Twenty-Eight
Rachael woke up slowly out of a deep sleep. She snuggled against a pillow, smelling Jake’s scent, before she remembered where she was and why. She sat bolt-upright, her heart pounding. She heard people talking and moving around in the other room. They didn’t sound upset—Rachael even heard Elena laugh. What was happening?
Rachael got dressed and splashed some water on her face. She’d shower later after she found out the repercussions from last night. All of them. Jake swore up and down that he loved her, that this changed nothing. But could she trust him? She’d grown up trusting no one for so long, taking care of herself without anyone having her back. Was that sad, lonely life really nearing an end? Could Jake help her find her mom, like he’d promised? Rachael wrapped her arms around herself at the thought. To have her father behind bars and her mom safe and back in her life, along with Jake. And with the freedom to sing her songs....
She caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror and her expression was one she didn’t recognize. She looked content. At peace.
“There she is,” Elena said when Rachael emerged from the bedroom. “Come sit down. I have breakfast for you. Though, it’s more like lunch now.” Elena gave Rachael a hug and Rachael kissed her cheek, suddenly fighting back tears. When had she become such a crybaby?When I started feeling safe enough to cry, she thought.
“Thanks, Elena. Is everything okay?”
“Just fine, now,” Elena said, looking into her friend’s eyes. “We’re gonna be all right.”
Rachael looked around for Jake as she sat.
“He’s checking in with his mama like a good boy,” Camden answered her silent question. “She worries.”
“Like any good mama,” Elena said as she put a plate down in front of Rachael.
“True, dat,” Camden said. Rachael saw a look pass between them quickly before Elena made an excuse to go check on Tina, who was down for a nap.Interesting. She’d never known Elena to look twice at a guy since her husband died.
Jake emerged from a bedroom, still on the phone. Even as he smiled at Rachael, her heart sank. She wasn’t a mother, so she couldn’t imagine how worried the woman on the other end of the line must feel. And it was all Rachael’s fault.
“Hang, on, Mom, she’s up. Yes, I will. Just…hold your horses, okay?” Jake rolled his eyes as he put the phone on mute.
“How’s Mom Collins?” Camden asked, obvious fondness in his voice.
“Bette is Bette and will always be Bette,” Jake laughed as he sat beside Rachael and kissed her cheek.
Rachael felt all the color drain out of her face as her eyes went round.No way. No. Freaking. Way.
“Wait. Jake? Your mom is Bette Collins?TheBette Collins? Like as in the Oscar winner forSeparationandStay Happy? AndOnce in a Lifetime, and that remake ofPride and Prejudice, and…”
Jake ended her movie list with a laugh and a kiss. “Yeah, Angel. That Bette Collins. And she wants to talk to you.”
Rachael covered her mouth. “Does she know what’s happening?”
Jake nodded. “She’s not supposed to, but she’s the best interrogator I’ve ever met.”
Oh, God. “Jake, I can’t talk to her! What the hell am I supposed to say? I mean, how much does she hate me?”
He furrowed his brow. “Why the hell would she hate you?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Because of all the danger I’ve put her son into, do you think?”
Camden stood up from the couch. “That’s my cue to, um, yeah.” And he left the room.
Rachael flinched as Jake reached for her. But instead of a rebuke, he pulled her into a passionate kiss. “Angel. I don’t ever want to hear you say that again. This is my job. Mom knows my job is dangerous. She knows just like I do that this isn’t your fault. She doesn’t hate you. Look, just take the call, okay? I think she’s the best person you could possibly talk to right now.” Jake handed Rachael his cellphone. “Now, unmute it and say hi.”
Rachael fumed. “Okay. But then you and I are gonna have ahugetalk ourselves.”
Jake smiled mysteriously. “Yes, we are.”
Rachael tried to steady her hand along with her nerves as her finger paused mid-air over the button that would connect her to one of the biggest stars in Hollywood. How was this even happening? Bette Collins wanted to talk to her, a nobody. Worse, a nobody who put her son’s life in jeopardy. How could this possibly go well?
She hit the button. “Hello?” Rachael cleared her throat which had gone as dry as western Nebraska in the middle of a drought. “Ms. Collins?”
“Oh, no, no, no. We are not starting out that way,” the famous voice on the other end said.
