Eversea: Forever, Jack Part 22

Nice.

G.o.d, my relationship with Jack had fully deployed every terrifying emotion I was capable of, and in the process I'd hurt him. I'd hurt the person I loved with my whole heart.

"You are so beautiful, so talented, so honest. And you are strong. Let me be part of your life, and be brave enough to be part of mine. I know you can be, I've seen your strength. Please believe in us." His voice broke.

I stood, mute, letting his words pour over and through me.

He sighed deeply, agony and frustration reflecting in his eyes. "I'll stay away if that's what you want. But know I'm only doing it because you're asking. We're going to have to figure this out. Unless I give up what I do and who I am, this is always going to come between us. I know I told you I could keep you out of it, or try, but I've realized I really can't. You need to choose us anyway, Keri Ann."

Jack giving up who he was? Never. Imagining him without his pa.s.sion was like me deciding never to create anything ever again. It wasn't going to happen. But Jack being Jack meant having to put up with the Audrey's, the Ashley's, and tabloids, the Tom Price's waiting in the wings to pick up a whiff of scandal.

It probably also meant him leaving for filming projects for months at a time. And if I went with him, what did that mean for my life? What kind of life would I be living if I could just jet off to be with him? Not a conscientious student, that was for sure. And one day, if he was done with me? Then what? Who would I be then?

Who was I without Jack? I needed to be sure now, and I needed to set the boundary now, otherwise I'd always be swallowed up by the tidal wave of who he was, and his life. I'd always only be an extension of him.

... And cease to exist ...

The reporter's words, and Joey's story about Mom, shuddered through me.

All the reasons I'd rejected Jack when he stood in my kitchen were still valid and so very, very real. Yet somehow, I'd suspended them, and let Jack in, and fallen more deeply for him than ever. Now I was hurting us both.

"And Keri Ann?" He slid a hand behind my neck, tilting my face so he could land a kiss on my forehead. "However well you do, it's always going to be because you earned it, and you deserve it, no matter who shows up to the party. You have the talent, you just need to believe it."

I stood in Jack's arms, the cool early morning breeze ruffling through our hair, letting his strength and his certainty flow into me and trying desperately to believe it.

Then he let go. "Just ..." Exhaling deeply, his jaw tensed tightly, the muscle twitched over and over. His expression was tortured. "Just ... try and remember," he swallowed and grabbed my hand, pressing it against his chest. "Whatever anyone sees on the outside ... this is yours in here. Please, G.o.d, don't throw it away."

The morning of my art opening dawned beautiful and sunny. A complete contrast to my mood. I was worried about the evening ahead of me and weighed down by the thought of how I'd left things with Jack.

He'd left me standing on the dock. I'd watched him walk away and climb into the closed Jeep and done nothing to stop him.

Over breakfast, Joey and I scoured the Internet to see if there was any story out there, but there was nothing. I felt like my head was on a guillotine.

"I checked, too," Jazz said when she arrived to pick me up for our trip into Savannah. "There was nothing."

We were spending the day at the spa where Colt's friend Karina had set up my appointments. I had begged and pleaded over the phone to bring Jazz, and they'd finally said she could come and they'd try to fit her in for either hair or makeup. I was reluctant to go at all, but Jazz speared me with a sharp look. I could see she wanted to say something like I might be photographed, so I needed to look my best. But in the end she settled with, "It would be a shame to ruin Mrs. Weaton's fabulous dress with mediocre waitress hair."

I thumped her on the arm, and Joey laughed at us as we made plans to meet back at the house. The Westin was sending one of their vans to pick us up. Colt and his date, Karina were going to meet us there.

The day pa.s.sed in a blur. I was primped and prepped. My hands, my feet, my hair, my makeup. I did agree with Jazz, after hearing about my dress they did an awesome job with my hair. It was waved and swept down over one ear then tied in a beautiful swirl, low on the side of my head. They used a tiny silver band that peaked out across my forehead before it hid back in the smooth, silky do. I felt like an old-timey Hollywood starlet, and I actually felt good. I didn't enjoy the amount of spray they had to use to keep it from coming loose, however. The make-up was flawlessly done. With deep kohl swept eyes, I hardly recognized myself.

"Wow," said Jazz when my chair was turned around.

"Wow, yourself," I said. They'd curled large cascading waves into Jazz's long blonde hair and tied half of it up with a loose and elegant braid. She would be wearing a red floaty dress that was sure to hit my brother like a blow to the head.

My heart thudded in a melancholic stupor when I thought of not sharing all this with Jack. I gritted my teeth and swallowed down the sadness.

We drove home, with the windows up, barely moving for fear of the painted illusion sliding off of us. We turned the radio on full blast, and listening to Blondfire, tapped our fingers and toes in muted enthusiasm.

At five, the three of us stood in our kitchen drinking celebratory Prosecco out of Nana's old wide necked champagne gla.s.ses that I'd managed to find and dust off.

"Here's to the first of many evenings celebrating my talented sister's artistic endeavors." Joey, dressed in a rented tuxedo, raised his gla.s.s and we drank. I'd told him he didn't have to wear black-tie, but he was adamant.

"Yoo hoo!" Mrs. Weaton called, entering the kitchen dressed in an elegant violet dress. "Don't start without me!"

"Mrs. Weaton, I thought you were going to call me so I could escort you across the yard," Joey admonished and leaned down to kiss her papery cheek.

"Oh, honey, the dress is fabulous on you," she crowed toward me. "Look at you stunning girls."

"Thank you." I smiled. The dress really had turned out perfectly. I was about as comfortable as I could imagine being, considering I was about to step out in public and embark on having a public persona. It occurred to me then, if I was going to be successful, I would have my own critics to deal with. Sure, it would be on a smaller scale than Jack's. But people's opinions, good or bad, factual or misguided, of me and my art were going to be a reality, regardless of Jack being in my life.

"Are the rest of them here yet?" Mrs. Weaton asked.

"Liz had a babysitting problem. Cooper, Vern, and Jasper are meeting us there. So is Colt. So I guess it's just us four." I shrugged. "Let's sit on the porch and wait for the van."

As we stepped outside, the black mini bus from the Westin pulled into the driveway, the low hanging Spanish moss brushing over it. And another car showed up behind it and out climbed Paulie, Brenda, and Hector.

"What?" I stuttered. "Who's running the Grill?"

"That's the first thing you think of?" said Paulie stiffly. He was dressed in a tan, wrinkled suit, and his grey hair was combed neatly into a low queue. "You seriously think we'd let our very own Keri Ann go and take on the world without our support?" He puffed. "Stuck a sign in the window."

My eyes welled.

"Nope, no." Jazz flapped her hands madly in front of my face. "No you don't!"

"Sorry." I sniffed, then laughed through my tears, and gingerly hugged everyone.

"Faith's coming, too," said Jazz. "We're all going to be here to support you, okay? But for G.o.d's sake don't ruin that makeup. Let's blot."

It was surreal to stand in the crowded and cordoned off area of the foyer at the hotel and be surrounded by things I'd created with my own bare hands. Some I'd formed idly, some carried memories and impressions of all my pent up emotion.

After being greeted by Allison, the events coordinator and then Mira, the curator from Picture This who had offered to handle any transactions for the evening, I was introduced to the arts and culture editor for a local newspaper. Then a few minutes after that, a very nice lady handed me a thick business card and told me she was from Moss & Magnolia Magazine in Charleston and would love to do a feature on me. I was buzzing, knowing what a high-end magazine it was, showcasing the best of the luxury southern style living. I think I nodded mutely at her.

"Did I totally fluff that?" I asked Jazz as we moved on.

Jazz a.s.sured me I'd been sweet and charming. After a few more introductions and tense smiles at cameras, I pulled Jazz over to the middle of the room, to the calm area in the eye of the storm, to breathe. The music from the string quartet in the corner was barely noticeable under the hive of conversation bouncing off the polished floors.

My wave sculpture, a monument to the lowest point in my relationship with Jack, sat under a spotlight that made the single piece of red sea gla.s.s glow. I felt connected to it about as strongly as I felt it was completely foreign to me. Something I didn't recognize but knew intimately. Very disconcerting.

"Wow," Jazz said. "It was always beautiful, but seeing it here on display, under the spotlight, makes it just ... wow. And why won't you sell it again?" She s.n.a.t.c.hed two toothpicks with something delicious smelling on the end from a pa.s.sing waiter and handed one to me.

"It's all about Jack. It'd feel weird to have it owned by someone else."

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to find Tom Price had slunk up behind us. "h.e.l.lo again," he purred, pushing his gla.s.ses up between his eyes.

A shudder ran through me, and I stared, speechless.

Really?

"Jessica Fraser," Jazz stuck out her hand. I quickly slapped it down without thinking. Tom Price raised his eyebrows, and I could imagine Jazz was doing the same.

"Tom Price," he said to her.

"How did you know I was here?" I finally managed.

"Oh, little orphan Keri Annie, your life is public now. Or is this artistic endeavor of yours just a hobby? Hmm?"

I swallowed.

"I just came to let Keri Ann know," he looked at Jazz, then back at me, his brown eyes unblinking, "that the story dropped tonight."

I heard Jazz practically growl next to me.

"But you should have some time to enjoy your evening, your success, or what have you. Where is Jack, my boy, anyway?"

"You mean you hoped he'd be here so you could get some updated pictures of them together?" Jazz snapped.

"Well, yes. I didn't come for the unimaginative finger food," he said twiddling a toothpick between a fat thumb and forefinger. "But I'll settle for a picture of just Keri Ann. I would have thought he'd be here getting you some additional exposure. Although I did overhear someone saying a New York critic is here. A friendly phone call from Jack perhaps, calling in a favor for his girlfriend?"

"Well, that's blatantly untrue." Jazz narrowed her eyes at him.

"Does that matter though, really?" Tom Price canted his head and drew the last word out like a piece of slime.

My face scorched with impotent frustration.

"But I wish you luck, Keri Ann. Truly. Excuse me." He turned and moved slowly through the throng, for all appearances like a sweet gentle man admiring some art.

"He really is despicable," I said quietly, my fingers trembling.

"Let's get you some champagne and calm those nerves."

"Do you think it's true?" I asked Jazz. "Do you think Jack pulled favors to get me some press?"

"Honestly?" she handed me a gla.s.s. "No. I think the gallery did or word of mouth." Jazz paused. "But if he did, I wouldn't blame him. I'd do the same for you if I could. I love you, and I want you to succeed. If it was at all within my power to show your talent to the entire world, I would." She looked at me seriously. "And if it was within my power, and you didn't let me do that for you, I would be really hurt ... I'd feel like you didn't value me."

I swallowed, thickly, raising my gla.s.s for a calming sip. The champagne tasted like sand as it pa.s.sed my thudding heart and splashed into my belly. "I should eat something more substantial," was all I said.

We found Joey, standing next to Colt and Karina, by the food table. Colt and Karina looked really, really good together. "Thank you so much for including me, Keri Ann," Karina kissed my cheek in greeting.

I introduced her to Jazz. "Well, thank you so much for your help in getting us presentable." I laughed lightly, but inside my mind was whirling, going over and over everything Jack said, and then what Tom Price said. I was a public figure now. Granted a teeny tiny fish in a tiny pond, but I was still putting myself out there. And I was cutting Jack out of it completely. Did I want him to cut me out if and when he got recognition for his work? I'd want to support him and share it with him.

Before I'd met him, I hadn't even self-actualized as an artist. So much had changed in less than a year. Where would I be if Jack hadn't turned my life upside down?

People would say what they wanted about me as an artist. I would never, nor could I ever try to, control it. Some people would like what I did. Some wouldn't.

The thoughts crashed into one another noisily, but all pointed at the same thing. Jack.

h.e.l.l. I needed to go somewhere private and text him. Just tell him I was thinking about him or something. Or maybe just to please come here and be with me, and screw what anyone said. I missed him with a physical ache.

All the joys and successes of the evening were like castles being built on loose sand. I was grateful to have the support and love of all my friends, but I finally understood what Jack had meant when I first met him, when he talked about the void beneath the success. The hollowness beneath what he did. He was asking me to give it all meaning, be his foundation, his anchor, and I wasn't willing to let him be mine.

Mira approached me as I was lost in thought, mindlessly nodding along at something Cooper or Vern had said. Our whole group was together, devouring the food, like they'd never seen any before.

"Keri Ann," she said with a confused smile. "Someone put in a bid to buy Ever Broken Sea. I thought I should let you know."

My eyes widened in surprise. Jazz, standing next to me, overheard. "I thought it wasn't for sale."

"Well, Keri Ann told me if someone offered the exact price," she waved her hand, "this obscure amount she told me about back in December, that she'd sell." She looked at me expectantly.

"What amount?" Jazz asked.

I sighed. "The exact amount I still owe Jack for the floors he had refinished at the house. I haven't paid him anything since December so I still owe him. But I mean, it was down to the penny." I furrowed my brow at Mira.

She smiled wide, presumably grateful to finally know the story behind the odd request.

"And he figured it out," Mira said with satisfaction. "I met him when he came into the Gallery before your exhibition opened," she explained. "It was the day you set it up, actually. He was mesmerized by it, the moment he walked in the door."

"Oh my G.o.d, I could just die. This is so romantic," Jazz slapped a hand to her chest.

"How is this romantic?" I asked Jazz and scowled. "I owe him money, and now he's paying me so I can pay him?"

"For G.o.d's sake," said Jazz. "Get out of your own head, Keri Ann, and give the guy a break. He wants to be here for you and you won't let him. He wants to help you, and you won't accept anything. He loves that piece you made so much he doesn't want anyone else to own it. And he knows how your mind works well enough to figure out your silly puzzles." She grabbed my hand. "And he loves you enough to play by your rules, anyway."

There was silence for a few moments between all three of us. A silence that allowed me to feel the full weight of the bucket of reality Jazz had just dumped on me. Even Mira got a dreamy look on her face and placed her hand on her heart.

I clutched my middle, nodding blindly.

"Sooooo ... I should or shouldn't call him back?" Mira finally asked.

Fumbling, I tried to get my phone out of my small evening bag. "I'll call him."

"I mean are we making the sale? There'll be some disappointed guests who were told it wasn't available. I've had a few people ask me."

"Yes," said Jazz. "We're making the sale, she just doesn't need his line tied up right now."

"Gotcha. I'll have to be careful how I handle that. There's some high fallutin' folks here tonight who won't take too kindly to being told it wasn't for sale, when in fact, it was. I'll have to figure something out."

I finally got his number pulled up and to my ear, even though my hands shook. Maybe I should have gone somewhere private ... I motioned to Jazz, c.o.c.king my head to indicate I was walking away, and pressed my hand against my other ear to drown out the crowd.

There was suddenly a weird lurch in noise level around me in the foyer, an electrified moment, and I heard some voices die down as some gasps and squeals came from across the polished floor near the concierge desk.

My phone slipped away from my ear as I saw Jack.

It was Jack like I'd never seen him. Dressed in a tailored black suit, a crisp white shirt open at his throat, his hair raked carelessly back from his face. He was devastating. Like the stop-dead-in-the-middle-of-a-bookstore-to-stare-at-the-magazine-cover, devastating. And he was thirty feet away from me, in the flesh.

His face was an easy smile, a wink of sparkle and charm, as he took a proffered pen from one of the two concierge girls who'd left their posts. His strong hand raced across the paper and he handed it back. A crowd was forming, but I saw his mouth move and his hand immediately going to his breast pocket, withdrawing his phone.

His lips curved into a smile as he looked down at it, a dimple flashed, and his eyes immediately moved past the throng and found mine.