Same time next week, p.23
Same Time Next Week, page 23
"I'll be here until this gets settled, but I'm hoping it won't take long. I don't think they want to fight this out any more than I do, but I need that bitch off my back and out of my life. That has to be a part of the deal. Don't forget that."
"I won't, Shelby. I wouldn't dare." Robin made a few more notes and closed the thick file, pages jutting out haphazardly. "I'll get my paralegal on the research. You should probably head to the bank and prepare a wire. We won’t send the money until everything is signed, but it will go over better if we're ready to go once they agree."
"I'll do that today,” Shelby said, her arms resting on the desk top, almost sinking down onto it. ”I can't tell you what a relief it's been to know that you're handling things. I've been a bag of nerves for so long."
Robin reached across the table to soothe Shelby, rubbing her arm, offering a smile that was warm and comforting and friendly. It had been so long since any feeling of friendliness had come from this city. "It's almost over, hon," she cooed. "It's almost over."
"Well, I'd better get to the bank. And home. My parents are probably pacing a groove in the floors."
"Tell Roberto and Evelyn I said hello."
"I will." Shelby swung her bag over her shoulder and headed toward the door. Before she reached it, she stopped and turned around. Robin glanced up from her paperwork, alarmed by the look on Shelby's face.
"I'm proud of you, you know? You managed to make it through law school and here you are in your own firm and helping me out. I'm jealous. You're doing it, you're really doing this and I can't see straight, I'm so jealous."
"Oh, Shelby...honey..." Robin stood and was around the desk in a matter of seconds, grabbing Shelby by the shoulders and pulling her forward, wrapping her arms around her friend, as the tears pooled in both sets of eyes. They said nothing as they stood hugging, clinging to each other. Robin stroked her hair and rubbed her back until it felt like the sobs were receding, and she could let go. She turned away to pluck a few pieces of Kleenex from a holder on the table, shoving the bunched cotton into Shelby's hand.
Shelby inhaled and exhaled and repeated that cycle until she was calm. "Sorry," she said, her nose stuffy, her cheeks wet. "I get so emotional about all of this. I left to try to fix my life and I can't get away from this."
"It's going to be okay. I'm going to take care of this. I want you to repeat that to yourself. It's going to be okay and Robin is going to take care of everything. I'll give you a call, okay?" One final hug was shared between the two, and then Robin pulled open her office door and gently pushed Shelby out of it. "I have work to do. I'll be in touch. Promise."
Shelby nodded still sniffling, shuffling down the hall and past the receptionist, who watched her walk by with a sympathetic smile. She plodded aimlessly but somehow ended up at her car.
So, it was settled. She would offer a deal to the Samuels family, giving them a portion of the multi-million dollar payday she had received from the Perfect Tire settlement. In exchange, they agreed to virtually forget she ever existed. Never mention her name in the press. Never come to find her. Never send anonymous packages to men she was dating. Never interfere in her life, ever again. Melina was getting what she wanted. If it kept Jackson out of it, it was worth the price.
If they couldn't agree to that, they were more cold and heartless and dysfunctional than she could ever imagine. There was nothing else that she could offer, nothing else they could take from her. They'd never be able to steal her memories of Lucas, or the years she spent with him. Those would matter the most to her anyway.
Down the road from Robin's office was her branch at Miami Bank and Trust, where most of her money was being held. Some liquid, some invested, some put far, far away. Not unreachable, but far away. She would have to dip into that, eventually. The bank would wait for Robin's go-ahead to send the funds, but everything was set and sooner than she expected, she was leaving the bank with confirmation that when the wire was sent, the Samuels family would receive exactly one third of the settlement from Perfect Tire. She hoped it was enough to erase those people forever.
The day had exhausted Shelby. She pondered lunch, thought about calling her mom to meet her somewhere, but deep inside, she longed to be home. To sit between her mom and dad and let them dote on her and spoil her and love her. It had been a long time since she had that.
Her thoughts drifted to Jackson, eventually. Her body missed him. She'd spent much of the night tossing and turning, thinking of him. Wanting to call him, talk to him, to hear his voice in her ear. Feel his arms around her. His body near her. She wondered how long this would take-getting over him. Learning to live without him. Starting over. All over, again.
Shelby pulled into the driveway at her parent's house, turned off the engine and walked up the sidewalk. Both her parents met her at the door, quizzical expressions on their faces, bursting to ask what happened at the meeting.
"Hey, mom…dad." She stepped inside the house as they let her pass. "I'm going to change and then I'll come down and give you an update, okay?"
They nodded, not saying a word as she climbed the stairs and went to her room. Her childhood bedroom, though it wasn't very childish anymore. After she'd moved out, it had been converted to a regular guest bedroom that was stylish and comfortable. It still felt like home. Still smelled like home-Shelby had adopted her mother's habit of putting fresh flowers in each room. She loved the fragrance and the natural perfume. There was lilac in her room. It was soothing. Great for her headache.
The bed was so tempting. Queen size, fluffy down comforter, crisp sheets. It looked like Evelyn had changed them that morning. Shelby lay down, fully clothed, for just a few minutes, to close her eyes. Rest her head. Think. Breathe. Feel.
Jackson appeared behind her closed eyes. Handsome face, cute almost crooked smile, shocking blue eyes. Raven hair, thin but muscular body. Huge heart. Sweet personality. She missed him now, more than she thought possible. Felt alone now, more than ever before.
The tears erupted again but she didn't stop them. Her heart exploded but this time she didn't avoid it. She would never have him, but this feeling...this wonderful, terrible, awesome, exciting, awful feeling...the feeling of loving him, really and truly and not being able to have him was torture.
Jackson
Time spent in the studio was always therapeutic, no matter what else was going on. Once Jackson entered the dark, closed off room with the flashing lights and expansive control board, he was in another world, on another planet, a part of another universe. Hours passed quickly, songs piled up, ideas flowed. This space, this zone was the only place where Jackson felt like he knew anything or had any kind of expertise. It was the only place where, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he had it together. He knew every inch of every song, every nuance of every note. He knew what it was supposed to sound like... it would be his job to push the engineer to make those sounds happen. It was Rod's job to agree with him.
A few hours into the mixing session, Jackson called a break. His thoughts traveled back to Rod's comment about being up to his old tricks. Jackson was determined to not be the same guy, to not hole himself up in a soundproof booth and stare off into space and think about how he'd fucked up his life this time. He was determined to learn something this time. To move on, but be smart about it. Maybe he'd take a break from women altogether. Focus on his music.
Jackson sat across from Rod, who was telling a hysterically funny story about his last date-gone-wrong. Rod either had great dates or terrible dates. He'd never had a mediocre evening in his life. Jackson half listened, laughing at the appropriate moments, but his mind was elsewhere. For all his bravado and new goals about getting over Shelby and moving on, he sort of hoped she'd call. Or text. Or instant message. Or send a carrier pigeon. Or fly to LA and tell him she wanted him and she wanted to be with him… and by the way, would he like to hear her life story?
But no call came. No text messages, nor instant messages. There was an intense, incredibly loud, painful silence from Shelby. That hurt the most.
So he shoved it down, pushed his chair away from the table and stood to toss his paper plate into the garbage can. He pointed at the console on the other side of the glass partition. "I'm gonna head back in. Listen to a couple tracks, maybe try to get ahead. You guys head in there in a few, okay? The sooner we get done....well the sooner we're done and we can collect a paycheck, right?"
Well past the dinner break, Jackson called it a day. Rod was cranky and irritable and suddenly had no opinion on any changes. He sulked in a corner with his arms crossed and his eyes nearly drooping closed. When Jackson called it quits though, he suddenly perked and sat up straight. "Anyone want to go party? There's a couple new clubs downtown."
Jackson shook his head and yawned, pulled out his cell phone and called a cab. "You are going home. You are going to sleep, because you fell asleep during my mixing session of your album. We're back bright and early tomorrow and I don't want any whining."
The cab traveled along the highway to West Hollywood and turned into the driveway of Jackson's home in the hills. He was tired. Exhausted, actually and happy to be home. Not happy to see a car sitting in the drive way. A familiar car, one he hadn't expected to see and didn't want to see ever again.
The sporty red MINI coupe was a gift. He’d stupidly had it put in her name so he couldn’t take it back after she left him. He chalked it up to thinking with his heart and not with his wallet and now that same heart thumped wildly as he got out of the taxi, paid the driver and edged into his house.
Obviously, she still had her key. Obviously, Jackson hadn't changed the locks. Subconsciously, perhaps, he'd been waiting for this moment.
The moment that Kim returned.
Chapter 27
Shelby
Shelby sat up, rubbed her eyes and looked around the darkened room, confused for a moment as to why she was at her parent's house. And then it all came rushing back. She was still in her suit from earlier, now wrinkled and frumpy, twisted around her body.
She got up from the bed, pulling at the buttons on her jacket and the zipper to her dress. Her face felt dry and caked. A glance in the mirror revealed black streaks down her cheeks and around her eyes. She winced, looking back at the pillow. She'd cried in her sleep– her tears had stained the pillow.
A soft knock at the door sounded. "Shelby? We’re holding dinner. Did you want to eat?" Evelyn's voice was muffled on the other side.
"Yeah, mom," she called through the door, her voice ragged. "Dinner smells good. I'll be right down."
"Okay. See you in a few minutes."
Shelby listened to the sounds of her mom walking away and back down the stairs, then went to the adjoining bathroom where she washed her face and brushed her teeth and ran a brush through her hair, restoring order as she went. She changed into a plain t-shirt and jeans, slipped out of her heels and into a pair of slip on sneakers and then headed down the steps.
She hadn’t thought she was very hungry but the smells coming from the kitchen changed her mind. Roast beef, potatoes and green beans were being served up in healthy portions. Shelby took a full plate, grabbed a roll or two and sat at the dining room table. Roberto sat at one end, Evelyn across from her.
“Hot one, today.” Roberto sliced his roast beef into bite sized pieces and then, coupled with a dollop of potatoes, popped a forkful of food into his mouth. “Probably hit near a hundred degrees in some places.”
Evelyn only nodded, chewing slowly, watching Shelby stir food around her plate. The sound of forks and knives tinkling against porcelain plates was almost deafening when it was the only sound in the room.
“Uhm…” Shelby started speaking and then stopped to clear her throat and set down her fork. “So I met with Robin. And uhm…we think we have a way for this to all go away. At least we hope they’ll go for it.”
Evelyn seemed relieved, albeit curious. “Well, that would be wonderful if you could make it happen, honey. Then you could be finally free of all of this.”
“What did she say?” Roberto demanded, always more impatient than his wife.
Nervous, Shelby picked up her fork and poked at the pile of plump, vibrant green beans. “I uh… I went to the bank, today and had them draw up a wire for a third of the settlement. It was, I think, what the family trust, or maybe Melina was expecting. The only way they get the money is to muzzle Melina. She forgets I ever existed, they get the money, she gets her portion and never bothers me again. And she doesn’t hunt down the men I date and tell them that I killed her father.”
“You think that family is motivated by money?” Roberto scoffed, pounding his fork through a mountain of potatoes. “I’d bet they got a fair sum when the old man died. They wipe their asses with what you’re offering.”
“No, I don’t think they’re motivated by money, Dad. They’re motivated by me having Lucas’ money. And on top of it, I sued for wrongful death and I got even more money that they feel they’re entitled to. A third is what I’m offering. They can take it or we can go to court.”
Shelby paused, listening to herself. Since when was she ready to go to court over the money? Over what Lucas provided for her? Over what she’d been awarded, fair and square, just to prove that she wasn’t the gold-digging whore that Melina insisted she was? Months ago, she’d been such a coward that she packed up in the middle of the night, leaving her name and her past behind. She’d invented a whole new Shelby—a strong, confident, aggressive Shelby… but that Shelby was fake.
Right? Or was this person inside her all along?
Evelyn seemed tired, sipping on a tall glass of iced tea. She licked her lips, watching the back and forth banter between her husband and daughter. “Well,” she broke in, “We’ll find out soon if it works, right? What’s the next step?”
“Robin has her team working on gathering details to present at the meeting—all of the internet postings that Melina makes about me, about the case and the settlement, the package that she sent to me and to Jackson. It borders on harassment and stalking. The Samuels family shuns any negative publicity. Robin feels like if we say that they’ll get the funds if they muzzle her, they’ll be more motivated because she’s likely screaming at them too about going after me. Except they won’t, because it’ll hit the papers. So Melina gets what she wants, I get what I want. And if they refuse…”
“You go to the press,” Evelyn finished, nodding. “It might work, Shelby.”
“I hope it does. I feel so guilty about wrapping Jackson up in all of this. I don’t want any of this to tie back to him, not right now. He’s working so hard to build a new image for himself."
“You worry about Shelby Torres.” Roberto pointed his fork at her, his brows knit together in the center of his forehead. “Jackson is a grown man. He’s a big boy and he’s in show business, right? He knows how to handle himself, how to squash something. You, on the other hand, are not that savvy. Worry about you, sweetheart.”
With a resolute nod, Roberto went back to his dinner. Evelyn abandoned her plate, only half empty. Her eyes drooped and she seemed to slump over, leaning onto one elbow. “So,” she asked quietly, mid yawn. “When will you know?”
“Mom, you look exhausted. I’ll clean up. I’ll make daddy help.” Roberto grumbled but didn’t protest much, or very loudly.
“Answer me,” she insisted. “When will you know their decision?”
“I don’t know,” Shelby answered. “You’ll know immediately after I do. In the meantime, we wait. And hope it doesn’t take long.” Following her mother’s lead, she gave up on finishing her dinner as well and stood. She picked up her plate and her mother’s plate on her way into the kitchen and scraped the leftovers into a Tupperware container.
Mindlessly, she began tidying the kitchen. All that was left was to put the plates, glasses, and silverware into the dishwasher. Her thoughts drifted as she worked, occasionally to Jackson. What was he doing and who was he with and where was he? Wishing he would call. Or text. Or something, find a way to tell her that he wouldn’t stand for her running away from him and demand, once again, to know everything. She’d tell him, this time. Why didn’t he fight for her? Why didn’t he fight for them? He knew everything, now. He let her break it off and hadn’t said a word.
His silence was speaking volumes. Those volumes were breaking her heart.
Since her nap had been so long, Shelby laid awake long after her parents finally retired for the night. Under cover of darkness, with only the flicker from the TV offering flashes of brightness in the living room, she curled up in the corner of the couch, alone with her thoughts. She dreaded these times. The worst part of being with Jackson was any night that wasn’t Thursday, or a night she didn’t work, or didn’t have something to do for school. Her life was reduced to sitting on the couch or out on the patio chairs near the pool and thinking.
Thinking was dangerous. Thinking created questions that didn’t have answers, so her mind made them up. She believed in the answers so fervently that she operated her life by them. Her thoughts created questions about Jackson that her mind immediately answered.
Of course she couldn’t tell him about Lucas. He’d be repulsed. Once he found out what kind of woman Shelby was, he’d want nothing to do with her. He’d met enough of that for a lifetime—he left LA, where that kind of woman ran rampant. He had to have been searching for something different, for someone different. Shelby wasn’t different. She was the same woman he would have fought to untangle himself from, if only he knew.
Shelby sighed, hugging a throw pillow and flipped to her other side, willing the thoughts to go away. The thoughts told her this was all her fault, all her doing. If she hadn’t been so hot for him and so forward and so naïve to think an affair with him could be surface and simple, she wouldn’t be in so much pain. Those cameras never would have caught eight seconds of her face. Melina would never have found her. And she wouldn’t have been forced to walk away.
