The Accidental Life of Jessie Jefferson (22 page)

‘Hi,’ I say weakly. ‘Happy birthday.’

‘Humph.’ She straightens back up again and Jack flashes me an apologetic look.

‘Am I gatecrashing?’ I whisper, feeling nervous again as he unclicks his seatbelt.

‘No!’ he brushes me off and climbs out of the car. Warily, I do the same.

‘Miles, Eve and Brandon have already set up,’ she tells Jack crossly.

‘Sounds like they’ve got it all under control,’ he replies smoothly as I make my way around the front of the car to the two of them on the other side, nearest the house.

‘Why didn’t you tell me what you were doing?’ she asks irately, while I hang back a few feet.

‘You were busy getting ready.’ He puts his hands on her shoulders. He’s taller than her by about four inches. ‘Relax.’

The glare on her face wavers and for a split-second she looks like she’s going to cry. But then the glare is firmly reinstated.

 ‘Are you wearing that?’ she indicates his T-shirt and then stares back up at his face.

‘Yeah. It’s my favourite.’

‘Whatever,’ she snaps, but even as she turns away from him she looks slightly mollified. She glances at me and gives me a quick once over. I have a horrible feeling I’m not dressed at all right, but it’s too late now. She stalks off towards the house. ‘Go and check on the band,’ she snaps over her shoulder.

‘Yes, Ma’am,’ Jack replies. He looks at me and rolls his eyes. ‘I warned you.’

Erm, he didn’t really warn me
that
much.

‘Are you sure I’m OK to be here?’ I ask worriedly, as he comes to stand by me.

‘It’s my house, too. Come on.’

He points his keys at the car and it beeps as he locks it. He doesn’t walk across the tiled courtyard towards the intricate-carved, wooden front door. Instead he leads me around the right-hand side of the Spanish-style villa, underneath shady, fat palm trees and beside greenery bursting with pink, orange and red flowers. The view is in front of us as we emerge from the side of the house, and it’s of the city, similar to the view from Johnny’s.

The garden steps downwards – a flat expanse of green lawn and then a steep slope, followed by two more flat expanses and two more steep slopes. There is a large rectangular swimming pool on the first flat expanse, set within a terrace of peachy-coloured floor tiles and enormous potted palms. Hot pink and yellow flower-shaped candles are floating on the blue water. A bunch of cool kids are milling about the terrace and garden, laughing and chatting and drinking colourful cocktails. I spy a bar laden with drinks near the pool, with two young guys wearing black T-shirts serving. To our right is what looks like a smaller house in the same style of architecture, but then I realise the music is coming from there. I can see a bunch of people through the four wide-open double doors.

‘Game room,’ Jack tells me. ‘I’m just going to make sure the guys are all set up.’

Labrinth’s ‘Earthquake’ is blaring out of huge speakers outside the games room as I follow him over there, the beat pumping through my body.

‘Who’s DJ-ing tonight?’ I shout.

‘A few of us,’ he shouts back. ‘I’ve gotta do a set, too.’

‘What about your brother?’

‘Not here tonight.’

What? Not at his sister’s birthday? That seems a bit weird. But we reach the double doors and Jack’s mates spot him, so I don’t get a chance to quiz him further. One guy takes a running jump and practically lands on him. A few others swarm around him, backslapping him and doing complicated handshakes.

Jack laughingly shoves off the guy who did the running jump and is still half hanging around his neck. He’s dressed in a grubby-looking white T-shirt and skinny jeans with a metal studded belt. His light-blond hair is styled in a slick quiff and he looks like he could be a member of the band. I spot one of the guys from the fairground last night. He breaks away from Jack and goes over to a drum kit on a raised platform. Yeah. He does look like a drummer.

It’s then that I notice the absolutely stunning, skinny, dark-skinned girl standing on the platform adjusting the mic stand. She has slick, shiny black hair combed into a boy cut and she keeps furtively glancing at Jack, but she doesn’t go over. I watch Jack and see the blond guy saying something in his ear. They both glance at the girl, but now she appears to be steadfastly ignoring them.

Uh-oh. I have a bad feeling about this.

Then Jack seems to remember me. He looks over and as he does so, the blond guy throws one arm around his neck. Jack good-naturedly smacks him in his stomach and he lets go again, but he follows Jack over.

The music is not as loud in here because the outside speakers are facing the garden.

‘Jessie, Jessie, Jessie,’ the blond guy says playfully, winking. His eyes are deep blue and he’s very good-looking. He leans forward and shakes my hand. He’s tall – as tall as Jack – and he has a tattoo of a seagull on his right shoulder.

‘This is Brandon,’ Jack says with a wry grin, as Brandon straightens back up.

‘You’re in the band,’ I say. I remember Agnes saying Brandon, Miles and . . . Eve. Oh. I look at the girl on the stage again. That must be her. ‘Earthquake’ comes to an end, followed by an unnatural silence.

‘Crap!’ Brandon curses, running away from us over to some DJ decks.

‘What an idiot,’ Jack mutters, smiling, as Brandon hurries to put another record on.

‘What does he play?’ I ask, glancing at Eve and unfortunately catching her eye. She quickly looks away.

‘Bass guitar. He sings a bit.’

‘What about you?’ I ask.

‘Lead.’

‘You sing, too?’ I remember seeing the picture of him with the microphone touching his lips. Sigh.

 ‘A little. But it’s mostly Eve.’ He looks over at her and back to me. Does he seem guilty?

‘Shall we get a drink?’ I ask. I think I’m going to need one to get through this party.

It turns out the cocktails by the pool are piss-weak, but Jack tells me he has a sneaky bottle of whiskey in his bedroom. The house inside is big, albeit smaller than Johnny’s. There’s a large living room, which is in keeping with the Spanish villa style of the place. The rooms are crowded with a lot of dark-wood furniture, and there are carpets, curtains, cushions and rugs throughout, in contrast to Johnny’s minimalist pad. Old-fashioned artwork in ornate frames hangs on the walls. Again, I wonder what Billy Mitchell does. This does not look like a wildman’s pad.

‘Where are your parents tonight?’ I ask as Jack leads me up the wooden staircase.

‘My mom and dad are divorced,’ he tells me over his shoulder. ‘Mom and Tim will be around somewhere.’

‘Is Tim your stepdad?’

‘Stepdad Number Two,’ he says drily, turning left at the top of the stairs. We walk a little way along the corridor – there appear to be about six bedrooms up here – and he opens the second door on the left.

I follow him in. This is more like it. His bedroom doesn’t resemble the rest of the house at all. Posters of indie-rock bands line the walls and his clothes are draped over the bed and the back of a chair. Books have toppled over on his bookshelves and the wardrobes are half open, with the contents spilling out on to the floor.

‘You don’t have a maid, then,’ I joke.

 ‘Actually we do.’ He purses his lips together as he looks over at me. ‘She’s been ill since Thursday.’

‘Bummer.’ I’m being sarcastic.

‘Tell me about it.’ I think he is too. But then again, I don’t know him that well.

He opens one of his drawers and roots around, pulling out a bottle of whiskey. I go over to the window and look out. He has a view over the garden and the city beyond. People are dancing by the pool now. Oh no, is that Lissa?

‘Please tell me that’s not Lissa,’ I say.

A second later he’s right by my side, his arm brushing against mine and making my hairs stand on end.

‘That’s her,’ he says.

‘Damn.’

He laughs softly. ‘She was quizzing me about you when you left last night.’

‘What? Why?’

‘When she saw you leaving with Johnny Jefferson.’

My heart skips a beat. ‘What did you tell her?’

‘Nothing.’

He cracks the bottle open and takes a swig, grimacing slightly as he swallows. He offers the bottle to me. I take it hesitantly. ‘Don’t you have any Coke?’

‘Whiskey
and
coke? You are a bad girl,’ he says in a slightly dirty voice that sends shivers up and down my spine again.

‘I don’t mean that sort of coke.’ I pull a face. ‘Coca-Cola, you idiot.’

He laughs. ‘I know. Yeah, I’ll get you something soft to go with it.’ He rummages around in his top drawer again and pulls out a small hip flask, filling it up to the brim.

 ‘Go on, then, I’ll have a quick swig,’ I decide, nicking the bottle from him. I knock some back. Urgh, it tastes disgusting! ‘How can you drink it straight?’ I ask, coughing.

He laughs and puts the cap back on. ‘I’m hardcore.’ He pockets the hip flask and I catch a glimpse of his tanned, toned navel before he tugs his T-shirt back down. Phwoar! ‘Come on.’

I’d prefer to stay here alone with him, but I suppose it
is
his sister’s party . . .

We go back out into the corridor to the stairs, just in time to see a woman reach the top.

‘Hi, you!’ she exclaims brightly. She looks to be about forty or so and is wearing a medium-length, multicoloured print dress.

‘Hey, Mom.’ Do I detect a slight weariness to his tone?

‘Who’s this?’ she asks, looking past Jack to me.

‘Mom, this is Jessie. Jessie, this is my mom.’

I quickly step beside him to say hi. She’s slim and tall with a wide smile and dark wavy hair that comes almost to her waist. ‘Hello, Jessie,’ she says pleasantly, then to Jack, ‘Hurry on downstairs. Agnes was looking for you earlier.’

‘OK, Mom.’ Definitely weary.

We step back while she passes us and heads along the corridor. Jack looks at me and rolls his eyes as we start to walk down. What’s the deal with them? I think she seems nice.

We grab a couple of soft drinks on our way past the bar and Jack ducks behind a potted palm to top them up with whiskey. I try to keep a straight face as I wait for him. I look over to see Agnes talking to Lissa by the pool, along with that other girl from last night, Bryony.

Jack reappears and Agnes chooses that moment to notice him. She calls and beckons him over. He takes a large gulp as we walk and I follow his lead. Whoa. I instantly feel light-headed. That was quick.

Lissa is saying something to Agnes as we approach. She’s looking me up and down. Bryony turns around to scrutinise me, too, and I groan inwardly. I’m not sure any boy is worth this much girl bitching.

To my surprise, Lissa’s face breaks out into a huge smile as we reach them, and her delight seems directed at me. ‘You’re Johnny Jefferson’s nanny?’

Oh, shit.

‘You told her.’ Jack sounds accusatory as he speaks to his sister.

Agnes looks guilty, while Lissa looks put out. ‘Is it a secret?’ she asks me.

‘Erm, no, not really.’

‘So, who’s looking after the kids tonight?’ she asks.

‘Meg and Johnny,’ I reply cagily.

‘What are they like?’ Bryony chips in eagerly.

‘Would you quit with the inquisition?’ Jack snaps. ‘Haven’t you ever heard of a confidentiality clause?’

Lissa looks back at me and I shrug. Yeah, I bet Johnny’s staff would have had to sign one of those. Come to think of it, I’m surprised they didn’t ask
me
to sign one, although I would have been pretty pissed off if they had . . . I’m family, not staff.

Jack takes my hand and drags me away from the gaggle of girls.

I barely register the warmth of his grasp before he lets go. ‘I’m going to have to go and check on Brandon soon. He wants me to play my set next, but let’s just chill out for a bit.’

We reach the steep slope leading to the second, lower level.

Jack jogs down, holding his drink aloft, and turns to look back up at me.

‘I’m not sure my wedges will survive.’ I kick up my feet to show him my shoes.

‘I’ll catch you,’ he promises.

‘Oh, you know all the lines,’ I joke, but inside I’m swooning. I edge down the slope and then let momentum take over and run the rest of the way, trying not to spill any of my drink, but failing. He steadies me at the bottom and my laughter falters as I look up into his blue-grey eyes, my hand wet from sticky liquid that has sloshed over the side. To my embarrassment, I can’t help blushing.

I pull away from him and shake my hand dry, then set off across the grass. There’s nobody down on this level – they’re all up by the pool or over by the games room – but we walk to the next slope anyway, sitting a few feet down and facing the city.

‘So Agnes is sixteen. How old’s your brother?’ I ask, nursing the remains of my whiskey-spiked cola.

‘Twenty.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Drew.’

Drew. Why does that name sound familiar? ‘Oh, Charlotte mentioned him at Michael’s party.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Any other brothers or sisters?’

‘Nope.’ He glances at me and raises one eyebrow. ‘This is a lot of small talk for someone who’s going home tomorrow.’

‘What would you rather do?’

He grins cheekily.

‘Sorry, pal, I’m not that easy.’

But right now, I wish I were. I take a sip of my drink and grimace. Even with the Coke, it tastes like shit. He chuckles and looks away. His side profile is so sexy.

‘It’s just the three of us,’ he reveals. ‘There are two years between each of us. My parents were meticulous about pregnancy planning.’ He takes a large gulp of his own drink, but doesn’t pull a face. ‘What about you?’ he asks.

‘I’m an only child. My stepdad can’t have children.’

‘No dad on the scene?’

Eek! ‘Yeah, he’s around.’ And then I suddenly remember Barney and Phoenix. ‘Actually, he has two kids of his own, so I have half-brothers.’

‘You forgot you had half-siblings?’ he asks with amusement.

Whoops. ‘He’s only recently remarried.’ I quickly change the subject. ‘What about your parents? When did they split up?’

‘They got divorced about eight years ago.’

‘And your mum has remarried twice since then?’ I’m unable to keep the surprise from my voice.