Jet and Parker Novel – I pulled up in the driveway and saw a familiar box on the porch, one I’d seen for all of my husband’s eleven previous releases. It was his advance copies of his latest book. He must not have gotten the alert that the box was delivered or he must be out, but I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Of all the books he’d written, this was the only one I’d been uncomfortable with and that was all due to his research assistant he’d hired to help with this one. Rhonda was a PhD candidate and when my husband had reached out to the university for help in this particular subject, they’d recommended Rhonda.
Rhonda helped Jet with his research and seemed to become his constant companion for the last four months as he finalized his chapters and filled in the gaps he’d left that needed to be fleshed out. I hadn’t liked how much time he’d spent with her and we’d had several fights about it, but in the end, with deadlines looming, he’d needed her help and expertise. My husband would never miss a deadline. My relief at seeing this box was immense. This meant Rhonda would be gone from our lives, and we’d get back to normal. After parking in the garage, I ran to the porch and dragged the box inside.
I grabbed a pair of scissors and called my husband. “Hey, where are you?” I asked. “Rhonda and I grabbed a beer to celebrate being done with the book.” “Haven’t you been done for a while?” I asked, “Since I’m opening the advance copies?” “That’s what we’re celebrating.” “Used to be I was the one you celebrated with.” “Don’t be like that, Parker.” “Like what? A wife who’s been very understanding about the time you’re spending with another woman—and you still are even though you’re done with the book you needed her help on?” “Here’s some more shots,” I heard Rhonda say in the background. I pulled one of the books out of the box. “Shots? How long have you been drinking with her?” “Parker…” If he said something, I missed it as alarms began going off in my head as I read the dedication: To Rhonda, whose help on this book was invaluable. I appreciate your help and friendship. This book wouldn’t have been possible without your help. “You dedicated your book to her?” I asked shrilly. “Are you kidding me, Jet?” “Park, she was instrumental in getting the book done.”
“You’ve dedicated every single book you’ve written to me. To me! Your wife!” “Parker, it’s one book…I couldn’t have done it without her. I felt like recognizing her efforts was the right thing to do.” “And the celebratory drinks with her? Is that the right thing to do, too? Spending every minute with her for the last four months and ignoring me? Is that the right thing to do?” I heard her voice in the background. “Is she complaining again about the time you’re spending with me?” “Jet, I suggest you get in an Uber by yourself and get home because I just reached my limit and we have a lot of talking to do.” “Parker, you’re making a mountain out of a molehill. I’ll be home in an hour and we can talk.” “You’re not hearing me, Jet. Either come home now or you can dedicate all your books to her in the future.” “You know I don’t like ultimatums.” “Let me guess, she’s melting down about some innocent drinks.” Rhonda needed to shut up. “Stay out of this, Rhonda,” Jet growled at her.
“You know what? Change of plans,” I said to my husband. “Stay out as late as you want with your book dedication buddy. In fact, go home with her. No need for ultimatums because it took me a while, but I finally got it.” “What are you talking about?” “Want to make this a body shot?” Rhonda was asking. “Rhonda, would you just shut up?” he snapped. “There’s more going on with her, and the dedication proves it. You’ve been choosing her for four months but I refused to admit it. And you can have her.” “What are you talking about? I’m coming home right now.” Was that panic in his voice now that I’d reached my limit and had all I was going to take? “I won’t be here, so no rush.” Then I hung up. Going back to the junk drawer, I located a thick black Sharpie and wrote KINDLING on the box of the remaining books. I set both on the coffee table so he couldn’t miss them when he came home after finally dragging himself away from Rhonda. He’ll be home in an hour, my hip.
Pulling up the suitcase’s handle, I was about to head out the front door when I heard the thunder of multiple Harleys coming down our street. Even if Jet wasn’t in any condition to ride, it sounded like he’d called out the cavalry to stop me from leaving. No. You don’t get to decide that we’re talking now after months of ignoring me in favor of her, Jet. Without even thinking, I changed directions and headed for the back door. I flew through the back yard, ran between the neighbor’s houses and came out one street over. Not good enough. I crossed the street and ran between two houses and through more backyards until I was four streets over. I needed this time to think and I’d be done if Jet was going to take it from me just because he’d finally decided to sit up and take notice of how unhappy I was. Ordering an Uber, I waited in the shadows between two houses in case they started searching for me. After I gave the driver her tip, I powered off my phone which had been blowing up with texts. When we arrived at the bus station, I bought a ticket to Nashville, Tennessee.
Once I got there the following day, I’d figure out my next steps so I could just think for a few days, order my thoughts and mentally prepare for a talk with Jet. I sat at a small round table outside a quaint little coffee shop, the hole-in-the-wall kind of shop where you know they made the best, no-nonsense coffee and bakery treats. I should know. For the past four mornings, I’d camped out at one of their little bistro tables that dotted the sidewalk outside the shop. Today I was slowing down and had only two treats on the plate in front of me. The first morning after I’d arrived in Nashville, I’d had five treats piled on a plate. And I’d eaten everyone. Unfortunately, I wasn’t one of those people whose appetite deserted them when they were sad or upset. No, my pain demanded food. Feed the pain, Parker! Feed the pain! Nom nom nom. Now, four days later, I was enjoying the little cocoon I’d wrapped myself in. I hadn’t turned on my phone even once. I hadn’t even been tempted. My pain was a river, and right now I was floating in it, unwilling to let it pull me under or smash me against the rocks.
That would come later, but for now, the river’s cold water numbed me so I could get through each day. To Rhonda, whose help on this book was invaluable. I appreciate your help and friendship. This book wouldn’t have been possible without your help. I’d met Jet about three months before his first book was published. If I’d had a type, it wouldn’t have been Jet. I preferred my men to be somewhat understated and generic in their looks. Clean cut, not overly muscular, slight, sweet, non-threatening in any way. Jet was the complete opposite of everything I wanted in a man — or at least everything I thought I wanted. He was tall, making me, at five feet nine inches, feel short for the first time in my life. He had short, black hair and intense blue eyes as opposed to my usual sandy-haired, pale blue-eyed men. He was built like a defensive lineman with broad shoulders, a wide, well-defined chest and thick, muscled thighs. He was, in a word, powerful and his tattoos gave him a dangerous edge.
He’d taken one look at me in the convenience store and followed me out to my car, which just happened to be parked by his Harley. “I want to call you, so I need your number,” he’d said, and for some reason, I hadn’t been scared at all having this ginormous man following me out of the store. From the start, even before I knew his name, I’d recognized Jet, felt like I was meeting someone I’d known all of my life. Like he should have been in my life sooner, but things hadn’t worked out that way. So I gave him my number. He wasn’t easy as far as relationships. I was twenty-five and he was twenty-nine when I met him, and he was set in his ways. He was also a cut-wearing member of a motorcycle club, which meant I’d been shocked to find out that he might be a biker, but he also was getting close to publishing his first book. He’d grinned at my incredulous expression. “Judging a book by its cover. Shame on you,” he’d teased me. We’d had to negotiate a lot in our beginning.
He told me that he was surrounded by women all the time at the club, but it didn’t matter because he was with me. “Park, I’m not that guy, and you don’t ever have to worry that I’ll stray in any way. But I also won’t put up with being questioned. You either trust me or you don’t. You either take me at my word, or you don’t. If you don’t, we won’t make it because we’re without trust. Plain and simple. And I’ll give you that same trust right back. I don’t expect you to be glued to my side, and I won’t be glued to yours. We can be together but still be independent, do our own thing at times, handle our things. Now tell me what you want, what you expect.” Then it had been my turn to share that I expected honesty in everything, and I had male friends that I wasn’t going to give up if he turned out to be an insecure jerk. “No need to be insecure if you promise me your faithfulness, Park. I got female friends, too. So we’re both solid on that.” His responses to me when I called him just a few nights ago when he was at the clubhouse with Rhonda were typical Jet. He expected me to be OK with it because he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He’d been asserting that stance when he refused to rush home, telling me he’d be home in an hour. In his own way, Jet had been showing me I was off base in my thinking.
But I wasn’t. Rhonda had been around way past her expiration date, and I was sick of her taking my husband’s time, especially when I knew that time was limited before he immersed himself in his next book. So, yeah, I was tired of her presence when she should have been long gone. She’d had a job. It was complete. Bye. Then to hear her talking about me in the background the way she had been made me wonder what Jet had been telling her. Confiding in her. He hadn’t been talking to me much in the last four months, not since the advent of Rhonda. Stop, Parker. Don’t ruin a perfectly beautiful fall morning thinking about the two of them. For the moment, I was content to not think but to just allow myself to people watch and wonder about their stories. Were they happy? Sad? What secrets were their smiles concealing? What hidden aches did they carry in their hearts? What unrealized dreams lived in their heads? I always wondered about the two lives everyone lived — the external ones the world saw them leading compared to the internal ones only they knew.
As some people looked at me, sipping my coffee, I wondered what they saw in me. Sadness? Aloofness? Maybe they saw raw pain because they never held my eyes for more than a second. That sort of thing is hard to look at and nothing anyone wants to face. After I finished my coffee, I spent the day wandering the city, poking my head into any odd or quaint little shops, nothing catching my attention because I just didn’t care. That night I was having dinner at a bar near my hotel (that my step-sister’s credit card was paying for until I could pay her back) when I decided that I needed to quit being a coward and turn my phone on.
I had a ton of messages and my voice mail box was full. I started thumbing through Jet’s texts, realizing they ran the whole gamut of emotions. Pleading. Angry. Apologetic. Sad. Hurt. Worried. Frantic. Loving. Then my phone rang not two minutes after I powered it on and I knew who it was. “Hello, Jet,” I said. “How’re things going? How’s your girlfriend doing? Bet the two of you have been busy writing that next dedication to her.” Go figure. That hadn’t been the right thing to say because Jet went off like a bomb.