The Anatomy of Jane (5 page)

“Good?” I asked her while spinning around.

“
Maravilloso
.”

“Yeah, let’s just hope the boss thinks so,” I muttered, stepping out the side.

When I did, she was waiting and tapping her foot nervously. She glanced over us and took a deep breath.

“Okay, let’s do this Boston. Irene is back in action.”

It was a little after ten by the time I swung around to Irene’s townhouse. Max had said he was only five minutes away, and I hoped he was right. Irene was going to need her cousin that night of all nights.

There were a total of four people who came to welcome her back, not including the staff. They all looked like bloody captives, eyeing the door, but were too afraid to take any steps toward it.

“Welcome sir, may I have your coat?”

“I’m fine mate. I won’t be staying long,” I told him, clasping my hands on his shoulder and looking for anything to get me drunk fast enough to forget this cluster fuck already.

Irene and I weren’t close at all, but she frequently brought her ‘friends’ to my restaurant to show off that she knew me personally. As long as she enjoyed the food, I didn’t give a bloody hell, either way. My plan was to watch Max struggle to make small talk and then sexually frustrate him across the crowd until he’d make up some bollocks scheme to leave, but that was no longer a possibility. Shame.

Drunk sex would just have to do.

“Pardon me, are you the keeper of the alcohol?” I spoke to the server at the bar cleaning glasses.

“I’ll bring some now—” She whipped around, nearly tripping over her own feet as the glass in her hands dropped to the floor. Catching her, I held her still. “You all right?”

“I’m so sorry!” she gasped out, brushed back her auburn hair before bending down to pick up the shattered glass.

“Thanks, but I got it,” she said when I bent down to help her.

“I’m a professional at broken dishware.”

“Oh really? This happens a lot?” She snickered, glancing up at me, and at the same moment, I looked at her. Our faces were barely an inch apart.

Her hazel brown eyes were stunning as she stared at me in shock. They were warm brown in the center and seemed to have this honey-colored hue toward the edge.

“Sorry,” she said again, backing away and standing up. “I’ll get a broom.”

Just like that, she escaped. I couldn’t look away from her. I didn’t want to. However, because the master of the universe loved misunderstandings, that just so happened to be the same moment I saw Max standing at the door. He had no expression on his face, which meant he was doing his best not to let anyone know what he was feeling or thinking.

He stared at me once more before walking toward the kitchen.

Angry sex it is then,
I thought to myself as I reached over the bar and helped myself.

“You cut your hands again?” I heard a maid speak when I stepped into the kitchen. The caterer and his staff were all just sitting around, either eating the food they were supposed to be serving or mesmerized by their phones.

“It’s fine. I dropped a glass. I really need to get back and clean it up before someone gets hurt,” the woman I knew to be Ms. Chapman said. She taped a bandage on her finger before taking the broom from the other woman. When Irene had asked me for the number of my cleaning service, I never thought she’d be here.

“Yes, because it’s so crowded they won’t see broken glass,” the other woman mocked. “All that work today for this?”

“I feel bad; she really wants this to go well—”

“No. Don’t feel bad for people like them. They’d never feel bad for you. They think the world is centered on them; it’s good when God reminds them that they are human too.”

“Get back to work!” I hollered when stepping farther into the kitchen. “Or are you all just being paid to sit around? There are guests outside who need food and drinks. Go.”

Jumping up, they ran one by one, with the exception of Jane, who face was more annoyed than I’d like to admit.

“That means you too, Ms. Chapman.”

“Of course, sorry. Irene—Ms. Monrova is in her bedroom. I brought her food, but the door is locked—”

“Okay.”

Nodding, she started to walk out, but for some reason, I reached out and grabbed her arm. She glanced up at me, and I had to admit she was pretty, beautiful even, in a strange way, but I didn’t understand why Wes was so obsessed with her. Beautiful women were a dime a dozen in our city.

“I’m sorry. Do you need anything, Mr. Emerson?” she asked, not afraid at all. In fact, it felt like she was challenging me.

“You say ‘sorry’ a lot.”

She nodded again. “It’s weakness for most people. If they’re angry or upset and you say sorry quickly, they automatically relax. Smiling does the same thing apparently, but I’m not very good at that.”

That was a lie. Only two minutes ago she had been smiling at Wes.

“Do I look relaxed?”

“Not even a little bit, Mr. Emerson. But since I haven’t done anything, and I’m currently not working for you, I’m sure you can’t be angry at me. So can I get my arm back or would you like to intimidate me some more?” She held her head up high at me.

“My apologies, Ms. Chapman. I did not mean to intimidate you,” I said overly politely, releasing her arm.

“Yes, you did. It’s all right though, because it didn’t work.” She smirked before shaking her head and walking off. I couldn’t look away. I felt like I had lost in that altercation; she had gotten the last word, and it bothered me.

Wes stepped out into the hall drinking his glass of brandy. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t even seem to realize I was there, but I knew him better than that. He was a nosy son of a bitch, and he had most likely heard all of that.

“Mr. Uhler, it’s good to see you again,” I said, reaching out to shake his hand.

“Likewise. Sadly I can’t stay long. Please give your cousin my regards. Next time she comes to Wes Hill, it’s on me,” he replied, shaking my hand before turning to Mr. Foster and leaving.

“Tell the guests to go, Foster. This has gone on long enough,” I told him. Heading up the stairs. I could see the tray Jane had left out. She had thoughtfully covered all the food with plastic wrap, even the water.

“Irene, open up. It’s me,” I said while knocking on the door.

No answer.

“Irene, if you don’t speak, I’m going to think you’re either dead or dying and I’ll have to break down the door.”

“Go away!” she screamed, throwing something against the wall.

“Irene, you are not a kid. I get it, you’re upset, but I can’t help if you don’t let me in,” I said. When she still didn’t answer, I sighed, taking a seat against her door and reaching for her tray of food.

“Fine I’ll wait. You know how I just
love
eating cold pasta,” I joked, peeling back the wrapper and stuffing the penne in my mouth. I hadn’t eaten all day. I didn’t really tried to taste it after a second, but the aftertaste was left in my mouth. Either I was far too used to eating Wes’ food, or this was just plain horrible; I wasn’t sure.

“One positive thing about no one showing up is that you didn’t subjugate them to this!” I reached for the water when she opened the door.

Her mascara was smeared all over her eyelids, her eyes themselves bright red from all the crying.

Still in her dress, she sat down beside me. She took the plate for herself and tried a bit.

“It’s good. What are you talking about?” she frowned.

That was what she considered good? What had she been eating in Paris? Garbage?

“Slow down or you’ll choke, and Siri no longer tells me where to dispose of bodies.” This is why I didn’t try to make jokes; I was worse than Wes.

“It’s been three years, Max. When will everyone forgive me? Not even your parents came,” she whispered while blowing her nose.

“My parents aren’t known for their forgiveness or patience. Or kindness…or anything positive really.”

She snickered. “Are they still pressuring you to get married?”

I didn’t answer.

“I’ll take that as a yes. You’re going to have to tell them you’re gay. The rumors—”

“Why label things? Gay? Straight? I’ve never thought of myself along those lines.” I’d been with both men and women and I didn’t really care which. For me, it was everyone else who had a fucking problem.

“Well, whatever you are, I suggest you figure it out fast before your mother runs for president. Opponents have a knack for digging into personal lives.”

“They already do that.”

“You know what I mean.”

Yeah, I did. My mother was going to run for president next term, and she needed the Hallmark-ready family.

“Do you want me to stay?” I changed the subject.

She shook her head. “I really just want to forget. You should head home.”

“If you need anything, call,” I said, heading back toward the stairs.

“And Max,” she called out, standing up herself. “Thank you for coming.”

“Always”

“Oh and Max?”

Sighing, I turned back to her. “Yes, Irene.”

“There is a maid downstairs, Jane. Can you tip her for me? I know we aren’t supposed to, but she really did a lot for me today.”

Maid Jane strikes again.

I had just put the last of the leftovers in the fridge when Max came into the kitchen. His blue eyes scanned the room and then fell back on me.

“Where is everyone?”

“I thought you told them to leave?”

“And you don’t count as everyone?”

I shrugged. “I couldn’t just leave the mess. Irene—Ms. Monrova, would have woken up to a dirty house the day after one of the worst nights in her life. It seemed kind of shitty to do that to her.”

I wondered what his connection to her was. Were they friends?

“So you are a saint and decided to take one for the team and clean up?”

I didn’t like the tone he was using like he was mocking me. “No, I’m not a saint. I’m still on the clock, so I get paid for every last minute, thank you.”

“You’re putting in all this effort for an extra ten dollars,” he said ignorantly.

My hands ached with the need to smack the shit out of him. “Yes. I’m working for the extra ten dollars. That extra ten dollars is bread, milk, and eggs. Food. Have you ever been starving Mr. Emerson? No? Have you ever been so hungry you feel sick and in pain? Or so poor you eat other people’s leftovers in bars? No, I wouldn’t think so. I don’t live in a penthouse suite. I didn’t grow up with silver a spoon in my mouth. I work as hard as I can to get by. An extra ten dollars is…is worth more to me than you can possibly understand. In the process of making that money, I can also help someone. Two birds, one stone, and we maids are all about those discounts.”

I was so upset. Did he think I killed myself day in and day out just for the fun it? He could have his rules and his secrets—none of that was my business—but he couldn’t insult me for working hard. I wasn’t his dog to kick around whenever he was moody.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you,” he said sincerely. “I’m sorry.”

I glared at him. “You’re just saying that because I told you it helps people to calm down.”

He grinned, and in that second I saw how cute he was. “Being calm is good seeing as how you are closest to the knives.”