevada, I now pronounce you two lovebirds husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” Elvis does a little flourish, finger-gunning and kicking his legs and swishing his cape back in a whooshing plume.
My whole body stiffens as Jace wraps his arms around me, pulling me tight against his chest, and presses his lips against mine. At first, I’m worried it’s going to be disgusting, revolting, horrifying, but instead… it’s actually kind of nice. His lips are soft and he tastes like grass and honeydew, both sweet and musky at the same time. We kiss for only a brief few seconds before he pulls away, but I’m left standing there, blinking at him like a moron, as he turns to the cameras.
“That’s how you kiss your wife,” he says. “She’s practically passing out right now. Look at her!”
Now I’m rolling my eyes. “Did we get it?” I ask Eric, turning away from Jace. “Please god, someone say we got it.”
“We got some of it,” Calvin cuts in. He’s tall and skinny with incredibly vascular arms and legs from running hundreds of miles per week. He’s one of those crazy ultramarathon guys that revels in pain and being able to endure almost anything. I think he’s actually pretty good at it, which I guess explains why he’s willing to lug around cameras all over the globe for a living.
“Most of it,” Eric echoes, frowning. He’s almost the polar opposite of Calvin, short and going chubby, except he has a full head of hair whereas Calvin is nearly entirely bald. Eric drinks too much, smokes too much, but he’s entirely reliable and one of the better camera guys I’ve seen.
I groan. “What did you miss?”
“The kiss got wonky,” Eric says. “And the Elvis keeps moving around too much.”
“Let’s do it again.” Jace sounds way too enthusiastic, and I don’t like the way he’s eyeing my mouth.
“I don’t think so,” I say.
“Come on, Piper. What kind of producer are you, not willing to give it a second take?”
I sigh, shaking my head. This is the lowest part of my career, maybe my life, and I know it’s all my fault. I should never have taken this job, never agreed to work with Jace Morgan, famous ex-chef and celebrity bad boy. They say this is his comeback show, his chance to prove to the world that he’s not some loser addict anymore, that he still has something worthwhile to give other than his stupidly impressive good looks. People think that acidic, wry wit and intense humanity are still inside of him somewhere, but I know better.
He’s still the prick I dated briefly back in college, and he hasn’t changed for a single second.
“I’ll point out that you called me a producer, and not on-camera talent,” I say.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got talent enough for both of us.”
I stiffen a little, frowning and looking back at the camera guys. Grant, the sound man, is leaning against his boom mic, head cocked to the side, headphones sliding off his ears, everyone waiting to hear what I have to say.
“Keep rolling,” I say to the guys. “We’re getting another take. Elvis, stay still this time, god damnit. No more stupid moves.” I turn to Jace. “And you, keep the kiss simple, okay?”
“You act like this is your first time,” he says, giving me a sly little smile.
“We both know it’s not. Now, no more bullshit. Got it?”
“Well, all right, pretty lady,” Elvis says, and Jace just shrugs, laughing a little bit.
“And don’t call me pretty lady.”
Jace takes my hands again as we get back into position. “Don’t worry,” he says softly as the Elvis clears his throat and prepares to do his thing again. “I’ll go easy on you.”
That’s not what I’m afraid of, I think to myself, but Elvis is already starting to marry us again, and I’m forced to look deep into Jace’s rainwater-colored eyes as my nightmare wedding plays over again.
“You did a good job earlier, wifey.”
I glance over at Jace and frown. “Don’t call me wifey, please.”
He laughs a little and drapes his arm over my shoulder. It’s heavy and I can spot tattoos curling up along his skin, disappearing into his sleeve. He smells like fresh baked bread and mint.
“Come on, relax a little bit, wifey,” he says. “I thought you did great. Honestly.”
I smile a little. “Yeah, well, it was weird being in front of the camera.”
“Gets easier. But you were like an old pro.”
“Thanks.”
He nods and slides his arm away. “How’s it looking?”
I shrug a little bit as the scene plays out on the laptop screen. “Not bad. We’ll have to see back at the hotel.”
“You gonna cut yourself?” He cocks his head at me.
“Maybe,” I admit. “Mostly because that stupid Elvis guy couldn’t keep it together.”
Jace laughs. “I thought you were going to kidney punch him when he called you mama.”
I groan a little bit. “I had to swallow vomit after that.”
“We all did, but hey, that’s what it means to be a pro.”
I sigh and shake my head at him. “I never wanted to be in front of the camera, as I’m sure you recall.”
His eyes glaze over for a second, probably thinking back to when we used to know each other. “Yeah, I remember,” he says after a split second. “We were young then though.”
“We’re still pretty young.”
“I don’t feel so young.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t be dramatic.”
He grins at me, nudging me back toward the laptop. “I’m on-camera talent, remember? I’m always dramatic. Now get back to work, wifey. And make me look gorgeous.”
I roll my eyes at him, but I’m smiling. The crew’s breaking down their equipment for the day as Jace goes around thanking everyone, shaking hands and signing a few autographs for the chapel people that are hanging around watching him.
We’re doing a short series on Las Vegas, one episode in a six-episode series on America. It’s your typical travel show, we go to different place
s, have a meal somewhere exciting and interesting, do some kind of local event, that sort of thing. Jace is the face of the show and really the driving force behind it all, and I’m his hapless producer, just barely along for the ride.
Truth be told, this is my last shot, or at least it feels like it is. My last two projects tanked, both of them getting canceled after only a couple episodes aired. I put my heart and soul into those things and now I’m like a husk of the girl that started working as a television producer five years ago.
I’m pretty sure I was only assigned to work with Jace because we went to school together. We even dated briefly, really it was just a fling, and not a big deal at all. But I guess because I know Jace, the higher-ups thought it would be a good idea to assign me to him, without realizing that I despise the guy more than anyone else in America. Well, maybe except for all the women he’s screwed over the years.
There is something about him, though. It’s hard to deny. I watch him chatting with a young guy who’s staring at him with intense open admiration, and it’s almost impossible to take, but somehow Jace manages to ignore it while still holding a reasonably normal conversation. He’s charming, he’s handsome, and he’s outgoing, and he can blind people with his incredible oozing talent, coming out of every single one of his pores. Except he’s also an addict and nearly died on the set of his last show, this cooking content thing. Apparently he cooked up in his dresser between takes, but didn’t take the right dose and ended up passed out in a puddle of his own vomit. If he hadn’t fallen on his side, he likely would’ve choked to death.
He lost that job, and a few others after that, all because of the drugs. He spiraled for a while and the bad boy Chef Jace was all over the news for a few months, until finally people got sick of his shit, and he disappeared a little over a year ago.
Now he’s back in the limelight, and he says he’s clean. I have no reason to disbelieve him, but I’m constantly looking for signs: glassy, empty eyes, general spaciness, lethargy, missing scenes for no reasons, spending too long in the bathroom for no reason, that sort of shit. Any shady behavior, and I’m on the prowl.
