CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Scott
When I woke the next morning, the first thing I did was check my phone. As soon as I found that Jackie hadn’t replied, my heart sank. I was getting worried. What had happened?
My mind played tricks on me. What if she had found out the news? I knew it was on some gossip sites—she might have seen it by accident. If she had, would she have done something drastic? Surely not.
I showered and dressed, my heart beating frantically. Then I called her.
I got the phone company, with a flat, terse voice telling me the number was unreachable. I swore.
“Jackie! You madwoman. Are you okay?”
I tried to quell my morbid imagination. Look, Scott. Jackie isn’t that ungrounded. She wouldn’t take her own life because of a rumor.
I couldn’t stop my worries, though. Okay, maybe she was too grounded to actually take her own life. But what if something had happened to her? What if she’d fallen? Collapsed again, like she did that night I met her? What if the gang she told me about had attacked her outside work?
“I need to see them.”
I called her again. Got the same message. Now I was really frantic.
I had to drive there. But I couldn’t miss the meeting today, could I? I drew a deep breath. There was only one thing for it. I called Dad.
“Dad?”
“Scott!” he sounded happy, which was a blessing. “What’s up?”
“Dad, I can’t come in to work this morning.”
“What?” he sounded horrified. Then frost formed around his voice. “You do know that’s unacceptable, right?”
I cleared my throat. I hadn’t told him about Jackie, or my daughter, or any of it. I never told Dad anything until it was already settled. I’d decided to wait until I’d actually gotten married before I even mentioned it. But then the media mill had ground out its stories and taken that chance from me.
“Dad, I know. But this is life or death. Please?”
“Go and do what you have to do,” he said frostily. “I’ll tell Mrs. Rice to file the necessary absences. But be here after lunch for the meeting. Or I will fire you. Understood?”
“Yes, Dad.” I sighed. If he had been anyone other than my dad, I would have explained the situation. Any other boss would have understood I needed to be absent because my wife was in danger! But explaining anything like that to Dad would have taken longer than I had right now. I needed time. “I’ll be there. Bye.”
“Goodbye.”
I grabbed my suitcase and ran to the car. Put my foot on the gas and shot out into the street. I decided to slow down a bit—the last thing I needed was the police stopping me—and arrived at Jackie’s apartment building a moment later.
I ran up to the door. This time I knew the code, and I knew which number to ring—I had taken special note. Forty-nine. I rang. No answer.
“Don’t be stupid, Scott. She’s at work. She works at the reformatory. Go there. Or call them.”
I pulled out my phone. I was shivering in the mid-autumn morning in my blazer and suit pants, my fingers struggling to type the letters. I found the school and the number. Rang them.
“St. Luke Reformatory. Good morning. How can we help?”
“Hi!” I said frantically. “Does Ms. Jefferson work there?”
A pause. “Sorry, who is this?”
I sighed. “I’m a friend of Jackie’s. I need to speak to her. Or at least know if she is at work today?”
“I can confirm that.” Her voice was guarded.
Whew! I felt like crying with the relief of that. “Thank you,” I said fervently.
“Sir, are you okay?” the woman asked. Her voice had softened and the sympathetic tone warmed my heart.
“I guess so,” I said, with a chuckle. I was so relieved! “Would it be possible to speak to Jackie?”
“She’s consulting right now. Could you call back at lunchtime? That’s one pm.”
My heart sank. If I called then, I’d probably interfere with the start of the meeting, which was at one thirty. “Okay,” I said, feeling rebellious. If that was the one way I could get hold of Jackie, I was going to. I had to talk to her, explain what had happened.
“Okay. Will that be all, sir?”
“It will. Thanks a lot.”
“Have a nice day.”
I sighed. I wasn’t sure if I’d have a nice day or not, but the prospects had just brightened a little, since I might get to speak to Jackie after all!
I went back to my car, blowing on my hands to warm my fingers. Then I drove to work. I jogged in and took the last two flights of stairs up to the office: I was so wired I needed to burn some energy. I raced past the secretary and sat down at my desk.
My colleagues—I shared the elegant glass cubicle of office with the other two senior executives—looked up with mild interest.
“Josh, Paige…sorry. I had an appointment.” I made a wavering gesture with my hand, indicating that I didn’t mean to disturb their concentration.
“No problem.” Josh said, not looking up.
“Scott, are you okay?” Paige asked kindly. “You look stressed.”
“I’m fine,” I said, at once touched by her concern and wishing she would be meaner so I wouldn’t be tempted to pour my heart out right here.
I couldn’t concentrate anyway, so there seemed little point in my being at work. I kept on thinking about Jackie and the fact that she was clearly furious with me.
She must have found out about these rumors. She must have been so, so hurt.
As I thought it, an idea came to me. After the meeting I would have to confront my dad about this. It was his fault, in a funny kind of way. He was the one who had been pushing me into this relationship with Alexa. If there were photos of us it was because he had managed the two of us like a director for a movie.
Scene one: Alexa and Scott together on a rooftop, dining.
I wanted to explode. The longer I sat there, the hotter my rage became. When lunch break came around I was primed like a pistol, ready to let rip at my dad. I decided to cool off.
“Coming to lunch?” Josh asked, making me jump.
“No, thanks. I’m going to head down to the gym.”
“Scott, you are okay, aren’t you?” Paige asked. She was shrugging on her blazer, lifting her bag from the rack.
I laughed. It came out a bit hysterical, which probably didn’t help to create the impression I wanted. “I’m fine, Paige. It isn’t so unusual for me to work out.”
She laughed. “No, I guess not.”
“Thanks,” I said. When they were gone, I heaved a sigh. Took out my phone and dialed the school.
“Hello?” I said. It was the same voice from this morning who answered me, the secretary.
“St. Luke school. How can we…oh. Hi! It’s you.”
I laughed despite the gravity of the situation. “Yeah, it is. Is Jackie there?”
“She’s gone out to lunch. I’m sorry. Try later?”
I wanted to cry. I couldn’t try later—the meeting would end whenever it ended. I had just lost my chance to speak to her.
“Okay,” I said glumly. “If you see her, tell her Scott called. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I hung up, feeling wretched.
I now had about half an hour to calm down, make sure I was prepared for the meeting, rehearse the things I wanted to say to my dad in a calm, rational manner. I went to the gym downstairs and used the treadmill for ten minutes, my speech running through my head as I did so. I felt calmer after that. In the shower I felt my tension melting away. I wasn’t enraged anymore. I was calmly angry. Which was infinitely more dangerous.
At twenty-five minutes past one, I lifted my laptop, shrugged into my blazer and headed to the boardroom. Set up the laptop for the presentation and then waited, pacing, for the rest to arrive from the business lunch.
“Good afternoon, everyone. Let’s get to it.” My father. He was leading three men with him, all in expensive suits with that glossed look that speaks of wealth. He gave me a glance—cold and approving at once. I bit my lip.
He really does still see me as an irresponsible boy, doesn’t he? The thought made me angry. I looked away.
“Good afternoon,” I said, greeting the other three men who all came over to shake my hand. They seemed more pleased about seeing me than he was, I thought resentfully.
We all sat down to business. I presented the results I needed to present. They all seemed pleased. While I relaxed, my part over, my dad himself presented his plans for the future. These were our most important investors—all close friends of my father’s—which was the only reason he did it himself.
At half past four, we adjourned. I waited until everyone had gone and then went over to my father.
“Dad?” I said quietly. “Do you have ten minutes?”
He almost rolled his eyes at me. I caught a look of exasperation creeping across his face and glared at him. He sighed.
“Yes, son. What is it? I wouldn’t mind an explanation for your absence this morning either. It was embarrassing to have to reschedule things around you.”
I felt my anger spark and swallowed it down. “I was about to explain, Father,” I said firmly. “But first, I think we should go somewhere more private.”
He shrugged. “If you insist.”
We went to his office.
“See that no one disturbs me for—you said ten minutes, yes? Ten minutes.”
“Yes, sir.” his secretary nodded, looking nervously from my dad to me as I followed him in.
He shut the door and stood behind his desk. He looked the way he did when I was five and trying to explain to him why Reggie and I had broken the window when playing football. I pushed down the terror he had inspired in me then and still did, for the greatest part.
“Dad, I’m not marrying Alexa. I need your permission to make an announcement about that. The rumor’s got out and we need to finish it.”
“On no account will you do that,” he said stiffly. “Imagine the scandal! And imagine how Howard would react? If we insult his daughter? No way, Scott.”
I felt as if he’d slapped me. “Father, this is important…” I began. Then I had another thought. I didn’t need to argue with him on this. Didn’t need an announcement. Why not tell the truth? “Actually, forget it.”
“Good,” he said thinly. “Have you changed your mind?”
“No,” I said lightly. “I’ve just decided to make my own announcement.”
He looked relieved, then his eyes narrowed. “You mean, an announcement of a marriage between you and Alexa?”
“No. An announcement of my marriage, yes.”
“What are you doing, Scott?” He looked impatient. I could hear it in his voice, in the weariness of it. “Stop playing games and just tell me straight out. What is it?”
“I am marrying Jackie Jefferson.”
“Who?” he stared at me. “Who the hell is that? What are you…” His face was flushed, a hectic contrast to his white hair and clear eyes. I would usually worried about his heart, making him overexcited. But now I didn’t.
“Jackie Jefferson is the woman I want to marry. She is the woman I love. And the mother of my daughter, Stella.”
“What?” Now I really should have been worried. He was red in the face, staring at me. He leaned on the desk. Then he sat down, suddenly exhausted. “Scott, tell me this is a joke. What have you done?”
“I have made up my own mind,” I said coldly.
“Scott, if this is one of your ridiculous playboy scandals, I swear I’ll disinherit you.”
My eyes widened. “Jackie is not one of my playboy scandals! How dare you speak about your own grandchild like that? As if she was a disgrace? She’s my whole life. And as for your inheritance…do you really think it means anything, compared to what I feel for Jackie and my child? Take it!”
I turned around and walked out.
I don’t know what Mrs. Atwell, his secretary, thought of me. At that moment, I didn’t care. I wanted to go home. It was five o’ clock. I went up to my desk and collected my things.
Josh and Paige were still there, watching me silently, as if to ask why I was leaving so early. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I pushed in my chair and walked to the door.
“I have to go,” I said abruptly. They looked at me curiously. Paige was the first to recover. She smiled.
“See you tomorrow, Scott. Have a nice day.”
“Thanks,” I said tiredly. “I’ll try.”
“Bye, Scott,” Josh added.
“Bye.”
I walked down to the elevator, stormed out of it to my car and drove off.
I hit the road and considered just driving. Driving as fast as I could legally get away with until I cooled off. It was rush hour, though, and there wasn’t much point. I’d be stuck here until six anyway.
I tried to call Jackie again, but there was no answer at work or on her phone. I was wretched and miserable and I needed to see her. I made a plan while I sat there. I would go home and shower and try and cool off. Then I’d go to her apartment. She’d be sure to be home by then. She had to agree to see me. She had to. If she didn’t, I thought shakily, I might just lose my wits.