Jinxed (17 page)

He’d never done or said anything even remotely similar to things Mark had said to her. He treated her like she was the most important person in the world. Thinking of the Year In Review he had created made her chest warm and heavy. A smile played about her lips as she recalled how the night ended. The smile stayed and then trembled before sliding away. That kind of spark burned too hot, too bright, too intense not to fizzle out. It was the frenzied grappling of lust, not the calm steady growth of real love. Jinx had convinced himself he was in love. He was desperate to pour out a lifetime of emotion right away.

A supernova, she thought was the correct term. A star that burned a hundred times brighter and more intense than any other. Then at the peak of the glorious phenomena, it went dark, collapsed and died, leaving a huge gaping black hole with only the celestial echo of the magnificence of what was. That was what would be left of her—a void of the deepest loss.

Already tasting the pain, she slid open her drawer. The jewelry box sat silent. Gripping it in tight fingers, she fought the sour tang that flooded her mouth. She spied a long envelope and her thoughts derailed like Amtrak during an ice storm. Her bonus. The cool paper felt tainted in her hand.

It was wrong to take money for bringing Jinx to McGee’s. She had nothing to do with it. Sure, she could spend it. Go on a shopping spree. Spend a week in Aruba. Get ahead on a couple mortgage payments. Pay off her car. But none of it seemed right. The check burned her fingers like ice. It was ill-gotten gains, her father would say. Money she hadn’t earned.

Frannie ran the stiff paper back and forth against her lip. She could hear Tracey in the outer lobby, singing a naughty version of “Santa Baby”. Steve yelled from another corner of the suite for her to knock it off and get to work. A loud “Phhhttt!” made Frannie giggle. She could imagine Tracey sticking her tongue out and making a rude gesture.

An idea sprouted. Bolting upright, she let it take root and grow.
Yes, that could work
. A few clicks of the keyboard and her smile grew.
This could definitely work
. A few more clicks and then she raced to the printer. She sashayed her hips and sang a few lines of “Santa Baby” herself.

{

“It’s too big. It’ll never fit.”

Jinx burst out laughing. “Dollface, those are words every man lives to hear.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, fruitcake. I was talking about the tree.”

Home less than twenty-four hours, he’d insisted they get a tree today. Now. Immediately. Frannie had started to protest when it hit her. He needed to cleanse his mind of the trip. The destruction and sadness he’d faced and endured clung to him like cigarette smoke. He needed to laugh. And so, she laughed.

Blazing sunshine poured out golden streams, highlighting the frozen landscape. Tiny puffs of air hung in front of Frannie’s lips as she grabbed the top part of the enormous Douglas fir and pulled. Soon they had the giant tree inside Jinx’s living room and placed it in a metal tree stand. It cleared the soaring ceiling with eight feet to spare.

“Told you so.” He grinned, pulling off his gloves.

Wrinkling her nose, she stuck her tongue out at him. “I meant through the door.”

He branded her lips with a hard kiss. His mouth was chilled from the weather but caressed hers until her thin blood warmed and began to pound.
Gawd, I missed him. I missed this. I missed us.
Through her open jacket, she could feel his heart beating against hers, feel his jeans scrape her stomach. She tried to sink her hands into his hair but her gloves stopped her. Pulling her mouth from his, she wriggled her fingers in his face and grinned.

“I think these take protection to a whole different level.”

His laughter was deep, soft and sent shivers that had nothing to do with the weather down her skin. He nuzzled her ear beneath her nubby knitted cap. “Come on, dollface, let’s deck the halls.”

Spicy pine scent filled the room. Declaring it was a crime to decorate without carols, Frannie disappeared into the den. Soon Randy Travis’s “Blue Christmas” reverberated through the room. It took a few hours but soon the twelve-foot tree was lit and bedecked. With each festive glittering bit, his mood lifted and Frannie smiled in her soul. This was a man not made for sorrow. He embodied life and laughter. He made her heart sing just to be near him.

Jinx was standing atop a ladder wiring an oversized star to the top evergreen plume when the phone rang.

“Grab that. I’m waiting for Dave to call.”

Frannie hurried to the extension inside the kitchen. She punched the button on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Oh. Hello. I’m looking for Jinx. Is he there?” The woman seemed surprised Frannie had answered. The female voice bought a wave of jealous out and Frannie couldn’t help but narrow her eyes.

“He’s on a ladder right now. May I ask who is calling?”

“This is his mother, Beverly. Who am I speaking with?”

Fighting a grimace, Frannie clamped her hand over the mouthpiece and harshly whispered up at Jinx, “It’s your mother.”

“Hi, Mom,” he said loudly, not hurrying from his perch. “Talk to Frannie a minute. I have to get the star attached to the tree.” Frantically shaking her head, Frannie held the phone out and motioned for him to come down. He laughed loudly. “Tell Frannie you don’t bite, Mom. She’s being shy.”

With a glare, she brought the receiver back to her ear. Sheepishly, she spoke to the woman who had given birth to the crackpot she had fallen in love with.

“Hi. I’m Frannie, a friend of Jinx’s. He should be finished in a second.”

The voice on the other side laughed a feminine version of a familiar laugh. “Frannie, nice to meet you. Jinx didn’t mention any special friends at Thanksgiving. Have you known each other long?”

“Uhm, no, not long, a couple weeks.” Scowling at the ladder top, Frannie racked her brain for something to say. “So, Jinx tells me you’re coming to visit for Christmas.”

“Yes, that’s what I need to talk to him about. Could you ask him if the boys can camp out in his rec room?”

Frannie relayed the question and included several hand gestures for him to hurry up. He slowly twisted the wire around the star and agreed “the boys” could. She had no idea who “the boys” were.

“Perfect,” Beverly said. “Tell him Rachel and Carl are going to stay in a hotel since it’s so close to their anniversary. They want a little privacy. Michael and Anne will be coming in, though. With Dad and I, it should pretty well fill his house to the top. Will I get to meet you, Frannie?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess. I mean, yes, Jinx asked me to spend Christmas here. Oh, he’s off the ladder now. It was nice talking to you. Here’s your son.” Frannie shoved the phone in his hands the instant he stepped off the last rung. She wagged one finger at him like a naughty boy before heading to the kitchen.

The coffeepot called and she dug in the cabinet until she found an opened can. The rich fragrant scent permeated the air and she sniffed deeply. Just the smell soothed her nerves. Jinx’s mother had sounded lively and bright. Frannie knew from the old picture in his den she had dark hair like her son. His dad was a redhead, which accounted for the red in Jinx’s beard. If she and Jinx had a child, who would it take after? She allowed the fantasy to play out.

A girl, he said he wanted a girl. A princess with Jinx’s eyes and hair color. Maybe her nose. Her nose was pretty cute. Yeah, her nose was the only thing she might possibly give to a child that wouldn’t stamp them ORDINARY. And of course, there was always a nose job if it did.

Mark had wanted her to get a nose job. And a boob job. Mark had wanted to change a lot of things. The shiny stainless refrigerator reflected her fuzzy image, blurring the finer points of her face but showing her enough. Sideways, she viewed her body, cupping her chest in her hands. Her breasts weren’t that small. So she had apples instead of cantaloupes. Apples weren’t terrible. At least hers were real. Real was all she wanted to be. Mark had agreed, at first.

An accountant and a dentist, they should have been perfect. Except they weren’t. It was just little things in the beginning. Her dress wasn’t nice enough for his parents’ country club party and her mundane military-brat background not well-rounded enough. It spilled over into their daily lives when Mark opened a practice with his prep school buddies. Then it was gossip about who’d had what tucked and who was sleeping with whom. He started dipping into the trust fund more and more until his office was more of a showpiece than a career. Frannie didn’t recognize the man she’d married anymore, didn’t want to recognize him.

His affairs started before the honeymoon was over. She’d cried over each one until somewhere around the sixth, she stopped crying. But Mark never stopped. She lost track of how many women he screwed. She was the only one he screwed over, though. Apologizing never crossed his mind.

“For crissake, Fran, what do you expect? White bread gets boring after a while.”

A loud laugh from the other room ripped her from her musings. She sighed.
Just as well
.
I’ve served my term in hell, no sense revisiting it.

Jinx’s mother had sounded nice. Frannie dreaded meeting her. Post-orgasmic bliss had blinded her to the ramifications of Jinx’s invitation. Meeting the family was not a casual thing. It implied permanence and long-term plans. Maybe she would get lucky and catch the flu or get hit by a UPS truck.

{

“Aaron, I swear, you are the most industrious child I know. It’s snowed like six flakes since yesterday and here you are again.” Arms laden with bags and boxes, Frannie bumped the car door closed with her hip and waited for Tracey to unload her packages before clicking the lock. “I’m going to end up owing you a fortune.”

“Nah, it’s all taken care of, Miz Frannie. Your boyfriend, he paid me for the whole winter in advance.”

Plastic and paper bags weighting her arms, she stopped still and stared at him. “What do you mean he paid you for the whole winter?”

The grinning brown face glowed. “You know, gave me money to do the job every snow. That way you don’t have to worry about it.”

The chilly air nipping at her face was forgotten as heat poured through her.
The overbearing pompous ass, what gave him the right to pay my neighbors? I can pay for my own damn shoveling.

Tracey made it up the salt-crusted stairs before she did. Juggling various packages, she managed to open the wooden door as Frannie reached the top step in a rare mood. How dare he start making arrangements about the upkeep of her home. He didn’t live there and had no right. He was getting entirely too comfortable playing house. Maybe so was she but she didn’t go invading his space like that. It was rude and controlling and, okay, sweet as hell, but damn the man!

“Jinx!” She kicked the door shut with her heel and dropped her bounty in a heap. Tracey pursed her lips and hightailed it for the dining room as Jinx’s feet appeared on the stairs.

“It was an accident. I swear it.” Hands held up and eyes wide in innocence, he stopped on the bottom step.

“An accident? How in the hell could it be an accident? Did it just fall out of your wallet?”

“No, I left it sitting beside the couch when I went to take a leak.”

Confused and growing angrier by the minute, Frannie shook her head. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

“Uhm, I’m not sure. What are you talking about?” Sliding his hands in his back pockets, Jinx shrugged, trying to remain innocent-looking. He failed.

“I’m talking about the kid out there shoveling my walk. Did you pay him for the whole winter without asking me? And what are you talking about? Beside the couch?”

“Hey Frannie, your cat is schnockered!” Tracey’s voice called from the back. Hocus stumbled out of the kitchen. The small black cat weaved and swayed before he collapsed at her feet in a pile of fuzz. Frannie gasped and scooped up her pet who promptly belched in her face. Lips curled against the odor of Cat Chow and Budweiser, she fanned her hand in front of her nose.

“My poor baby!” She nuzzled the broad black head before turning on the man to her right. “What did you do to my cat?”

“I didn’t do anything. I set my beer on the floor beside the couch and went to the bathroom. When I came back out, he’d knocked it over and was lapping at it like it was catnip. I chased the furry little lush away but apparently he liked it. He was back licking at it when I went to get some paper towels.”

“You let him drink alcohol? Are you crazy? Are you like eighteen? Were you trying to kill him?”

“Chill, Frannie. He helped himself. It was an accident. And he apparently really liked it. He scratched me twice as I was trying to shoo him away, the fuzzy little boozer.”

“You got my cat drunk, goofball! What, is this your idea of male bonding? Were you getting revenge because he scratched you? How could you let this happen?”

“I didn’t set out to get him shit-faced. I called a vet. He’ll be okay once he sleeps it off.” The corners of Jinx’s mouth twitched as he fought laughter. “He’s just going to have one hell of a kitty hangover.”

“You got my cat intoxicated, bamboozled, lit like a watchtower, toasted, inebriated, wasted, tanked, and smashed out of his feline gourd!”

Frannie heard her voice bounce off the hallway wall and knew she was teetering close to the edge of insanity but couldn’t stop. Jinx looked at her shamefaced but laughter lurked in his eyes. Hysteria heightened her senses and she was aware of the gentle clickclickclick of the wall clock, the muffled
swuuup
of the shovel on the concrete and the giggling from the kitchen. Tracey dug into her coat pockets before producing her cell phone.

“Put him down. I gotta get a video of him walking to show Steve.”

“Trace! This is not funny.”

“Yeah, it is. Your pussy’s plastered.”

Jinx lost it. His merriment gushed out, startling the inebriated cat, who once again burped loudly. This sent Tracey into gales of sidesplitting laughter. Frannie stood shaking with irritation for a minute before the levity of the situation sank in. A giggle grew into a chuckle then into a laugh and then into an outright cackle. In seconds, all the humans were wiping tears from their eyes and holding their stomachs. She released a squirming Hocus who unsteadily found his footing. Tail straight up, he walked with as much feline dignity as he could—and promptly crashed into the wall. He sat shaking his broad black head which made him lose his balance, and he crashed onto his side.