That’s going to remain a mystery, of course. It’s very bad form to poke into the personal lives of your investors. At least it is if you want them to keep investing.
The general topic of bad boys, however, is very much on the table as Dallas leans closer to Jackson. “I have to say, I thought I had one hell of a reputation for playing fast and loose. But you certainly did a number on that Reed guy. I gotta know. What was that about?”
“Just having a bad day.” I can almost see the tension pouring out of Jackson, like a red haze staining the air.
“We’ve started thinking about retail on the resort,” I say brightly to Dallas. “We want to keep it very high-end, boutique oriented, but I thought you and I should sit down at some point and talk about you possibly opening a retail space.”
“Happy to,” he says. “It’s the celebrity thing that gets me,” he continues to Jackson, undaunted. “Documentary. Feature film. I saw the pictures with you and Graham Elliott. Hell, you could star in the thing if you wanted. You’ve got the look.”
“Dallas,” Damien says firmly. “I think that considering the fact that Reed still might file a civil action, we should not expect Mr. Steele to talk about this.”
My stomach twists. Now that the criminal case has been resolved, I thought the courtroom drama was over. And I can’t help but wonder if Damien knows something, or if he’s just trying to shut Dallas up.
I hope it’s the latter. And, frankly, I applaud the effort.
“Hey, we can drop it. I was just curious about the movie. Of course, if you do want to star in it, probably best not to beat the shit out of the producer. So what was that about? You just didn’t like the script? When’s it hitting theaters, anyway?”
Beside me, Jackson’s posture stiffens. His left hand is in his lap, and now he moves it to my knee. He has barely brushed my skin when he seems to realize what he’s doing, and he yanks it away as if my body is on fire.
I don’t even hesitate. I reach for him and clutch his hand with mine. Because no matter what else might be between us, I won’t have him be alone right now.
“I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed,” Jackson says, his voice stiff but polite. His hand is clenched so tight with mine that I have to actually grit my teeth. “There’s not going to be a movie.”
“Uh-huh.” Dallas has the look of a dog with a bone, and I’m certain that he’s going to pursue this line.
Damien, thank goodness, comes to the rescue, asking Dallas about an arson claim in one of his Chicago-based stores. Apparently that arose from a huge drama between the store manager and a street gang, and Dallas is interested enough in the soap opera aspects to stay on point.
As the conversation finally shifts away from Jackson, he eases up on my hand. And when the conversation shifts again, and Nikki mentions that Wyatt called her, Jackson releases me entirely.
I deflate, as if that simple loss of touch is more profound than the distance that has been growing between us all afternoon.
I force myself not to show it, though. Instead, I focus on Nikki. “Oh, good. I’m glad he called. I meant to tell you tonight. I called him this morning. We’re all set for Monday evening.”
“Hot date?” Dallas asks.
“Photography lesson,” I say. “We had to postpone the last one.”
Nikki kisses Damien’s cheek. “It was worth it.”
Since Damien surprised her with New York theater tickets, I’m sure it was, and Nikki tells us all about the trip before we backtrack the conversation to planning the specifics for our Monday photography lesson. “I’ll meet you in Santa Monica,” she says. “Around seven? And then maybe Damien and Jackson can join us after for a drink?” She says the last with such a question in her voice that I am absolutely positive she has noticed the rift between Jackson and me.
I’m about to say that it might not be the best night for socializing, when Jackson responds. “I think that’s a great idea.” He looks at me as he speaks, his eyes soft with apology. And though I cannot say for certain that we will be fine come Monday, I do know that I am done being completely mad at him. It’s time to talk about this.
And so I nod. “Yes,” I say. “It’s a great idea.”
I’m surprised to learn that Dallas knows a bit about photography, and we talk about Wyatt’s work, including his prints that hang on some of the Stark International walls. The conversation meanders from there to Damien’s tennis career and then back full circle to Jackson’s assault.
