CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Natalie and Tootie exchanged curious looks as Blair sat watching the city stretch and wake. Tootie didn't like being on the other end of Blair's wrath, but she preferred if silence was the alternative. When she received an ominous phone call suggesting she and Natalie invite Blair out for breakfast from Jo, she knew something was up. Jo hadn't said it in so many words, but the sound of her voice had said enough.
Blair had invited them in cordially. She had nothing planned that morning and didn't put up a fight when they took her on each arm and guided her to a small café called Laramie's. The place was moderately bohemian, but worthy of the Warner snobbery that had been absent all morning.
"Are you ladies ready to order?" the waitress dropped off their coffee.
Tootie and Natalie had made a production of looking at the menu and pointing out selections that made their stomachs rumble. They waited for Blair to do her part and bash each one with sage weight and skin advice, she said nothing.
"She'll have the fruit bowl with a douse of special syrup and a bagel with cream cheese," Jo took the seat beside Blair.
The waitress nodded and then motioned for someone else to continue with her pencil. Blair stared at Jo. It wasn't a glare, but it hadn't graduated to anything warm. Tootie ordered the chef special and to save time so did Natalie. The red head took no time in leaving letting the older women concentrate on whatever it was that was unfolding before them.
"Oh Jo you didn't order." The girl stopped in her tracks when Tootie helpfully called her back.
The Bronx native shook her head at the pad the girl had ready, "what I want isn't on the menu," the girl nodded and returned on her trek to the kitchen.
"Am I supposed to be swooning?" The question soaked in the bitter syrup of sarcasm.
Jo smiled thinly, "no, you should be angry as hell, personally I'm impressed you haven't poured hot coffee on me by know." She looked at said cup sliding it out of Blair's reach just in case she was suddenly inspired. "I'll wait for you."
Tootie smiled wistfully sounded thirteen, "that's so romantic."
"Who would have thought Jo the romantic?"
"I would…I did," Blair caught Jo's gaze daring her to break it, "until I found out I was just a paycheck."
Jo tilted her head knowing that whatever the blonde said was out of a hurt pride, "when you're less angry you'll know that that's not true."
"What's going on?" Natalie pinned Jo down with an insistent 'tell me now' gaze.
"My father paid Jo to be my friend at Eastland," Blair twisted the truth, but she wanted her friends to be on her side. Jo didn't deserve any sympathy. Jo had been poor for the majority of the time that she met them. And as petty as it sounded now she had something to show them that Jo was just a self righteous liar.
"Your dad did what?" Natalie's eyes popped open, then she turned to Jo, "you didn't get paid very much did you?" she asked.
Jo glared and Blair followed suit.
"Natalie…really?" Tootie drawled.
Blair had hoped to feel better in the company of like minded 'Jo haters, but she was sorely disappointed.
"How could you do that?" Tootie was flabbergasted.
"Yeah Jo how could you do that?" Blair repeated gaining momentum. "How could you stare me in the face and not say a word for years and let me believe, like a fool, that you cared?"
"I love you," Jo announced.
"How much are those words worth?" the blonde shoved Jo aside as she stood and left.
Standing up to follow Jo half jogged to catch up with her, "Blair," she called to her through the morning crowd of strays hurrying to work late. Curious eyes watched them as Jo finally stopped the blonde in her tracks, "wait."
"I trusted you and you know how much it means for me to be able to trust someone," she pulled away wrapping her arms around herself.
Jo nodded wishing that her next words could wash all the doubt and hurt she had caused. Unfortunately no such words existed and she was left with I'm sorry. But those words paled compared to the betrayal that preceded it.
Jo stepped forward closing the gap between them leaning into Blair's ear, careful not to touch her, "I was never paid to say what I feel…I love you Blair Warner."
Jo waited searching the socialites' eyes for something that wasn't there. Blair frowned withdrawing from the scrutiny. Hope sank even further for Jo when she just left.
"Think about how much easier you're life could be if you just told us truth," Natalie supplied.
Sighing heavily Jo eyed her good friend. "What?"
She held up the morning paper. She had brought it to surprise everyone. She had finally printed something worthy of her pubescent aspirations. Her editor had loved it and Daryl had smiled proudly after he'd read it. It would have had double meaning when she presented it before Jo and Blair had gone all soap opera on her.
Jo took it drawn in by the bold headline. She bypassed the author name and when she skimmed through the words she stopped on the byline.
"…..You?" The paper folded from her grip, "what the hell is this?"
"My story," she said.
"Why?" she swung the paper pieces of it flew out where Jo's clutch hadn't secured.
"L.P. King," Natalie explained. There were few people aware of the truth about Sophia Rodriguez. The culpable parties wouldn't approach her. It only made sense that the heroine would contact her good friend, 'a reporter' and lead her to find the sordid truth on her own. When she concluded that it was Jo she thought the anonymity silly, but if Jo wanted to participate with a murder mystery pseudonym who was she to judge.
"Talk English Nat."
"L.P. King," the younger blonde said more forcefully.
"I don't know what the hell that means."
"You sent me the envelope."
"What envelope?"
"With the pictures and the notes 'what's the big secret'," even as she explained further she knew Jo was at a loss. How could she have been that far off? If it wasn't Jo then who else could it be? She continued more apprehensive, "I received envelopes about Sophia's case. There were notes and pictures with Gale and March together. Gale has an offshore account in Switzerland. What kind of cop has a offshore account in Switzerland?"
"A guilty one," Jo murmured. She could see how Natalie made the assumption that she was the sender, "L.P. King?" Jo didn't recognize the initials.
"Your partner," Jo shook her head when Natalie started.
"Louie's last name isn't King" she refuted even though he made more sense than anyone else that came to mind.
"We're here to play nice," Tootie reiterated as both women arrived at the gala. Camera's greeted them when they left the limo. They were more focused on Tootie than Jo, which the former cop was thankful for. She couldn't understand what drove her friends to seek out the spotlight. Blair and Tootie hardly had privacy and there was always some story or another plastered on rag mags about them. While Jo took her own joy from reading them, she didn't think this is what they wanted for themselves when they dreamed of making it big. And if they had they were crazy for wanting it.
Tootie was eating up the attention. Jo could only tolerate so much before she headed into the building alone. In the elevator she spied her reflection. Tootie had insisted on dressing her. Jo didn't feel like fighting and let what happened at the spa happen. She looked like one of the women in the magazine's Blair read religiously. Her hair was pulled up and her form fitting tuxedo complimented in all the secular places.
At first glance it looked like Dave had spared no expense. At second glance Jo concluded that it was just as lavish as she first observed. Crystals hung from the ceiling. A violinist played in a corner opposite the large bar. She recognized some faces from magazine covers and editorials. Other faces she didn't know she was content with her own ignorance.
In a millisecond of revelation Jo realized she could watch Blair for hours. The blonde breathed life back into the clichéd phrase 'poetry in motion'. Her shoulders bare in her white dress. Her hair was pinned up, but Jo liked it better over her shoulders, like she wore it at school. The mechanic smiled watching her charm the room with the disarming smile she'd perfected from hours in the mirror.
"How is that lovely legal aid you were hiding in my apartment?" Jo acknowledged the voice, but didn't bother to meet the older man's gaze.
"Safe," Jo answered cryptically. She hoped the woman had the good sense to keep away and lay low. The combination of narcissist and psychopath didn't bode well if she thought she could reason with her husband. She played her part in Jo's plan editing the contracts to her advantage; it was a matter of time before David pieced Lorraine's part in.
"And in twelve to twenty four months will this all have been worth it?"
"You thought it was," the liquidation of March's company was in affect and Jo being one of the preferred stock owners would receive a percentage of the liquidated assets. Considering how March's popularity deflated since Natalie's article she doubted she'd be buying a private island any time soon.
"Despite your machinations I still don't see you giving up on love so easily."
Blair looked good on Randall's arm. They were as perfect a couple as they had been the first night Jo had been introduced to Randy. He could give her the normalcy that she couldn't. He could give her the children that she couldn't. In every way that Jo lacked Randall picked up the pieces and while the notion didn't sit well with her, it was something she could live with—as long as it made Blair happy.
"I never gave up on love," she countered. "I still haven't, but I lost something getting even with you and March. And Blair she doesn't deserve that." The mechanic stared critically, "she gets enough of that from you."
The crowd of people milling around them were too busy to notice the tension rising off the duo.
"You were this headstrong kid ready to grow too early. I could say that I saw the glitter of greed in your eyes," he smiled remembering when he thought of the scheme. Like many of David's great ideas they were triggered by something not so extraordinary, everyday life. "But I won't," Blair's father continued, "As devastating as love is you let it drive you." He turned his gaze to Blair, who was watching them, "If you were a man I could one day respect that insanity. But you're not."
Jo smiled joylessly. Her eyes met Blair's, "I wouldn't expect any less Dave." She walked away keeping her stride steady. She excused herself through the throng until she made it to the elevator outside the double doors of the suite. The part of her that wanted Blair to follow her was just as strong as the part of Blair that wanted to oblige. In the blonde's mind if Jo turned then she would have had the strength to, even with her father watching. She had managed a step before a hand slipped around her waist possessively. Randall smiled endearingly oblivious to how close he had come to losing her.
"Whoa, where are you going?" An arm latched around Jo's retreating form.
"I was making a hasty retreat," Jo supplied looking longingly at the bottom for the elevator as Tootie pulled her away from it.
"No."
"No?"
"You would think with age and pedigree the one-liners would get better."
"I see I've been a terrible date leaving you alone to bat off would-be Don Juans."
"Very," she laughed getting hold of two glasses on a passing tray. "If it makes you feel better if anything did happen I think the wall to wall security could handle it." Jo looked at Tootie oddly. The younger woman continued, "Rambo doesn't stop being Rambo no matter how spiffy he looks," she nodded toward one such wannabe standing at attention. Jo chuckled impressed Tootie's observation matched her own.
Jo downed her glass replacing it with another that she nursed more slowly. She looked sheepishly at Tootie, "I needed that one."
Before she tasted her own, "you might want to down that one too."
A dark brow quirked before it dropped in recognition. "Dorothy," Blair drew out her name in the same faux joy she did with acquaintances.
"Joanne," Randall's smile didn't arrive at his eyes. They were plastic together. If this was the Blair that Randy inspired Jo's jealousy alleviated.
A silver tray was held out for Jo saved them from the awkward silence on the verge of settling. An envelope with her name scrawled in calligraphy sat waiting for her to take. She met the curious gazes before she took the offering. Ripping it open she eyed the note and looked around.
"Is something wrong?" Tootie read the lines on Jo's face as worry.
"I'll be back," when her eyes met David's she had a feeling he'd been watching her for a while. Heading in the opposite direction David followed her greeting the trio she left en route.
She entered the men's bathroom. There were stalls and a table in the center and cushioned chairs. She questioned what rich people did in their bathrooms to need a table and cushioned chairs. She never stayed in a bathroom long enough to lounge.
"We really should stop meeting like this," Charles said humorlessly.
Jo didn't answer. He looked like he was half dressed to go out. His bow tie hung from his neck. "You mistake booze for cologne or is that a new fragrance you rich people wear?"
"…Always have answers… for ev'rything," he staggered when he attempted menacing. Jo didn't worry about him as threat. He could barely stand on his own much less strike her.
"You took everything," he whimpered.
Jo scoffed she was giving her too much credit. Natalie had hammered in the last nail with a little help from the anonymous L.P. King. The door opened behind her. She wasn't disappointed to see David.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"And here I thought my invitation got lost in the mail," he said with glassy eyes.
"So you broke in? You weren't invited for a reason."
"Which is?" Blair asked joining the small party.
"Lil' Blair," March smiled lecherously, "pity you grew up."
David dropped his head pinching the bridge of his nose.
Jo lunged. He fell back into a wall sliding down it until he sunk to floor. She flexed her hand looking at the unconscious figure. She hadn't anticipated a brawl. But done in one punch was pathetic.
Two men entered the room. They were dressed like guests, but with their build and bearing Jo guessed ex military. Three pair of eyes watched them work efficiently hefting March like he was no more than a paper weight. They were out just as quickly as they came.
"What was he doing here daddy?" She stepped in the room stopping dead center in the gap that separated her former lover and her father. Jo questioned if it was on purpose.
"No need to worry over that now."
"I'm not worried I want an answer," she pushed. "What's going on?" A man was just carried out of the men's restroom drunk and her father hadn't even batted an eye.
David saw her jaw set as her determined gaze met his. They hadn't had a chance to speak since that day at her office. He knew Jo had tried, but had been unsuccessful. His impassive approach would bring her to him. Of course the circumstances were imagined differently.
"What do you want to know?" he forced a smile. David's eyes made a lazy trail to Jo.
The smile as a gesture was insincere. It was then she knew he wouldn't give her the whole truth. How many times had she given her father the benefit of the doubt for no other reason than relation? How often did he taken advantage of her need to believe him?
Remy was perfectly predictable. That day in the rain she told him about her plan to confront March. Any association with the infamous Charles March didn't look good for Dave and company. She anticipated damage control. David added security with orders insuring March wouldn't attend. Unbeknownst to him Jo planted March the night before the party planner set up.
Jo retrieved the envelope from her inside jacket pocket. She pulled out the note. Jo held it up.
Blair's back was to the mechanic, but David's wasn't. The note—the catalyst was blank. The look Jo gave the room when she 'read' the note had been for show. And what had been the point of it all? So he would follow her and in turn Blair would follow do the same? Blair was passed placation with half truths. She was smarter than that, she had always been, but he grew to rely on her choice to stay placated.
Louie hung over Jo's shoulder to look under his hood. He intentionally crowded her chuckling endearingly at the shove and glare she gave him. Louie and his mother had hardly used the car, but over a period of time the struts were worn out. The 40,000 mile mark until it was time for them to be changed hadn't come yet. Louie was still determined to have them changed. When he stepped back leaning against the table that held Jo's tools. It was safe to say he didn't know what half of them were. He stared blankly at the set when Jo asked for a tool. She waited patiently glaring at the struts.
It wasn't until she spared a look at her former partner that she realized he was useless. She shook her head retrieving the ratchet herself.
"And you call yourself a man."
"There's only one tool I need to know back and front," he grinned at Jo's snort and her cursory glance below.
Dropping herself carefully on the creeper she planted her foot firmly so she wouldn't slide. Louie laughed off her snort. He talked while she tinkered not entirely certain if she was listening.
"King Louie."
"Huh?" He stopped mid sentence.
"L.P. King," Jo began, "Louis Prima voice of King Louie," Jo continued. "Kinda convoluted even for you don't you think?"
The older man shrugged, "I knew you'd get it eventually."
"Why?"
"I wish I could've done more when it counted. The way I see it better late than never," he traced the line of another tool he didn't know how to use. Jo rolled under the jacked up car. They could have drawn it out into something sentimental, but that wouldn't be them.
The blonde beauty sliding through the entrance was an unexpected Sunday visitor. Louie never let on as he continued to talk.
"Jo?"
She propped herself against one of the car's by the entrance. Jo didn't seem to notice either too focused or completely oblivious. With an idea forming in his head he weighed the repercussions. Feeling that the positives far outweighed the negatives he veered the conversation to something more intentional.
"I don't get the smoothie metaphor?"
"What?" Jo groaned loosening the bolts of the struts from the bottom.
"Whatta you talking about?" she asked distractedly.
"You and Blair," he didn't meet the woman's eyes, "how you two work."
Over the years especially in the last few months it was hard to separate the woman from her father. He was the real issue wasn't he? The one who wouldn't let her forget who she was and what she was. And Blair had paid because she was confused. She dropped the ratchet to her stomach sitting under the car to think. The smoothie metaphor had come to her while relaxed entertaining random thoughts about life. Different ingredients blending, battling to usurp the taste and in the end whatever they were before the blend—the tastes compliments each other, like a good smoothie.
"You can't know what it's like to die a little inside. That is until you realize that you were never fully alive in the first place til after you met her."
Louie studied the blonde's expression. The shadows hardened her face, but as she slowly stepped into the light, the cadence of her heels announcing her presence, they softened. Clearing his throat uncomfortably he heard Jo roll from under his car. She sat up but didn't stand to turn.
There are moments in our life that test our resolve to be the person we think we are. In those rare tests it shows the part of ourselves we aren't prepared to admit. Jo had learned the hard way that she wasn't the integrity fueled engine that drove most people around her insane. She had a price. When she was younger it was an education and 'help' money for her mom. When she got older it developed into something more corporeal and scary, her name was Blair Warner. Her compromises were small at first, too miniscule to consider that her life would forever change by it. But the small compromises had had an effect.
Her eyes rose to her friend and without him saying a word she knew a particular someone had been listening the whole time.
He smiled sheepishly reminding Jo that he was going to pick up lunch as a thank you for working on his car. In an unnecessary sprint he was out the door and Blair and she were left. Shaking her head she braced herself and turned to meet the cool gaze trained on her.
"I heard you."
Jo's eyes lowered, "I'm sorry about everything."
Blair stood silently for a moment. It was easy to lash out at Jo especially with the way she'd been acting. Months of hurt and anger melded with more hurt taking shape into the feeling that almost stopped her from coming. "Hopefully not everything," the words broke a dam both women were tentative to rupture.
Jo wanted to wait for Blair to step toward her, but the brunette had never been particularly patient when it came to these things. It surprised Blair that the only contact Jo initiated was to hold her hand. Her fingers were stained from working on the car. But Blair hadn't pulled away. Jo grew bolder brushing her finger across her hand gently.
"Blair Warner," she introduced.
"Charmed," Jo grinned. "Joanne Polniaczek."
The End