Speak Now Page 6

  “I’ve had a spree. What do you think?” I reached into a bag at random and pulled out a black Donna Karan dress with a plunging neckline.

  He shut the door behind me, then turned to look at the dress. He frowned, wrinkling his brow. “It’s just such a waste.”

  “I beg your pardon?” I wasn’t used to having anyone comment on how I spent my money. “What do you—”

  “Shhh.” He put his fingers to his lips, then came closer and slipped his hands around my waist. “Buying these clothes?” he said, “when you look so good naked?”

  Oh. All right then. Crisis over. “Why don’t I try everything on,” I suggested, “and then you can take everything off?”

  “How about we start with those?” He pointed to a pair of red stiletto Dolce & Gabbanas that had tumbled out of their box. “Just those.”

  “Wait right here.” I bit his lower lip. “And—”

  There was the sound of a throat being cleared awkwardly. “Uh…Jack?”

  “Mike!” Jack sprang away from me.

  It’s possible I screamed. Just a little.

  “Charley,” Jack recovered quickly, “this is my friend Mike Papas.”

  A tall man with a bad haircut was standing in the doorway to the room Jack had come from. “Hi,” he waved weakly.

  I raised my hand in a similar fainthearted gesture. Mike who? Who did Jack know in San Francisco? I looked at Mike more closely. He looked enough like Jack to be his brother—his woefully unkempt brother. He was wearing faded jeans, a stretched-out polo shirt, and socks but no shoes.

  “Mike’s an old friend of mine from grad school, in Monterey,” Jack explained, running a hand over his face. “Sorry, Mike, I forgot you were here.”

  “No problem,” Mike assured him. “I totally understand.” His eyes sparkled as he advanced toward me, his hand outstretched. “Nice to meet you, if a bit awkward.”

  We shook.

  “Mike got out of the Navy a couple of months ago and he’s living in Palo Alto now. I gave him a call this morning,” Jack added helpfully.

  “Oh.” This is why my conversational skills are in such demand at parties. “That’s nice.”

  “I have to admit, I’m trying to steal him from you,” Mike said.

  I suspect my polite smile began to register incomprehension.

  “Mike wants me to join his company,” Jack offered. “We set up a sort of a makeshift office in the other room.”

  “Oh.” That seemed to be the only comment I could come up with. I glanced into the second bedroom and saw the desk and two tables had been pushed together. Two laptops and several piles of paper were scattered across them. More papers, assembled into something that looked like a huge diagram, were spread out on the bed. A pair of well-worn sneakers were visible under the desk. “Oh.” Perhaps all the wine at lunch had permanently stunted my ability to speak.

  “I’ll tell you all about it over dinner, Pumpkin,” Jack filled the silence. “Mike, you’ll join us, won’t you?”

  “Um, I don’t think so,” Mike said. “I’d better be going.” He eyed me with what I could only interpret as caution. “It was great to meet you.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “Great.”

  The minute Mike had gathered his things and gone, Jack collapsed into a chair laughing.

  “I suppose you think it’s funny that a perfect stranger walked in on us…half naked…and…and…” Oh, hell. It was kind of funny. I perched on the arm of the chair and Jack pulled me onto his lap.

  “Hardly half naked yet,” he pointed out, reaching for my shirt.

  “Don’t you for one minute think you can distract me with sex,” I said. “I want to know what you two are plotting in there. Who is that guy? What does he mean he’s going to steal you from me?”

  Jack grinned and looked me in the eye as he deftly unhooked my bra. “Trust me, you have nothing to worry about.”

  Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he could distract me with sex. “But Jack…” I began, then lost my train of thought.

  “I’ll tell you all about it later.” He shifted my position on his lap. “First, I think you owe me a fashion show.”

  ***

  Much later, as I surveyed the morning’s purchases strewn around the bedroom, I reflected that they didn’t look much different from the clothes I already owned, strewn around the bedroom. I wasn’t exactly well-known for taking care of my things. Although it really was too much, I thought, to tie an Hermès scarf to the bedpost. I began working the knot as Jack emerged from the shower. “Hey, Pumpkin.” He shook his head, sending water droplets everywhere. “What about sushi for dinner?”

  Could life get any better?

  We walked down the hill to a restaurant on Geary where you sit at a bar and the sushi floats past you in little boats so you can take what you want. It wasn’t the best sushi in town—for that I’d have to take Jack to the place on Ninth Street near the park—but we hadn’t felt like dealing with a cab.

  After I’d had a salmon skin hand roll and the obligatory California roll dusted with tobiko, I felt sufficiently fortified to ask Jack about Mike and the job he had mentioned.

  “He’s just getting started. He’s putting a team together, and he wants me to be a part of it from the beginning.”

  “Oh.” There was that incisive comment again.

  “You’ll like Mike once you get to know him,” Jack assured me, mistaking my reservations entirely.

  “Sure.”

  “But?” His eyes met mine.

  “It’s just that,” selfishly, “I didn’t really think of you as…having a job, I suppose.” Even I heard how weak that sounded.

  He looked at me blankly. “Charley, of course I’m going to work.”

  Of course he was going to work.

  “You knew that, didn’t you?”

  I shrugged in what I hoped was a charming, rather helpless way.

  “Charley,” he said intently, “you didn’t think I’d just live off you, did you?”

  “Well…” Did I? “I don’t think I really thought about it.”

  “Well think about it. I couldn’t just loaf around doing nothing and spending your money. What kind of a guy would do that?”

  A lot of guys. But I didn’t say so.

  “And how long could you stay interested in a guy like that?”

  Not long. That was a good point.

  “You’re right,” I said, finally. “Of course you’re right. I think I’m just a little thrown. I mean…it seems so soon.”

  “I haven’t agreed to anything yet,” he reminded me. “Besides,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “we have many things left to accomplish in that hotel suite.”

  “Oh.” Well then. “If you’re talking about taking a job eventually,” I grinned, “I’m totally with you.”

  “Right. Eventually we’re going to find a place to live, and I’m going to find the right work, and…”

  “And?” I enquired.

  “And we’re going to live happily ever after.” He kissed me lightly, tasting of Japanese beer and wasabi. A good combination. “Besides,” he asked, “what about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Aren’t you going to be working on the new play at the Rep?” He reached for a spicy tuna roll, still looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

  “I don’t know.” I watched the passing fish. “I haven’t read the play yet, and I don’t know if they need me for anything.” Simon probably had things completely under control, damn him.

  “That’s not what that guy Chip said at your welcome home party.” He dipped the spicy tuna in extra wasabi—brave man—and popped it into his mouth.

  “What did Chip say?”

  Jack swallowed and reached for his Sapporo, his eyes watering a bit. “He has you practically running the place. Said they were falling apart without you. Said you’d come back just in time.”

  “Really?” Is that why Simon had told me not to worry in that way that had made me worry? “Chip said th
at?”

  Jack nodded. “I got the impression I’d be lucky to see you for more than ten minutes together between now and opening night.”

  “Don’t be silly.” I reached for a shrimp tempura roll. “I’m not going to abandon you for some play.” Simon had said it was a great play.

  “And I’m not going to abandon you for the first job that comes along from an old Navy buddy.”

  I thought about it, chewing. “But, Jack,” I asked, “is it a good job? Is it something you’d like?”

  “It may be. I’d have to hear more about it.”

  “What kind of company is it?”

  “Computer security.” He saw the look on my face and grinned. “It sounds boring, I know, but Mike’s a brilliant guy, and he thinks it’s possible he’s figured out a pretty innovative encryption methodology that could radically—why are you smiling?”

  Because I couldn’t help it. Because he looked so intense and I had no idea what he was talking about. “Because you sound excited about it.” And he did. He sounded happy and energized and purposeful. “You should go geek out with your friend and see where it leads.” After all, I would probably be pretty busy myself. “Maybe you’ll love the job.”

  “You really wouldn’t mind?” He looked doubtful.

  “Not at all. Not if it’s something you want.” I sipped my sake demurely. “I’m sure I’ll be able to find something to do with my time.”

  ***

  In the hotel elevator I found myself wondering if I could call the conversation we’d had about Jack getting a job our first fight. If so, I could reasonably expect to enjoy our first make-up sex. I put my hands under Jack’s leather jacket in the hallway as he slipped the card key into the reader, and turned straight for the bedroom as soon as the door was open. Jack reached for my belt and pulled me backwards, saying “Not so fast.” I pushed him against the closed door and slid the jacket off his shoulders. I wasn’t paying attention to anything but the texture of his shirt beneath my hands and the feel of his mouth on mine when the lights came on.

  “Oh, don’t,” I whispered.

  “I didn’t.” Jack straightened, looking past me. “Hello, Harry.”

  This time I definitely screamed.

  Jack kept my back to Harry as he pulled my shirt down, then he released me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing!” I demanded as soon as I was decent. “And how the hell did you get in here?”

  Harry held his hands up innocently. “Can’t an uncle drop in to say hello?”

  Jack moved to the bar cart. “Can I get you anything, Harry?”

  “No thanks, I just stopped by for a little chat.”

  “How nice.” Jack poured whiskey over ice. “Charley? Some thing for you?”

  The pair of them were completely insane. “How about a gun?”

  Harry made a “tsk, tsk” sound and came over to kiss me on the forehead. “Is that any way to make an old man welcome?”

  “An old man who lurks around in the dark, in my hotel room, waiting for God knows what…and you wipe that innocent smile off your face or I’ll—”

  “I was just admiring the lights of the city.” Harry gestured towards the window. “Some view you’ve got here.”

  “We like it.” Jack joined us and handed me a large whiskey. “What can I do for you, Harry?”

  “I just have a couple of questions,” Harry replied easily. “I hope you don’t mind?”

  Jack smiled. “Fire away.”

  “What the…Would you two…For the love of…” Of course they ignored me.

  “In 1994,” Harry began, “you were an attaché to the royal house of Oman.”

  “Was it that long ago?” Jack seemed surprised, whether by Harry’s information or the swift passage of time, I couldn’t tell. And frankly, at that point, I didn’t care.

  “I wonder,” Harry pressed. “Just how you got that position.”

  “Funny story. One of the Sultan’s daughters—I forget her name—was a huge fan of American music.” Jack eyed the stereo system. “Loved classic rock. Anyway, the Admiral wanted to score some points with the Sultan, and I had the biggest CD collection on the ship, and one thing led to another.”

  Harry grunted.

  “So, really, attaché is a little bit of an exaggeration. I was more like a music advisor.”

  “And you expect me to believe that?”

  I did. I could see quite clearly the image of a voluptuous Arabian princess in a silk-lined harem wearing something sheer and midriff-baring, reclining on pillows while being fanned by nubile maidens. And at her feet was Jack, naked, proffering Quadrophenia on a silver platter.

  Bastard!

  “You were some sort of an attaché in London, too, weren’t you?” Harry asked.

  “More of a liaison, actually.”

  “It seems you were quite the little diplomat.” Harry said the word distastefully. “Don’t we have a State Department for things like that?”

  Jack raised his hands. “What can I say? Once the word gets out that a guy can tango, the offers just start pouring in.”

  “I didn’t know you could dance,” I said. “Why haven’t we ever gone dancing?”

  “You don’t like dancing,” Jack remarked, accurately.

  “Maybe if you’d had a decent wedding,” Harry said, “you’d know these things about a man.”

  “We had a lovely wedding,” I told him. “And as far as the dancing part of it goes, we’re perfectly open to the idea of having a lavish reception now that we’re back.”

  “We are?” Jack looked a little startled, then agreed with me. “We are.”

  “Well, that’s just fine.” Harry bit off the word. “People are already calling, wanting to know if they should send a gift or wait for the annulment.”

  “And I’m sure I know just what you tell them,” I said icily.

  “How the hell would I know what to tell anyone, when you don’t tell me a goddamn thing!” he bellowed.

  Neither of us responded, and Harry made a visible effort to get himself under control. I felt a twinge of guilt, but I hadn’t forgotten this was the man who’d tried to buy off my husband in front of me.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a drink, Harry?” I rattled some ice in my now empty glass to get his attention. “Or do you need to be going?” The sooner he left the sooner I could find out some pertinent details about this Sultan’s daughter.

  Harry sat on the couch, facing Jack. “Oh, I’ll be out of your way soon enough.”

  “Harry,” I demanded, “why are you so fixated on what Jack did when he was in the Navy? Have you noticed he’s not in the Navy anymore?”

  “I’ve noticed a lot of things. I’ve noticed that your husband—” the word was layered with speculation— “was in some very interesting places at some very interesting times.”

  I gave him a look that said “So?”

  “But he wasn’t doing anything very interesting himself. In fact, as far as I can tell—and believe me, I’m still looking—he’s never done anything interesting at all.”

  This time I said it. “So?”

  “So your boy’s too sharp to be that dull.”

  That was the weirdest compliment I’d ever heard, even from Harry. “What—”

  “He was up to something, Charley.” Harry looked at Jack fiercely as he addressed his words to me. “And I think he’s still up to something.”

  I looked at Jack and saw a slow smile spread across his face. “Harry, I’m flattered.”

  Harry made a sound that was part growl and grabbed his coat. “You watch your step, boy,” he said to Jack. “And you—” he looked at me— “be careful.” He slammed the door behind him.

  I stared at the door for a moment before I turned to Jack.

  “You know,” I said. “You sometimes remind me of Cary Grant.”

  “Only sometimes?” He grinned.

  “And right now you remind me of Cary Grant in Suspicion.”

  He set his drink down,
crossed the room, and put his hands on my shoulders. “Was that the one where he was devastatingly handsome?” He began to massage my neck. “Or was that the one where he was fantastically charming?”

  I broke free and took a step back. “That’s the one where his wife knows he’s hiding something.”

  Chapter 7

  I woke up the next morning satisfied that I knew everything there was to know about the social lives of Arabian princesses. The most pertinent fact, to me, was that a particular Arabian princess had been only thirteen years old and prone to fits of giggling when she’d known my husband.

  I sighed. If only I could be equally satisfied that I knew everything about Jack’s increasingly murky-sounding past. I turned over, and was disappointed to find a note instead of Jack’s sleeping profile on the pillow next to mine.

  C,

  The concierge found a racquetball partner for me. I should be back around 1:00.

  -J

  Racquetball. Right. I stretched, wondering what to do with the day. The clock said 8:32, so sleeping a few more hours seemed reasonable. Then, guiltily, I remembered I’d promised to read the play Chip had sent over. I padded out to the living room and found it under a pile of newspapers and magazines.

  I called room service for coffee and a bagel, then turned on the television, flipping among the channels of morning programming. There was still no news coverage about the murder of the woman in our suite, and I wondered why. If they were trying to identify her, it seemed reasonable to put her picture on the news. But either the hotel really had some pull with the media or the police didn’t work that way.

  I kept switching channels after breakfast had been delivered. Various stars were shilling for their various new movies on various talk shows. Various chefs were creating various masterpieces on various cooking shows. I hovered on the Weather Channel for a moment, picturing Jack on screen, telling me all about pressure systems over the Pacific. Then I pictured him shirtless. I turned the TV off and sighed. Maybe it was time to deal with the subject I’d been trying to put out of my mind. I picked up the phone and pushed the button for the hotel operator.

  “Could you connect me with the head of security, please?”