That Man 3 (10 page)

“I was afraid to. She was with her parents. I didn’t want to upset them or her.”

“Well, Blake, she’s a big girl and could have handled it. Call her again and tell
her the truth. If you don’t, I will.”

“It’s futile. She’s not going to pick up her phone. She’s stubborn that way.”

“Well then, call her house.”

“The number’s not listed.”

“Blake, I’m sure you can get it from Mrs. Cho or your Human Resources person. It must
be listed on some form she filled out asking for emergency contacts.”

I twitched a smile. Vera was right. Why didn’t I think of that?

Where’s there’s a will, there’s a way. I pulled out my cell phone from a pocket of
my sweats and immediately speed-dialed Mrs. Cho’s home number. My super-organized
secretary would for sure have it in some file. A glimmer of hope slithered through
me.

I nervously drummed the table with my fingers while waiting for Mrs. Cho to pick up.
She did on the second ring. Two minutes later, I had all the phone numbers associated
with Jennifer’s parents. Both their home number and their cell phones. Spotting a
loose crayon on the table, I scribbled them down a paper napkin. God bless, Mrs. Cho.

“Bingo,” I shouted as I dialed Harold McCoy’s cell phone. I didn’t want to run the
risk of Jen picking up the home phone and hanging up on me.

As I anxiously waited for him to pick up, my eyes stayed riveted on smiling Vera.
Her robe had given me another idea.

If things worked out with Jennifer—man, they’d better—I was going to call Gloria and
Jaime up next and ask them for a favor. Things were looking up.

Jennifer

I
’d cried myself to sleep. When I woke up in the morning, I felt worse than last night.
Blake Burns had ripped my heart apart. He had told me loved me, given me the best
twenty-four hours of my life, and then left me bereft. Yeah, some big emergency in
Vegas. Maybe one of his bimbos was having a breakdown from Blake withdrawal or her
breast implants were leaking. Or a Vegas orgy. Calling Blake Burns.

A sadness like I’d never known consumed every cell of my body. Why couldn’t I feel
numb or angry? At least, if I were angry, I could make some decisions. I’d never felt
this way when I broke up with Bradley whom I’d known for over five years. I hadn’t
even known Blake for five weeks and the ache in my heart was unbearable. My eyes stung
and my throat constricted. I could barely breathe.

Slowly, I rolled out of bed and took small, unsteady steps to the bathroom. I could
hardly walk. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked worst than I thought.
My eyes were red and puffy, my lips swollen, and my skin blotchy. I watched as another
round of tears trickled down my face.

Somehow I managed to get downstairs. My early-riser parents were already seated at
the kitchen table. They stared at me. Given what I looked like, I expected my mother
to grow panicky and run up to me and give me a big hug. She didn’t.

“Jan Lunden called me late last night. She took her granddaughter to a movie yesterday
and told me she saw you there.”

Jan was an old friend of my mother’s. A bridge pal. I froze.

“She said she saw you with your fiancé. Kissing him.”

Silence. The only thing that roared in my ear was my hammering heart.

“I asked her what he looked like.”

My heart beat faster.

“She described someone that sounds exactly like Blake.”

I could no longer hold back. I burst into sobs. A torrent of tears stormed down my
face.

My father spoke softly as I stood there heaving, bawling un­control­lab­ly. “Jennie,
come here and tell your mother what’s going on.”

I staggered to the table and collapsed into a chair. “Mom, I fell in love with Blake
Burns and last night he broke my heart.”

My mother was wide-eyed with shock. My father looked at me com­pass­ionate­ly.

“Now, honey, tell your mother who Blake is.”

“My b-boss,” I stammered through my tears. I didn’t tell her he was the head of a
porn channel. I glanced at my father. Did he know? His knowing eyes told me did.
Please, Dad, don’t say anything. Please!
I just didn’t need to make matters worse. My mother would have a stroke if she knew.

To my relief, he said nothing as my mother jumped up. She gabbed a linen napkin and
came around the table.

“Darling, why didn’t you tell us?” She gave me a much-needed hug and dabbed my tears.

“I don’t know. It’s complicated, and it all happened so fast.”

The tears kept falling. I took the napkin from my mother and brushed them away.

“But, darling, I don’t understand. Why do you think he’s hurt you?”

“Mom, he’s a player.”

A puzzled expression swept over her face. She didn’t know what that meant.

“He dates lots of girls. I’m just one of them. He went to Vegas last night to see
someone else. ”

Mom furrowed her brows. “What makes you think that? He seemed so serious when he took
that call. He said there was a crisis.”

My father responded. “I agree with your mother. I trust Blake.”

How could he trust him after only knowing him for twenty-four hours? I loved and respected
my father, but he didn’t know my boss the way I did. My father continued.

“He gave me his word he wouldn’t hurt you. Jennie baby, I believe him.”

Before I could say another word, a phone rang. I recognized the ringtone. My father’s.
John Lennon’s “Love,” my parents’ wedding song.

Retrieving it from the kitchen counter where it was plugged in and recharging, he
spoke into it as he headed back to the table.

“Yes, Blake, she’s right here. I’ll put you on with her.”

How the hell did Blake get his number? My heartbeat went into a frenzy. I was practically
hyper­vent­ilat­ing. My dad sat back down at the table and told Blake to “hold on.”

“Dad, I don’t want to speak to him.”

“I’m your father. Please hear him out.” He handed me the phone.

I took a deep breath to fortify myself and swiped away my tears with my free hand.
Trembling, I put the phone to my ear.

“Hello.” My voice was small and shaky.

His voice was loud and strong. The sound of it rattled me. He told me he wanted me
to take the call away from my parents. He had something to tell me.

“Okay.” I breathed out the word, and rising, told my parents I’d be right back. I
moved into the living room and slumped onto the couch. I let Blake know I was alone.

Blake: “Jennifer, you need to know the real reason I went to Vegas.”

Me: “And what might that be?” My quivering voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Blake: “Don Springer.”

The mention of his name stunned me into silence.

Blake: “Jen, are you there? Can you hear me?”

Me: “Yes.” My voice was just above whisper.

Blake: “He beat up the producer of
Private Dick
.”

I gasped and every muscle in my body tensed. I knew Blake couldn’t be lying. Not about
something like that. Guilt stabbed at my heart. I should have trusted him.

Me: “Oh my God. Is he okay?”

Blake: “Yes, and they’ve got the motherfucker in custody.”

A new round of tears assaulted me. Tears of relief and remorse.

Me: “Oh, Blake. I’m so sorry.”

Blake: “Sorry about what, tiger?”

Me: “That I mistrusted you.”

Blake: “You had the right to. I fucked up. I should have told you the truth. I was
afraid.”

Me: “I understand.” My man wanted to protect me, shelter me from the monsters of the
world.

Blake: “Baby, I love you.”

Me: “I love you too.” Oh God, did I love him!

Blake: “When are you heading back to LA?”

Me: “The thirty-first.”

Blake: “I have some Springer shit I have to deal with in Vegas and then I’m heading
back. I want to spend New Years with you.

A new year. A new beginning.

Me: “Okay.” A squeak.

Blake: “Send me your flight info. I’ll pick you up.”

Me: “I will.”

Blake: “Tiger, just know. I love you. There’s no one but you.”

I fingered the gemstone heart around my neck and glanced at the snow tiger I’d left
on the couch. With my free arm, I reached for him and hugged him tight against me.

Me: “Blake, I love you too.”

We ended the call, and I found myself crying more buckets of tears. Except they were
tears of joy. There were no Scrabble words to describe how much I loved Blake Burns.

Jennifer

T
he next five days at home were happy ones. I told my parents things were again great
between Blake and me. That there had just been a mis­understand­ing. There was no
way I was going to tell them about Don Springer. They’d freak. The past was the past.
He was going to jail, and I was going to put him out of mind.

Both my parents, however, were concerned about how I was going to handle my relationship
at work. I told them Blake and I were going to figure things out. I also told them
Blake’s father was the head of Conquest Broadcasting. Dad already knew that. I was
positive my inquisitive dad had googled Blake and knew he headed up SIN-TV. I was
grateful he didn’t tell my mother while I was home. Though at some point, she was
going to have to find out.

Although I enjoyed spending time with Mom and Dad, I counted the days, the hours,
and the minutes until going back to LA and seeing Blake. He called and texted me all
day long. We even Skyped. When I saw his gorgeousness on my computer screen, I wanted
to jump through it and be in his arms. I lost count of how many times we exchanged
the words “I love you.” I couldn’t say or hear them enough.

Finally, the thirty-first rolled around. Bradley had cut my time with my parents short
because he had planned to take me to a New Year’s Eve party given by one of his boring
dentist friends. I actually looked into getting a flight home sooner—I so badly wanted
to be with Blake—but the cheapskate had booked a non-refundable ticket that you couldn’t
change. On top if it, there were no flights available.

My flight was in the morning. I was grateful there wasn’t another snowstorm. After
hugging my mother good-bye and collecting a bagful of cookies she’d baked for me to
take back, my dad drove me to the airport. His favorite classical music station played
while I held Blake’s plush tiger on my lap and stared out the window dreaming about
him. Dad’s soothing voice cut into my reverie.

“Jennie, what are you doing for New Year’s Eve?”

“I’m spending it with Blake, but I don’t know what we’re doing.”

He nodded. “He’s a good man. I like him a lot.”

Somehow, I felt like this was the moment to ask him. “Dad, do you know exactly what
he does?”

“He heads the porn channel you work at.”

Though his voice was nonchalant and nonjudgmental, my skin bristled.

“How do you feel about that?” I asked nervously.

“My Jennie, you’re a big girl now. You have to make your own decisions.”

“Dad, I really love what I do and I’m good at it.”

A small smile played on his handsome profile. “I know. And I’m proud of you, Jennie
McCoy.”

I was beaming. “Thanks, Dad.” I paused. “Are you going to tell Mom?”

“Yep.”

I swallowed hard. “How do you think she’ll react?”

“You’ll hear her shrieking from Los Angeles, but she’ll get over it.”

I laughed with relief. I so loved my dad.

In no time, we arrived at the airport. At the curb, I put the tiger into the large
shopping bag with the cookies and hugged my dad good-bye. About to enter the terminal,
I turned to wave at him. “I love you, Dad,” I shouted out. He blew me a kiss I caught
with my heart. The next kiss was going to be Blake’s. My heart raced. I couldn’t wait.

*

Exactly two hours and ten minutes later, he was there. Waiting for me in the LAX terminal
at arrivals. It was impossible to miss him. Besides being the most devastating man
in the crowd, he was holding a monstrous SpongeBob balloon that said, “Soak it up!”

I soaked him up. My heart almost beat out of my chest. Dressed casually in jeans and
a tee, he wore a cheek-to-cheek smile on his ravishing face and looked hotter than
hell. I dropped my bags and ran into his arms. He crushed his delicious lips on mine
and spun me around and around. I was still wearing my winter coat and wooly hat.

“Oh, Blake! I’ve missed you so much.”

“Me too, baby. C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

*