Chapter Four
Seth's band practice consisted of four teenage guys and a dingy garage in Williamsburg. Seth always invited me, and I always went along. The boys were good and all, but the music was never my motivation for going. It was Sue Clearwater's sublime cooking that made me show up faithfully every Saturday.
I was tucking into a plate of pancakes, syrup and bacon – fried, not microwaved – as the boys continued their weekly fight about which song should go where in their set list. Jared, the most easygoing of the four, had stopped listening. Instead, he was scanning the Times from behind his drum kit. Paul and Jake had abandoned their keyboard and guitar respectively, and were yelling in each other's faces. I chewed on a strip of bacon as Seth dove between them. It was always poor Seth that had to intervene.
"Just let them duke it out, Seth," I offered mildly. I was perched on top of one of their amps, safely out of arm's reach. "They'll calm down afterward."
"You're wrong!" Paul yelled. "It'll sound like shit if we do it that way round!"
"No!" Jacob expostulated. "Because it makes more sense if we lead in from…"
"Guys!" Seth wheedled. "Can we not…"
"Hey, Alice," Jared said quietly, dragging my focus from the argument. "Don't you go to Constance-Billard?"
"Yeah." I frowned at him. "Why?"
"It's partnered with St Jude's Academy for Boys, right?"
"Yeah."
"Do you know a guy called Jasper Whitlock?"
My heart nearly stopped beating. Wide-eyed, I blinked at Jared for a full minute before I found my voice. "Yeah, I do."
"His name is all over the front page."
Abandoning my breakfast, I rounded Jared's drum kit to peer over his shoulder at the newspaper. One glance at the headline made me feel as though I had swallowed a rock.
WHITLOCK ENTERPRISES CEO ARRESTED FOR EMBEZZLEMENT.
"Oh my God," I whispered. Without waiting for permission, I tugged the paper from Jared's hands and scanned the first paragraph of the article.
Peter Whitlock, billionaire CEO of Whitlock Enterprises Incorporated, was arrested late last night on suspicion of several counts of embezzlement, fraud and, sources say, possession of illegal narcotics. It is thought that Whitlock had been under investigation from the FBI for several months leading up to his arrest, though this has not been confirmed. Whitlock's influence in the business and financial world is far-reaching, and serious charges such as these could severely impact both the stock market and Manhattan's…
I stopped reading at the fold in the page, feeling sickened. Jasper's dad was in jail.
"Tough break for your friend, huh?" Jared said, reaching out one hand for the paper. I gave it back to him in a daze. "I mean, imagine having that much money and finding out that your dad is a crook."
I couldn't get the picture out of my head. Jasper's dad being led from their Manhattan apartment in handcuffs while he and his mom looked on in horror. I fought back another wave of crippling sympathy.
"Rich dick probably had it coming, though," Jared continued. "You know, he's the reason that my dad got fired from his law firm? They had him on retainer as a client, and apparently my dad pissed Whitlock off at some deposition for something. If you ask me, this is karma."
I was barely listening. All I could see was that horrified look on Jasper's face. That picture was splashed across the front page for everyone in America to see. Poor, poor Jasper. My heart constricted painfully in my chest. If I were him, I'd want to run away and never look back.
Maybe I'd been wrong. Maybe I was better off not being one of the elite.
"I, um, I've got to take off," I said, turning abruptly and crossing the garage to gather up my jacket and bag. Seth and the other two boys paused their ruckus.
"Allie? Where are you going?" Seth demanded.
"I've… I need to check on a friend," I replied, already ducking under the half-open door. "I'll see you later! Tell your mom thanks for the food!"
I didn't catch Seth's bewildered response. Halfway down his drive, I pulled my phone out of my jacket pocket and started to dial.
Edward answered on the third ring.
"Hey, Alice."
"Hey. I just saw the paper."
"Oh." He sighed heavily on the other end of the line. "Yeah, it's pretty rough. My mom hasn't stopped talking about it all morning. She has all of her witches round to discuss it. You wouldn't want to be in my living room right now."
"Is Jasper okay? Have you spoken to him?"
Edward hesitated. "He's not answering his phone. Rose spoke to him earlier this morning, though, she says he's doing as well as can be expected."
I bit my lip. "I can't imagine what's going through his head right now."
"Well, no. It sucks. Maria probably didn't help – Rose said she went off in a rage when she found out. She told him that his dad had jeopardized her mom's fashion label, and her mom wanted out of their deal, and she was talking about how it was his fault and he should have warned her…"
I exhaled sharply. "Bitch."
"Preaching to the choir, Alice."
"Do you know where he is?" I didn't know why I asked that. It wasn't as though we were close enough for the answer to be any of my business.
"Not a clue," Edward replied. Concern laced his voice. "He'll turn up, though. Jasper likes to get away and out of his head when he gets bad news. Want me to call you if he surfaces?"
"Yeah, just… just let me know that he's okay." Again, I didn't really have any right to ask. But I was worried about him, and surely that counted for something? "Just send me a text or something. And tell him… tell him that I'm sorry."
"I will. Thanks, Alice." Edward hung up. I stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, just blinking down at the phone in my hand. I wished, not for the first time, that I had Jasper's number. If he wasn't answering Edward, there was no way he would pick up if I called, but it didn't stop me hoping.
I couldn't believe Maria. That was a new level of callous bitchiness, even for her. I shook my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts. It was just after midday, and my mom wasn't expecting me to show up at the gallery until gone two, but I could no longer just sit idly by and fret about Jasper. With a sigh, I headed in the direction of the subway.
When I got to the gallery, I let myself in. The place was still a mess, only half set up for the new exhibition that started in two days. I smiled to myself, narrowly skirting a half-unpacked box lying in the middle of the floor. Mom was a genius when it came to art, but she was genuinely terrible at the practicalities of life. That's where I came in.
"Mom?" I yelled. "You here?"
"In the back room!" she yelled back. When I found her, she was kneeling on the floor next to a spread-out instruction manual for assembling a shelving unit. The pieces surrounded her in a haphazard circle, and her caramel hair was pulled up in a messy bun. She had that flushed, flustered look on her face that she often got when she was overwhelmed.
"Are you okay?" I chuckled, crossing the room to kneel in the chaos beside her.
"They never told me that I'd have to build the shelves myself," she said in a small voice. Grinning, I reached over and tugged the instructions from under her left knee. I examined them for a moment.
"Okay, see, here's your problem. This squiggly bit B needs to go into this flat bit A. You're trying to put it into this other flat bit, C, and it won't fit."
"Oh," Mom said, looking sheepish. "But they look the same."
"It's marked on the side, see?" I pointed to the edge of the shelf, where the letter C was clearly stamped. "You need to make sure that all the bits match up to the right letters."
Mom smiled, brown eyes sparkling. "What would I do without you, Allie?"
"Crash and burn," I replied. "Obviously."
She laughed. "You want to help me with this?"
"I'll do you one better," I told her. "I'll put this together, and you go make us some coffee."
Mom kissed my forehead. "You're a godsend, my darling."
I smiled as she scrambled to her feet and headed into the small back kitchen to make our drinks. This distraction – an actual task for me to accomplish – was exactly what I had needed. I began to meticulously assemble the shelving unit as Mom chatted to me through the open door about the gallery opening.
"And then, would you believe, they delayed the shipment by another day," she said. "So that set us back again. I don't want to phone Curtis and tell him that we'll have to delay the opening, so I need to pull double-time here to make sure it's done."
"Are you going to need a hand during the week?" I asked. I had a busy schedule, but my mom's work was the only thing paying our bills. I could make the time.
"Oh, no, sweetie, you're okay. I was actually speaking to Carlisle about it, and he put me in touch with a couple of friends of his who are in the art world. They offered to lend a hand."
"Who's Carli… wait, Mom, are you talking about Dr. Cullen?" I was so surprised that my hand slipped and I accidentally raked the screwdriver across my knuckle. Wincing, I put my scraped finger in my mouth.
"Oh, yes, he's been just lovely about it!" Mom appeared in the doorway holding two mugs of coffee. She handed one to me and sat down. "I didn't expect him to go to so much trouble."
There was something in her voice that made my eyes narrow in suspicion. She caught me giving her the side-eye and pursed her lips. "What?"
"Don't 'what' me, mother. You know what."
"Alice."
"Mother."
"You're giving me that look."
"You're flirting with a married man."
Mom looked scandalized. "I am not flirting!"
"Please!" I rolled my eyes. "You're practically giddy at the thought of him. Don't get me wrong, I sympathize, but he's got a wife."
"I'm aware of that."
"I'm just saying… be careful."
"Allie, I love you, but you really don't know what you're talking about as far as this is concerned."
"If it's so innocent then why do you look so guilty?" I challenged. Mom opened her mouth, but before she could respond we heard the chime of the shop door opening. We looked at each other for a moment. "I'll get it," I sighed, clambering to my feet.
When I emerged into the gallery proper, my jaw just about hit the deck.
It was Jasper.
He was wearing black jeans and an indigo sweater that matched his eyes. His honey-blond locks looked more untamed than his usual tousled style, and he had dark shadows under his eyes, but he still looked a damn sight better than any of the art hanging around him.
"Hi," I whispered, struck by a sudden fit of nervousness.
"Hi." He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, glancing around. "Um, Edward told me that your mom owned this place. He said you hang out here on Saturdays. I… uh, I don't really know why I'm here."
"That's okay," I said slowly. "How… I mean, how are you doing?"
He grimaced. "You saw the paper."
"Everyone in New York saw the paper."
Biting his lip, he addressed his shoes as he answered. "I'm okay. Well, I mean, I'm not okay, but I'll deal. I just didn't really want to be at home today."
"So you came here?" I fought the urge to smile, despite the circumstances. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect Jasper to seek me out.
"You're the only person I know who isn't… y'know, involved with all that stuff. I needed a break from all the circling vultures." He shrugged like it was no big deal, but we both knew better than that. My heart thumped painfully in my chest when I looked at him.
"You wanted some normality?"
"I guess so."
"Well…" I paused. "You wouldn't, by any chance, know how to assemble flat-pack furniture?"
Jasper's eyes snapped to mine as he regarded me curiously. "Why?"
"Because there's a bunch of it in the back room that needs putting together and my mom is useless at it."
And then, unbelievably, Jasper actually cracked a smile. "Sure. Let me have a look."
I led him to the back room. My mom glanced up questioningly as we approached, and her eyes widened when she took in Jasper. I wasn't sure if that was because she recognized him from the paper or because he was just that unbelievably gorgeous.
Maybe both.
"Um, Mom, this is Jasper," I said, gesturing between the two as I made introductions. "He goes to school with me. Jasper, this is my mom, Esme."
"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Jasper stepped forward, offering his hand for my mom to shake. She looked flustered by the display of manners, but accepted the handshake with a smile.
"It's lovely to meet you, Jasper. You're a friend of Alice's?"
"I am," he replied, then glanced at me. "At least, I think I am."
"Sure," I responded with a small smile. "You are."
Jasper turned back to survey the flat-pack nightmare that was spread across the back room. His lips twitched in amusement as he bent down to study my handiwork. "It's a good thing I'm here. No offence, ladies, but you're really bad at this."
"No argument here," Mom agreed, standing up. She caught my eye and mouthed 'wow, he's cute'. I ignored her.
"Argument here," I piped up, glaring at the back of his blond curls. "I've been doing a good job."
Jasper turned to look at me over his shoulder with a grin. Then, holding my gaze, he gently tugged on one of the shelves.
The whole structure collapsed.
"You were saying?" he prompted. I opened my mouth, but I had absolutely no comeback. Jasper chuckled, leaning across to pick up the instruction manual. He barely glanced at it before arming himself with a screwdriver and setting to work.
"Do you want a cup of coffee?" I asked him. I wasn't sure what else to do. The butterflies in my stomach were dancing the damn Macarena.
"That would be great, thanks," Jasper replied, gaze focused on the screw he was tightening.
I set off into the kitchen. The door had barely swung closed when it opened again and my mother followed me in. Her eyes were alight with the thirst for information.
"Okay, who is that very handsome young man?" she demanded in a whisper.
"Mom…"
"Alice, please tell me! I'm dying here!"
"That's Jasper Whitlock."
The penny dropped. Mom's mouth opened in surprise. "As in…?"
"As in Peter Whitlock's son. Yeah. He's just hiding out here with me so that he doesn't have to deal with all the negative stuff at home."
Mom pressed one hand to her mouth. "Oh, that poor boy." She paused, and from the glint in her eye I could tell that I wouldn't like whatever she was about to say. I busied myself by extracting a mug from the cupboard and taking my time pouring the coffee from the pot. "He's quite charming, isn't he?"
"I suppose so."
"I knew it! You like him!"
"Mother!" I hissed, pointing the coffee pot at her sternly. "Keep your voice down!"
She obliged, but showed no sign of stopping the interrogation. "This is good news! I mean, he obviously must like you, too. Boys don't just show up at their friend's mom's workplace and offer to build furniture for them."
"They do if their own house is crawling with paparazzi," I shot back.
"Hmm," Mom responded, like she didn't believe a word of it. I felt myself go scarlet.
"Don't be all… just… don't embarrass me," I pleaded. She held up her hands in surrender.
"Would I? I'm going to go out the front now and leave you two to it." With an exaggerated wink, she backed out of the room. I heard her thanking Jasper for his efforts, and then the sound of the door to the back room closing as she left.
Emerging from the kitchen, I nearly dropped Jasper's mug in astonishment.
"What the hell?" I demanded. The shelving unit was already more assembled in the last five minutes' of Jasper's attention than it had been in half an hour when I was working on it. "How did you do that?"
Jasper chuckled as he accepted the mug I offered. "I used to build model airplanes as a kid. It's not that different."
"You did?" I settled down on top of an upturned box to watch him work.
"Yeah."
"I would never have thought that."
He grinned. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Alice Brandon."
I found myself smiling in return. "Enlighten me, then."
"You first." He paused in the act of screwing another shelf into place. "What's the deal with you and Edward?"
I nearly choked on a mouthful of coffee. "Sorry?"
"He won't tell me."
"What do you mean?"
"Are you guys…"
"What? No. No, we're friends. That's all." I felt like my denial came out a bit too strongly, because Jasper raised one eyebrow at me. "I mean, not that there's anything wrong with Edward, he's great, but I just don't see him like that, you know?"
"Yeah, he doesn't really do it for me, either," he joked. "I always thought that him and Rosie would be a thing, what with the constant bickering, but I let that one go."
"They seem to get on well enough," I said.
"Oh, they do now, but they hated each other as kids. It used to annoy the hell out of me."
I laughed. "Why did they hate each other?"
"Rose thought Edward was a know-it-all, Ed thought that she was stuck-up." Jasper shrugged. "They got over it once they bothered to get to know each other."
"She means a lot to you," I surmised. "Rosalie."
"Yeah, she's about the only member of my family I actually like. She's more like a sister than a cousin."
"See, my sister and I can't agree on much lately."
"How old is she?"
"Thirteen. She's turned into a bratty nightmare. We used to be really close, but now she's constantly in a mood."
"I imagine, if she's anything like you, she's got one hell of a temper on her."
I snorted. "She's worse."
Jasper chuckled. "So, you've got a bratty sister. What about the guy who works in the coffee shop?"
"Seth? What about him?"
"Is he your boyfriend?"
"No. He's my oldest friend. Our moms have been friends since just after we were born. We went to elementary school together, and then middle school."
"And then you went to Constance."
"Yup."
Jasper seemed to consider his next question for a long time before he asked it. "What was that like for you? Leaving behind your friends and starting at a prep school on the Upper East Side?"
I thought about it. "Lonely."
"Alice?" I glanced up, meeting his deep blue gaze. There was something lurking in the indigo depths of his irises that I couldn't identify. "I'm sorry. About Maria. I know she's a bitch to you. And… I'm sorry about… about me, too. For never bothering to speak to you."
I waved one hand dismissively. "Bygones."
"I mean it."
"Well, thanks." I stared down at my jean-clad legs for a few seconds. "Can I ask a question?"
"Sure."
"What's it like, your dad being who he is?"
Jasper blinked at me. The seconds seemed to stretch into minutes as we regarded each other, neither of us able to drop our gaze. Eventually, he answered with a small, sad smile. "Lonely," he echoed my earlier sentiment.
I smiled. He smiled.
"At least we're both in the same boat," I offered.
"You're right," Jasper replied softly. "Who knew me and you had so much in common?"
We caught each other's eye again, and this time, we cracked up laughing.
A/N: So I'm taking Jasper and Alice's interactions in a slightly different direction. It's going to move a bit slower, but I'd love to know what you think so far!
PJ x
