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Chapter 6
New Zealand was special.
Beyond the obvious reasons why it was—the scenery, the people, the food, the absolute ... peacefulness of the country itself—it was special for Jay and me.
We’d never been with each other outside our normal environments. Outside of his environment. The city that he ... controlled? Owned? The underworld he commanded. The house with all of those memories. The terrible ones and the good ones.
There was a freedom in this little country at the bottom of the world. In the little house on the beach. In Jay.
Certainly, he still liked control in the bedroom. Or on the sofa. Or the balcony. Or the kitchen counter. Yes, he liked control in all of those areas. And in those areas, I liked giving it to him. No, I loved giving it to him.
Yet there were no other places he tried to take it.
Not here.
Not in our magical corner at the bottom of the world. He was still Jay, of course. Still shadows, angles, darkness. But there was something about him, away from his kingdom, his stomping ground, away from whatever it was he did back home, that made him lighter. Made that twinkle in his eye that much brighter. Made the corners of his mouth move upward in something almost resembling a smile.
The only hiccup we had was the wrap party he attended with me. Which itself was shocking. I’d mentioned it to him, told him that he could come in that offhand, casual kind of way that made it seem like I didn’t mind one bit if he didn’t—because that’s what I was expecting—when really, I was desperate for it. For him to be that kind of ... fiancé—it still felt very weird thinking of him as that, calling him that—who could and would come to parties, events, shaking hands, making jokes, easing himself into the crowds.
But to have that kind of man, I’d have to abandon my life with Jay. Because Jay didn’t ease into crowds, they parted for him. He didn’t make jokes, didn’t commence in meaningless small talk. He intimidated people without meaning to, he put them on guard. And then there was the matter of how protective he was over me. To say the least.
Yes, New Zealand was magical and special in many ways. It stripped away layers of Jay, showed me parts of him that I’d ached to uncover. But it did not change the core of him, nor did I want it to.
Even if he pissed me off royally at the wrap party.
Everyone was surprised to see me arrive at the party with a man. Especially with a man like Jay. He was not wearing a ten-thousand-dollar suit. He was wearing jeans and a tee—what he’d been wearing for the entirety of the trip, and man, could he wear the absolute shit out of jeans and a tee. It was slightly off putting, seeing him without his protective clothing, but heartwarming to see him shed his armor, even if it was only for a short time.
Though I loved a cocktail party and a black-tie event as much as the next fashionista, I also enjoyed the informality of this country. The ‘come as you are’ mentality. Which was what the wrap party was. A barbeque. A lot of beer. Soft, reggae-type music filtering through the speakers. The party venue itself was nowhere near informal. It was in a large, sprawling house, open plan, with every single door and window open, a courtyard full of people and money leaking from every piece of furniture and décor.
The house was being rented by one of the stars of the mini-series, Avery Anderson. She was touted as a diva by the media because she talked back to producers and directors that talked down to her, and she’d refused to work on a movie until she was being paid equal to her male co-stars. There were also the regular rumors of her commanding crew not to look her in the eye and having assistants fired for not providing her with the right brand of designer water. Which couldn’t be further from the truth. Avery Anderson was intelligent, soft spoken and one of the hardest workers on the set. She was nice to everyone from the sound guy to the director. Her and I might’ve gotten on better had I been more of a functioning human being, able to smile, joke and respond to her warm personality. Alas, I had not.
She’d had to fly out the second filming wrapped for a movie but had offered her rental to the crew. People who’d worked with her before said that she did that kind of thing often, yet she was still hailed as a diva and a bitch in the media.
It was the way it was for women. Yet men like Jay were powerful, forces to be reckoned with, no matter what they did.
