Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Vanessa
A ll the blood drains from my face as I stare at the headline displayed on one of the online gossip sites. Not this again. A solid weight sits on my chest, and I rub at the ache building there. It’s no wonder my phone has been pinging like crazy. I had switched it off while I was at my appointment this morning, and I forgot to turn it back on while I walked for hours through Central Park in complete and utter shock, trying to digest the news. All the euphoria I was feeling is gone in a flash, superseded by this crap.
Fuck. I hope the kids haven’t seen this yet. Ren is in The Hamptons this week, and Danielle is on an overnight camping trip with the girl scouts, so I won’t be on hand if they discover it before we get a chance to tell them.
While I know the report is bullshit, it still hurts. I skim through the first couple paragraphs. They have direct quotes from Jackson’s assistant supposedly confirming their “affair.” Conniving bitch. I knew she was trouble the minute I met her, and I warned my husband she’d make a play for him. I click out of the article, X out of the site, and shut down the internet. No good will come from going down that rabbit hole.
I press play on the message Jackson left on my phone. It’s short and sweet. Telling me it’s bullshit, he’ll handle it, he loves me, and asking me to warn the kids. He ends with saying we are all to stay off the internet. I try calling him back repeatedly on his cell, but it goes straight to his voicemail every time. I’m tempted to call the office line, to speak to that little witch directly, but I’ll probably end up saying something I regret.
This isn’t my first rodeo, and I won’t make the same mistakes I made the last time some ho tried to damage Jackson’s reputation, ruin his career, hurt his marriage, and upset his kids. It’s all too easy for these women to twist things to suit their agenda, and the court of public opinion is brutal .
My cell vibrates with an incoming call, and my heart plummets when I see it’s our son calling and not Jackson. This can only mean one thing. “Ren. Are you okay?”
“Are you ?” he asks in a clipped tone.
“I take it you’ve seen the stuff online.”
“Yes,” he says through gritted teeth. “I can’t believe this is happening again.” He was only ten the last time, a year younger than Danielle is now, and while we were able to shelter him from a lot of it, it still devastated him.
“I warned your father about her, but she’s the daughter of one of their sponsors, and he didn’t want to ruffle feathers by firing her.”
“Dad needs to learn to listen to you. That’s exactly what he should’ve done.”
“He tries to see the best in everyone.” It’s one of the things I admire most about Jackson. Despite everything that’s happened in the past, he looks to see the good in people. It takes courage to trust people, and I hate how some gold-digging bitches consistently test that trait.
A tense silence descends.
“Ren?”
“You don’t think…” Pain laces his words. “What if it’s true?” he whispers.
“It’s not.” I’m quick to defend Jackson because I know my husband. I trust him. It took some time to believe he could be faithful, especially after the things he did to me when we first started dating, but Jackson has proved himself time and time again. He is loyal to me, and I don’t doubt it even if my son’s words are chipping at that belief. “Your father loves me, and he’s loyal to me. Please don’t doubt him. It would kill him.”
“I know he loves you, Mom, but those pictures are pretty damning.”
Bile churns in my gut. “What pictures?” I hadn’t looked beyond the headline and the opening paragraphs of that article.
“Shit.” Air expels down the line. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I thought you’d seen them.”
“What pictures, Ren?”
“They posted pictures she took of Dad in bed. It’s clear he’s naked.”
No! Strips tear off my heart as pain eviscerates me from all sides. Breathing becomes difficult. All manner of awful thoughts floats through my head, and I’m horrified when tears prick my eyes.
“Mom!” Ren calls to me, but the sound is muted, distant.
All I can hear is the pounding of blood in my ears and my heart ricocheting around my chest, slamming against my rib cage in blatant panic. I try telling myself there is a logical reason because I know Jackson. I know he wouldn’t do this to me, but my hormones are going stir-crazy, and old insecurities are crashing through the walls I’ve built to contain them. I’m trembling with fear, clutching the table with an iron grip, and struggling to calm down as the voice of logic wars with the little devil on my shoulder in an invisible internal battle.
“I’m coming home,” he says, and I finally snap out of it.
“Don’t do that, honey.” I cringe at the croaky sound of my voice. Clearing my throat, I tell myself to get a grip. “There must be an explanation for those pictures.”
There has to be. I can’t contemplate the future if there isn’t. I can’t do this alone, not without Jackson. All my fears from this morning return full force, and it takes considerable willpower not to buckle under the intense stress I’m now feeling. “We’re not going to doubt your father until we hear from him. He’s already left a message saying it’s not true, and I believe my husband, and you need to believe in him too, Ren.” I really hope I haven’t just lied to my son.
“I want to, Mom, but how does she have those photos?” His voice cracks at the end, and I hate this is hurting him.
“I don’t know, but I’ll find out. Don’t come to the city. Stay there. You deserve some time to let loose and relax.”
It took considerable persuasion on my part to get him to stay there with his friends this week. It’s most likely the only downtime Ren will allow himself this summer, and I want him to enjoy it. Porter, his bodyguard, is staying with him to keep an eye on things and ensure he’s safe and not getting into trouble. “I’ll call you when I know more,” I promise.
“Promise you won’t lie to me,” he says, and I feel my heart breaking. He doesn’t believe me. He thinks his father has cheated, and it’s devastating.
Ren and Jackson are close, but they’ve been at loggerheads a lot the past couple of years. Ren lives and breathes motor racing, and he’s been in trouble at school for not doing his homework, giving backtalk to his teachers, not showing up to class, and skipping school altogether some days to spend the day at the track. Then we had the sneaking out to illegally race cars. That’s a hard argument to win because Jackson did the same thing when he was Ren’s age, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay or we condone it.
Ren has inherited Jackson’s talent on the racetrack, and he doesn’t understand why he needs to finish school when he’s determined to pursue a career in professional motorsports. He’s been a member of a racing club and karting since he was young, and our trophy cabinet is overflowing with the trophies he won for national and international karting events and other racing events he’s won in the past two years. When he’s not at school or the gym, he’s training at the track. He is hugely dedicated, and while I know there are girls, he doesn’t date and constantly says he has no time for a relationship.
There is quite a bit of buzz around him—for his talent, his good looks, and his last name.
It’s been hard for Jackson to discipline him given his background, hence why they regularly argue. But Ren is still underage, still under our roof and our protection, and keeping him safe and grounded is all-important. Getting his high-school diploma is an important rite of passage, and we made it clear he must go to school and get his diploma or we’ll withdraw all support for his future career. I know it killed Jackson to threaten that, but sometimes tough love is the only love.
In so many ways, Ren’s life is not normal, but this is the one thing that is, and we want it badly for him. When he graduates high school, he can forgo college and pursue his motorsports career, but for now, he needs to play by our rules. Something he struggles to understand, but we know he’ll toe the line when he starts senior year because he won’t risk jeopardizing his career. It’s only one more year, and it’ll fly by.
“I won’t lie to you,” I promise. “But I’m telling you right now your father is innocent. I believe him, and you should too.” I calm down as those words leave my mouth. They feel right and true. Jackson hasn’t cheated on me. I know he hasn’t. He values our love and our family too much to risk our marriage and the life we’ve built together. He’s always showering me with love, telling me how beautiful I am and how lucky he is, and our sex life is regular and amazing.
He wouldn’t betray me.
It’s the truth. I know it is. Any little doubts are purely my hormones playing havoc with my emotions.
“Let me know after you talk to him.”
I rub at the pain spreading across my chest. “I will.”
“You need to watch out for Dani, Mom. Kids can be cruel. I remember all the shit kids at school said to me the last time. It wasn’t pleasant.”
“I hate that you suffered. These women are selfish bitches who don’t care about the damage they cause to families when they spew their lies. All for their five seconds of fame or a fat check for a tell-all interview.”
“Believe me, I know. It’s part of the reason I don’t date.”
“That saddens me. I hate that your father’s success has come at such a high personal price.”
“It has its advantages too,” he reluctantly admits. “I’ve gotta go. Love you, Mom.”
“Love you too, honey. Stay safe.”
After I hang up, I have a quick phone conversation with Porter, followed by a call with the girl scouts leader but she assures me none of the girls have access to cell phones on the trip and Dani won’t know anything until she returns to The Big Apple. I try Jackson again, and there’s still no answer. Frustration mixes with anger, fear, and pain, and I debate the wisdom of looking for those photos, but I can’t not do it.
I reopen the internet and quickly find them, sucking in a gasp as pain obliterates me from the inside. Tears well in my eyes as I stare at the images of Jackson, asleep on his stomach, in some hotel room, with the sheets bunched at his waist, low enough to confirm he isn’t wearing boxers or pajama pants. Jackson always sleeps naked, so that’s not unusual, but how the fuck did that bitch get into his room to take these photos?
What if it’s not innocent? What if it’s all true? A sob bursts free, and acid crawls up my throat as pain literally becomes me. I cry into my hands, emitting some of the churning emotion ripping me apart on the inside, before I pull myself together.
I try Jackson one more time, screaming in frustration when it still goes straight to voicemail.
Fuck this shit. He knows I’ve seen this by now. He should be fucking calling me non-stop until he’s spoken to me.
After quickly fixing my face, I grab my purse and car keys and make my way out of our brownstone in Greenwich Village, en route to the financial district where Jackson’s office is.
I need answers, and I need them now.