Page 46 of When He Saved Me
God, that was tempting. And at the rate I was going, not far from the truth. I felt like I was going to vomit any minute now. But I was a professional, and I might not have a lot going for me in my life, but I had integrity. I wouldn’t bail on a gig, even if it meant facing my parents. “No, I can’t do that. I don’t need word getting around that I’m not professional. And shit, the money on this gig is ridiculous.”
“Okay. So you’re going in there then… Want me to come with you?”
“What?” I was stunned. The thought of having him there, just so I wouldn’t be alone, nearly broke me, but that was crazy. “I can’t just waltz in there with my boyfriend when I’m playing a private party.”
“First of all, I like the sound of ‘boyfriend.’ We’re circling back to that later. And second, I went to my fair share of these things growing up when my father was still alive. I know how to rub elbows with the rich, and I know how to blend into the background. No one will even notice me.”
That was absolutely not true. There was never a room Jamie inhabited in which he wasn’t noticed. If not for his gorgeous smile that lit up a room or his stacked body that made women and men alike take notice, he simply had a personality that naturally drew people to him. Still, his offer was amazing. I knew he had plans with his family tonight to drive around looking at Christmas lights while sipping hot chocolate in their PJs. They’d done it since he was a kid, and even though he was grown now, they’d continued the tradition because it made his mom and Aunt Cathy happy. He’d invited me to come with them, but I’d had this gig, and now he was offering to drop everything just to be there for me. My eyes burned and the Christmas lights on the massive home in front of me blurred as my vision clouded with unshed tears.
“I can’t ask you to do that, Jamie. You should be with your family. This is one of the few holiday traditions your mom is still able to do this year. She deserves to have that with you.”
“You’re my family too, you know. Mom will understand.”
God, he always knew the right things to say. Family. I’d never let myself wish for one, but this man had me yearning for it. “You’re amazing, you know that?” I took a shaky breath. “You go with your mom. I’ll be okay.”
“Are you sure?” I could hear the worry there, so I infused my voice with as much false bravado as possible. “Yeah. I’ll be okay. Just hearing your voice has helped.” I glanced at the clock. “Um, I should probably go though. I’m supposed to be set up and ready to play in ten minutes.”
“All right. Call me when you’re done?”
“It’ll be late…”
“That’s all right. I’ll be up.”
“Yeah, okay. Thank you.”
“No need to thank me, baby. That’s whatboyfriendsdo.”
With that, he finally pried a smile out of me. “Not letting that go, are you?”
“Damn right, I’m not.” I could hear the smile in his voice and maybe a bit of pride too. “Go. You got this, okay?”
“Yeah, okay. Talk to you later.”
I hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and pulled into the driveway.
* * *
It wasn’t loston me just how much my life had changed in just a few years. Tonight, I’d come in the back through the service entrance rather than through the grand front entrance we’d used in my youth. I had a bottle of water sitting discreetly underneath the piano bench I was sitting on rather than a glass of bourbon in hand, not that I would have been openly drinking alcohol all those years ago, but I might have snuck a shot of vodka into my Sprite. And rather than eating canapés and avoiding conversation with pretty much everyone, I was currently playing light Christmas melodies at the grand piano in the center of a very ornate entryway.
This house, I knew, held not one but two grand pianos, and while I’d hoped they might station me at the one situated out of the way in the corner of the formal living room, they’d decided it would be more festive if I sat at the one in the middle of the grand entrance so the music could both welcome guests as they entered as well as filter throughout the house. The lid was propped on the tallest peg, allowing sound to reverberate around the massive two-story space. Two elaborately decorated, twelve-foot Christmas trees were positioned in the curve of the twin staircases that led to the second floor and what I knew to be the private quarters for the occupants of the house. I once hid in one of the bedrooms when my father’s secretary had imbibed too much wine and gotten handsy with me. I’d been sixteen, and I was fairly sure she’d been my father’s mistress at some point and had decided she wanted to see if there was any family resemblance between father and son.
I moved from “O, Holy Night” into a lively rendition of “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” as my eyes continued their scan of the space’s occupants. I’d recognized quite a few guests as employees of my father’s firm and had even spotted a couple of my former classmates standing with their parents, sipping cocktails, likely trying to finagle an internship at one of the hottest law firms in town. Connections were everything in this world, and no one was above using anyone they could to get ahead.
A few curious eyes had lingered on me, but they’d either been unable to place how they knew me or, more likely, had decided to ignore my existence altogether. I had no idea what my parents had told people after I’d been cut off, but it was clear that I was now no better than “the help,” my existence not worthy of acknowledgment, which was fine with me. I was here for a hefty paycheck. The rest of them could fuck off.
A couple of hours into the party, I was fairly sure most of the guests had arrived, but I’d yet to see my parents, which surprised me. But then again, I had no idea what was going on in their lives. Perhaps my dad had left his firm. Perhaps they’d had a falling out and were no longer welcome. Richardson had always seemed like a decent sort, as much as any high-powered attorney ever had, and maybe he’d caught my father sleeping with his secretary one too many times and they’d parted ways.
As I moved on from one holiday favorite to the next, I imagined all the scenarios in which my father might have fucked up enough to have caused a parting of ways. I didn’t even know if they’d separated. My father simply could have been sick or otherwise engaged tonight. There could have been any number of reasons to explain his and my mother’s absence, but the idea of him on the outs with his partner, that he’d fucked up enough to have caused some sort of rift between them, was enough to send my imagination into overdrive.
As it happened, I wasn’t lucky enough to avoid the people who’d raised me but hadn’t cared for me. Deep into the evening, just fifteen minutes before midnight, I’d finally begun to let my guard down. Surely this close to the end of the evening, I was safe. In just a bit, I’d collect my payout, then call Jamie, relieved that my worry had been for nothing, and promise to see him in the morning for Christmas.
A slender brunette with high cheekbones and immovable eyebrows, thanks to Botox, crossed in front of the piano carrying a glass of wine and a judgmental smirk as she conversed with the woman next to her. Her hair was smoothed back into a sleek knot at the nape of her neck. She wore a fitted black gown she’d no doubt had to starve herself to fit into, and I could see the emeralds my father had given her for her fortieth birthday winking at her ears. She glanced my way and did a double take, her eyes going wide with recognition as she caught sight of me in the middle of performing “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.” Her feet came to a complete stop, and the woman she’d been chatting with turned back to see what had stopped her, having continued walking, oblivious to the distress my mother was so obviously experiencing.
My stomach again began to tie itself in knots, but my face gave away nothing as I continued playing without skipping a beat. I held her gaze, daring her to look away as she quickly schooled her features before turning back to her friend. She murmured something to her before walking away into the other room.
I finished the song and let out a breath, checking the time on my iPad to calculate how quickly I could escape before word got back to my father that I was there. I played two more songs and, at eleven fifty-eight, determined it was close enough. I closed my iPad and picked up my bottle of water, turning on the bench to exit through the kitchen, where I knew my check would be waiting before I slipped through the service entrance.
Three steps from freedom, I was stopped cold in front of the man who’d both given me life and denied my very existence. He wore a dark-gray suit accented with a red tie that would look festive on anyone this time of year. Though, on him, he merely resembled the gatekeeper to hell.
