Chapter 14 Jane
Jane
My phone has been blowing up all night, and I’m beyond grateful for all of the congratulatory texts rolling in:
Riker Maddox: JANEY! I am so fucking happy for you. You deserve this and I hope you get to celebrate tonight
Valerie Quinn: YES BABE LOOK AT YOU FINALLY GETTING THE RECOGNITION YOU DESERVE
Caleb Sloane: So proud of you, Jane. You’re rocking it. Let’s celebrate when you get back!
Angel Cruz: WAY TO GO BOSS! The whole music team is having drinks tonight in your honor.
Wade Ortega: Congratulations, Jane. You deserve this moment.
Carrie Sloane: (Caleb gave me your number for emergencies and I know as my older brother he’s going to yell at me later for abusing it but) CONGRATULATIONS YOU STAR!
Kate Taylor: I knew that song was special. Congratulations, Ms. Mercer.
Finn Lewis: JANE MERCER! Putting us on the map!
Kyle Harris: Congratulations! It’s so rare that nominations go to the truly deserving in this industry. You earned this.
Josie Ramirez: OUR SHOW GOT A RECORD NOM???? YOU ARE AMAZING!
It’s all been a blur. After Keeley and I enjoy a glass of champagne, my head is buzzing with adrenaline, and I slip into the bathroom to change into a long silk dress before dinner.
It’s black, not my usual color, but I managed to find a vintage one that doesn’t wash me out.
To dress it down, I pair it with my favorite denim jacket.
When I emerge, Keeley is touching up her mascara in the bedroom mirror.
She turns to me, her jaw dropping.
“Holy shit, Mercer. You look incredible.”
My neck warms. “Thank you. You look nice too.” And she does.
She’s still wearing those dark jeans and a green sweater that skims over her long lines and makes her hair shine gold in the lamplight.
That short blond hair is tousled in a deep side part that makes me desperate to tangle my fingers in it, and her bangs fall dreamily over her eyes.
Eyes she proceeds to roll at me. “You are too kind to me.”
Before I can swallow back my champagne boldness, I stare openly at her, hoping I don’t sound too breathless. “I mean it. That green is…really your color.”
She tugs at her sweater, cheeks flushing. The moment feels electric, but I don’t know how to cross the last few inches to get where I want to be. Before either of us can make a move, her phone alarm goes off with the strum of a factory-installed harp.
“That’s dinner!” Keeley says. “Move your ass!”
I blink. “Right. Okay.”
We hustle out of the room and down a flight of stairs to the main lodge, through a corridor, and into the rustically elegant dining room.
It really is a sight to behold this evening.
Strategically placed lamps cast an inviting glow throughout the space.
Soft folk music plays through the sound system.
The scents of garlic and butter and cedar smoke waft in the air.
Keeley checks us in, and a host escorts us to an intimate table in the back of the room.
“Is this okay?” the host asks.
Keeley turns to me. “Jane?”
I nod as I take a seat, and she sits across from me.
“Your server will be here shortly to take your drink order.”
In the quaint space, our fingers brush as we both reach for the drink menu at the same time. We spring apart.
“Go ahead,” we say in unison.
I laugh, and Keeley smirks.
“You take longer to decide. You go,” she says.
I gape. “As if. You’re the one who spends ages looking at menus.”
She raises a brow, challenging me. “Fine then, prove me wrong. Clock’s ticking.”
I grab the menu and skim it rapidly, noticing a variety of classic cocktails with a twist. The first drink I know I’ll like catches my eye, and I shove the menu at Keeley before I can get a chance to second-guess myself.
“Really?” she asks.
“I’m getting the blackberry bramble.”
“God, you are doing this just to fuck with me,” she says, glancing at the menu. “Wouldn’t you rather have a 75?”
I bite my lip, because I am partial to anything that adds champagne, but now we’re in a battle, and I’m not about to lose.
“I’m good with my choice,” I say breezily.
She runs a hand through her hair, and I’m sure my gulp is audible as I watch it fall across her face again. I have to clench my fists to avoid reaching over and tucking a stray lock behind her piercing-covered ear.
I bet her skin is soft there.
Dang it, I’ve got to keep it together. Fortunately, I’m saved by the server, who asks for our drink order.
“I’ll have the bramble,” I say, not looking away from Keeley even though I know it’s rude. I’m pretty sure we’re playing the staring game, but I don’t know the prize if I win.
“Good choice,” they reply. “And for you?” they ask, turning to Keeley.
She doesn’t look away either. “I’ll do the French 75.”
“Excellent. I’ll give you two a few minutes to peruse the menu, and be back to check in with your drinks shortly.”
The server leaves, and Keeley sticks out her tongue at me.
I laugh, and blink. “Dang it!”
She flashes finger guns at me. “I win.”
I shake my head, but I can’t stop smiling. No matter how it happened, I’m alone with Keeley away from our real lives, smiling and laughing and basking in the delight of what turned out to be an incredible day. The outside world is falling away, and I’m not mad about it at all.
Just then, a buzzing noise sounds from my bag.
“Sorry, I forgot to silence it,” I say, wincing as I scramble to pull out my small travel purse and dig out my phone.
“It’s fine,” Keeley says. “I don’t expect you to ignore your calls just because we’re having a meal.”
But doesn’t this feel like we’re on a date? I want to scream. Instead, I grab my vibrating phone and feel my stomach fall as I check the screen.
“It’s, uh, my mom,” I say.
Her face sobers. “Do you need to answer it?”
“No, I can call her back later.” I want to hold on to this joy as long as I can.
Keeley cocks her head at me. “Our drinks aren’t even here yet. Would you feel better to get it over with now, so you can enjoy the rest of the trip?”
Wow, she really does know me well. The task of calling my mom back would only hang over my evening, inevitably souring my mood. And…well, I got a nomination for a RECORD today. Maybe Mom is calling to congratulate me for once.
I hate myself for it, but a tiny glimmer of hope sparks in my chest.
With Keeley’s encouragement, I swipe to answer the call and step away from the table, down a hallway that leads to a secluded bathroom area. There’s no one here, just a big mirror that I turn my back to as I answer.
“Hi, Mom!”
“Jane! It rang so long I thought you were pushing me to voicemail. I’m glad I caught you.”
I bite back my retort, because at least she’s reaching out. For once. “Thank you so much for calling! It’s been a big day.”
She scoffs. “I’m sure all of your days in that horrid city feel like big days, Jane, but that’s neither here nor there. I’m calling about your sister.”
I practically stumble back against the lacquered mahogany wall. “Oh. I just thought—”
“Yes?”
“Never mind.”
She huffs. “Spit it out, Jane, I don’t have all night.”
Even as I gather my words, they make me feel small, like a mouse cowering in front of a cat. “I thought you were calling about my RECORD nomination.”
“Really, Jane? We taught you better than to take any stock in worldly accomplishments. Really, if anything, this kind of nomination just proves your God-given talents are being wasted in that filthy industry. You should be using them for the Lord.”
Tears sting my eyes, hot and unrelenting.
Usually, I can keep a brave face when Mom gets like this, but maybe it’s the fact that she can’t see me, or the importance of this moment she’s belittling.
My therapist calls it spiritual bypassing, when people use their faith to ignore the emotions or reality of another person.
And maybe I’m just tired of Mom choosing her religion over me.
When I’m on a phone call like this, I can admit to myself that I’m envious of Keeley.
If Sasha Cunningham learned Keeley was nominated for an award, she wouldn’t just call her to congratulate her, she’d send flowers and cupcakes and maybe even show up on her doorstep.
Keeley said her parents did that when she got nominated for cowriting “Your Body and Mine” with Bianca.
When she visits them, she always comes back happy and refreshed. I’d do anything to have family like that.
Mom is rattling on, and I blink, trying to refocus. Time for a little white lie. “Sorry, Mom, I lost you there for a moment. What was it you were calling about?”
The sooner I can get her on topic, the sooner I can end this call.
“Oh, Jane, Nora simply cannot find a wedding dress in Seattle that will be ready in time. There’s just not enough selection to appease her.” If I know Nora, she doesn’t have that picky of taste—just give her a few pretty options and she’ll pick something out. No, I’m sure this is all Mom.
But if they weren’t scrambling for a December wedding, they’d have more options.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Do you have a stylist you can get me in touch with in Los Angeles? Nothing too…worldly, I just want to be sure Nora looks perfect on her big day.”
God forbid it be worldly, but Mom has no compunction about finding a way to show off demurely to her friends. Guess LA isn’t so horrid that she won’t go there if it suits her.
I clench my jaw. “Sorry, Mom. There are a lot of great boutiques in the LA area, but I’m sure the Seattle ones sell a lot of the same dresses. I don’t know a stylist who would be able to help you with bridal.” And I’m pretty sure most boutiques take months for alterations.
“Hmm, okay then. I’ll just make some inquiries. But call me if you think of anyone!”
“Right,” I say. “Anything else?”