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Authors: Darlene Gardner
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his accountant. “Equity funds? IRAs? Tax-free bonds? Overseas markets?”
“How about explaining how the stock market works.”
“I’m sure that would be very interesting, but that’s enough about Cash’s job,” Mom said, an almost desperate edge to her voice. Jax hid a grin. Despite what she’d said earlier, she clearly didn’t want to engage in business talk. “Stocks and bonds are, um, interesting, but I’d rather hear about his love life. Have you met any nice girls lately, son?”
Jax’s mind drifted back two months to the brief, earth-shattering time he’d spent with the woman who called herself Rhea Zeus. Despite the fact that they’d spent most of their time in bed, he’d sensed a connection that went deeper than the physical. Between bouts of incredible sex, he’d thought, when he could think at all, that she was the kind of woman his mother would like.
“You have met somebody special, haven’t you?” His mother stared at him through narrowed eyes. “When am I going to meet her?”
“There’s nobody to meet.” Jax emphasized his words by shaking his head.
“Pshaw. It’s a sin to lie to your mother. I can tell from your face that you met somebody.”
“Okay, you’re right. But only partly. I thought I’d met somebody special, but I was wrong.” Boy, was he ever. Jax remembered the sinking feeling that had assailed him as he’d stood in the lobby of the Hotel Grande holding five one-hundred-dollar bills. He’d decided on the spot not to waste any of his valuable time trying to discover Rhea Zeus’ true identity. He didn’t want any part of whatever game she’d been playing. “Whenever I do find a good woman, you’ll be the first to know.”
His mother seemed to accept the explanation. “Speaking of good women, Alexis Trumble is back in town.”
Beside him, Drew sniggered. Jax had a vague memory of Alexis Trumble from high school as a sturdy, tuba-playing girl with a hint of a mustache. He sensed the conversation was heading into murky territory, where he’d be sucked into a date if he weren’t careful.
“I ran into her mother the other day at the supermarket, and she said—”
Jax slapped the table theatrically, and his mother abruptly stopped talking. So far, so good. Now all he needed to do was employ what, in football, was called a misdirection play. If he could successfully change the subject, she might forget about the mustachioed woman.
“I hate to interrupt, Mom, but I just remembered there’s an important voice mail I need to check on my cell.”
“It’s so important you can’t hear what I have to say about Alexis Trumble?”
“Yes, it’s that important.” Jax rose and moved out of the kitchen toward the family room, his phone in hand. He slanted an apologetic look at his mother. “I’ll just be a minute or two.”
At least he had a message, he thought as he listened to the mechanical voice come over the line. Four of them, to be precise. He probably had the ringer turned off again or he would taken the calls. The first message was from his travel agent, confirming the dates of his flights for later in the week. Star Bright, his business manager, had left the second, asking Jax to call him back. The third was from some woman named Bambi he didn’t remember meeting. The fourth message was the strangest.
“Jax, this is Mac McGinty. Remember? From high school and the O’Hare Airport? The reason I’m calling is, uh, that I just, uh, got a really big check in the mail from Rhea. You remember Rhea, don’t you? The thing is that I didn’t earn this money. And I was just wondering if you, uh, delivered my message.” His voice changed, went up a decibel. “You didn’t deliver anything else, did you, Jax?”
Jax called back the number and had Harold McGinty on the line within seconds.
As he listened to the little man’s bizarre story, his mouth opened in increments until a tennis ball could have fit inside. He hung up the phone, feeling as though
“How about explaining how the stock market works.”
“I’m sure that would be very interesting, but that’s enough about Cash’s job,” Mom said, an almost desperate edge to her voice. Jax hid a grin. Despite what she’d said earlier, she clearly didn’t want to engage in business talk. “Stocks and bonds are, um, interesting, but I’d rather hear about his love life. Have you met any nice girls lately, son?”
Jax’s mind drifted back two months to the brief, earth-shattering time he’d spent with the woman who called herself Rhea Zeus. Despite the fact that they’d spent most of their time in bed, he’d sensed a connection that went deeper than the physical. Between bouts of incredible sex, he’d thought, when he could think at all, that she was the kind of woman his mother would like.
“You have met somebody special, haven’t you?” His mother stared at him through narrowed eyes. “When am I going to meet her?”
“There’s nobody to meet.” Jax emphasized his words by shaking his head.
“Pshaw. It’s a sin to lie to your mother. I can tell from your face that you met somebody.”
“Okay, you’re right. But only partly. I thought I’d met somebody special, but I was wrong.” Boy, was he ever. Jax remembered the sinking feeling that had assailed him as he’d stood in the lobby of the Hotel Grande holding five one-hundred-dollar bills. He’d decided on the spot not to waste any of his valuable time trying to discover Rhea Zeus’ true identity. He didn’t want any part of whatever game she’d been playing. “Whenever I do find a good woman, you’ll be the first to know.”
His mother seemed to accept the explanation. “Speaking of good women, Alexis Trumble is back in town.”
Beside him, Drew sniggered. Jax had a vague memory of Alexis Trumble from high school as a sturdy, tuba-playing girl with a hint of a mustache. He sensed the conversation was heading into murky territory, where he’d be sucked into a date if he weren’t careful.
“I ran into her mother the other day at the supermarket, and she said—”
Jax slapped the table theatrically, and his mother abruptly stopped talking. So far, so good. Now all he needed to do was employ what, in football, was called a misdirection play. If he could successfully change the subject, she might forget about the mustachioed woman.
“I hate to interrupt, Mom, but I just remembered there’s an important voice mail I need to check on my cell.”
“It’s so important you can’t hear what I have to say about Alexis Trumble?”
“Yes, it’s that important.” Jax rose and moved out of the kitchen toward the family room, his phone in hand. He slanted an apologetic look at his mother. “I’ll just be a minute or two.”
At least he had a message, he thought as he listened to the mechanical voice come over the line. Four of them, to be precise. He probably had the ringer turned off again or he would taken the calls. The first message was from his travel agent, confirming the dates of his flights for later in the week. Star Bright, his business manager, had left the second, asking Jax to call him back. The third was from some woman named Bambi he didn’t remember meeting. The fourth message was the strangest.
“Jax, this is Mac McGinty. Remember? From high school and the O’Hare Airport? The reason I’m calling is, uh, that I just, uh, got a really big check in the mail from Rhea. You remember Rhea, don’t you? The thing is that I didn’t earn this money. And I was just wondering if you, uh, delivered my message.” His voice changed, went up a decibel. “You didn’t deliver anything else, did you, Jax?”
Jax called back the number and had Harold McGinty on the line within seconds.
As he listened to the little man’s bizarre story, his mouth opened in increments until a tennis ball could have fit inside. He hung up the phone, feeling as though
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