6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

BADGLEY MISCHKA

Nora

I was fully dressed for the evening meal, it was time to leave my cabin to join Jamie for cocktails…

And I was pacing the floor, phone in hand, panicking.

It was our third night on board.

Jamie and I had breakfasted together the last two mornings.

Jamie and I had watched Barbie after our first breakfast (we’d both liked it, and after talking about it for some time, I could say that Jamie liked it even more than I did), and we’d returned to the screening room to watch Rear Window after dinner that evening.

Jamie and I had sat in the hot tub that first afternoon (yes, his chest was all it promised it would be in clothes…and then some—also yes, it was torture sitting in a hot tub with that man and his amazing body). And we lazed in the aft lounge the second afternoon, Jamie alternately reading and working, me catching up on the editions of Vanity Fair I’d brought along with me.

Jamie had teasingly accused me of being a witch after I made him a French martini during cocktail hour last night, something he’d liked so much, he requested I make him another one before we headed in to view Rear Window .

We did not talk about the kiss.

We did not talk about the limits of our relationship.

We did not talk about the words we’d hurled at each other.

We did not talk further about Roland.

We absolutely did not talk about his assertions during breakfast that first morning.

We relaxed. We chatted about my children. We made a bet on the gender of Judge and Chloe’s baby (they didn’t want to know, so no one knew—and by the way, I said boy, Jamie said girl). We shared our mutual frustration that Dru wanted to “go it alone” and therefore was refusing Jamie’s financial assistance, and as such, she had two roommates, and they were living in a small apartment in Queens. We discussed how we both knew the tea that Ned had a woman, but he hadn’t shared this information with either of his daughters. We then discussed the reasons we thought Ned had not disclosed this information. We got on Jamie’s laptop and ordered Alex and Rix’s wedding present together.

I made Jamie laugh. He made me smile.

And through all this, I woke up to what was happening and started panicking because…

I was his damned girlfriend .

No, I was more.

We were more.

We just were that without sex.

I was his (he said so his damned self!).

He was mine.

I loved him.

He loved me (he said that too!).

So what in the hell was going on?

On that thought, I engaged my phone in order to call in assistance.

Mika answered on the third ring with the quip, “I see my forty-eight hours of Nora purgatory is up.”

“I think I’m Jamie’s girlfriend,” I blurted.

“ What? ” she shrieked in delight.

Yes, Mika Stowe, coolest woman on the planet (and that wasn’t my title for her, it was many others, though I agreed with it) shrieked with delight .

“Don’t get excited,” I cautioned.

“How could I not be excited? I knew it! Hey!” she cried suddenly. I heard what seemed to be skin slapping against skin. And then, “Stop that! Te?—”

There were jostling noises and then I had Teddy’s voice. “Nora, darling, we must speak.”

“Give that back!” I heard Mika shout.

“What’s going on?” I asked Teddy.

“Do you know that Paloma is seeing AJ Oakley?”

My stomach took a dive.

“ Seeing? ” I asked.

“ Seeing, ” he confirmed.

“I saw them at an event together some time ago, but?—”

“Well, he’s?—”

Teddy didn’t finish because Mika was back. “Talk to me about this being-Jamie’s-girlfriend business.”

“We already know she’s his girlfriend,” Teddy stated in the background, then demanded, “Hand me the phone.”

“No, this is more important,” Mika refused Teddy.

“You don’t deal with catty bitches enough,” Teddy’s voice retorted. “When they’re making moves, that takes priority over everything .”

I was in the unfortunate position I couldn’t agree or disagree.

Everything seemed to be a priority.

“Mika,” I said commandingly. “Tell Teddy I’ll talk to him in a second.”

“Nora says she’ll talk to you after she talks to me,” Mika said to Teddy. Then to me, she said, “He’s pouting, but I’m back.”

“All right, I should be up top, mixing Jamie a cocktail right now, so I don’t have a lot of time,” I began.

Then I ran it down as quickly as I could.

All of it.

Jamie answering my phone, then seizing it when Roland called. His “You’re mine/I take care of those I love” speech at breakfast the morning before. His confusing comment of “as I’ll allow myself to have you.” His extreme agitation that Roland was pestering me. The whole spiel about Belinda and my Vogue-style society page shot and the rest of it. And last, there was the entirety of that mind mess, yet no kissing, touching or making love, but there was a lot of our usual getting on swimmingly with each other.

So…yes.

I told her all of it .

I finished with, “And now, I’m in that short Badgely Mischka mini-shift-dress I have. You know, the one with the tropical print, three-D sequined flowers and the same print sheer balloon sleeves.”

“I know it,” Mika confirmed.

“It’s too short.”

“You have great legs.”

“It’s too young.”

“You’re as young as you feel, and you look fantastic in that dress. Please tell me you’re wearing the silver sandals with the four-inch stiletto heel.”

“I’m wearing the silver stilettos,” I whispered. “It’s a fuck-me outfit, Mika.”

“It’s a fuck-me outfit, sister,” Mika crowed.

“He’s not ready to go there,” I reminded her.

“That dress is gonna make him ready.”

“He said ‘as I’ll allow myself to have you,’ which means he won’t allow himself to have me ,” I stressed.

“I think after he gets a look at you in that dress, he’s going to allow himself to have a lot more of you,” she returned.

“Oh God,” I moaned, then executed a graceful fall to seated at the end of the bed I wished someone (though, not Jamie, he’d tease me relentlessly about it) was there to witness, because it was perfection .

“Just…ride it out,” Mika advised.

“How?” I snapped. “Like I said, my dearest, he’s not going there .”

“Okay, allow me to let you in on something,” she began.

“Do it fast, because I don’t have a lot of time. Jamie is waiting, and I still need to talk to Teddy.”

“Right, then. This whole yacht thing was not about you. We know you’re there. It’s about Jamie getting his shit sharp.”

Oh.

That made sense.

“If I were ever to diet, which I’d never,” she kept on.

“Never,” I agreed on a faint shiver at the very thought.

“But if I were, put me in a room with a brownie, I’m good. For a while. But not for very long. Then that brownie is in my belly .”

Completely made sense.

Chloe was genius .

And…

Oh dear God.

I was a brownie, and Jamie had been on a very long diet.

“Therefore, ride it out,” Mika finished.

Oh God .

“Can I talk to her now?” Teddy asked petulantly.

“Are you done with me?” Mika asked me.

“I think so.” My voice was trembling.

“You got this, Nora. Stay the course.”

God!

“Here’s Teddy,” she said.

“ Thank you ,” he stressed snottily. “Nora, darling?”

“I’m here,” I replied.

“I don’t have much more…yet.”

Then why did he want so badly to talk to me?

“But I think we both can agree this is sinister news,” he went on.

We could definitely agree on that.

“Indeed,” I said.

“So dire, I’m activating the G-Force.”

This was such news, I forgot about being Jamie’s brownie and gasped.

The G-Force was Teddy’s group of friends. They were all gay (hence, the “G”) and they were all connected. They could find out anything, and they did. In fact, after Elsa was folded into the family, several of them acknowledged they were informants of hers when she was still in the gossip game.

They could also ruin you if they so desired.

One could just say, Truman Capote’s lesson to the swans, which should have been passed down generation to generation with alacrity, was not learned by every female in Manhattan. Swans all over the place were making the same mistakes with the G-Force. And if they didn’t stay on the Force’s good side, as the saying went, shit got real.

Usually (as in, always ), their maneuvers were only made on behalf of members who felt they’d been wronged.

It was a huge honor they might consider my plight for one of their skilled and precise strikes.

“Do you think they’ll take it on?” I asked.

“I already know they will,” Teddy purred.

“Oh my God,” I breathed with sheer, unadulterated glee.

“They love you. You’re a gay icon. You’re our Babe Paley.”

I just knew they were all over going Capote. Though (in my opinion), Babe hadn’t deserved the Capote treatment.

Fortunately, the G-Force was on the side of good.

Not to mention…

How sweet.

“With better hair and less of a stick up your ass,” Teddy continued.

“I knew I adored you,” I stated.

“Obviously,” Teddy returned.

“Though, we can agree, Babe was eventually hindered by bad sixties helmet hairstyles.”

“We can certainly agree that ,” Teddy replied. “Although we love you, it’s important to note, part of this is about the fact Paloma hasn’t exactly stayed in the good graces of the G-Force.”

I was completely unsurprised.

“Color me stunned,” I drawled.

“Get off the phone, Teddy,” Mika ordered in the background. “She should be having cocktails with Jamie right now.”

“Fine,” he snapped at Mika, then to me, “I’ll let you go, beloved. We’re on it on this end.”

“For the G-Force, cocktails and closet privileges at my place.” I declared. “For you, pick your boutique.”

“Even if it’s Chopard?” Teddy tested.

“Dearest,” I cooed. “Who are you talking to?”

There was a pause, before, “I adore you too, Nora. And that classless piece of trash is not going to mess with you.”

My eyes started stinging.

“I have false eyelashes on, Teddy,” I warned.

“Of course, ta-ta,” Teddy said.

Then Mika was back on the phone. “Knock him dead, babe. Speak soon. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

We rang off.

I couldn’t say my panic was gone.

I could say I had hope for the first time in decades I’d get the happily ever after of my dreams.

So, absolutely.

The panic was not gone.

I went to the full-length mirror on the inside door of the closet, checked my dress (Mika was right, I had amazing legs), my lipstick and my lashes, and then I headed out.

There was a small bar in the aft lounge, so Jamie and I had decided to meet there that evening for a change of pace, and because the space was smaller, and thus less formal, but more relaxed.

I entered with a smile on my face that had a lot to do with the exceptionally cut blue suit and crisp, pristine white shirt Jamie was wearing.

My smile faltered when I noted he was prowling the floor like a caged tiger.

It died when he caught sight of me, stopped dead and pinned me to the spot with a lethal expression on his handsome face.

Oh dear, it appeared he seriously liked my cocktails and was not one with having to wait.

His gaze swept the length of me, settling on my legs, before he growled, “Are you fucking shitting me?”

“I beg your pardon?” I demanded.

His eyes raced to mine. “Did you miss something in your report about your chat with Castellini, sweetheart?”

I was confused, and communicated that by inquiring, “What?”

“Maybe the fact that he,” Jamie bent toward me ominously, which gave notice of what was to come, before he roared, “ asked for a reconciliation! ”

I actually felt my face lose all color. “How do you know that?”

Jamie straightened, tipped his head back and thundered to the ceiling, “ Jesus Christ! ”

I dashed toward him and snapped, “For heaven’s sake, keep your voice down.”

His chin slanted into his throat, and he speared me with a venomous look as he snarled, “Fuck that. Fuck him. Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m obviously not going to entertain his notion,” I sniffed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he repeated his question.

“How did you know?” I shot back.

“Tom phoned.”

Tom?

Tom betrayed me?

Counting this whole yacht situation…

He did it again ?

I lifted my phone in front of me and spat, “I need to make a call.”

Whoosh! My phone was gone and flying through the air to plop on a sofa, seeing as Jamie swiped it and tossed it there.

“Jamie!” I yelled.

“Do not be angry at Tom,” he ordered. “Mika shared with Tom, as spouses do. Then Tom did some math. Which brings me to my next topic of conversation, the fact that Paloma Friedrichsen, who fucked your husband when he was still your husband, and who tried to fuck me when my wife was dying of cancer, is the one attempting to fuck”—he flapped a hand irately through the minimal space between us—“ us up.”

Damn, I’d forgotten that little tidbit about Paloma’s sheer nastiness, making a play for Jamie when Rosalind was ill.

How could I forget that?

I couldn’t linger on it. Jamie was still glowering at me.

“I put that together too, and I’m handling it,” I assured.

I also needed to tell him that Paloma was definitely with his father, which did not bode well, but I didn’t think now was an advantageous time to convey this information.

I heard his phone vibrate in his jacket pocket.

He ignored it in order to ask caustically, “You’re handling it?”

“Yes,” I hissed.

“Like you’re handling Castellini?”

“I’m handling him too.”

It was then, I heard my phone vibrating on the sofa cushion.

I ignored it because Jamie announced, “From where I’m standing, you’re not handling either of those pieces of shit at all, darlin’.”

“ I didn’t maroon me on a floating palace with you,” I reminded him. “My hands are rather tied as we become intimately acquainted from afar with the coastline of Delaware.”

He dropped his head, tore his hand through his thick, dark, hardly-silvering-at-all hair, leaving his fingers curled around the back of his strong neck, before he grumbled to his shoes, “Fucking hell.”

“Jamie, rest assured, the G-Force is on Paloma, and I’ll make it very clear to Roland upon our return that his attention is unwanted.”

His phone had stopped vibrating, as had mine.

But his started up again right away, and after his head shot up, he dropped his hand and spoke his next, so did mine.

I couldn’t make note of either to him, not only because he was speaking, but also due to what he was saying, and the low, deep, threatening voice he used in saying it.

“No, baby, I will make things clear to Castellini, and I will be certain that cunt steers very clear of you.”

That was the c-word I would have used in regard to the P-word, and oddly, I didn’t find it vulgar at all when Jamie used it.

“What the fuck is a G-Force?” he asked before I could dispute his assertion he was going to butt into my operation.

I flipped a hand out. “It’s a kind of special operations unit, society style, made up of gay men.”

He stared at me like I’d lost my mind for a beat before he returned his gaze to the ceiling once again, this time to mutter, “Fuck me.”

“Jamie, your language is appalling.”

He looked back at me. “Darlin’, you’ve set a pack of gay guys on a bitch on a mission. I suspect in most cases, gay guys can get the job done. But we’re talking Paloma Friedrichsen here. She’s made a living off sucking cock to keep her in heels and jewels, but she is not of an age she can turn that kind of man’s head anymore. Which means she’s desperate. Evidence of that, the last time I saw her, she was with my father, and no woman who is not alarmingly desperate would touch his shriveled ass and depleted bank account with a ten-foot pole. She’s dangerous, and she has you in her sights.”

So he knew about AJ.

Maybe?

“I think she’s actually seeing your father,” I felt it safe (ish?) to disclose.

“I know she is.”

Well, it was good I didn’t have to confirm that for him.

“And I’ve got him on his back foot, Nora. You know that.”

I did.

Jamie had been working for years to destroy his father in the way that would hurt him the most, that being decimating his finances and his pride.

He was close to succeeding in the first, the second would be harder, considering the false pride a man like AJ Oakley had was coated in steel.

But he’d get there, mostly by annihilating the first.

He wouldn’t get there, though, without backing AJ in a corner.

And a cornered predator was unpredictable.

Not to mention vicious.

This was something that had been worrying me for quite some time. It did the same to Dru (we’d talked about it once). But we’d both agreed Jamie was smart, savvy, and his reputation and money made him untouchable.

At least, we hoped so.

“Therefore,” Jamie continued, “Paloma making moves, and Pop being Pop, after he took hit after hit for his part in the Core Point debacle, I do not see good things.”

I didn’t either. And I worried at this juncture in our conversation that he might not find solace in me reiterating how effective the G-Force was.

The Core Point debacle had been devastating for AJ Oakley. His part in that athletic company’s coverups of sexual assaults, which had led to the outing of AJ being involved in the same in his other business dealings, had been crushing.

He’d been removed from boards, even the one of his own company. He’d had deals die. He was a pariah in any polite society. Not that he’d ever cared about that, but then again, he’d never been a pariah. Even the media, who used to feed on his extreme political incorrectness, had lost interest in a loud-mouthed old man who seemed to behave as he did in a frantic attempt to remain relevant.

After that, AJ had vowed “dirty” revenge against Jamie (consequently, Dru’s and my growing concern).

I didn’t know how we didn’t cotton on to the unholy alliance of Paloma and AJ.

Well, at least I hadn’t.

Jamie seemed to have his finger on that pulse.

I was taken out of my gloomy thoughts when Jamie said, “Now we need to talk about that dress.”

I felt heat in my face, and it hit other parts of me when I focused on him and caught the look in his eyes.

I noted immediately AJ and Jamie had one thing in common.

If they had a reason to be, they were both predators.

But, I was seeing, they were very different kinds.

For the life of me, I didn’t know why, since the look in his eyes was what I’d been wanting from him for a very long time, but I took a step back.

He took one forward.

Oh my.

“Jamie,” I whispered.

He didn’t reply.

He was again staring at my legs, which had suddenly started trembling.

“Sir. Ma’am.”

Both our heads turned sharply to see the captain standing just in from the interior doorway to the lounge, beyond him, a magnificent view of the formal dining room.

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we’ve received an urgent call from Mr. Tom Pierce.”

The look on the captain’s face, those words coming from his mouth, my hand darted out, colliding with Jamie’s as his did the same my way, and he curled his fingers tightly around mine.

“We’ll be increasing our speed and changing course toward shore,” the captain continued, and his eyes locked on Jamie. “I’m sorry to be the one to inform you, sir. Your daughter-in-law has gone into early labor. Mother and child are in distress. They’re sending a helicopter to collect you and Ms. Ellington from the ship. Mr. Wheeler’s plane will be meeting you at a local airstrip. I suggest you both change clothes.”

Jamie’s voice was so guttural, it felt like it flayed at my flesh, and his grip on my hand was vise-like when he said, “Thank you.”

The captain dipped his chin and left.

I turned instantly to Jamie, got close, put my hand on his chest and pressed deep.

When I looked up at him, I saw his face was ravaged with worry.

My heart squeezed.

“It’s going to be fine,” I whispered.

He nodded mutely.

“Let’s change, darling, so we’ll be ready and won’t lose a second.”

He nodded again but didn’t move.

“Let’s go,” I stated firmly.

He still didn’t move.

So I took charge.

I pulled him to the stairs and took him to his cabin, which was at the opposite end of the yacht from mine.

I left him there.

And learned I could run in four-inch heels.

Because, once I saw Jamie yank off his suit jacket, I turned toward my own cabin.

And that was exactly what I did.