No Greater Love

by Susan Rodgers

  Dee never even stopped to consider that bringing Josh, Jacob and Jessie together in the same space might be too hard of a push, that it was too soon, that everyone’s wounds were still fresh.

  She and Carlotta hadn’t mulled long over the guest list, which included Jonathon, who was still closely guarding his own secret as Josh’s father and who was thrilled to celebrate his son’s birthday with him. Charles had given the women strict instructions to keep the numbers at a manageable level in the interest of security and Jessie’s safety. Dee tried, but failed. Because Josh’s birthday was part of the big day, the entire cast and crew of Drifters were included on the rather substantial list. They were also Jessie’s friends. At this point in the waiting game for Deuce McCall anybody who was a friend of Jessie was considered at risk. Charles fumed when he saw the final list. Matt was officially invited but he would be pulling double-duty, focusing on security supervision more than socializing and cake.

  Those invited were asked to keep the party on the “down low”, but Jessie simply harrumphed at that. She figured Deuce knew about it from the moment Deirdre announced her intentions one night at dinner.

  Days before the party, Jessie was a nervous wreck. When Matt called the night before and told her to expect Ulysses the next day as her chauffeur, she bit her tongue and thanked him. Matt was insistent. He was making a habit of watching her and Jacob closely, and was somewhat disappointed their lifestyle included a fair bit of drink and smoke. To up the ante, this would be a difficult day for Jessie. Matt could not forget the girl’s happiest days, in the presence of Josh before things went haywire. These days she seemed bound to suffocate herself in the haze of pot, because of the fear of Deuce, perhaps, but also simply because her life was on a constant spin-cycle.

  The day of the party, briefed on what to expect, Ulysses stood patiently in the foyer by the elevator and waited.

  Jacob and Jessie sat outside on her balcony and shared their weed. Her fingers shook when she accepted the smoke from Jacob. He glanced sideways at her. She was stunning in a short white shift dress with chunky strappy black heels. As her metamorphosis back to some form of Jessie Wheeler asserted itself, she finally decided to color her hair back to a more natural brown with copper highlights. Her hair was longer now than when Jacob first met her, reaching the tops of her shoulders.

  She had hired Sonia and Hilda for the day, the make-up and hair girls from the Drifters crew, who were also invited to the Keating party in honor of Josh. They washed, colored, trimmed and styled Jessie’s hair while gossiping readily about the old show’s crew, and then they fawned over Jacob, cutting his locks a bit shorter and highlighting a few strands blonde, much to his chagrin at the attention and his anxious comments not to mess with his hair too much. Sonia also gave Jessie a manicure although she was forced to constantly yank at her client’s hands so she could keep them still to work on the nails. The singer was restless and distracted, and by the time the girls left for the party in Hilda’s new Mustang, Jessie was eager for the calming marijuana.

  “He’s just a guy, Jessie,” Jacob said, eyeing her as they smoked on the balcony.

  “It’s not just him. There will be a lot of people there I’m not really wanting to see,” Jessie complained. “Questions I don’t feel like answering, that sort of thing.” She stared out over the city. The day was quite warm for April and people were traversing the sidewalks with spring-like bursts of energy in new shorts and sundresses.

  “So don’t answer them,” he replied.

  “Easier said than done.”

  “Charlie will be there. And Steve. Between all of us we’ll keep the vultures off you.”

  That elicited a smile. “Okay. Thanks, Jacob.” She squeezed his elbow. “What would I do without you to save my ass a million times over?”

  Together they watched the city play out its own intrinsic dramas below, and then Jacob held out the afore-squeezed elbow to Jessie. Graciously, elegantly, perhaps inspired by the old Jessie hair and the wardrobe befitting her position as one of the world’s best loved singers and actors, she allowed him to lead her to Ulysses. Clearly, she was stoned, but in her opinion not well enough for what faced her within the hour – meeting Josh face to face again, the live-in girlfriend by his side.

  Immediately after arriving at the party Jessie ducked into a restroom on the first floor. Soon she would have to head out to the back yard where a low rumble indicated the presence of a larger number of attendees than would garner Charles’ approval. Most of the guests were already present, some raising their eyebrows at the intense security placed in and around the home. Upon arriving Jessie had dropped her head, embarrassed. She also had an uncanny feeling of being watched, secretly. Sometimes she felt she could sense Deuce’s presence, and this was one of those times. Shaking her head to dispel unwanted thoughts and memories, she washed her hands with extra care in the restroom’s pedestal sink and steeled herself to open the door and begin the arduous job of making small talk as she greeted Charles and Dee’s guests.

  As luck would have it, she felt unbalanced in the high shoes and the pot in her system made her drowsy, lightheaded and detached. In the distance she was aware of a low buzz generating itself amongst the revelers as she stepped towards the outdoors.

  Heads turned towards the chic girl in the mid-thigh length white dress and the soft bouncy curls. Jessie grabbed the doorframe of the back patio entrance for balance, and gazed around the back deck seeking Jacob or any of her friends. Growing despondent and more and more uncomfortable, she was not surprised to suddenly spy Stephen, Maggie, Carter and Sue-Lyn, partners in tow, clustered around - who else - but Josh and Michelle.

  One thing about Josh that always undid Jessie from the first moment she watched him stagger into Charlie’s Club was the way he wore his clothes. This day was no exception. He was timeless, in a way, even here on his thirty-first birthday. Perhaps he was as nervous as Jessie for this occasion, because he seemed to have taken extra care in choosing a suitable wardrobe – or maybe Michelle had stepped in and said you’re not wearing that! At any rate, he was dressed with care, and it was likely Jessie’s eyes weren’t the only ones positively appraising his choices.

  The first thing she noticed was Josh’s jacket. He was clad in what may or may not have been a vintage leather jacket, a deep jade green, so green it almost appeared black. Small areas here and there were slightly distressed, giving the impression it was well worn, perhaps by a previous owner. Underneath was a button down shirt with some kind of small print over a cream base, and beneath that Jessie could see a ubiquitous white V-neck T-shirt peeking out at the neck. No tie, of course. Josh only added ties to his wardrobe when an invitation demanded it, and Deirdre knew better than to make ties imperative for this occasion, or she would have lost most of her guests today, at least the Drifters crowd. Josh’s jeans were loose and casual, faded black, and instead of his usual boots were high polished russet brown shoes, their squared toes and low heel peeking out below the jeans. His hair was touchable, as always, and already Jessie was aching to run her hands through the soft layers that framed his high cheekbones and partially buried one sad chocolate eye.

  Jessie wobbled against the sliding door with her feet crossed at the ankles, staring at Josh. She momentarily forgot that everyone at the party was curious about her, and so the buzz permeating the outdoor space like a passel of bees in a succulent flower garden was pushed aside. While the partygoers ogled Jessie, her eyes were fixated on Josh. The more observant people floating around Dee’s gardens noticed – including Josh and, of course, Michelle.

  Initially startled when she locked eyes with Josh as he gazed at her over Maggie’s turned head, Jessie quickly regained her composure. As Jacob watched from a corner post twenty feet away where he was chatting with Charlie and Jane, Jessie tottered uncomfortably over to the Drifters crowd. Despite Maggie’s long arm reaching out to grip her waist in friendship, Jessie’s eyes stayed locked on Josh, to her detriment, as she snagged a heel i
n one of Dee’s flagstones and almost stumbled. She wasn’t in the mood to fake her increasingly poor temper and, as a passing waiter graciously offered champagne - something tangible to hold on to, to hide behind - Jessie didn’t waste or mince words. Her friends, startled by just how wasted she appeared and awed by her return to the Jessie they once knew and loved appearance-wise, took their cues from her.

  Forcing herself to break the gaze she held with the man she would always love, Jessie turned her icy blues towards the woman who shared his bed.

  “Well,” she murmured from beneath long eyelashes, glaring somewhat deferentially at Michelle, who also gripped a glass of champagne as if it were a lifeline, “You must be Michelle.”

  “What was your first clue?” Michelle asked tartly as Josh looked down at his toes, embarrassed. “His arm around my waist?”

  Ah ha, Jessie thought. Hardball. I like her already.

  Josh stepped in before the women could get into a catfight. He had seen Jessie’s reddened, slightly unfocused eyes narrow and based on past experience he knew where that could lead. “Jessie, I’d like you to meet Michelle.”

  Both Jessie and Michelle took stock of that, analyzing it immediately. He hadn’t said Michelle, I’d like you to meet Jessie. Nor had he said my girlfriend Michelle. Game on, thought Jessie sardonically, hanging tightly onto the champagne glass to keep herself from throwing her arms around Josh’s neck.

  Grace and good manners won in the end when she forced herself to soak up the vibes of their friends, who waited on edge to see how this little drama would play out. Jessie thrust out a hand that Michelle begrudgingly shook.

  “Nice to meet you,” Jessie mumbled.

  “Well, I’d say the same, except that I’m getting a little tired of hearing all about the great Jessie Wheeler. Living in your shadow isn’t easy, my dear.”

  Shit, Jessie thought, a little wildly. She has balls.

  Pausing, she sized up her ex-fiancé’s woman.

  Suddenly Jessie smiled widely, surprising everyone. She was tired of people always bowing to her and treating her like royalty. Maybe this was why Josh let this girl stick – because she was fiery and independent. Jessie glanced up at Josh, and he allowed a small smile back at her. He knew Jessie well, more than anyone, and there were times he could read her mind. He almost nodded. It was as if they could bounce thoughts across to each other.

  “Michelle,” Jessie breezed, not unkindly. “I’m glad he’s got you to keep an eye on him. I get the feeling you’ve got everything under control.”

  Michelle’s mouth fell open, and she had to refocus her angry thoughts – all those pent-up thoughts she held in reserve ready to finally tell Jessie she wasn’t a fucking princess – and make a conscious effort to close her mouth. She felt completely out of place then, as off-balanced mentally as Jessie physically appeared, the only woman present in this small circle without the satisfaction of getting to know Jessie at a better time over an extended period.

  Nearby, Stephen took a sip of his rye and ginger and looked away as he tried to stifle a laugh. Good ole Jessie. Stoned as hell, but always with the upper hand.

  Jessie’s blue eyes danced then as she felt the pressure around them burst and decrease. She smirked at Steve, who was apparently having some fun with this first meeting between the women who loved Josh. She forced herself to eye Josh again, deciding Michelle was too deflated from the lack of attack on her character to step in once more.

  “Happy Birthday, Josh,” she said sincerely, but although she felt she had things somewhat under control, she was still unsure of what to do next.

  He helped her out, leaning forward just the littlest bit so he could place his left hand on the side of Jessie’s arduously manipulated curls, pull her slightly towards him, and gently kiss her forehead. She held her breath, willing him to stay a few extra seconds there, and he did, long enough at least for Jessie to inhale the familiar musky Josh scent of deodorant and spicy after shave mingling with sweat on this warm April day. Longing to lay her cheek against his, to feel the stubble she loved and to soak in his essence, she instead lost her balance a little with the ecstasy in the yearning and feel of him, so her hand involuntarily reached for his belly and rested there while she regained her footing.

  And so they struck an intimate pose of lovers once again, reaching for each other yet knowing the hard thing about it all, which was that time giveth, and time taketh away. His breath on her cheek was but a fragment of time, a splinter, a crack in the façade. When she opened her eyes to see his fancy shoes resting on Dee’s familiar flagstones, she let the hand on his belly drop until it hooked into his belt buckle for one last instant, and then she let him go. It was a moment before she could breathe, to find the decency to look up at him, because even though their interaction was brief, it was still momentous, and Michelle would likely give him hell later.

  Jessie couldn’t hide the way she felt about Josh no more than the sun could duck behind a cloud forever. And so all she could do before she left the little group was swallow her pride and the ache and tears loosed so many nights for the love of this man. She turned on a chunky, unbalanced heel and walked away, but not before she detected the desire in his eyes, too, and read his thoughts once again, which were clearly I miss you too.

  Her departure left an uncomfortable silence, and Josh found himself turning away from Michelle in order to regain his composure. He met Steve’s bemused look, and he had to force himself not to smile back.

  Dee met her girl halfway across the garden walkway as Jessie tried to navigate her way to Jacob whom, she noticed with chagrin, was watching her closely and had likely witnessed the entire brief interchange with Josh and Michelle. He looked so cute and un-Jacob-like in a blue linen blazer and white dress shirt. Thankfully he stuck to faded jeans and boots though, and she smiled, thinking about the boxers and Celtic cross underneath his party clothes.

  Dee was nothing short of ecstatic. She embraced Jessie with gusto. “My dear, dear girl, you are exquisite!” she breathed. “Your hair is just lovely. Did Hilda do that?”

  “Yes,” Jessie said, grinning over Deirdre’s shoulder at Jacob, who was softening as he spied the light in his girlfriend’s eyes beaming at him, and him alone.

  And soon they were holding hands and getting drunk together. Happy Birthday was sung and cake was eaten. All the while a local jazz and blues band, the Joe Kelly Band, entertained on stage (having been instructed not to play Josh’s Song), playing rousing jazz tunes and old blues cover ballads. And the tension eased. Jessie and Michelle even managed to be civil to each other when the need arose, although Josh’s new woman put herself between Jessie and Josh whenever the old lovers seemed to be closing in on each other again.

  As the afternoon wore on, Joe Kelly, forty-something, a smallish man whose affecting flecked green eyes danced merrily as he sang, whose rowdy red hair - already greying at the edges - was in desperate need of a trim, took a break after the singing of Happy Birthday. To his surprise, he discovered Jessie smoking alone around the east side of the Keating villa, chunky shoes cast aside and her toes embedding prints in the sand next to a decorative walkway bordered with purple and pink petunias.

  She was watching a hefty bee flit from flower to flower, thinking of Jacob doing the same with the celebrities at the party. It was a strange delight, to Jacob. He was shy and reserved but Charles had the boy firmly entrenched under his wing, and was making introductions, embarrassing and humbling Jacob with effusive praise for the songs they were starting to produce together.

  So Jessie was alone, momentarily. Her escape from the unrelenting so nice to see you again, Jessie had been accomplished with a trip to the restroom and an exit through a side door. The weed relaxed her, but the alcohol was slow in creating its deadening haze, and so she numbly pursued this time alone, away from the steady curious gaze of Charles and Dee’s friends and associates, away from a desperate pull towards Josh.

  Joe, too, needed some space to clear his head. He
was a good friend to Charles and Dee, often playing various functions as a favor. He was enjoying the party but had wandered around the corner of the house, following one of Dee’s meandering flagstone garden paths, and there was Jessie, her head downcast, bare toes poking holes in the sand.

  “Jessie. Hi.”

  She jumped when the blues singer spoke.

  “Oh! You scared me.” The ever-present threat of Deuce McCall on North American soil unnerved her entirely. She regained her equilibrium. “Joe. I’m loving your band’s tunes. As always.”

  A few feet away, the red-haired musician settled his back against the side of the house.

  “Thanks. It’s always fun to play for Dee’s crowd. They appreciate what they’re hearing.”

  “Well, you are the master of the blues guitar, my friend.” As she smiled up at him Joe detected that her buzz was deflating. The guitarist could also sense what everyone else did – an omnipresent sadness.

  He turned sideways to face her and studied the melancholic blue eyes.

  “What,” she said, a little uncomfortable at the widening of Joe’s smile. Jessie could sense something was at play in his mind.

  With one forefinger, he tapped her lightly on the shoulder. “You should come do a few tunes with me.”

  Jessie laughed then, and backed away. She raised a palm flat before her, a wall separating the musician from the musician, and shook her head. “I don’t think so. You have the music well in hand, my friend.”

  “No, I’m serious,” he enthused. He took another tack, changing his stance slightly as he did so, as if to plant the idea as firmly as the petunias at his feet. “Jessie. You look to me like you’re feeling pretty bummed. Playing some tunes will restore your spirit.”