chapter six
Wren
We spend lunch time on Tuesday in an antique tea room. I love their tea and sandwiches, but most of all I love the aesthetic of the place. It makes me feel like I am in a garden in the countryside, even though I am indoors in New York City. They sell many of their antiques and I’m there for lunch and shopping. The hostess seats me at a little wooden table and leaves me with two menus. Jay pulls out the seat and stares down at it.
I hide my smirk behind my menu.
He exhales slowly and lowers himself gingerly into the seat. I hear the delicate wood creak under him but pretend not to. If he breaks the chair, I will pay for it immediately. Though not before I make an embarrassing scene. Obviously. The chair does not break, but I suspect he is kneeling on the floor to prevent the embarrassment.
“This is one of my favorite places,” I say over my menu.
Jay says nothing in return.
I order us an assortment of sandwiches and a pot of tea when the waitress comes over. “I’m going to buy a bunch of stuff before we leave here for my new house,” I tell Jay, even though he will not respond. I am used to talking at Jays, though. “My house is going to look just like this place.”
Jay looks around, taking in the scenery. I see the tiniest twitch of his eyebrow.
“What does that mean?” I ask him.
He looks at me, confused.
“That eyebrow twitch. You were thinking something rude. What was it?” I ask him.
He shakes his head and looks over my shoulder as the waitress returns with our sandwiches and tea.
“No, tell me,” I demand as the waitress sets everything in front of us.
He clears his throat. “I was thinking this place looks like a dollhouse.”
I smile. “That’s not rude.”
The balaclava over his mouth moves, and I am sure he is frowning at me.
“It’s not,” I insist. “I love a cottage-y dollhouse. I want to wear long, flowery dresses, aprons that carry vegetables, and have flowers and birds everywhere.”
“You want to look like a doll in a dollhouse?” he asks just above a muttered whisper. He spoke so quietly, like someone was going to fire him on the spot for speaking to me. Despite his hesitant speech, he looks across the sandwiches at me with an amused expression.
“Yes. Though I’m much bigger than a doll,” I say and serve myself a sandwich.
That eyebrow twitch again. I don’t think he is doing it knowingly. He must have an expressive face under that black spandex.
I never cared so much about what a Jay was thinking before. “What now?” I sigh as I bite into a cucumber and cheese sandwich.
He shifts in his seat and the wood creaks again. “You are not much bigger than a doll.”
“Just because you’re the size of Shrek, doesn’t make me small,” I say with a roll of my eyes.
He nods with a laughing exhale. “Yeah, I do feel like Shrek sitting here.”
“Well, have a sandwich and at least act like you’ve been indoors and out of the swamp before,” I say and gesture to the tray.
Watching Jay gently pick up a sandwich that could easily be one bite for him and place it on his rose pink with gold trim plate is hilarious. I giggle as I pour him a cup of floral tea. Truly, we probably look ridiculous. Like a little girl in a princess dress making her daddy play tea party at a playhouse table. He pulls the neck of his mask out and slides his hand holding the sandwich under the mask to eat. I only see the same flash of his neck, though this time I’m pretty sure I see a tattoo on the side of his throat.
“Do you have tattoos?” I blurt.
His eyes shoot to mine with shock. “I don’t think I’m allowed to answer.” But he answers me just fine when his eyes travel down to his covered forearms and he pats the balaclava back down over his neck. He checked himself over to make sure nothing was exposed.
I grin. “You do.”
He rolls his eyes and says nothing else.
We are silent as we eat. After we finish, I have the waitress add some beautiful china and vintage flatware to my bill. As she is boxing everything up, I turn to Jay. “When you live with me, you’ll be using this every day, too.”
He only looks at me in response.
“I just realized that,” I say. It’s weird to think about. Jays have always been around, using the amenities in my home with Dad. But I’ve built up my new house so much in my head as an independent endeavor. Something entirely my own. And I am still going to have a strange man living with me and using the same space. Am I supposed to treat him like a roommate and consult him on design choices? Are we going to rotate who does the dishes? Unease and irritation creep through me as I think about how a live-in bodyguard is going to translate to the minutia of the day.
Again, he says nothing. We leave the tearoom, both of us carrying large bags of carefully wrapped china and flatware, and get into a cab.
“Does your dad know you take taxis?” Jay asks when we are settled in the car.
“He does. He hates it, but he trusts you,” I reply as I carefully place my bag on my lap. “He certainly likes it better than my driving.”
Jay stares at me but says nothing more.
My phone buzzes in my purse. It’s Maxwell. I texted him this morning about getting together for dinner. It’s been a while since we had a date and even longer since we had sex. I was getting irritable. And while sex with Maxwell may not tick all the boxes for me, it was better than nothing.
Max: Let’s do Saturday. I have reservations at a fantastic spot, and I want to talk to you about something.
Me: Did your dad promote you?!?
Max: No, he won’t until I’m 30.
Me: What is it?
Max: I’m not talking about it over the phone. Meet me at Emerald and Cedar at 7:30.
I sigh and slide my phone back into my purse. It’s only Tuesday. Shouldn’t a boyfriend want to see me more than once a week? Shouldn’t he be working to fit me into his schedule today?
I don’t have the luxury of being picky when my entire dating pool comprises people I’ve known since childhood. Gemma and I both dated our way through all the guys in our approved circles very early in our young adulthood, often passing guys back and forth between us and causing the worst kind of teenaged drama. Gemma likes to look back and laugh at our antics, but she has been allowed to date outside of our circle since she turned eighteen. I am, unfortunately, still in the same position with the same tightening number of men. Maxwell and I dated at least three times already and broke up for various reasons. I suspect he comes back to me only when he is between girlfriends. I guess I don’t care, since I’m mostly using him for sex, anyway. But having someone devoted to me and wanting to be around me was something I dreamed about.
****
Gemma and I meet at The Beanery on Wednesday morning. Often with her busy schedule, we can only meet for a quick coffee once or twice a week. She is treated by the media like a spoiled heiress, which she is, and like she does nothing but party and be wild in public, which is also partially true. She is my closest friend, and I love her.
With a wave to Gemma and Lance, I get in line with Jay. I look up at him to ask what he wants to drink and see his eyes on a blended sugary coffee drink piled high with whipped cream that a woman carries past us. “Do you want one of those?” I ask him.
“No, just a black iced coffee,” he says with a shake of his head.
“You know, you’re allowed to get something else.”
“I’m not drinking that garbage.”
“Hey Wren!” Steph greets. She is making drinks today, and a new person is working the register. “Usual?”
I nod and tell the new girl my order. “And I have a question. My bodyguard here takes his coffee through an enema. Do you think a caramel macchiato would give him-”
“A small, black iced coffee,” Jay tells the girl.
Steph and I both laugh while the new girl blushes and doesn’t speak a word as she puts in the order. I pay and tip very well for her embarrassment before we gather our drinks and meet Gemma and Lance.
“Good morning, baby girl,” Gemma greets me as I sit across from her.
“Good morning,” I reply and kiss her on the cheek before taking a huge sip of my coffee.
Jay radiates irritation next to me, but I ignore him. Lance and Jay sweep their eyes through the busy cafe as they sip their coffee. Gemma and I talk about the recent design choices for my house, the photoshoot she had the day before, and idle plans for vacations. I can’t stop looking over at Jay. His blue eyes seem to pierce through every person in the cafe. What he’s doing does not differ from any other Jay I’ve had, but something about his gaze is so engaging I want to know his every thought.
“You okay?” Gemma asks me in a whisper.
“Yeah,” I say as I tear my eyes away from Jay. At her words, he looks at me as if to check me over for harm. Being the subject of that intense blue stare has a blush rising to my face. “Totally fine.”
“We need a spa day,” Gemma declares as she finishes her coffee. “Tomorrow?”
“Um, sure,” I say and shake my head to clear the fog. “I can get us an appointment.”
“Perfect. I think we need it,” Gemma says with a soft, caring smile.
“Is that Gemma Cox?” someone giggles at the table next to us.
I glance up at Gemma and Lance. Lance’s eyes are already on the person, but I see Gemma switch on her gracious celebrity face. “Hello beautiful!”
Gemma poses for a few pictures with the girls and signs a few pieces of paper for them. Watching Gemma work is an exhausting but beautiful thing. Gemma is one of my favorite people on the planet, and I am happy other people get glimpses of her beauty inside and out. But once the autographs and selfies start, it tends to not stop. After the girls are done and say their goodbyes, a small line has formed. Lance is good at controlling the line and Gemma’s safety and will cut the time at ten minutes and say Gemma has to leave for an appointment. Jay’s job is to slip me out before anyone notices me any more than a cursory glance.
Jay nods to Steph over the counter. She smiles and jerks her head to the back of the building. Jay stands up and I follow suit. With a gentle hand on my lower back, he guides me to the back of the cafe. There are a few shouts of “Who’s your friend, Gemma?” by the fans that swarmed, but Gemma and Lance have long been deflecting that question.
“Straight back,” Steph whispers to Jay as she opens the staff door. “It goes to an alley, but both ways will get you to a main road.”
She has helped me escape a few other times before, so she knows the drill. I leave my friend with a wobbly feeling in my belly. Jay is muttering into his earpiece as we walk through the kitchen area to the back door, but his hand never leaves the small of my back. In the alley, Jay walks us confidently to the end, where it opens to the street. The alley smells like garbage and urine. I groan.
“Do you have an extra mask? It reeks out here.” I pout as we step over an overflow of garbage.
Jay reaches into his pocket and hands me a spare mask. “I can still smell. It doesn’t help.”
I hand the mask back to him. “We’d look like bank robbers, anyway.”
A black car pulls up, and a Crow opens the door.
“That was fast,” I mutter.
“I called them as soon as I saw those girls taking pictures of Gemma. Before they said anything to her,” Jay says, just above a whisper as we slide into the car.
As much as I despise having a Blue Jay, this one is irritatingly good at his job.