Present - Jack
1227 Words
PRESENT
Jack
Jack abandoned the search for his underwear and decided to throw on his jeans, fastening them low at the waist. He felt the crinkle of the magazine picture he had in his back pocket. Carefully he pulled it out and unfolded it. The picture should have made him smile, the memory forever etched in his mind but it only brought him sadness.
A rustle of sheets caused him to fold the paper back up quickly accidentally letting it slip from his fingers. He turned to see Amber, still asleep, the sheets having slipped further down her back. Amber was still a beautiful woman, with her blonde curls fanned out against the silk of the pillows and the curve of her back narrowing in at her waist. Being divorced was as complicated as being married.
The doorbell from deep within the house brought him out of his thoughts. He didn’t want Amber to wake up until he was already gone and the damn maid wasn’t answering the door. He resolved to make his way downstairs and put an end to the incessant ringing.
Jack padded barefoot through the marble hallway, and down the wide staircase.
“Is no one going to answer the door?” He asked, annoyed as the chimes continued to echo through the house. “What am I paying you all for?” He screamed to no one in particular as he opened the door, flustered.
A petite, dark-haired, doe-eyed woman was standing in the doorway. She was dressed casually in jeans, ankle boots, and a slim-fitting button-down shirt. She was definitely not from L.A. He c****d an eyebrow instinctively. “I don’t remember ordering one of you.” He purred, noticing the woman’s cheeks change color.
“Jack O’Donnell?” She scanned his attire with curiosity and Jack realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt, only his ripped jeans, and bare feet.
Placing his hand on the doorframe just above her head, Jack leaned in.
“In the flesh.” He said.
“I’m Erin Langford from Edge.” She leaned away from him.
“s**t,” Jack mumbled, recoiling. Realizing he may have forgotten to tell someone to cancel. “Ah, not interested.” Jack pushed away from the door trying to close it but failing.
Erin pushed the door further open and followed Jack partway down the hall. “Excuse me?”
“Sorry that you came all this way.” Jack tried to look apologetic but he wasn’t. He had a reputation with the press anyway for being difficult and this would be no different.
“That’s all you have to say? I took a redeye from New York, sat next to someone who should have bought an extra seat, and to top it off, forgot my earplugs so I ended up staying awake to the steady falsetto of someone doing their best impression of sawing wood.” She placed her hand on her hip looking incredulous.
“I’m sorry, Jack,” Paul, his bodyguard, and driver, rounded the corner in a hurry, out of breath. Paul was tall with wide shoulders and a slim waist. He had sandy brown hair cut close and wore a thin white t-shirt and jeans. A greasy rag protruded from his back pocket indicating that Paul must have been in the garage working on the sedan.
Jack was slightly amused at Erin’s frazzled state. “I don’t do blogs.” He blurted out suddenly remembering where she was from.
Erin managed to sidestep Paul which was quite a feat for someone of her stature. “Edge is not a blog, and if you weren’t stuck in the nineties, you’d realize that music content websites have a huge following.” She pointed at him with an indignant look on her face that was more cute than menacing.
“Music Blogs,” he made a point to use air quotes to piss her off, “are someone’s need to be trendy and over-hyped,” He smiled, “instead of putting out a real magazine which takes some effort.”
Jack thought the look on Erin’s face meant that she wanted to agree with him but couldn’t bring herself to admit it.
“I was sent here by my editor because this interview was agreed to…” she paused, “by you.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” Jack started to walk away. Now was not a good time to do this anyway.
“Come on young lady, out you go.” Paul grabbed her by the arm and led her back to the door.
Today was not a good day and Jack could feel a little pebble of anger forming in his stomach. He turned and looked at Erin with her dark hair and familiar features. “Your editor sends you,” he looked her over in a condescending manner, “thinking I’ll open my mouth faster than you can open your legs, well, forget it.” He scoffed.
Erin seemed temporarily taken aback. “How dare you, I mean…I wouldn’t do that, you egotistical ass.” She scoffed.
Jack laughed. “There are two scenarios here, either you are incredibly gullible, or you are incredibly cunning. You pick.”
Erin, looking as if she were trying to work through his comment, stayed put even though Paul tried to maneuver her out the door again. “Come on.” Paul looked a little sympathetic but continued to lead her out. He was always a little soft-hearted when it came to women.
Erin managed to turn around. “I’m not just some fresh out of college reporter. I am a damn good journalist and if you could read, you’d see that.” Paul pushed her out through the threshold but a second later, Erin poked her head back around the door. “And for the record, I don’t spread my legs for aging musicians past their prime.”
Paul kicked the door shut and Jack could hear her yell “s**t!” from behind the heavy wood.
“Sorry about that boss.” Paul gave him a sympathetic look.
Jack peered through the front window and watched as Erin stomped down the driveway.
“Am I an aging musician past my prime?” Jack rubbed his chin and asked no one in particular but Paul answered anyway.
“Last time I checked you were still relevant.” Paul chuckled. “At least relevant enough to sign my paycheck.”
Jack raised an eyebrow at him.
Turning his attention back to Erin strutting down the driveway to what was obviously a rental car. They must think he was a fool. As if sending her could get him to talk. He hadn’t given an interview in a very long time and even the ones he’d done before earned him a black checkmark amongst the journalism community. His publicist could be persuasive and he must have been in a really good mood that day to have even agreed to do the interview in the first place.
“She didn’t seem so bad.” Paul shrugged his broad shoulders.
“Wolf in sheep’s clothing.” Jack lifted his eyebrows in knowing fashion.
Paul clapped him on the back. “Those are the best kind.” He chuckled as he headed back towards the entrance to the garage.
TWO Silk and Skin
- Writer
