“Hey now—” Jack started, smile fading, but Valerie cut him off.
“You might think it’s none of their business, but I’m here to tell you they’re going to think everything you’ve ever done, thought, or said is their business. It’s ridiculous the things they will find to be of the utmost importance.”
Jack shot a look at Eric. “I begin to see the need for secrecy.”
Eric shrugged. “Hey, even I had no idea it was going to blow up to something of this magnitude.”
“Which is exactly why I wanted you to get out. You were supposed to make your little splash, then dive right back into hiding. Keep the mystery quotient there, give them just enough to whet their appetite and spike sales, but not so much that they became obsessed.”
“What are the godmothers’ opinions?” Eric asked.
Valerie sighed. “Are you kidding? Vivian is eating this up. Aurora thinks Jack is just the next best thing to a mint julep. And Mercedes is hearing the ka-ching of the registers in her sleep.”
Jack toyed with his coffee cup, tearing long strips off the curled rim. “I don’t guess it would help at this point to say I’m sorry.” He smiled, abashed. “Again.”
Valerie looked at him. “What would help is you taking this seriously. Eric and I are going to spend however long it takes between now and the next interview drilling you on how to respond to the questions that will probably come up now that the public has caught the Jack Lambert bug. That means questions about your marriage, your past jobs, your childhood—”
Jack’s feet slid to the floor with a thump. “No. I’m not discussing that.”
“If you avoid it, they’ll just dig deeper,” Valerie said, watching the two men exchange glances.
“I’m sure we’ll come up with something that will work,” Eric said. “Leave that part to me, okay?”
Valerie looked as skeptical as always, but she must have sensed she was going to be outvoted. “Okay. Just make sure you have something other than ‘no comment.’ ”
“Don’t worry.”
Valerie laughed without humor. “Yeah. No problem.” Just then a knock came at the door.
“See how well that works,” Jack said to Eric. “Knocking first?”
Tracy poked her freckled nose in the room. “Um, Ms. Wagner—” She broke off to roll her eyes and giggle. “I mean, Valerie? There are, like, some conflicts in the schedule?”
Jack had been around her less than ten minutes and had already noticed her penchant for ending every sentence with a question mark. She noticed him, then Eric, and turned a most alarming shade of scarlet.
“Thank you, Tracy. Just put the notes on my desk. I’ll be there in a minute.”
The teenager opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her gaze was transfixed on the two men. She finally managed to nod, and with a final sigh, she clutched the legal pad of notes to her chest and backed out of the room.
“Maybe we should call it Prince Charming Fever,” Eric suggested, chuckling as the conference-room door shut and they heard a thunk, as if Tracy had barely managed to close it before swooning.
Valerie was already standing and collecting her things. “Let me go see what the latest drama is, and, Eric, you can begin coaching Jack.” She fished out a sheet of paper. “Here’s a list of some questions I thought might come up. Vicki, the talk-show hostess, will definitely try to push things to the more personal angle. It’s her trademark.”
Then Valerie’s cell phone and pager went off simultaneously. “Here we go again.” She left the room, muttering, juggling her notes in one hand, squinting at the readout on her pager, and pressing the phone between ear and shoulder, all while maneuvering the door open with her heels.
“She really is something,” Eric said as the door swung shut behind her before either of them could get there to help her out. “Very take-charge.” He turned to Jack, smiling. “Not your usual type, as I recall.”
“I don’t think I’m her type, either. I’m not predicting a long future. Hell, it might already be past, thanks to you.”
Eric gave a short laugh. “Don’t underestimate yourself. Or her. But what were you thinking, putting the moves on her in the workplace? What if I’d been her simple-headed assistant? My God, it would be tabloid city all over again. They wouldn’t even have to offer her money to tell all.”
“It’s not like I planned it, okay? It just sort of seems to happen between us.”
Eric sat back down. “You don’t seem as blasé about that as you’d normally be.” A slow smile spread across his face when Jack didn’t immediately respond. “This might be getting serious.”
“It’s some kind of weird chemical compatibility. Trust me. In any kind of real relationship, we’d be at each other all the time.”
“Sometimes that can be a good thing.” Eric folded his hands behind his head and sighed in utter satisfaction. “A very good thing.”
Jack groaned. “Please, spare me.”
Eric chuckled. “All I’m saying is that sometimes it’s just pent-up frustration that makes things seem rocky at first.”
“Is this the advice columnist, or my finally-getting-regular-sex friend talking?”
Eric cocked his head. “Would it matter?”
Now Jack laughed, then shook his head. “Hell, I don’t think there is advice out there for what we’re doing. Or not doing, as the case may be.”
“Is it just the subterfuge that’s keeping you two from just going for it?”
“On her part? Yes.”
“And you?”
“What are you all of a sudden? Dr. Ruth?”
“Just answer me. If it weren’t for our charade, do you think you would just have at it and see where it goes?”
“Honestly, if it weren’t for all this, I doubt she and I would be involved at all.”
“So it’s proximity.”
“I told you, it’s chemistry. Something she’s got is combustible with something I’ve got. Under normal circumstances? I don’t think she and I would even give each other a second glance.”
“But you have. So that’s moot. People always think they know what’s right for them. Until they find it. You know, this media thing won’t last forever.”
Jack folded his arms. “If there is a God.”
Eric just looked at him pointedly.
“I know, I know. I’ll be good from now on, promise.”
Eric just laughed. “So, then what? You’re going to pursue things, aren’t you? When I said be more open to possibilities, this was exactly what I was talking about.”
“I need to go back to work. When this stunt is over, I’ll get a real job and take off. If anything is going to happen between me and Valerie, it would be during. Not after. She’s already putting the major brakes on, and since you blew my one go-with-the-flow moment, I’d say this entire conversation is moot.”
Eric just smiled knowingly.
“You know, for a guy who only started getting laid again—”
“A couple of hours ago?”
Jack scowled. “Don’t rub it in.”
Eric just laughed again. “Listen, I may not have been personally involved in a long-term relationship. But I’ve been quite the student in observing, discussing, and dissecting others.” He leaned forward, turning serious. “All I’m saying is, chemistry is easy. Happens all the time. In my experience, when it’s not convenient to act on it, it’s pretty easily dismissed. And despite not being each other’s type, combined with incredibly bad timing, you two still seem to be having a very difficult time walking away from it.”
“Maybe we’re both just hard up and horny.”
“And maybe it’s more than chemistry.”
Considering Jack had all but said the same thing to Valerie not an hour earlier, it shouldn’t have been so disconcerting to hear Eric say it to him. But the way his stomach did funny little things and a cold sweat threatened to bead up on his forehead told him otherwise. “Now I remember why I don’t talk to you about women. You
’re too analytical, wanting to see things that aren’t there.”
“And yet, who was the first one to tell you that Shelby—”
Jack raised his palm. “Please,” he pleaded, “can we have one discussion about women without her name coming up? I’m begging you.”
“Fine, fine. But now that she has come up—”
Jack groaned, but Eric pushed on. “I’m serious. Unrelated to this other discussion, but I’ve been wondering if it might not be a bad idea to contact her, or let me contact her, and make her aware of what’s going on. Just in case.”
Jack looked at Eric like he’d lost his mind. “You know, maybe you should stay on the sidelines. Because love, or lust, or whatever the hell you’re in right now, has surely fucked up your brain. Are you insane?”
“Just trying to cover all the bases.”
“You know damn well that she’s either on some island location wearing next to nothing while seducing her photographer, or in some other exotic locale banging him. What she’s not doing is paying any attention to the American press or television. Trust me on that.”
Eric seemed to shrug it off. “It was just a thought.”
“Well, it was a shitty one.”
Eric laughed. “Awfully touchy about the topic of women these days.”
“Cut me some slack. I’ve done more talking about relationships, with perfect strangers, mind you, strangers with microphones stuck in my face, than I have personally discussed with anyone, ever. I don’t know how you do it.”
Eric smiled, shrugged. “What can I say? I find human relations fascinating.”
“Well, let’s relate about something else, okay? Like where in the hell you’ve been these past couple of days? And I’m not asking for sordid details. But even a guy routinely getting some for the first time in his adult life has to come up for air sometime. So what else is going on with you? What’s this about a real estate agent?”
If it meant getting his increasingly confusing personal life out from under the microscope, Jack would risk hearing details about Eric and Brice that no straight male would ever willingly choose to hear.
Eric was all too happy to accommodate him. “Remember I told you Brice and I had really enjoyed our drive around Potomac on our way to Glass Slipper? Well, we both really love the peacefulness and privacy out there. So we’ve been talking, and we’re, um, looking.”
Despite his obvious excitement, Jack could see that Eric was also a bit nervous. “So, you’re looking . . . together?”
“I know what you’re thinking. It’s way too soon. I know that better than anyone.” He paused, then sighed, his expression wreathed in such joy and happiness that Jack couldn’t find it in him to rip at it. He grinned. “I’m my own worst advice nightmare.”
Jack thought about the parallels to his whirlwind fling with Shelby. Only there were no palm trees and mai tais involved. As far as he could tell, Eric wasn’t drunk on anything but love. “Just be careful. Don’t sign anything right away. I mean, if it’s for real, what’s the rush, right?”
“If you’re worried that Brice is just after me for my money, don’t be. He’s got more to be worried about in that department than I do.”
“Meaning?”
Eric fiddled with his coffee mug. “Well . . . I’ve been thinking. These past couple of weeks have been incredible. Not just because of Brice. But the freedom of being myself, of not worrying anymore about a readership judging me. Don’t get me wrong, I care about them deeply. And they’ve given me a great deal. But when it comes down to it, they’re strangers. And I’ve given them total control of my life. Now that I have it back . . .” He trailed off, lifted a shoulder. “It’s better than even I realized it would be.”
“You’re thinking maybe you don’t want to write anymore?”
He didn’t look at Jack right away, but kept fiddling with his cup. “Maybe.” He glanced up. “Am I crazy to consider it?”
Now it was Jack’s turn to shrug. “It’s your life.”
“But?”
“I don’t know. It just seems like you finally have it all. Out of the spotlight, able to do the work you love without fear of discovery. And with all this media frenzy, you’re more popular than ever. Guaranteed best-sellers.”
“I know, I’ve thought about that, too.” Eric glanced at his watch and pushed to a stand. “We’ve got a shuttle to catch. Then we have to prep for the Chuck and Vicki taping.”
Jack stood, perfectly willing to let the topic go, like Eric obviously wanted. But, as his friend, he felt obligated to say the rest of what was on his mind. “You should do what makes you happy. You’ve more than earned that right. But it’s only been a few weeks. And we’re still in the middle of all this. Just don’t do anything rash, okay?”
Then Valerie bustled back in. “You guys ready? Car’s waiting. Did you go over everything?”
“Everything important,” Eric said. “And I won’t if you won’t,” he told Jack, cutting a meaningful look at Valerie.
Jack scowled, then held the door open while they all shuffled out. So much for his ability to give advice. Or take it, he thought as he watched Valerie walk ahead of him. Because of him opening his big fat mouth, they were going to be joined at the hip for the next three days.
Question was . . . would he be able to keep himself from trying to get her to join other, far more pleasurable body parts?
Seven hours later he was in the makeup room of Studio A, getting his hair moussed and his face deshined, while watching Valerie flip through the wardrobe Jenn had sent up to New York with them. Due to a heavy thunderstorm, their flight had been delayed leaving Reagan National and delayed again upon arriving at LaGuardia. They hadn’t had time to check in at the hotel, instead coming directly to the studio, luggage and all. Valerie had pulled out the garment bag with Jack’s clothes—not the ones he’d packed, mind you, for those had been sent on ahead to the Plaza with Eric, along with the rest of their bags.
Speaking of which . . . “Where is Eric? Shouldn’t he be back by now? I mean, Brice isn’t the biggest dude in the world, but I’m pretty sure Eric didn’t pack him in with all the rest of his clothes.”
That got a short smile from Valerie, but she quickly went back to sorting and muttering. She’d grown increasingly tense during their flight, until both Jack and Eric had buried themselves in the in-flight magazine to avoid saying anything that might provoke another worried lecture.
“And did you see how many of those bags were his? My God, you’d think it was him making the media rounds. I never knew he was such a clotheshorse. And here I thought that was just a cliché.”
The male hairdresser finished one last primp on the front of Jack’s hair, then smirked. “Honey, sometimes the clothes do make the man.” He glanced meaningfully at Jack’s faded jeans and rumpled shirt, then turned and packed up his tools.
The makeup artist finished patting his forehead with a large poufy thing filled with powder, then leaned in a bit closer. “And sometimes it doesn’t matter what a man is wearing. Or not wearing.” She winked at him as she moved back and began stowing her stuff in an enormous black canvas bag. “They’ll be ready for you shortly, okay, hon?”
“Thanks for your help,” he said with a smile and a wink, catching Valerie’s eye roll from the corner of his eye. The two left and he turned to face the mirror for the first time. “Maybe I was too hasty. Is this really the style? Because I could have just not combed my hair when I got out of bed and pretty much pulled this off.”
Valerie looked over at him long enough to say, “Keep your fingers out of it. And don’t smudge the makeup. Men. You’re worse than a toddler.”
“Funny, I was thinking you’re worse than a stage mother before her child’s first recital. So I guess it all fits.” He slouched back in the padded chair and crossed an ankle over his knee. “So, Mommy, what should I wear for my big number?” He clasped his hands. “Do you think they’ll like me? Will they really like me?”
“Not to make
you nervous or anything, but you do realize that millions of people will be watching you today. You might want to consider that and stop screwing around.”
“Jeez, forgive me for trying to lighten things up. You might want to consider that your uptight, nervous attitude isn’t doing me any favors.”
She pulled out a pair of black pants and a blue, short-sleeved, button-up cotton shirt with monochromatic blue embroidery that gave it a kind of Hawaiian flair, and turned to face him. “Yeah, I can see how stressed you are. Kibitzing with the production staff on your way in, flirting with the makeup artist. You’re just a bundle of nerves, all right.”
“I only kibitz when I’m anxious,” he said with mock earnestness.
She finally cracked another smile. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. But I’m just afraid you’re not taking this seriously enough. This is big. Huge.”
“I love it when women say that to me.”
“See? This is exactly what I mean.”
Jack pushed out of the chair. He took the clothes from her hands, hung them back up on the rack, and reached for her.
She stepped back. “Oh, no, uh-uh. No touching. I can’t handle touching. Not now, and most definitely not here. Besides, you have to get dre—”
That was as far as she got before he yanked her into his arms and kissed her. She fisted her hands in his shirt, but he wasn’t sure if it was to push him away, or pull him closer. All he knew is that she didn’t fight the kiss. And when he lifted his head, a few moments later than he’d originally planned, they were both breathing a bit harder.
“You really have to stop that,” she informed him, her freshly kissed mouth making it hard for him to take her too seriously.
“I was trying to give you a different outlet for all your pent-up stress.”
“Ah. Arrogant, cocky, sexy . . . and selfless. It’s no wonder I can’t resist.”
Dear Prince Charming Page 22
