Meg's Moment (18 page)

“I’m a private investigator. Remember?”

“Right. That is what you say, although you’ve provided me no proof…” He fished out his wallet and handed it to her. He motioned for her to open it and when she did she discovered from his various forms of identification that he was in fact Jackson Westin, Private Investigator. So much for the prison tattoo defense the next time she had a temporary passionate thought about him.

“Okay, Jackson Westin, what are you doing here?” He motioned for her to step outside just as Mickey returned with the popcorn.

“What’d I miss?” Mickey asked.

Megan looped Mickey’s arm and
dragged
him and his popcorn outside with Jack following. Jack closed the door to the house and leaned his hip on the railing.

“I thought about what happened last night. And I wanted to talk to you about why I was there.” He frowned and shook his head. “I can’t tell you everything, but I put myself in your position and decided that there are some things I’d want to know if I were you. I thought maybe I could help you.”

“Oh really? Well that’s noble of you.” She tilted her chin high and defiantly said, “But here’s the deal, I didn’t ask for your help. And after your little performance in there, I’m not sure I want it.” Jack took a handful of popcorn and popped a piece in his mouth. Megan’s gaze lingered on his mouth and those luscious lips and she snapped it up to his forehead, envisioning a big, tasteless tattoo across it. Looking in Jack’s eyes-or some of his other features- was like staring directly at the sun. Dangerous as hell with a tendency to blur your concentration. It was so much easier when she’d thought he was a burglar.

“You might be in danger, Megan
,
”
h
e said sincerely.

“Yeah well, danger’s my middle name. Right Mickey?”

“Absolutely
,
Babe!” he said around a mouthful of popcorn.

“So I’d appreciate it if you’d leave.” He reached out and touched her arm gently, like a friend might do. Her skin prickled at the touch of his warm calloused hand and she jerked away. She ran her fingers through her hair and gave an exasperated sigh. “Look Mr. Westin, while I’m sure your intentions might be good you gotta look at this from my perspective
.
I’ve never seen you before in my life and then I catch you breaking into my husband’s studio, which I’m sure is against the law. Then you con me into giving you information without keeping your end of the deal. Next you show up at my house uninvited and punch my friend in the face, which again is illegal…”

“Under the circumstances I’d do it again
,
” Jack said, the muscle in his jaw jumping, his hazel eyes tender beneath eyelashes that should be illegal.

“…And now you want to help me because you think I might be in danger. Now call me crazy, but I have a real hard time believing anything you say and frankly the only danger I see here is you.” He frowned and opened his mouth to protest but stopped short. “So what I’d like for you to do, Mr. Westin, is kindly get in your car and stay the hell away from me.”

Jack stood there for a long minute surveying her face, his hands in his pockets. Eventually he pushed off from the railing and handed her a business card. “If you change your mind
,
”
h
e said. “Or if he
”
–referring to Tom-
“
wants to press charges.” After one last searching look he walked down the steps, through the yard
,
and to his car. Megan breathed a sigh of relief and headed inside to deal with Tom and Josie.

Tom, bless his heart, had been a sweetheart about the whole thing. Megan offered him Jack’s card in case he wanted to contact the authorities, but he declined saying he could see Jack’s point. He asked Megan to come back to the gym and she declined. He then asked her to have dinner with him and again she declined
,
although she did ask for a rain check. He appeared to be a hell of a nice guy and if he was sweet enough to ask her out while she had two black eyes and a red swollen face he deserved dinner, just not right now. She needed to get rid of Ted first and get the swelling out of her face and the lasagna out of her hair.

Next to deal with was Josie, which was usually pretty easy. Over the years, since they were kids really, Josie and Megan had been the best of friends and the worst of friends. But the friendship had always been strong and the fights were always short. Plus it helped that Josie had the attention span of squirrel and was easily redirected. Josie, who was prowling through Megan’s closet, had forgotten what they were fighting over by the time Megan went upstairs to reconcile.

“Can I borrow this skirt and those shoes for my date tonight?”
s
he asked Megan.

“Of course you can. We good?”

Josie wrapped her arms around Megan’s neck, gave her a warm, friendly hug and said
,
“We’re always good.”

Megan stepped away, crawled in her bed fully dressed and said “Good, I’m going to sleep. Don’t wake me up for at least 48 hours.”

“What if your
m
other calls?”

“Give her Jack Westin’s phone number.” If anyone deserved the Divine Intervention Lecture it was him, for popping into her life and adding to the growing amount of drama and chaos that seemed to follow her around.

While Megan was sleeping- for the first time in thirty six hours- Jack sat in a smoky room, sipping tepid coffee and doing his best to listen to the yuppie looking young man who was talking. And he hadn’t heard a word he said. Since last night every thought he had was about Megan. And that’s why he was now sitting in the Baptist Church at his first AA meeting in over four years. He’d been fine until last night when he’d felt the rush of feelings he still held for Megan. Now he wanted a drink, needed a drink.

At first he tried to tell himself that what he was feeling was sympathy for her and the firestorm she would surely struggle with in the months to come. He knew what it was like. He’d been there himself and it had been then that Jack Daniels and depression had become his only friends in the world.

Obviously Megan had had her suspicions, but as he knew first hand nothing c
ould
prepare you for coming face to face with the concrete, intimate proof of
the betrayal from
someone you
love
. Although he couldn’t see the look of sadness on her face when she stared into that picture of Ted and Tiffany he knew exactly how she felt. And while confirming her suspicions
,
he knew that until that moment she was probably clinging to the hope it wasn’t true. He knew he had five years ago, when his world had crumbled and fell apart.

But when he’d touched her and looked into her clear, blue eyes watered with tears, his heart had clenched in his chest and the only thing he wanted to do was rescue her. Rescue her from the pain, from Ted, and from herself.

When he first took this job he’d felt guilty at the pang of pleasure that had seared through his body of finally nailing Ted. He’d tried before
,
right after Megan got married but Ted had appeared to be an
altar
boy; hardworking, devoted
,
and completely faithful. Finally he conceded, figuring Ted had obviously grown up and that the night Jack had seen him with Lisa Mason in the back seat of her Buick less than a week before Ted’s marriage was just one last fling. The infamous, last taste of freedom that many men went through.

For years after that night ten years ago Jack had wondered if he should have told Megan. Would she have believed him? Would it have changed things? Would she have married Ted anyway? Would Jack have had a chance to tell her how he felt about her?

None of that really mattered now. He’d decided last night after lying awake for hours that he wouldn’t repeat the mistake he made ten years ago and that was why he’d gone to see her today. He’d decided he would come clean with her as much as he could and offer her what help and support he could to bring her through it. He’d offer her friendship and if it turned into something else he’d be thrilled, but his motives weren’t going to be selfish or based on his wants or needs.

And besides, it looked as if she needed to be rescued. Her entire life seemed to be a chaotic mess. Her mother had said some man had hit her, her husband was having an affair and bankrupting them, and then there was the guy from the gym- who Jack believed was the one abusing her- and she was now walking around with two black eyes. And then there’s the issue Wild Turkey.

He remembered seeing her last night with her right temple swollen, pasta in her hair, clutching a bottle of whiskey. She was the poster child for instability. And now she was in danger. Quite possibly big danger, judging by the amount of trouble Ted was in with the worst kind of people. The kind of people who
we
re not above making an adversary disappear only after punishing that person and everyone around them. Like Megan.

Jack swished around the last of the bitter coffee in his cup, wishing it was whiskey as another speaker stood to speak. For the last four years he considered passing a bar and not giving into the urge to go in and drink himself senseless as a triumph.

Tonight it felt like torture. Because tonight he felt like he was that invisible geek from high school still stupidly trying to fit in where he obviously didn’t belong and wasn’t wanted. Megan had made that very clear when she’d ordered him into his car and out of her life. He left and as she wanted, he wouldn’t be back.

***

Megan awoke to a heavenly scent coming from downstairs. Coffee? She stretched and smiled, sitting up in bed. The clock on her night stand indicated it was 7:06 in big red letters. She’d been asleep six hours and could probably sleep six more. She sat up and ran her hand over Ted’s pillow. He wasn’t there of course and Megan wondered how it was going to feel to wake up alone from now on. She sighed and got out of bed just as she heard a bizarre sound coming from downstairs. She sat ramrod straight, her eyes wide, listening for another sound. A moment later she heard a whispering voice curse “Dammit”. O
K,
was that a female whisper or a male whisper? And then she heard the noise again, followed by what sounded like glass breaking.

There was a burglar in the house. Or a private detective, as if there’s a difference in the two. Jackson Westin! Maybe he wasn’t done snooping around. She threw the covers back and got up ready to read him the riot act then stopped at the door. What if it wasn’t Jack? What if it was a real burglar? Who made coffee while robbing her blind? Nope, it was probably Jack. Or Josie
.
M
aybe she’d cancelled her date.

“Josie!” Megan whispered and no one answered
,
which didn’t surprise Megan. Josie d
id
n’t cancel dates with Doctors to h
a
ng out and drink coffee. And she knew it wasn’t her mother because the voice had cursed, and not her dad because the Cowboys were playing. There could be a terrorist threat requiring worldwide evacuation, but if there was a Cowboys game on her Dad wouldn’t move. She opened the closet and grabbed a golf club and went out the door, moving silently and slowly.

“Hey
,
Girlfriend,” Mickey hollered from
on the floor
where he was comfortably stretched out on a sleeping bag.

“Hey,” Megan said weakly. “What’s going on?” She was looking at what was left of her living room. All of her furniture had been pushed against the walls and there were sleeping bags strewn about
o
n the floor. The coffee table had been turned into a buffet with a delicious looking spread of brownies, popcorn, cookies, pretzels, beer
,
and chocolate. The whole gang was there, wearing pajamas and looking at Megan excitedly.

“Pajama party babe,” Mickey said, while blowing on Josie’s toenails.

“Yeah, we’re here to cheer you up,” Stacy said.

“And make sure you don’t knock yourself out again.” Mickey pinched Josie.

“Plus, we didn’t want you to be alone tonight
,
” Ali started, “So, we’re all here to take your mind off everything. We’ll have an old fashioned P.J. party like we used to.”

“OK.” That one word was all she could manage. She felt her heart swell at the love inside that room.

“So we’ve got chick flicks, beer, snacks, makeup, manicure kits…” Ali began.

“But what about your date?” Megan asked Josie
,
still touched that she’d canceled it on Megan’s behalf. “You canceled it?”

“Uh
,
not exactly. I invited him to come over if he wanted to. I told him my best friend needed me, so if he wanted to see me he had to come and get a
makeover
and a manicure like the rest of us.” That should have sent him running for the hills. But we were talking about Josie here. She had a way of making men do ridiculous things for her. Must be her cleavage. Or her sunny disposition. Definitely the cleavage Megan decided as she watched Josie slap Mickey on the side of his head for smudging the paint on her toenail. “He’ll be here about nine
,
” Josie reported.