So, on to the next mess.
She had quit her job.
Finally. And while part of her felt like dancing around her motel room, the other part was feeling slightly terrified.
Jane’s uncle was going to be very upset with her; he would certainly try to pressure her to return to Sara’s employ. Could she hold up against the pressure this time, as she hadn’t been able to before? She pictured his face, her father’s face, asking her to give Sara another chance, and her resolve weakened. Then she fished the fuzzy B out of her back pocket and held it in front of her eyes, feeling her strength return as she shoved it back into her pocket. Nothing and no one would entice her to ever work for Sara ever again.
Where are you going to go, Jane? And what are you going to do?
She knew she couldn’t very well stay in Gardiner, but nowhere else sounded right either. She’d always dreamed of returning to San Francisco where she’d grown up, but it would be lonely. She could go back to Boston, find her own apartment in Cambridge, look up some of her college friends, and see if she could explain things to her aunt and uncle. Or she could return to New York, where she had solid business contacts…or did she? Would anyone work with Jane Mays when she wasn’t attached to Samara Amaya?
Jane massaged her aching head, seeking her mother’s voice from long ago. Ice cream, sweet baby Jane. That’s the answer to everything. We need some ice cream.
“I wish it were that simple,” she muttered softly, missing her mother with a longing that tightened her chest and made her feel breathless. She sobbed and laughed at the same time. “Ice cream, huh? Okay, Mama.”
Jane sat up and wiped away the tears that had fallen as she lay on the bed. She stood up and rooted through her wallet for a few dollars, then looked around the room for her cap before remembering it was gone. She sighed, missing its comforting presence—one of the many things she wished she hadn’t lost this week.
***
Jane opened the door of the grocery store and picked up a basket, strolling over to the produce section.
Some vacation. Starting in the grocery store staring at a hill of grapefruits.
She picked one up, enjoying the feel of the cool, smooth-bumpy rind under her fingertips.
“So, yesterday…you had a question for me…”
Her fingers squeezed in reaction to his voice behind her, the fingernail of her thumb digging into the tough peel unconsciously, and extracting a sharp, bitter-smelling mist. She turned around slowly to find Lars standing by the oranges, basket hanging from his elbow. He was impossibly handsome in cowboy boots, dusty jeans and the same white polo shirt embroidered with “Lindstrom & Sons” that he’d been wearing when he kissed her in the mist this morning.
By the time her eyes slid to his face, she realized he’d watched her eyes ascend from the boots up. He raised his eyebrows, smiling. “Take a picture, Minx…”
“…it lasts longer,” she whispered.
“Your voice slays me, Jane.”
“So, you didn’t go, after all. To Jackson Hole.” She held the grapefruit between both hands, her fingernails still digging into its waxy skin.
“I told you I wasn’t going.”
“You told me a lot of things.”
“I haven’t lied to you.”
“Then you’re lying to someone else.”
“That is absolutely, one-hundred-percent true.”
“Why should I trust you if you’re lying to her?”
“Because she’s impossible.” He ran a hand through his short blond hair. “Because you find yourself in an impossible situation with her, and say whatever it takes to get out of it. Even if words were never cheap to you before, you use them, you…you…you say anything. Just to get away.”
Everything he said was relatable to Jane. More than once Sara had put Jane in a position that required heavy duty lie-telling, and it was never a comfortable place for her.
I like the way you’re touching me right now, Lars.
It hurt to remember the recording, and Jane blinked back more tears. “Why should I believe you?”
“Because I’m telling the truth.”
“So says a liar,” she murmured, looking up at him with tired eyes.
He cringed and exhaled audibly, looking away from her for a second before seizing her eyes again.
“Can I fix this?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she answered, fingernails extracting more bitter spray.
“You’re murdering that grapefruit.”
“I’ll buy it,” she said.
She stared at his light-blue eyes, wishing she could silence her heart, which pleaded with her to find a way to believe him, to trust him, to keep him.
“I was—” she started then stopped, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I was wrong about Jackson Hole. About you going.”
“I was never going. For the record. Never. I never said yes to that.”
Jane nodded. “She said you were.”
“I know.” He tilted his head to the side. “She was my client. It was my job to keep her happy. You don’t keep a supermodel happy by offending her.”
But how far did he actually go to keep Sara happy? That’s what Jane really needed to know.
Tears flooded her eyes, and she tore her gaze away from him, looking down at her feet. “She played…um, a conversation for me…that you two had, and—”
“I know. I went to her trailer and made her play it for me after you left.”
Her eyes darted back up to his face and he reacted to the distress he saw there, wincing again. He raised his hand, as if to touch her, and then drew it back, swallowing like it hurt.
“What do you mean?” she asked. “How did you—”
“I went to see her after I saw you run from her trailer to the Trend van. I asked her what she had said or done to upset you. She played the recording for me.”
Tears slid down her cheeks. “You were touching her when she recorded that.”
He nodded. “I had my hand on her leg.”
She swiped at her eyes, embarrassed to feel fresh tears fall.
“She was threatening to fire my father, to remove us from the job and refuse payment. God, Jane, please—”
“Did you sleep with her?”
“What? NO! No. Absolutely not!”
“Were you…naked with her?”
“Jane, no! No, no…I was never naked with her. Never even close.”
“But, you touched her.”
“Once. Once on the leg when she made that recording. The leg. Nowhere else, Jane. I swear to God. That other time? When she invited me into her trailer? She only had underwear on, and I was totally caught off-guard…she…she took my hand and put it on her breast, then she pressed her body against mine and was about to kiss me, but I pushed her away, just as Margot walked in…”
Oh, God, how she wanted to believe him.
“Convenient.”
“Truthful.”
“Skeptical.”
“Frustrated!” he growled through clenched teeth, taking a step closer to her. He ran his free hand through his hair, tousling it again. His face was sharp with irritation. “Jane. All I ever wanted—from the beginning—was you.”