Under My Skin

“And Damien could manage it, too,” Cass says. “Calloway must be pissing himself. ”

  “I hope so. The one I feel bad for is Rachel. She really liked Trent, and now she’s pretty much destroyed. I called and told her everything last night. I didn’t want her to come in and get slammed with gossip unprepared. ” I make a face. “She’s taking the day off. ”

  “So your good deed landed you more extra work?”

  I nod. “But that’s okay. The busier I am, the less time I have for worrying. ”

  “And Jackson?”

  I crumple the bag from my croissant, then hold my coffee in both hands, wanting the warmth. “He’s worrying enough for the both of us. ”

  “About what Evelyn told you about the movie?”

  “About everything,” I say. “But the movie’s got the big neon sign over it at the moment. It’s like he’s having to deal with all of the hell of being a suspect, but the upside was that at least the blackmail threat was gone and the movie was a bust. ”

  “And now he’s still a suspect and the movie may actually happen, so it’s like fate just kicked him in the balls?”

  “That’s about it,” I admit. On the whole, I think he handled the news pretty well. We’d actually gone to my apartment last night, then spent the evening walking the Third Street Promenade and then all the way down to the pier. After that, we’d watched late night television in bed and fallen asleep in each other’s arms. On the one hand, it had felt nice to just be together. But that niceness was colored by worry and frustration.

  “I just want a reality that isn’t full of drama and uncertainty. ” I sound whiney and mopey, but since I’m only talking to Cass, I don’t need to try and put on a good face.

  Cass puts her arm around me, and I lean against her. “I know you do. You’ll get it. ”

  She says the words firmly, but I don’t believe her. Every day, I’m getting more and more scared. Because every day seems to prove the adage that the good never lasts. It just gets swept away with the drama.

  Hell, wasn’t that the story of my life? My childhood destroyed by my father.

  My romance with Jackson interrupted by my own horrible nightmares.

  And now every time we take a step forward in our relationship, we’re slapped back. Sabotage. Murder. Even the little victories get ruined. Like yesterday. We solved the riddle of the sabotage, only to learn that the damn movie was barreling down on us all over again.

  And what really scares me is the pattern. Because if the good is always followed by the bad, then doesn’t that mean that I’ll inevitably lose Jackson? Either because he ends up behind bars? Or, god forbid, because we just can’t make it work?

  I pick at the label on my coffee, frowning. “There’s more,” I say. “About Ronnie, I mean. ”

  Cass, who knows me well enough to understand that I’ve got something major on my mind, turns to face me directly. “I’m listening. ”

  I lick my lips. “Jackson wants me to be Ronnie’s guardian if he goes to jail. ”

  “Whoa,” Cass says. “I’m not surprised, though. I mean, he loves you. Who else would he want his daughter to be with?”

  “I know. Believe me, I get that. But—”

  “But you’re scared. ”

  “Fucking terrified,” I admit.

  “Don’t be. He’s not going to jail. ”

  I make a face. Considering everything that’s happened recently, that kind of optimism is nothing more than a platitude.

  “And if he does, I think it’s great that she’ll be with you. You’ll do awesome, Syl. I know you, remember? And I know what you’re capable of. ”

  Her words are encouraging, and I cling to them like a lifeline. Cass had a great relationship with her dad, and I know that she believes that I can do this, and her faith warms me up from the inside. But that warmth doesn’t burn away my doubt.

  Cass is watching me closely. “You don’t have to be someone else, you know. ”

  I frown. “I don’t know what you mean. ” Page 67

  “You don’t have to be Mommy, or Aunt Sylvia, or whatever it is that she might call you. Just be Sylvia. Just be yourself. You’ll be fine. ”

  I lift a shoulder. “Maybe. I don’t know. It scares the crap out of me. ”

  “I know it does. ” She puts an arm around me and squeezes. “But it’s going to be fine. Is he bringing her out here now?”

  I shake my head. “He’s thinking about it. He told me last night that he considered bringing her out this weekend, figuring that way he could spend time with her in case—well, in case he’s arrested and there’s no more time to spend. But then this thing with the movie ramping up happened and he’s worried about dumping her into the spotlight. ”

  “Makes sense. Poor Jackson, though. ”

  I nod, because I agree. But my horrible, guilty secret is that I’m relieved. And I hate myself for it, because I don’t want to deprive Jackson of his daughter. But I’m so damn nervous about playing a role in raising her, this fragile little life that I may end up being responsible for.

  And while I’m almost convinced that I can do it, I’m still selfishly happy for the reprieve.

  Beside me, Cass’s phone beeps, and she glances at the screen. “Siobhan’s almost done. Wanna walk with me to the museum?”

  I’m tempted, but I shake my head. “I should get back to it. ” As we start to rise, I remember what I keep forgetting. “Ollie told me on Monday to tell you hello. And no rush, but he’s wondering what you’re thinking about the franchise. ”

  “Oh. ” She’s already on her feet, but now she sits back down.

  My eyes widen. “Trouble?”

  “No. I don’t think so. But I’ve been talking with Siobhan and I’m going to put it on hold. ”

  “Really?” I’m both surprised and concerned. This is her passion project, and one of the huge problems with her previous girlfriend, Zee, was that she wasn’t supportive at all. I hadn’t expected the same from Siobhan.

  “Not permanently,” Cass says, apparently reading my mind. “But Siobhan pointed out that right now, I’m the face of the company. But nobody outside the walls of my studio knows me. So I’m going to hire a publicist and start advertising. Really get my name out there. Create a logo. Brand myself. That kind of thing. Because I need that to lure franchisees, but also just to make my brand stronger, you know?”

  “I think that’s brilliant. ”

  “It was Siobhan’s idea,” she says, and I’m certain she can see my relief on my face. “I know, right? Zee was such a slug. But Siobhan and I click. ” Her grin is wicked. “In more ways than one. ”

  She stands again, then reaches down to give me a hand up before pulling me into a hug. “You and Jackson click, too,” she says. “And that’s important. It’ll get you through a lot of shit. ”

  “Maybe,” I say, hugging her back.

  “Trust me,” she says. “It’s all going to be fine. ”

  I don’t answer. I hope she’s right, of course, but I can’t quite bring myself to believe her.

  Two hours later, I’m wishing I had taken that walk to the museum because my head is about to explode from juggling eight million projects at once. “I’ll find room in the budget,” I say to the recalcitrant supervisor on the other end of the phone line. “Work twenty-four hours if you have to, but the helipad and the entire area need to be cleared and repaired by Monday. ”

  I hang up the phone and close my eyes, then press my fingertips to the bridge of my nose. Despite working nonstop since my coffee break, I’ve still only made a dent in the cleanup. Or in my to-do list, for that matter.

  I’m about to dive into the next task when Ethan calls. At least, I think it’s Ethan. Since I’m assuming my dad won’t pull that horrible stunt again, I take the risk and answer it.

  “I’m sorry,” Ethan says. “I just found out. I can’t believe he used my phone. I’m so, so, sorry. ”

  ?
??It’s not your fault,” I say. “He’s the asshole. ” I take a breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back right away. Everything’s been crazy at work. ”

  “It’s okay. I figured you were pissed about Dad telling me and needed to cool off. ”

  “I wasn’t,” I say, even though I was. Hell, even though I am.

  There is a long, uncomfortable silence, and then he says, “I shouldn’t have told you. ”

  Shit. I don’t know what to say to that. Because part of me agrees. And yet another part of me hates the idea of more secrets between me and my brother. Page 68

  “No,” I finally say. “I was pissed at Dad, not at you. And even though I don’t like you knowing, I hated us having secrets. And I swear that was the only one on my end. ”

  I wait for him to tell me the same, but he says nothing.

  I frown, not sure if his silence is relief that I’m not pissed or obfuscation.

  “So, are we okay?” he asks after another long pause.

  “We are. ” Because no matter my own issues and secrets, I’m not letting anything come between me and my brother. “I promise. ”

  “Okay. Cool. ” He clears his throat. “Listen, about Jackson’s little girl—”

  “Jackson wants me to be her guardian if he ends up in jail. ”

  “Oh, Syl. Shit. ”

  “I’m doing it,” I say. “And I’m only telling you because of the no-secrets thing. I don’t want to talk about it right now. ” More, I don’t want to talk about it with Ethan. I know what he’d say, and I’ve already freaked myself out enough about mommyhood for the day.

  “I—fine. Okay. Whatever. ” He draws a breath. “Are we cool?”

  “We are,” I assure him. “And I have to go. I’m not the one still lazing around on vacation. ”

  He laughs. “Fair enough. I’ll call you in a day or so. Might even make you come down here and help me buy furniture. ”

  “You found a place?”

  “Tiny, but on the beach. ”

  “Of course I’ll help. ” As I’m speaking, the elevator opens, and Jackson steps off.

  “Cool. Love you. ”

  “I love you, too,” I say, and when I hang up the phone, I’m smiling.

  “I hope that was Ethan or Cass,” Jackson says as he crosses the reception area to my desk. “Otherwise you and I are going to have words. ”

  “My secret lover,” I say, grinning. “But if you work very hard, maybe you can make me forget all about him. ”

  “I’ll certainly do my best. ” He leans against the wall between Damien’s door and my desk. His hands are in his pockets and he has the kind of smile that suggests he has things on his mind that aren’t remotely related to work. The kinds of things that send a nice little tingle through me.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Steele?”

  “I’ve been thinking about tonight. ”

  “What a coincidence. So have I. ” We’re planning to go to the island tomorrow afternoon to check in with the cleanup crew and stay overnight. Tonight, though, we’re staying at my apartment again. I had been looking forward to sipping wine on my balcony and relaxing, but looking at him now I’m thinking that a more active evening would be very, very welcome.

  “How important to you is our night in?” he asks.

  I cock my head. “You have another plan?”

  “Remember the Dominion Gate concert I mentioned?”

  “Yes. ” I lean back in my chair and cross my arms. “Why?”

  “I forgot that the tickets were by lottery. I found out today that I scored four. I thought it would be a fun way to escape reality for a bit. ”

  “I guess it would. ” I frown. “Wait. You’re saying the concert is tonight?”

  “At The Rafters,” he says, naming a relatively new club in Burbank.

  “All the way in the Valley?”

  “That’s where the music’s happening. You want to go?”

  “Of course,” I lie. “I’ve been wearing the T-shirt. I ought to see the band. ”

  He starts to push away from the wall to stand up straight, but doesn’t. Instead, he remains still, his attention on my face.

  “What?” I finally demand.

  “You really don’t want to go. ” It’s not a question.

  I hesitate, but then concede. “I really don’t. But you do, and I really love you. And I know I’ll have fun once we get there. ”

  “You’re sure?”

  I stand up and go to him, then hook my arms around his waist. “I’d do a lot more than that for you. Yes, I’m sure. ” I brush a kiss over his lips. “And you’re right—escaping reality sounds like a damn good plan. ”

  He cups my chin, holding my head in place as he looks into my eyes, his irises moving slightly as he studies me. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

  Pleasure sweeps through and around me, as soft and warm as a blanket, and I realize that I’m grinning so widely it hurts. “Yes,” I say simply. “I do. ”

  I press my head to his chest, breathing deep as he strokes my back, and in that moment, I think I know what heaven must be like. Safe and warm and wonderful. Page 69

  I sigh with pleasure, then lean back after a moment. “Did you say you have four tickets?”

  “I’d originally thought we could invite Nikki and Damien. ”

  My brows rise. “Really?”

  “Hey, I’m all about the brotherly bonding. But Damien’s in Palm Springs tonight, and Nikki’s already got plans. ”

  “Spa weekend with Jamie,” I say.

  “You’re very well informed. ”

  “It’s my job. Plus Nikki invited me. I told her I’d rather stay here with you. ” I rise up on my toes so that I can whisper in his ear. “I’m hoping you’ll give me a very thorough massage. Since I’m not getting my spa visit, I mean. ”

  “You can count on it,” he says as his hand slides around to cup my ass. He squeezes, and I squeal, then laugh. “You’re going to need one after standing for a few hours. ”

  I take a step back, eyeing him dubiously. “Standing?”

  “No seats at The Rafters,” he says. “But lots of good beer and definitely a lot of good music. ”

  He looks so excited that I can hardly deny him, especially considering the hell he’s been living through. “All right,” I say. “It’s a date. ”

  “Then we’ll do it up right. I’ll pick you up at seven. The show starts at ten. We’ll have dinner and get there by nine-thirty. Sound good?”

  “Sounds perfect. ”

  “Should I invite Cass and Siobhan? I’ve got the two extra tickets. ”

  The question—asked so simply and with complete sincerity—sends an unexpected wave of pleasure washing over me.

  “Yeah,” I say. “That would be great. ” And then I ease back into his arms and kiss him softly. “As a matter of fact, you’re great, too. ”

  nineteen

  When we’d first arrived at The Rafters—a nondescript building near the North Hollywood/Burbank border—I’d assumed that Edward had pulled up at the wrong location. It had the appearance of a shack that someone had put up in their backyard and then painted black. Albeit a very large shack.

  Jackson assured us that this was the place, though, and when I took a closer look, that was clear enough. Not only was there a sandwich board sign in the parking lot announcing Dominion Gate, but there was also a line of concertgoers that snaked around the building.

  I’d glanced at Jackson, dubious, but he’d only laughed and told me it would be fun.

  Honestly, he was right.

  Now that we’re inside, I’m not certain how the place managed to pass all the various required inspections because I am absolutely certain that the reverb from the band’s bass is going to make all the walls collapse on us. Even the concrete floor is moving, though that may be an illusion. Or it may be the result of hundreds of people dancing
madly to the earsplitting music.

  But despite all that, I am having a great time—and considering we are jammed in like sardines in an under-air-conditioned building and standing way too close to the speakers, that says a lot. About the music, maybe. But it’s more about Jackson. He’s clearly having a great time—worry free, loose. Hell, almost boyish.

  And I’ll put up with a lot to see him happy.

  The crowd is thick, and I’m smushed in between him and Cass, who leans over to say something to me. I have no idea what, though, because I can’t hear a damn thing. I hold up my hands in question, and she rolls her eyes, then points to a girl who’s dancing a few people away. At first I think Cass is checking out the girl—which seems very un-Cassidy-like considering Siobhan is jamming to the music at her opposite side.

  Then I realize that the girl is taking pictures with her camera phone. Not of the band, but of Jackson.

  I’d like to think that’s because he looks so incredibly hot in faded, threadbare jeans and a short-sleeved Henley shirt that sticks to his sweat-slicked body in a way that makes me sigh.

  Unfortunately, I know otherwise. Someone had recognized him as we were coming in—and I’d heard the rumble of gossip about “that architect who offed the producer” as it rolled through the crowd before the opening band took the stage.

  No one has actually approached us, though, and so Jackson is taking it in stride.

  I look back at Cass and shrug, silently letting her know we’re not going to worry about it. Tonight is about the four of us having fun, and so long as nobody gets right in his face, they can take all the snaps they want.

  By the time the concert ends, I’m practically deaf. I’m also covered in a thin layer of sweat and the sleeveless mock turtleneck that I’d paired with a thin leather jacket and matching mini skirt is clinging to my body. I’m also thinking that despite the cool November evening, the leather skirt was a mistake, as it’s stuck to both my ass and thighs. Page 70

  And as for my feet—well, I have no one to blame but myself. Jackson warned me we’d be standing. Apparently my favorite low black sandals aren’t the all-purpose shoes I’d thought they were.

  All in all, I can’t wait for the blast of cool air when we get outside. So I’m thrilled that we’re heading toward the door, even if we are part of a human wave, so up close and personal that I can smell at least seventeen different shampoos and deodorants.

  Jackson has his arm tight around my waist, and I can feel Cass pressed up behind me so as to not lose us in the crowd. The entrance is a set of wide double doors that open straight onto the parking lot, so the wave is actually moving pretty fast, and as soon as we step past the doors I sigh with pleasure as the cool air washes over me. And then I immediately cringe as the cameras start flashing.

  Jackson grabs my hand and Cass presses her palm to my shoulder even as I register that these are not camera phones. These are Nikons and Canons and Ricohs, and they’re being held by photographers who stand next to reporters with microphones sporting logos like TMZ and ET and god only knows what else.

  I turn to Jackson, confused and panicked, because this is a step up from the paparazzi we’ve been dodging. I hope desperately that there is a movie star inside. Surely this isn’t all about Jackson.