With that launch goal being less than a year away, I thought it was high time I share an excerpt of the book for my new friends and fans. What happens when a good family takes their son's troubled best friend under their wing? Well, he's not supposed to fall in love with his friend's sister, especially when the Griffins are the only real family he's ever had. But Jack and Samantha can only deny their feelings for so long, until the death of her brother---and the best friend that has been Jack's brother too---forces them into each other's lives again.
There
were six people who had Jack’s private cell phone number. Five of them had the
last name Griffin; the other one was Miles. His agent thought he had the
private number. And so did Vivian Moray, Executive Producer of “Game Day,” the
pregame football commentary show he’d been co-hosting for the past five years.
And he did have a cell phone dedicated especially to them. Jack found it amusing to watch them both
behave as if they were members of some exclusive club, telling each other at
one time or another to try to reach him on his cell—“the private one.” Yet a
third cell phone was provided by the network, and that was the one he used for
the rest of the outside world. He almost
never answered it, and had the messages routed to his assistant’s email to
handle. Sure, it was somewhat of a pain in the ass to keep track of three
different cell phones, but the peace of mind it brought him to be able to
ignore two of them, was worth it.
The
first one, the private, private one was never far from him, and always on. But it had rung so infrequently these past
few months, that he started to leave it in his office when he went to meetings,
and turn it off at night. Of course he
always got his Sunday call from Georgie, no matter what. Yesterday’s had been
short, but sweet. She was preparing for a new gallery show; the ranch was in
full swing and kept Lorne busy; Corey had just started his sophomore year at college;
Samantha was fine, getting a photography award; and Keith had recently enjoyed
a sellout crowd in San Diego. He’d sounded
on top of the world the last time Jack
had spoken to him. His new album had
gone gold in less than a week, and he’d been clean for several months. They were all hopeful that it would stick
this time.
He reached for his duffle bag. For the sake of the family, he and
Samantha had tried to maintain the platonic affection of siblings. Holidays at
the ranch were strained, but he’d never disappoint Georgie and Lorne by not
coming home. And if he was honest with himself, he’d never deny the chance to
see Samantha at least once a year, even if it was torture. He suspected that
the love he still saw in her eyes for him meant she felt the same way. It
wasn’t like he couldn’t call her to see if she’d gotten the flowers, and to
congratulate her.
To hell with
it,
he thought, and dug into his leather duffle bag for the phone. He hoped the flowers had arrived before she
left for the award luncheon, and he’d paid an exorbitant extra fee to be sure
that they had. No way would he call the florist if there was a chance he could
talk to Samantha instead.
But
when he activated the phone, there were four messages waiting for him: one from
the Griffin ranch, two from Georgie’s cell phone, and one from Miles. It only
took an instant for his heart to fall to his feet. Even before he heard the quietness
of her broken voice in the messages, he knew what had happened. His rage at
Keith for not saving himself was brought up short by the thought of
Samantha. She would be devastated. He pulled her number up in his contacts. He wanted to call her, hear her voice, and
then he wanted to get on the first flight to Los Angeles. But Georgie had called him, not Samantha. He
dialed Georgie’s cell number.
“Jack.”
Even
in sorrow, she caused a smile to break across his face; he would never tire of
the way she pronounced his name with a soft French “J.” He should have had
better control of what came out of his mouth, but he couldn’t hide his true
feelings from her.
“Damn
him. I’m so sorry, Georgie, but damn
him.”
“And
yet, I’m still his mother. I think I’ll be looking for ways to get him back,
save him, for the rest of my life.”
They
were both silent for a long moment, and Jack heard the only woman who had ever
been a mother to him take a deep breath and let it out. What she told him next made him want to put his
fist through a wall.
“Corey
found him.”
Jack
listened to Georgie recited the chain of events, as he reached over and turned
on the television. As he suspected, the story was out in its full-blown horror.
There was of course, video of Keith’s apartment building from both the front
where police presence secured the main entrance, and then footage of a
helicopter landing on the roof. Then he saw
Samantha stepping out of it, along with security detail. At that moment, he
tuned back in to what Georgie was saying: she’d have to sign off so that she and Lorne
could get to the airport.
“Is
Samantha alright? I think they just showed her getting out of a helo on the
roof of Keith’s building.”
“Yes,
that was the only way she could get into the building safely. I’m not surprised they still managed to get
her on camera.”
“I
should get a flight—“
“By
the time you get to LA, we’ll be back at the ranch. The day’s almost over there. Don’t exhaust yourself taking a red-eye. If you show up in LA, it will just add to the
media circus, and there’s nothing you can do there. Fly out Wednesday, and come
to the ranch. She’ll need you there—we all will.”
Wait
an entire forty-eight hours with his hands folded? Was she nuts? And yet, she
was his mother too, and he had to listen to her. When he thought about it later, he realized
she was right. He might want to be there
just to be near them all. But it would
only give the paparazzi more incentive.
Not to mention Lorne and Georgie had to be the ones to sign any
paperwork and take care of formalities, and they also had Miles there for
support. He’d just have to hang on until
he could get to Samantha, as much for his own comfort as for any he might be
able to give to her.
“I
love you, Georgie. I love you all.”
“I
know, cher.”
As
he disconnected the call, he walked over to the desk and buzzed his assistant.
“Get
me the earliest flight out to L.A.—“ he stopped himself and pinched the bridge
of his nose. “make that Las Vegas, on Wednesday. I’ll need a rental car; better
get it for the week. I’ll book my return flight from there. Thanks.”
He
hadn’t even noticed Vivian leaning against the door frame.
“Unscheduled
vacation, Jack?”
To
most men, she would have been a delectable sight. At 5’7’, with a curtain of glorious red hair
that fell over one shoulder, she was stunning.
She wore a black pinstripe suit with a red carnation in the breast
pocket, and she’d skipped the blouse altogether. She stalked into the office on her black
satin stilettos looking like she’d just as soon stab you as smile at you, and
she smiled at Jack with all of her teeth at that moment.
“Family
emergency.”
“And
when were you going to tell me?”
“Well,
I would have come to your office right now, if you hadn’t barged into mine.”
“You don’t have a family—you’re an only child, remember?”
“The
Griffins are my family.” God, but she
could be a bitch sometimes.
“Look,
Jack, this is a horrible tragedy. That’s why I came straight to your office as
soon as I heard. But you can’t just take
off. Maybe two days tops—“
Before
she could blink, he crossed the room, and stood with his face just inches from
hers.
“Vivian,
I am only going to say this once. A man who has been a brother to me is dead,
probably by his own hand. I’m taking leave to go and be with his family—my
family. Period.”
While
she stood there fuming, he started packing up his things to leave for the
day—and apparently the week. Jack took the rare opportunity of her inability to
form a comeback to smooth it over. He
wasn’t stupid. She may not be able to
fire him, and she’d have a hard time proving that his leave wasn’t legitimate,
since he’d been in the legal care of the Griffins since high school. But she could make life very, very difficult for
him if he got on her bad side, especially since he’s ended their sexual arrangement. He had to throw her a bone.
“I’m
not leaving until Wednesday, so I’ll work on getting a guest co-host. We could get Pete Murray. He’s poised for the Heisman, a young
blood. Giving a kid like that a chance
to weigh in on the pros would be a great twist, ratings for sure.” He paused to
zip up his duffle bag, and grab his jacket.
“Or you could not hire a guest host at all. There’d be so much sympathy
for me by the time I got back for the next show, that ratings will go through
the roof.”
Jack
paused at the door to look at her. Vivian’s
eyes had started to glaze over ever so slightly. She could always be counted on
to put business above everything. He
just hoped she didn’t choose the second option, because that would mean a
commentary on his friendship with Keith—a rock star and a football legend. No
one, himself included, needed the extra media attention. He mentally exhaled as he saw on her face
that she was calculating how long she’d have to pay homage to his loss after he
returned to the show.
“Fine.
Either get Murray, or don’t plan on missing the show.”
Jack
shook his head as he strode toward the door. He’d take the week off either way,
and they both knew it. But she had to
appear to be in control at all times. A bitch to the end. And she never gave
up.
Vivian
grabbed his arm as he crossed the threshold. “You said you’re not leaving until
Wednesday—I could come over tonight—“
Jack
pulled his arm out of her grasp. “Don’t linger in my office, Vivian—and lock
the door when you leave.”
****
Samantha
felt every jagged piece of rock impress itself into the bottoms of her feet as
she walked, first down the long drive, then out onto the main road. Sudden wisps of the last cool breezes of late
morning dawdled in the hair that fell around her face. The sun was high in the
cloudless azure sky. Some birds kept up their morning zeal in distant trees
across the property. The horses had been let out into the meadow, and Prince
found her as he always did and trotted along the fence as she walked the drive.
He stopped and gave a whinny when she reached the road; he could have followed
her along it as well for a few hundred yards, but instead he just stopped and
looked after her. Since their arrival
two days ago, they’d all played at a routine that would never be quite the
same. Samantha knew that at this hour,
her father would be in the barn or repairing a fence, or anything to keep
himself going. Her mother would be in
her studio, painting every thought, or just sitting. And Corey . . . had not
come out of Keith’s old room since they’d arrived. He let Georgie bring him food, and Samantha stood
by in case he decided he needed her.
When
she wasn’t helping Georgie with the memorial, or preparing a meal for them, she
escaped to the barn. The only horse who remained
from days gone by was Prince. Midnight
had died peacefully in the meadow one morning, and the collection of rescues
and boarders had varied over the years.
Prince always stirred when she came, no matter how long she had been
away. She always managed to get back to
the ranch a couple of times a month, except for her occasional jaunt to Europe.
That she couldn’t even speak quietly to him as she usually did upset her, but
she hoped the apples she brought him for treats, and the strokes she gave him
on his nose let him know that she still loved him.
None
of them spoke except when they had to. Everything
seemed stuck, clotted, clogged. Samantha
knew, if the rest of them didn’t, that they were all waiting for Jack, the last
brother, to come home. Without him, they could not fully grieve, could not
really move forward. And he was almost there.
After
fighting her fatigue for as long as she could, Samantha had finally gone to her
old room. She tossed and turned in a sea of her own tumultuous thoughts of
Keith and Corey until she finally fell into a fitful sleep in the pre-dawn
hours. Evidently, her last thought
before sleep found her had been of Jack, because instead of the recurring
nightmare of that horrible night six years ago, Samantha dreamt of how he’d
made love to her.
A
few short hours later, Samantha heard herself sigh, and she awakened with tears
gliding down her cheeks. She lay just as
she’d fallen asleep, with her face toward the window, eyes on the sky. It was the best dream she’d had in months,
and only left her feeling more empty than ever. There was no believing that
they could ever bring that dream to life again, but at least Jack would be
there soon. To see him again would never
be enough, but she still needed him more than ever.
Today
was the day. Georgie had told her back in L.A. that they could expect him
Wednesday, and later she fretted that he was arriving in the morning—on the
red-eye, just as Georgie had advised him not to do.
It
had already been nearly ten o’clock when Samantha woke up from that wonderful,
horrible dream. He’d landed at eight if
there were no delays, so she got out of bed, and without putting on a robe or
even shoes, she walked downstairs and out the front door. She passed Prince in
the pasture and turned out of the drive onto the main road.
She
knew the gravel on the drive had cut into her feet, but she felt nothing. She looked ahead without seeing. Jack was coming—she had to meet him. She’d walk all the way to Vegas if she had
to. She had no idea if he was still one
hour away, or one minute away. She only
knew that she couldn’t wait any longer.
She couldn’t hold back her anger at Keith or her sorrow that he’d lost
his battle with addiction. She couldn’t deny her desperation to reach Corey and
take back the years she’d missed with him. Jack was the only one with whom she
could let go, and she needed him.
Samantha
didn’t know exactly how long or how far she walked. The sun was warm and she felt sweat beading
at her temples as late morning edged closer to midday. She was aware that at
least one car passed her and honked a horn.
Probably someone from town, she thought.
Then out of the ripples of heat on the road emerged an SUV. But she couldn’t pay attention to that. She had to keep walking until she met
Jack. The SUV flew by her and swerved so
as not to clip her. There was no horn,
but Samantha stopped when she heard the sound of screeching brakes as the SUV
skidded into the gravel along the shoulder of the road. She looked over her shoulder and was about to
turn back and resume walking, when she saw Jack jump out of the vehicle. His
hair was longer now, almost past his collar in the back. He began to run toward her as he ripped his
sunglasses from his face.
“JACK!!”
She immediately ran to him.
“Samantha?!?!
What the fuck are you doing out here?!”
Samantha
catapulted into his arms so hard, that he fell into the side of the truck
holding onto her. Her breath caught for an instant before a long sob escaped. She stood on her toes on top of Jack’s tennis
shoes. She wasn’t going to fall, because he held her so close that not even a
breeze could have passed between them.
“Shhh,
baby. It’s okay. I’m here.”
Samantha
took huge breaths between hard, broken sobs.
Her grief and anger tumbled out as she clung to him. She cried for Keith, for the brother they’d
both lost. And she cried with relief
that he was finally there, holding her.
She shuddered against him as his hands alternately cupped the back of her
head, and rubbed the length of her back. Feeling his touch, his arms around her
was a balm for her soul and she never wanted it to end. She didn’t know how long they stood there
before he finally, gently pulled back from her.
She
looked up at him. God, she must be a mess. But he just wiped her tears away
with his thumbs as he held her face in his hands. It had been too long since she looked, really
looked into those silver steel eyes of his. They were filled with utter
concern.
“You
could have been hit out here.”
“I
know.” Samantha’s voice threatened to break again. “I knew you were on your
way, I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I
haven’t been able to cry, th-there’s just been this . . . this stone sitting on my heart for the last
two days. I can’t let myself think what
Maman and Daddy are going through, and Corey, he’s just shut down, God knows
how much he’s been damaged by finding Keith . . . God, Keith . . . he’s just .
. . gone, and it feels like you’re all that’s left Jack.” A fresh stream of
tears began to flow down her face, and he pulled her close again, so that her
forehead rested on his chest.
“And
I’m here now, baby. We’re gonna get
through this, all of us together, okay?”
She
nodded against his chest, but couldn’t hold back a new wave of sobs that
overtook her and racked her body again.
Jack made no move to stop her or pull away from her. He just held her. And held her.
It must have been another half an hour easily before he finally spoke
again.
“We’d better get you back to the
ranch,” he murmured against her hair. “Georgie must be worried. And I need to
get there too—I need to be home with all of you.” He kissed her lingeringly on
her forehead.
***
Dinner
was a quiet affair. Corey had eaten in
his own room and watched a DVD. Georgie put some Count Basie on the sound
system. It helped drown out the silence, and no one felt obligated to carry on
a conversation if they didn’t want to. What a contrast to the first steak
dinner he’d eaten with them that Sunday, and almost every other meal he’d eaten
at that table. The food was just as
fantastic as it always had been, but Keith’s absence almost made it
bitter. Even after he’d left home, and
all the times he’d been in rehab, there was always hope. He always came back,
because he’d still been alive.
He
sighed, and stood before turning off the television. He left his laptop where
it lay, and crept upstairs. He saw a
soft blue light under Corey’s door, but it was quiet. The kid probably fell asleep in the middle of
another DVD. There was no light under
Lorne and Georgie’s door. They had each other, and as awful as losing a son
was, they would pull through.
Jack
took a breath, and stopped at the end of the hall. The door to Keith’s old room was
cracked. It was hardly still his. Georgie had made it into a guest room not
long after they’d asked him to move out.
But it would always be Keith’s old room.
And Georgie wasn’t the type to lock it up now. That wasn’t how she dealt with things. All would be open, including doors, for
everyone to process this in the best way they knew how.
He
pushed the door all the way open, and flipped the light switch as he walked
in. He felt himself inhale sharply. He had forgotten how much Georgie had changed
the room, and also at how much of a tribute it was to him. She’d chosen a light grey for the walls, and
a brand new suite of furniture, including a bed, dresser, and desk had been
installed. That was all the same, but
she’d added back things of his over the years, too. Three of his old guitars hung on one wall
like art pieces, along with some of his gold records, and photos of him with
his various Grammys. The shelf above the
desk held some of his old personal belongings, like school awards, yearbooks,
novels, and photos.
Jack
drew near the shelf. His heart pounded
as he picked up the photo on the bottom right.
It was of the three of them, him, Keith and Samantha, who they’d
lovingly wedged in between them. It had been taken the day they’d brought Keith
home from rehab the for the third time. Georgie had snapped it right after
they’d gotten out of Keith’s old pick-up truck.
They’d walked arm in arm up the porch steps.
They’d
been on top of the world. Keith actually
had them all believing he’d beaten his demons at last. Jack had been on fire with the Vikings—he
huffed to himself when he thought about how invincible he’d believed himself to
be. And Samantha . . . she’d been riding
high herself, at the top of her modeling career. It was a little crazy, but it
made sense to her, and here she was now, an award-winning photographer who
managed to almost bury her former career as a model. God, he wanted to know what had
happened. Even though things had turned
out the way she wanted them to, something was amiss, and not even Lorne and
Georgie knew what it was.
He
placed the photo gingerly back on the shelf, and left the room. He still needed to check on Samantha before
he turned in for the night.
He
found her curled up on her old bed with the bedside lamp still on. She was breathing softly, and her expression
was peaceful. For that he was grateful. He crept quietly across the room
intending to cover her up and turn the lamp off. But when he reached for the
blanket at the foot of her bed, she stirred.
“Jack?”
She looked at him and smiled through her sleepy blue eyes.
“Hi,
sweetheart. I didn’t mean to wake you. I
was just checking on you—I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m
alright. Or at least I will be, now that
you’re here.”
He
leaned down to kiss her forehead, and that was all he could allow himself to do
right now. But when he tried to straighten again, she clutched his arm.
“Don’t
go. Please.”
“Samantha
. . .”
“I’m
not asking you to make love to me again. Just hold me, Jack. When you found me
on the road today I could finally let go . . .
you’ve always been the one to comfort me. I need you . . . please?”
He
couldn’t refuse her even if he’d really wanted to, which he didn’t. And he would have made love to her again
right there in her old bed too. But
that’s not what either of them needed at that moment, not really. But he did need to be near her, and vice
versa. And that was something he could
give them both.
He
lay down next to her, and he turned the lamp off and pulled the blanket over
both of them. She sighed and pulled his arms tighter around her. God it felt
right to hold her. He hadn’t wanted to let go of her out on the road that
morning, and he didn’t want to let go now.
“Don’t
let go,” she whispered, echoing his thoughts.
“I
won’t, baby,” he whispered back. He felt
her relax against him, and only when he heard the rhythm of deep sleep in her
breath did he succumb to the same beautiful relaxation and allow himself to
drift off. He slept then, with his heart full of equal parts love and sadness,
and his arms full of her warmth.
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