Page 6 of Second Act
Carla raised her eyebrows. “Is he back in town?” Her voice vibrated with disapproval.
Jessica nodded, but her heartbeat sped up. The only other visitor she could imagine Carla allowing in was Hugh.
Carla’s expression went from judgmental to admiring. “No, it’s someone a whole lot more interesting. Says you’re friends from way back.” She threw Jessica a quizzical glance before she bustled out the door.
As Jessica dried her hands, she tried to calm the nerves fluttering through her now that she was sure who it was. She hated reacting to Hugh this way. She should be able to ignore him the way he’d ignored her for eight years.
When she started down the cracked gray linoleum hallway, Geode, the office’s resident cat, bolted past her to skid into the supply closet. Her visitor must have awakened the stranger-averse kitty and sent him running for cover.
She reached her office, a former storeroom into which she’d crammed a wooden desk she’d found on the curb and some assemble-it-yourself oak filing cabinets on top of which Geode usually slept. Her one indulgence was a high-end ergonomic chair on wheels, which was currently occupied by her ex-fiancé, his back turned to her so the width of his shoulders was evident above the chair’s back.
“What on earth are you doing here?” She stopped on the threshold, her hands on her hips, and he swiveled to face her, his own hands lifted in a gesture of mock self-defense.
“You didn’t give me your cell number, so I had to come find you.” He rose, his presence filling the cramped space with that mesmeric energy unique to him.
“You could have just called the clinic.” He wore a perfectly fitted navy-blue suit, and she realized he must be in costume as Julian Best. He looked out of place amid the battered furniture and the snapshots of patients in cheap plastic frames hung on the walls.
He smiled in a way that lit up his vivid eyes. “I find it’s more effective to appear in person.”
She thought of her no-nonsense office manager’s reaction. “I’ll bet you do.”
He came around the desk to stand in front of her. She forced herself not to close her eyes as the exotic scent of sandalwood wafted into her nostrils. “You promised me dinner,” he said.
“I’m pretty sure I turned you down,” she said, veering past him to drop into her desk chair. That put one piece of furniture between them, but it was better than none. “Look, I appreciate the invitation, but I work until at least seven o’clock every night. I’m too exhausted to go out after that.”
He scowled. “No wonder you look tired. You need a life outside work.”
She just stared at him as he echoed the words she’d once said to him, when their engagement unraveled. Except it hadn’t been his actual work that was the problem. It had been the extracurricular activities: the parties, the awards ceremonies, the promotional appearances. He’d claimed he had to do them all to succeed, and he’d wanted her by his side.
At first the chance to dress up and be glamorous had been fun. When she’d run through her limited wardrobe, she and Hugh had gone on a shopping spree, spending part of the advance his agent had given him. He’d bought a tuxedo that she made him put back on when they got home, just so she could peel it off him slowly and with great attention to each revealed inch of skin. She’d bought dresses and shoes and costume jewelry, most of which Hugh picked out. He could look at apiece of clothing and know it would look great on her. Because he paid attention.
However, the tension kicked in when the invitations began to conflict with her work schedule. Being low vet on the totem pole, she often got scheduled for evening hours. She had found someone to trade assigned slots with three weeks in a row to accommodate Hugh’s work-fueled social schedule. The fourth week, she balked. He’d first tried to guilt her into it, saying he needed her presence to give him confidence. She’d pointed out that not only was it unfair to her colleagues to keep asking them to rearrange their week, but it made her look unprofessional.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” he had said. “Once my career takes off, you’ll never have to work again.”
She’d stood speechless for a long moment, wondering how this could be the same man who had chosen the perfect outfit for her because he seemed to know her almost better than she knew herself.
And they’d had a huge fight.
That’s when she had begun to realize that their needs were veering in sharply different directions. He wanted someone who could smile with dazzling sincerity on the red carpet with a battery of cameras pointed at her, not someone who came home in blood-spattered scrubs with a hunger headache.
The ugly memory fortified her decision to avoid Hugh in the present time. She took a deep breath. “Aidan just arrived for a visit, so I don’t want to leave him alone.”
Carla happened to be passing by the doorway just then and made a loud, derisive noise.
“I sense a false note in that statement,” Hugh said, an undercurrent of amusement in his voice as he nodded toward the now empty corridor. “How is your brother?”
She didn’t want to talk about it. “He’s fine. Enjoying New York City.”
“He always took advantage of the nightlife when he came to LA.”
Hugh had been very generous about taking her younger brother along to the fancy Hollywood parties he’d wangled invitations to. Back then, she and Aidan had been wide-eyed innocents, not understanding what went on in the bathrooms, bedrooms, and pool houses at those events. Hugh, of course, was well aware—he’d had the innocence kicked out of him in his teens—but he’d shielded them from the seamier side of the industry he’d chosen. She had to give him credit for that.
“He’s doing the same thing here,” Jessica said. Without a job to support it. But Aidan was good at getting other people to pay for his pleasures.
“So you can have dinner with me while Aidan is off clubbing.” Hugh crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. “You must at least have Sunday off.”
“A lot of my clients work, so I’m open on weekends.” She finally threw in the towel. She knew Hugh wouldn’t give up until he’d gotten what he wanted. “Yesterday was my day off. That’s why I chased the stray into your movie shoot. We can have dinner next Wednesday.”
