My Once and Future Love (27 page)

He still wanted answers.

****

When I got home Monday, the message on my
machine was for a meeting the next day. Don’t know how he found my
number…maybe I was in the phone book.

I called in sick to work and tried to get a
good night’s sleep. At last count, I reached two-hundred
forty-seven sheep.

Jacob was outside the building when I
arrived, leaning against a pillar by the entrance in sunglasses, a
weathered black leather jacket, and his lived-in jeans. The wind
tousled his hair and he looked posed for a photo shoot.

“Hello,” I said when I was in earshot.

“I’ll show you the way,” he said, and pushed
off the wall.

We took the elevator up a ways, then walked
down a hall to a conference room, passing cubicles. Every woman we
passed greeted him with a smile and “Hi, Jake”. Flirty emphasis on
the “hi”.

“Ladies,” he said, nodding to them in
turn.

I glanced behind us and caught them watching
him leave. With an ass like his I honestly couldn’t blame them, but
it was still unprofessional. Two men turned to greet us in the
conference room, one short and balding. The man in the expensive
suit smiled at Jacob.

“There’s our favorite star! And on time, too.
Who’s this young lady?”

I offered my hand. “Elizabeth Lawson, sir.
I’m here to interview for the assistant position.”

“Beth, this is Mr. Sydney, the talent VP, and
that’s my manager,” Jacob said.

The manager didn’t offer to shake my hand.
“Hello.”

Mr. Sydney put his hand on Jacob’s shoulder
and guided him toward the door. “Jake, I want you to see the
brochure for this bus. Talk about creature comforts!”

“I’ll be back in a few, Beth. Just sign what
he asks you to.”

Heh, I’d be reading it first. This guy…I
didn’t trust him at all. He looked like he was only acknowledging
me because he was supposed to.

“Jake tells me you were a secretary before
this.”

“An executive assistant.”

“Do you have a degree?”

“A bachelor’s degree in Business
Administration with honors, sir.”

“I see. And what makes you want to be a
personal assistant now?”

“I’ve known Jacob a long time and he made a
good offer.”

He narrowed his beady little eyes at me.
“Money important to you?”

“No, but it’d be a mistake to turn down a
better opportunity, wouldn’t it?”

He shrugged. “Sure. Look, honey, I don’t care
what you do for him as long as he’s happy, on time, and selling
albums. Fuck him, if that’s what it takes. Double-cross us, and
I’ll bury you. Clear?”

What an ass! Did I look like I wasn’t
serious? I didn’t come to an interview in a business suit to be
told to screw the client.

“As crystal.”

He smiled, looking like a shark. “Good. The
NDA is standard copy from the record company. The contract is
already drawn up.”

Oh, great…prepare to turn over your first
born, Beth. “I’d like to read it over first, if you don’t
mind.”

He shrugged. “Fax it to my office by morning.
But until I see your name on the dotted line, the job’s still up
for grabs.”

I resisted the urge to grind my teeth.
“Fine.” I tucked the papers in my bag.

“Great. Let’s find Jake. I have an
appointment.”

I followed the jerk only because I didn’t
know my way around the office. We found Jacob in the VP’s corner
suite. He arched a brow when he saw me. I masked my emotions.

He stood from the leather sofa. “Later. Gotta
meet up with the boys and jam.” He opened the door for me.
“Somethin’ wrong?” he asked when we were in the hall.

“No.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. Really.” I pushed my glasses back
up the bridge of my nose. “I’m fine.”

“I was nervous the first time in this
building, too.”

“Yeah, right.” We stepped into the
elevator.

He grinned. “Well, it didn’t last long.”

“I’m looking over the contract before I take
the position. No offense.”

“None taken.”

Outside, we both went toward the parking lot.
“Do you want to meet the band?” he asked.

“Might as well. I’ll follow you.”

“Sure you can keep up?” He stopped at a
silver Jaguar coupe.

“Funny.” I rolled my eyes and continued to my
hand-me-down car.

He was waiting at the exit when I drove
out.

The building for their practice space was
nothing special on the outside. Just another commercial building.
He waved at the security guard and led me deeper inside. We passed
several doors to smaller rooms before reaching one where I heard
guitar and drum noises coming from the other side.

He opened the door.

“Hey, Jake!” “’Bout time, man.” “Nah, what do
we need him for? He doesn’t play!” They talked in a
near-simultaneous burst of words.

“Mates, this is Beth Lawson, possibly our new
assistant. Make her feel welcome.”

A blond man, taller than the rest, stepped
forward and shook my hand. “Hi, I’m Bob. That’s Mikey, Dylan, and
Aaron with the drumsticks.”

“Hey.”

“Where’d you find this one, Jake, the
library?” Aaron with the drumsticks.

Bob smacked Aaron on the back of the head.
“Shut up, moron. Don’t mind him. We haven’t housebroken him,
yet.”

“Best behavior, mates, really? At least until
she’s used to us,” Jacob said.

It was obvious he was the leader when they
all nodded their compliance. He nudged me toward a loveseat against
the wall and walked to the microphone stand in the center.

For the first time since I was eighteen, I
watched Jacob Lindsey sing.

****

Jacob looped up a cable, helping pack up.
Beth had left.

“What’s the story with Miss Prim and Proper?”
Bob asked.

“She’s going to be our assistant, if she
signs the contract.”

“Didn’t know we need an assistant.”

“Management thinks I do.” He bent to untangle
the wad of cable spaghetti on the floor.

“Do you trust her?”

He gave Bob a look. “What do you mean by
that?”

“If you want to keep what little privacy
you’ve got left, you need someone you can trust. So, back to my
first question—what’s the story?” Bob finished wiping down his
guitar, set it in the case, and closed the lid.

“I’ve known Beth a long time.”

“How long? Like playground buddies?”
Should’ve known his best friend would dig for dirt.

“Went to the same high school. We were
neighbors.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What?”

“Nothin’.” Like hell. Bob looked for double
meanings everywhere.

“Spill it, Bob. I can see the hamster wheel
spinnin’ in your brain.”

“Cute.”

“Wanker. You got an opinion, express it.”

“Just wondered what was up, man. You’ve never
brought a girl to practice before, least of all one that looks like
that.”

“Like
what
?”

“The opposite of your type. A corporate
drone. Then again, it’s always the quiet ones…”

“Hands off, mate. She’s a friend.” Was a
friend. A lady he respected—there, he could say that.

“Hey, whoa, not my type, either, bro. Just
talkin’.”

Jacob sighed. “If she signs on, just be
respectful, alright?”

“Okay, Jake. No problem.”

Jacob nodded and set the bundled cable with
the rest. The only equipment they didn’t carry out each time was
the drum kit and the microphones. Aaron’s drums were stored in a
locker, his sticks stowed in his back pocket. Jacob picked up an
amp and followed Dylan out to the parking lot.

If Beth signed on, he’d have to talk to all
of them about their behavior around her. She’d be coming on tour
and the situation could get really uncomfortable on the bus if one
of the lads stepped out of line. And…he didn’t think he could watch
her with one of his friends.

Had she dated since? Was she seeing someone
now?

Don’t do this to yourself, mate.
He
put the amp in Dylan’s trunk and went back inside. No, it wouldn’t
do to follow that train of thought at all.

****

That evening, I faxed the contract back with
my suggested alterations. With that done, I had nothing to do but
wait and went back to work in the morning. When I got home, the
shark had left a message; grudgingly saying the job was mine if I
wanted it, including the provisions Jake backed me up on.

Huh. He pressured his manager. Weird. I
didn’t know whether he did it because we went back a long way and
my requests were fair or there was some other motive, and that made
me nervous.

I called the manager back to say yes, and
drove to his office to sign the papers. He gave me copies of the
contract and confidentiality agreement and filed the originals.

“Here.” He tossed a plain envelope on the
desk in front of me.

Inside were a couple index cards. “What’s
this?”

“Jake’s address and the security code for the
gate. Part of your job is living on his property, or had you
noticed that little detail?”

That “little detail” hadn’t been there. The
contract said
close to Mr. Lindsey’s house
. Leave it to my
ex to have his own interpretation of that.

“It was just a question, sir. Did he say when
he’s expecting me?”

He shrugged. “Do I look like I take messages?
Work it out yourself. Now get out of my office. I’m busy.”

I left, biting my tongue. How did that man
possibly get successful by being that rude? He had to be handling
Jacob’s career in a spectacular way because I didn’t know how he
put up with him.

Living ‘on the property’, eh? Well, it
had
to be nicer than my apartment. I’d just deal with being
around my ex all the time again and suck it up. For the salary on
my contract—
holy cow
—and generous benefits he was giving me,
I was willing to put up with a lot.

I quit my job and packed up my apartment,
what little there was to move.

Chapter Two

Passing multi-million-dollar mansions, I
drove up to big black metal gates made of steel mesh. The property
beyond was just barely visible through the privacy screen. I
punched in the code on the security panel and waited for
admittance. The gates swung inward.

Trees sheltered the long driveway on both
sides. The drive finally opened on a circle with a fountain in the
center, a simple pedestal shooting a jet of water in the air at
timed intervals. Grass had been planted around the drive and up to
the house. A house that didn’t strike me as the dwelling place of
the man I knew. It was very modern, all straight lines and
angles.

I parked my car and walked up to the giant
doors. The door on my left opened within seconds of me pressing the
bell.

“You must be Miss Lawson. I’m Maria.” She was
an average-frame woman in middle age, wearing a plain blouse and a
skirt with a half-apron tied over it.

“Hi.” I stepped inside and marveled at the
entry to the mansion.

This place was
huge
. The entry could
probably hold my entire apartment and then some. With the slate
flooring and bare, gleaming white walls, it was quite cold, though.
The only redeeming feature in my eyes was the atrium in the center.
Some species of dwarf tree grew in the center of a square of dirt,
a skylight above it enabling it to live.

Maria walked around the tree and paused in
front of a massive central staircase. “Mr. Lindsey’s wing is to the
left up there. Guest quarters are on the right.”

“He uses an entire wing?”

“Nah, but the master suite is at the end.”
She turned right and pushed open a door. It was painted black. We
walked down a short hall lined with cabinets and found the kitchen.
“This is my domain,” she said. “You need me, look here first.”

“Okay. Do you live here, too?”

“During the week, and any time I’m needed,
though Mr. Lindsey is gone much of the time.”

The kitchen would rival several in gourmet
restaurants, with professional appliances and yards of counter
space. Maria kept walking through another door.

“This is the laundry, obviously, and through
there is one of the garages.”

One of? Holy cow…how many cars did a person
need?

She went back through the kitchen and out
another door, this time to the formal dining room with a black
table with stainless steel legs and a black chandelier with
teardrop crystals hanging from its arms. The walls were papered in
matte silver brocade.

A hidden pocket door let us back into the
foyer. “Is this house ever full?”

“We’ve had a few parties over the past year.
This is the living room.” She slid a door open across the
entry.

Another huge room, the furniture was grouped
into smaller stations—all black leather or white upholstery. A few
Mod paintings adorned the walls for pops of color and a bar stood
at one end of the room. I supposed it was chic; if you liked a look
that screamed
don’t touch
. The carpet was white, so the
guests couldn’t even eat in here.

“This way.” She led me to a hall beneath the
grand stairs. “You’ll find Mr. Lindsey in one of these rooms if
he’s not upstairs.”

She opened door after door, displaying a game
room outfitted like an arcade, a home theater, an informal den, and
finally, the recording studio.

“This is the one room we don’t enter unless
invited, clear?”

“Yes, ma’am. I remember how protective Jacob
was of his work.”

She nodded. “Well, that’s the downstairs. Not
much to see upstairs.”

“Seen one bedroom, you’ve seen ‘em all.” And
that was seriously lame.

Maria smiled politely. “Let me show you the
grounds.”

We left the back of the house through a glass
door. A lattice of wood beams sheltered the patio from direct sun.
Concrete floor, potted palm trees…entirely too minimalist for
me.