Page 4 of Is It Casual Now?
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The shower knob squeaked as Jamie turned the handle to shut the water off. Her legs were absolute jelly still, and she couldn’t wipe the grin from her lips. The happy little butterflies of energy kept dancing through her body, and she couldn’t remember the last time she was this happy or this excited for something.
It had been such a hard year.
The steam in the shower filled her senses. She’d sworn that Van was going to join her in the shower, but maybe she was too distracted by what they’d just done. Jamie pressed her palm to the handle and twisted it open, stepping naked and dripping wet into the…empty…hotel room.
“What the fuck?”
The room was cold now, where it had been warm and full of energy before. Her purse was strewn out on the middle of the bed, the contents spilled out and in a mess of a pile that was beyond disorganized.
She stood still, blinking as though the next minute to pass would suddenly make sense of the scene in front of her. But it didn’t matter how many times she blinked—nothing was tracking in her brain. Had she just been robbed? Fucked hard and then her information or credit card that was maxed out stolen? Three orgasms had turned her sharp mind into a sludge of thick thoughts that weren’t entirely clear.
Turning on her heels, she marched back to the bathroom and quickly dried herself. Finding her clothes was easy enough, but as she slid the soft fabric of her dress over her body, the fog over her mind lifted.
Jamie shifted through the items on the bed quickly, finding nothing missing. So this wasn’t a robbery. Van must have found something in there that had scared her. But what the hell could it have been? It wasn’t like Jamie carried around illegal drugs or child porn in her purse. She shuddered at that thought— never on either of those.
So what had Van found in her purse that had her running out without so much as a goodbye? Was the woman closeted? If so, she’d done a poor job of hiding that at the restaurant and an even worse job on the bed.
“It’s not that,” Jamie muttered to herself confidently as she riffled through her bag. Nothing incriminating, just the usual things—phone, wallet, tampons, pen, notepad, lipstick, business cards from people she’d talked to.
“Fuck.” She went back through the items and flicked open her wallet. “Well so much for anonymous.”
Her driver’s license had slipped around in the tumble off the bed and the horrid photo of herself stared back. Her real name stared up at her in large bold print along with her birthday and address from three apartments ago. A stark reminder that even in her mid-thirties, she still hadn’t figured out what the hell she was doing with her life and was still living paycheck to paycheck. She wasn’t the favorite kid in her family, that was for certain.
But why would knowing that send the woman running ?
Was she married? Because there had been no damn ring on that finger. Jamie had checked, multiple times.
“Unless she knows who I am.” Biting her lip, Jamie rifled through the items again before shoving them all back into her purse. That excited pull she got at the start of a new story built inside her chest. It was the adrenaline she lived on. If Van had found out who she was, then Jamie could do the same. She wasn’t an idiot, and she knew exactly how to find the information that she wanted.
And her tenacity and stubbornness for finding that information was what made her so good at her job, and a royal pain in her boss’s ass.
She had long ago gotten used to being called a hack or a liar. But she knew the truth of things. And she never made up something she couldn’t prove. People simply refused to give her the chance to show her proof. And showing her cards without being made to had never been something she was willing to do.
Taking her time and laying out her plans, Jamie stood up and smoothed her hands over her dress. She could do this. She could figure out exactly what had sent Van running and then she could decide what she wanted to do with that information. Or not—she could do nothing for all she cared, or she could do absolutely everything and destroy Van with a few clicks of her fingers against the keyboard.
Jamie smiled, pulling the strap of her bag over her shoulder and stretching her lips wide as she pulled the door closed behind her, key card firmly in her grip. Her face, reflected in the closed elevator doors, still held her telltale blush of sex, but she could use that to her advantage as well. A girl well fucked just wants to be well fucked again, doesn’t she?
Stepping up to the counter, Jamie plastered on the softest smile that she could. She could play girl next door like she lived it. “I’d like to check out. ”
“Okay,” the young gentleman behind the counter said. “What’s the room number?”
“Room 312.” Jamie rattled off while she twirled her still damp strand of hair around her finger and leaned over the counter to give the young man an ample view of her cleavage. She would use whatever means it would take to get this information.
“You’re all checked out.” He grinned up at her, his gaze definitely dropping to her breasts.
“Oh, here’s the card.” Jamie slid the card across the desk and moved her fingers right before he could accidentally touch her. “Do you mind if I get the receipt? I like to keep records of what goes on my credit card statement.” She gave a gentle chuckle to him. “My daddy always told me that I should be as fastidious as possible when it comes to finances.”
“He sounds like a wise man.” The man bent his head and typed away on the keyboard.
Jamie had to swallow that lump. Her dad wasn’t a bad guy, but they certainly didn’t always get along either. She was the screwup kid, after all. And she’d live into that role for as long as she could, because someone had to be the scapegoat.
“Here you are.” The paper was curled at the top and the bottom from the printer.
Jamie grinned at him, taking the paper between two fingers as she skimmed it for the name. Her stomach plummeted. Cold washed through her. That had to have been it. Her screwup personality had lost her a good fuck again. Breathing heavily, Jamie looked up and nodded at him, still keeping that same soft smile plastered on her face, although she was no longer feeling it.
“Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.”
He nodded at her and stopped paying attention. Taking the paper and shoving it into her purse, Jamie walked out of the hotel lobby and into the chilly, damp air. Her heart hammered against her ribs, nearly to the point of pain.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Whipping out her phone, Jamie debated whether or not to call the only person who could calm her down, but she stopped herself. Nope. This was her own screwup, and she was going to deal with it on her own. She didn’t need someone else telling her how bad she was.
Biting her lip, Jamie stepped into the parking lot and headed for home. She never would have imagined that she would pick up the Siena Frazee at a tapas bar. Not the big name, open queer, powerful and professional-to-a-fault Siena Frazee who repped the biggest queer outing story that Jamie had been trying to uncover for years now and failed miserably every single time.
“Really?” Jamie laughed, edging toward maniacal. “Siena Frazee?”
Who’d have thought that would happen?
“Earth to Jamie!” Jessie’s voice filtered through to Jamie, and she jerked her head toward her sister.
“What?” Jamie asked, a little snippier than she meant. She scanned the classroom to see if there were any hints as to what she had missed.
“What?” Jessie laughed again, shaking her head as she pressed the corners of an alphabet poster onto the wall beside the whiteboard of her kindergarten room. Jamie couldn’t understand why this particular poster had to be changed every year since it was basically exactly the same, but she went with whatever her sister told her to do. It was their tradition to set up Jessie’s classroom together—it had been for the last ten years since Jessie had started teaching, and Jamie had only missed the chance once.
“I was saying how much I appreciate you taking time off to come help me.”
“You make it sound like I never help you with anything.” Jamie’s cheeks flushed with the familiar shame she felt about how little she really did to help her sister. But this was something she wouldn’t give up if she had to. This was their tradition, and if they did something together like this, then they wouldn’t argue as much.
“Noooo,” Jessie pulled the word out as though giving herself time to find the right words. “You try to help when I ask, but you rarely take time off in the middle of a workday to do it. And by rarely, I mean never, except for this.”
“I…” Jamie fumbled for answers. Only her twin sister could ever hit directly on the point and have her entirely flabbergasted for words. Words were her life, but that skill was rendered useless when it came to Jessie.
“You what?” Jessie dropped her hands and tilted her head as she turned her full attention and body toward Jamie.
“I wrote a blog post, and I’m pretty sure it’s going to hit hard for a…” Jamie swallowed back the lump in her throat. “…a few different reasons, and particularly for a few specific people.”
“Okay.” Jessie shrugged her eyebrows creasing together. “But that’s sort of what you do half the time.”
“Most of the time,” Jamie muttered in correction. At least she wanted it to be most of the time, but building up a blog that was full of gossip, and gossip that was mostly true, was far harder than she’d anticipated. And while she was good at blogging and finding out information, she was really crappy at being a business owner.
“Exactly.” Jessie nodded, relief washing over her face. “So why would this time be any different? ”
Jamie’s face burned, and she knew without a mirror that her face was flaming a deep pink. They might as well have been Irish-born with how their emotions flared up their ivory skin.
Jessie raised her eyebrows, nodded toward one of the small chairs behind a just-as-small table and sat on one opposite it.
“Ugh. I totally should have bailed on helping you,” Jamie growled out, but the corners of her mouth lifted, and Jessie smiled softly at her.
“Tell me what happened.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does.” Jessie laughed. “Don’t make me pull out the big sister card.”
“Two minutes. You’re two minutes older than me.”
“Exactly.” Jessie pursed her lips, lifted her chin slightly and pushed back her shoulders. “So it’s time you tell your older and far wiser sister what shit you’ve gotten yourself into this time.”
“That’s just it.” Jamie ignored the “wiser” comment, and its implications, and slumped into the uncomfortable tiny furniture. “Normally, it’s just me getting into shit because I’m exposing other people’s dirt, but this time my own shit might actually bite me in the ass.”
“Oh my God.” Jessie’s mouth opened in an O, and her eyes sparkled with a little too much enjoyment.
“You look far too pleased about this.” Jamie pouted.
“I am.” Jessie chuckled. “I’ve been waiting for you to finally get caught up in one of your stories. What did you do? Get a restraining order put on you or something?”
“I wish,” Jamie muttered before she could help herself. A restraining order would be easier than a night of really hot, amazing sex and then finding out that the woman you fucked would consider you her mortal enemy.
“Holy crap.” Jessie sat back in her own chair, all humor lost from her face. “What happened, James? ”
And so Jamie told Jessie without going into too much fine detail, like how the woman rocked her world only for her to find out she was one of her biggest nemeses in her career life.
“Wait.” Jessie leaned forward in the chair, legs crossed, and arms folded over her raised knee. “ THE Siena Frazee? The woman you curse every other week. The one who somehow manages to get on top of half your stories and all the ones that would bring your name out of the trash column and into the real-journalist sphere?”
“Hey,” Jamie shot back. “It’s not a trash column.”
Jessie’s reply was those raised eyebrows once more, those ones that Jamie was fairly certain she used on her students every single day, probably multiple times a day.
“Fine. But not everything I write is salacious and about the shock factor.”
“I know, but it’s all about the drama of other people’s lives.”
“Exactly.” Jamie shot up out of the tiny chair, unable to feel her butt any longer sitting in the furniture designed for kindergarten kids. “ Other people’s lives. Not mine.”
“Then why did you write about it?”
“Because I had to.” Jamie shrugged as though the answer should have been obvious to everyone, especially Jessie. “I can’t just ignore stories when they pull at me.”
“But now you’re scared of the backlash?”
“Yes.” She hissed and shoved her fingers through her hair. “But how was I supposed to know that goddess was Siena Fucking Frazee?”
“Goddess, huh?” Jessie’s voice filled with implied mischief. “She must have been pure magic to have gotten under your skin this much.”
“Hardly.” Jamie scoffed. But of course, Jessie had hit yet another nail right on the head. Jamie turned away from her sister, knowing her face continued to deepen in color. “Where do you want the bookshelf?”
“Nice change of topic.” Jessie laughed behind Jamie.
Jamie turned back and met Jessie’s eyes. Silently, she begged her sister to move on, at least for now.
With a nod, Jessie stood and pulled out some books from one of the bags the two of them had dragged into the room earlier.
“I think under the far corner there. I’ll put a nice rug and cushions, and it can be a quiet-time reading area for those that finish work early.”
“These kids are so lucky to have you.” Jamie grabbed at the opportunity to move the conversation off of her, but she also meant the words. She would make a horrible teacher in any form, but Jessie was brilliant at it.
“Thanks. I hope so. Open house is next week, and I’m looking forward to meeting the kids and their families.”
Jamie let the rest of the afternoon be consumed in rearranging furniture and taking direction about poster placement. But despite enjoying the time with Jessie, her mind kept drifting back to her article that had dropped earlier that day. Which, of course, made her entirely too aware of Siena still being on her mind. And that idea was completely stupid in and of itself.
Jamie was in the prime of her life, she wouldn’t be settling down anytime soon, if she chose to settle down at all, ever. And besides, even if Jamie was looking for a relationship, which was the last thing on her mind, Siena wasn’t even near the list of partners. She probably was still married, not that Jamie had managed to figure that one out. There had been a wedding announcement years ago but never an announcement of a divorce, and Jamie had been too chicken to look up the public records.
She hadn’t wanted to spoil her one hope of that yet.
Besides, she and Siena were in the same world but on entirely opposite sides. Siena was all high and mighty about celebrities, expecting the people to throw money and praise their way but never giving any of their true selves back. Everyone has a right to know who exactly they looked up to, who they spent their money on.
No matter how mind-blowing the sex had been, Jamie wouldn’t change her mind about this. No matter how often she had brought herself over the edge again and again as she remembered Siena’s touch. Jamie sighed and shook her head as she drove away from the school. She just never dreamed she would have to deal with being this close to the actual subject matter of any of the drama she wrote about.
That’s what was unnerving her.
Nothing else.
Not. At. Damn. All.