Chapter 13
Hiatus: A break. I hope.
Jess’s phone rang. The display read MARION’S ASSISTANT.
She sighed and paused her workout to answer, wondering if it would be the same person as last time, or someone new. “Hi, this is Jess.”
“Oh, hello. Jessica McLaughlin?”
“That’s me.”
“This is Trent, Marion McLaughlin’s assistant.”
Someone new, then. “Hi, Trent. What can I do for you? Or rather, my mom?”
“Your mother asked me to confirm plans for when you’re in town later this week.”
“I already forwarded my flight and hotel details and the tournament info.”
“Yes, I received those, thank you. Your mother also asked if you would like to have dinner with her and your father Thursday night when you arrive.”
“Uh…” Probably rude to say no. “Sure?”
“Excellent. I’ll send you a confirmation. Oh, and your mother requested that I pass on a reminder to wear a dress to dinner.”
Jess bit back a few choice swear words. It wasn’t Trent’s fault, after all.
Poor, unfortunate Trent. She made a vague noise instead.
“Thanks, Trent. Talk soon. Buh-bye.” She hung up and rubbed her brow.
Marion McLaughlin, brilliant and driven, was best in small doses, and, quite frankly, she was still digesting the dose from Christmas.
But it was too late for second thoughts now. At the beginning of every July, the SoCal VL took a two-week hiatus, and most of the teams found a tournament to enter for a chance at some prize money. This year, they were heading to Vancouver, Jess’s hometown.
Jess always had mixed feelings about going back to Vancouver.
Mainly because her mother was every high-powered corporate lawyer cliché in one—conservative blazers, clacking heels …
and a ruthless and undying need to be in control of every detail of her life at all times.
Jess had much more in common with her dad, Gerard—also brilliant, but in a quiet, thoughtful way.
So quiet that, even when they lived in the same house, it felt like they would go weeks without having an actual conversation …
except on the occasional clear night, when they’d go up to the roof and stargaze with her dad’s old telescope.
Neither Marion nor Gerard had played volleyball or were even especially tall, although Marion had several towering cousins.
Volleyball had given Jess an anchor in her teenage years—a place to be that wasn’t an empty house, a place where people would notice if she was there or not.
Her parents never really “got” the volleyball thing, but that was fine.
Jess certainly never saw the appeal of drowning in paperwork, pacing the study all night, barking into the phone about contingent liability and adhesion contracts.
And despite feeling iffy about seeing her mom again, and as much as she loved the California sunshine, nothing gave her a thrill like the view of downtown Vancouver on a clear sunny day, the city skyline dwarfed by the jagged, snow-capped North Shore Mountains jutting into an impossibly blue sky …
next to the lush green of Stanley Park and deep blue of Burrard Inlet … there was no view like it in the world.
So when Winston forwarded information about the True North Invitational, Jess signed up, took a deep breath, and told her mom—or rather, her assistant—she’d be there.
And really, a break from worrying about their league win–loss record sounded good at this point.
She’d had a bit of a breakthrough with the Skye match and they had managed to grit out a few more wins in the past couple weeks, but they were still in quite the hole, and it was going to take a lot more than an even record to climb out of it.
Maybe the fresh Vancouver air and a few days of fun was just what she needed going into the second half of the season.
When the plane rolled to a stop at YVR, Jess toggled off Airplane Mode, waited for her phone to connect, then sent her mom a text.
Landed.
Welcome, darling! How was the flight?
Fine.
Lovely. We’ll see you at the beach tomorrow! Your father and I should be able to make it for your match at five.
Jess could almost smell her mother’s perfume swirling around her. I thought we were having dinner tonight?
Shoot, sorry, no. Vincent was supposed to contact you.
Who’s Vincent?
My new assistant. Between you and me, I’m not sure he’s going to work out.
Oh Trent. Good try, buddy. No, never heard anything from Vincent.
I’ll be sure to speak with him. We’re in court this week and it’s a disaster. I’m afraid we’ll be at work for several more hours. But you keep the reservation. Maybe Tania and another friend will want to join you? I left my card on file. Our treat.
All right. I’ll ask. Thanks.
Lovely. See you tomorrow!
Lovely. Jess sighed and turned to Tania. “You want to go to dinner at Fanque’s on my parents?”
“What?” Tania did not do well on planes. Face white, she gripped the armrest, even though they were firmly on the ground and, in fact, no longer moving at all.
“My parents bailed on me but I still have a reservation at this fancy steak house downtown. It’s near the hotel.”
Now Tania took on a shade of green. “Sorry, man. I just want to go to bed.”
“Yeah, I figured. I guess I’ll cancel it.” Jess opened a web browser to look for the restaurant’s number.
Chrissy’s head popped up from the seat ahead of them. “Did you say Fanque’s?”
“Yeah?”
“Oh my God, I’ve been getting all these ads for Vancouver restaurants and I saw one about Fanque’s olive-fed Wagyu steak. It looks amazing.”
“You want to come with me? My parents are paying.”
Chrissy gasped. “For real?”
Vivienne’s head appeared in the aisle. “Um … how many is the reservation for?”
Jess blinked at her. “Three … You want to come?”
“If you’re sure your parents don’t mind buying me Wagyu steak, count me the fuck in.”
Dinner with Vivienne…? “Okay, sure. But one rule. No dresses.”
Jess wore dressy shorts, a flattering tank, and flat sandals. Vivienne toyed with the “no dresses” rule in a skirt, but it was hard to be mad at a plunging, lacey white top and a lavender skirt that looked like heaven against her tanned legs.
They met in the lobby and walked the three blocks from their hotel to the restaurant. It was weird that she was suddenly “hanging out” with Vivienne, but Chrissy was the perfect person to have along because she could chatter away about anything, so there were no awkward pauses.
Fanque’s was in an old building on Seymour—sandstone with scarlet awnings, and all dark chestnut inside. It was the kind of place where you ordered your steak and sides separately, and the cheapest cut was nearly a hundred dollars.
“Don’t be shy,” Jess told them as they perused the menus. “Order what you like.”
Vivienne’s dark eyes flashed with desire. “I cannot decide. I want it all.”
“Why don’t we try a few different cuts and share?”
Vivienne snapped her menu closed. “Brilliant.”
The meal was ridiculously perfect—Wagyu filet mignon, porterhouse, and New York strip, with mushrooms, creamed spinach, and multiple kinds of potatoes.
Jess hadn’t been so full in years. “How are we supposed to play tomorrow?” She groaned, patting her stomach. “I ate way too much.”
“Worth it, though.” Vivienne sighed. “That was good fucking steak. Please thank your parents profusely for me.”
“Me t—” Chrissy gasped and clutched Jess’s forearm. “Oh my God, you guys! It’s Rebekkah de Bex!”
“Who?” Jess and Vivienne said in unison, looking in the direction Chrissy was staring.
“You know! Rebekkah de Bex! She’s the star of Vancouver Vixens: Working Hard for the Money. That reality show about the rich wives who got nothing in the divorce and had to find jobs?”
“I don’t know, actually…” Jess muttered.
The three of them continued to stare. It was immediately obvious who Rebekkah was—a woman in her forties trying desperately to look twenty-seven in a slinky white dress and a seasonally inappropriate fuzzy fur wrap, fawning over a much older man.
“Looks like working hard wasn’t for her,” Vivienne said as Rebekkah’s loud laugh reached them.
“I have to go talk to her!” Chrissy said. “Will one of you come with me?”
“Uh, no,” Jess said.
“Hell no,” Vivienne added, swirling the wine in her glass.
Chrissy stood and squared her shoulders. “Well, I’m doing it.”
Vivienne raised her drink. “Go for it.”
They watched Chrissy slink over, giving encouraging waves when she hesitated and shot them a nervous look.
She paused at the table and waited until Rebekkah looked up at her. Whatever Chrissy said was the right thing, because Rebekkah’s face lit up with a dazzling smile. She pulled a chair out and invited Chrissy to sit down.
Chrissy threw them a delighted grin. Jess and Vivienne toasted her, then turned back to the table, chuckling to themselves.
“I guess Chrissy’s made a friend,” Vivienne said.
They smiled as a silence fell over the table. Jess missed Chrissy already. She cleared her throat. “So. Is this your first time in Vancouver?”
“Yup. Yours?”
“Uh, no. I grew up here.”
“You did? Wait … are you Canadian?”
Jess had to laugh at the wonder Vivienne managed to imbue in one word. “I have dual citizenship.”
“So your family still lives here then?”
“My parents do, yup. They are, in fact, not far from us right now. Their law firm is just down the street—McLaughlin and McLaughlin.” Vivienne made a face and Jess had to huff a laugh. “I know, it doesn’t really roll off the tongue, does it?”
“Why couldn’t they come for dinner?”
Jess shrugged. “Busy with work.”
“Hmm.” Vivienne splashed the remainder of the wine into their glasses. “When’s the last time you saw them?”
Jess turned to see how Chrissy was doing. The older gentleman poured her a glass of champagne while the three of them laughed uproariously. “I went to visit at Christmas.”
“They’re going to come watch you play at least, right?”