Jessie Slaymaker's Rules of Engagement (The Jessie Slaymaker Series Book 2) (16 page)

‘The flight was long. Not so bad when you’re sitting up the front though. I don’t know how you managed down the back all those times,’ he said, deliberately trying to get a rise out of her.

‘Don’t be such a snob. Economy is just fine,’ she said calmly, sipping her wine. She would not bring up the fact that Jack seemed to like sitting at the front of the plane too. He was staying at the back of her mind, after all.

‘So what have you got lined up on for this weekend of fun?’ Tom asked, relaxing into the comfortable sofa. ‘I haven’t had a proper holiday in ages.’

‘What would you like to do?’

‘I’m happy to be led by the Hong Kong expert that is you,’ Tom said cheerfully.

‘Ha ha,’ Jessie laughed. ‘I’m still finding my feet in this place. How are your chopstick skills?’

‘Need work,’ Tom said, taking a big glug of wine.

‘Right, well let’s go for a local meal tonight. Tomorrow we can do some sightseeing around the city and maybe I could cook,’ Jessie suggested.

‘Sounds good to me,’ Tom said as they clinked glasses.

Jessie was glad to see Tom again. He was reassuring to be around. Although they’d had their ups and downs when they’d had their somewhat experimental attempt at taking their friendship to the next level, sitting with him here in her new home in Hong Kong felt just like the old days. It was a different setting, but Tom was still fun. Fun and just an easy person to be around. With very little effort and time, they’d somehow managed to get back to where they’d been before they’d tried to engineer feelings into something more.

‘You’re doing okay?’ Jessie asked, fixing him with a you-can-talk-to-me look.

‘I’m doing okay,’ Tom said, meeting her eye. ‘I miss my best friend and I worry about her. But I know she’s going to be fine, and we’ll always love and care about each other deeply. I’m sad we didn’t work out, Jessie, I really am. If I was ever going to get married, then I would want to get married to you. I think you’re perfect.’

‘Tom, you and I both know, I’m far from perfect,’ Jessie said modestly.

‘To me you will always be perfect. And if that—excuse my French—
dipshit
Jack Davenport can’t stop being such a pillock, then I know you will find someone who sees what I see. And don’t worry about your job either. I know you’re going to do great. And if they can’t see you for the talent that you are, then go and find a bank who will. That’s your lecture over,’ Tom declared, downing the remainder of his wine.

‘Thanks, Tom,’ Jessie said, her smile meeting her eyes for the first time in a while. ‘I really hope you’re happy, or at least on the path to finding it. You know I miss you too.’

‘Stop it. You’ll make me cry,’ Tom said dramatically, fanning his face with his hand.

Jessie could see there was an element of truth despite his jokey words, as a definite moistness appeared in his eyes.

‘You hungry?’ she asked, deftly changing the subject.

‘Starving,’ Tom said, smiling.

Saturday night, and it was relaunch night. Jack was a combination of uncharacteristic nerves and excitement. If this was going to work, then he had found a new career path in life. Despite the quagmire of shit that had infiltrated every aspect of his personal life of late, he’d thrown himself into the bar project and had enjoyed every aspect of it. He’d even enjoyed the problems, finding ways to overcome the snags and the delay-inducing niggles that were inevitable when trying to complete such a significant renovation in such a short space of time.

The bar was looking great. Located in the up-and-coming and more traditional Sheung Wan area, it was centrally located, if not exactly in the heart of Central. The refit had essentially gone to plan, and the final product was a polished New York-style drinking establishment with a high bar and quite a masculine colour scheme. It was the kind of place Jack liked to frequent himself, and he hoped his choices would be something that the hard-to-please Hong Kong crowd would also be drawn to.

Jack felt like he had his fingers eternally crossed, praying that he hadn’t made a huge mistake. This place, although finished to a high standard, had a rugged feel with its open brickwork and exposed ceiling. It didn’t have the glitz and razzmatazz that a lot of the bars in Soho had. They were all trying to be super-sophisticated champagne and cocktail bars, espousing elegance and class. This place was raw in comparison. It was the kind of bar where you expected to see liquor-drinking modern day
Mad Men
types, drinking all day long but never getting drunk.

Jack was also nervous because he held a small glimmer of hope that Jessie would be there. He hadn’t explicitly told her it was opening night, but he expected her to have noticed the posters and flyers that had been littered about the city heralding the opening of a new bar. He’d also done something of a PR job, making sure that several members of her bank were in the loop and on the VIP guest list. He’d even made sure her building had received a huge wad of flyers for the foyer and mailboxes. Jessie had sent him a short and to-the-point thank-you text for the flowers, but that had been the entirety of the contact between them since he’d helped her move her final things into her apartment. He didn’t really know what to say, and hoped by some stroke of luck that she found her way to his bar that night. A different environment might help them both find the right words to overcome their differences.

As much as he’d tried to shut Jessie out of his mind, he couldn’t do it, not for any significant length of time. He found himself wanting to share everything he was doing with her, to ask for her opinions—from the layout of the drinks menus to what the best spreadsheet would be for stock checks. Jack missed her. He missed her smile, her smell, her support and affection. He even missed her for her occasional meltdowns on her grumpy days. He desperately wanted to know what she would think of this new endeavour of his and what she would make of his choices. Above all, he wanted her to be impressed with him—to see him as more than the layabout rich boy she’d only known him as.

Jack even wanted to make amends with how he’d handled the whole Sonia pregnancy situation. The minimal contact he’d had with Jessie during the time they’d spent apart had made him realise that he wanted Jessie back in his life. If she was somehow delivered to him tonight, then he was determined to stomach a compromise and to find a way to make things right between them. After his blip of feeling sorry for himself and momentarily lost, he knew that he wanted Jessie back. Whatever it cost him.

It was Saturday evening and Jessie was exhausted. In a bid to show off her new city to Tom, she’d dragged him all over the place, attempting to cram in as much as humanly possible. They’d been up the Peak, taken the ferry across the harbour, had afternoon tea at the Peninsula Hotel, walked down the Avenue of Stars in search of Bruce Lee’s handprints, and even done a spot of shopping in one of the exclusive malls that peppered the city. She was dead on her feet. Tom, on the other hand, seemed not the least bit tired. He’d been taking in everything that she showed him with a wide-eyed, almost childlike, enthusiasm.

‘Let’s go out,’ Tom announced excitedly.

‘What?’ Jessie half-moaned. She was splayed out on her sofa, enjoying what she regarded as a well-deserved pit stop before she started on dinner.

‘Come on, you heard me. We need a night out on the town,’ Tom persuaded.

‘Do we?’ Jessie asked, sounding less than half convinced.

‘Have I told you how proud I am of you?’ Tom cajoled, pulling out his best puppy dog eyes. ‘I know things haven’t turned out here exactly as you’d expected, but you’re carving out the makings of a brilliant life for yourself here. That’s hard, and I think you’re incredibly brave.’

‘Yeah, and I think you’re laying it on a bit thick. What do you want to do?’ Jessie asked, dragging herself off the sofa to get some water. If she was going out—and that was a big if—then she needed to hydrate.

As she filled a glass, a little voice in the back of her mind reminded her that this weekend was supposed to be about Tom. And as soon as she thought it, she knew she’d already been defeated. She could rest when he was gone, she told herself as she chugged down water.

‘I’m hurt you think I would pay you such compliments, merely so I can get my own way,’ Tom responded dramatically, placing a hand on his heart to emphasise his earnestness. ‘I meant every word.’

‘Thanks, Tom,’ Jessie said, as she fought the urge to roll her eyes. ‘That truly means a lot to me,’ she added, mirroring her hand on her heart and giving him her most earnest eyes in return.

‘Now, to answer your earlier question about what I have in mind… hmm… let me think. Now you come to mention it, there is a new bar opening that sounds like fun. I saw flyers being bandied round left, right, and centre back at my hotel.’

‘A party?’ Jessie asked dubiously. ‘Tom… I’m not sure.’

‘Oh, come on. Don’t be a spoilsport. You haven’t heard the best bit yet.’

‘Oh, right. And what’s that?’ Jessie asked, sounding wholeheartedly unenthusiastic about the prospect of a party.

‘It’s fancy dress,’ Tom answered, sheer unadulterated glee in his eyes.

‘No. No way. What are we—five?’ Jessie said, folding her arms across her chest in an I’m-putting-my-foot-down-on-this-one stance. She wanted Tom to enjoy himself and have a nice time whilst he was visiting her, but there
were
limits. A fancy dress party being one of them.

‘Oh, Jess, it’ll be fun. My concierge says fancy dress parties are all the rage here. It’ll be a good chance to network. And you never know who you might bump into,’ Tom said, clearly trying to appeal to Jessie’s rational side.

She pondered his words for a few moments. He did have a point: it wasn’t like she’d met a huge amount of people since she’d arrived, and having outgoing and gregarious Tom there with her would make things a lot easier.

‘Alright, Thomas. Suppose for one second I entertain your idea about going to a fancy dress party at my age. What do you propose we wear? I haven’t got a clue where to find a costume shop at such short notice. Plus, if these fancy dress parties are all the rage, as you claim, there’s not likely to be much good stuff left, now is there?’ Jessie pointed out, sure Tom wouldn’t have an answer.

‘Well, I thought it was rather obvious, really. I’ll put my tuxedo on and go as James Bond, of course,’ Tom said, adjusting his cuffs and channelling Daniel Craig already. ‘And as for you, I’m not entirely sure,’ he mused. ‘But I’ll have a look at what you’ve got and come up with something.’ He walked over to her wardrobe for a rifle.

‘You seriously brought your tux, you nut?’ Jessie asked, her eyebrows hitting the ceiling.

‘One never knows when one may be needing formal attire, my dear. It’s always best to be prepared.’

‘I’m going to need wine for this,’ Jessie said, grabbing last night’s glasses off the draining rack and pulling out a bottle from the fridge. It was a good job she’d stocked up prior to Tom’s visit. The good thing—and maybe the bad thing—about living in a studio apartment, was that she could see exactly what Tom was up to, even whilst she struggled with the cork in the wine bottle. The man sure knew his way around a woman’s closet, that was for sure.

‘Looking for anything in particular?’ Jessie called to him. He was wearing a face of concentration as he discounted a top and screwed up his face at a pair of white jeans.

‘I’ll know it when I see it,’ he mumbled. Jessie returned to the sofa, her full wine glass being her statement accessory of the moment, and let the man work.

‘I’ve got nothing to wear,’ Jessie said, sipping her wine. She was pretty sure even Tom couldn’t work his styling magic with her predominantly work-oriented wardrobe.

‘I’ve got it,’ he announced proudly after two more minutes of sifting. He pulled out Jessie’s beloved and never-worn Victoria Beckham dress with a triumphant look on his face. ‘What about this?’ he asked, holding up her lovely dress.

‘I don’t think so,’ Jessie said automatically.

‘Why not?’ Tom asked, his face crestfallen, like she’d taken away his favourite toy. ‘It still has the price tag on it. A dress like this needs wearing, Jessie Slaymaker, not hiding away in the recesses of your cupboard.’

‘I don’t disagree, but I can’t wear it. My boss has the same dress. Plus, if I wore that, who would I be dressing up as?’

‘Nonsense. So what if your boss has it. Is she going to be there? And if she is, she’s hardly likely to be wearing this, is she?
You
could probably do the maths, but I’d say there’s a low probability of that happening. And as for who you’d be dressing up as, you’d be going as Victoria Beckham, of course. Put some big sunglasses on, this dress, and some killer heels, and you’ve got a fancy dress outfit. I could even give you a bob haircut if you like, circa Posh Spice 1997.’

‘I’m not sure that’ll be necessary,’ Jessie replied, tugging her locks a little fearfully. When Tom got a style idea he could sometimes turn into a bit of a runaway train, and she had no doubt he’d quite happily get scissor-happy with her tresses.

‘So what do you say, Jessie?’ he asked expectantly.

‘I’m not sure,’ she replied weakly after a pause.

‘Look, Jess, it’s Saturday night. Don’t get cold feet. You can’t stay in on a Saturday night and settle yourself in on the sofa like a freaking grandma. I saw some of the TV at the hotel, and I can assure you there’s nothing on there that you’ll remotely want to see. You’re too young to be doing that kind of thing. Come out and have some fun with me. If you don’t, it’ll be tragic.
You’ll
be tragic.’

‘Tragic?’ Jessie repeated.

‘Yes, tragic. And I
can’t
have a best friend who’s tragic. A single man about town like me can’t afford for my street cred to be wiped out by having a tragic stay-at-home-on-a-Saturday-night best friend.’

‘Guess I’ll just have to come out then,’ Jessie said, smiling nervously. She felt a little bit bullied into this, but, quoting one of Tom’s trademarked phrases, what was the worst that could happen? As long as he kept his mitts off her hair, she’d be alright.