Brilliant

  BRILLIANT

  Lark O’Neal

  Going the Distance: Book Four

  Copyright © 2014 Barbara Samuel

  Book Production Sharon Schlicht

  Cover Image: © Amanda C Johansen

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This one is dedicated to the NAAU gang. Love and kisses. Couldn't have done it without you.

  PROLOGUE

  TYLER

  I’m crashing on the bed of my hotel room, as exhausted as I’ve ever been, when the commercial comes on TV. The commercial Jess made in New Zealand.

  My brain is back on the slopes, reviewing each move, each flip and turn and rotation. My scores were decent, but they’re going to have to be better than decent to make the team. My bad hip is on fire and my left ankle has been giving me a lot of shit, but I can feel the cohesiveness of everything else, muscles and bones and tendons, buzzing but whole and working cohesively. If I hadn’t landed in a sloppy crap mess on the second run, I’d be top tier right now.

  But that’s how it rolls.

  I’m icing the ankle, flipping channels—click, click, click—and there she is, Jess, coming out of the water in a wet suit, laughing. There she is, kayaking on the open sea. There she is, bobbing in the water with a pod of dolphins dancing around her.

  And Kaleb is there, too, vigorous and focused entirely on Jess, his crazy-fantastic tiger eyes shooting sparks of attraction.

  Come to New Zealand.

  It’s over.

  Adrenaline surges through my legs and chest, forcing me off the bed to pace toward the window, back to stare at the television, back to the window. My thoughts are racing, insanely jealous and furious and even, yeah, violent, because I’d like to obliterate that guy, right off the planet, him with his knowing eyes and unshakable expression. He looked at me like that in the bar in Queenstown, holding up a hand in case I meant Jess harm, but unrattled when I kissed her, right in front of him.

  As if he had nothing to worry about.

  Fuck.

  In minutes, my ears are roaring as I replay the commercial in my head, over and over. It’s the crazy-town roar, I know it, but that doesn’t stop me from slamming open my laptop and stabbing in a search for “come to New Zealand commercial” and then playing the fuckers seven times in a row, all three of them, all about Jess and Kaleb falling in love against a backdrop of New Zealand.

  There are two scenes that send knives through my heart. The first is the dolphin scene. Both of them are star-struck, gilded, and amazed, and there’s a second when their eyes lock that you know how they’re feeling about each other.

  The second one is on the deck of a boat or a ferry or something. The landscape behind them is enormous, imposing and astonishing. Kaleb puts his hand on her face and kisses her in a way that isn’t like a commercial at all, but when he lifts his head, it’s the expression on Jess’s face that nearly breaks me. I know that expression—her clear pale eyes brimming with love, but more than that. It says if I don’t fuck you in the next six seconds, I’ll die of hunger. I’ve seen it when she looks up at me, but this time, she’s looking at Kaleb.

  Yeah, she’s acting. Maybe she’s just that good.

  But what if she’s not just acting? What if all this time I’ve been giving her is going to mean I lose her forever?

  After the encounter in Queenstown, when she kissed me back but held on to Kaleb’s hand, Jess set down some rules. She had feelings for both of us, she said, and needed some space to figure out what that meant and what she should do. She asked if we could all just…date.

  I laughed out loud when she asked me in a Skype call. “What does that even mean?” I asked, and then narrowed my eyes. “Is Electra behind this?” It seemed like something the woman would say.

  Jess nodded stiffly, and I realized I’d hurt her feelings. “I talked to her about it.”

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed. It’s just such an old-school idea.”

  “Maybe.” She shrugged one slim shoulder. “But the truth is, if you’re going to make the Olympic team, your energy needs to be on training. I want to stay here with my dad for awhile, work in the greenhouse with him, and learn the vines and go surfing with him. Kaleb landed a part, so he’s going to be filming on the north island for the next couple of months. It just seems like a good idea to use this time to sort of—step back.”

  My heart dropped, but she was right in a way. There was no way I had much left over for anything but training. And if Kaleb was gone, too, then I wouldn’t feel so anxious about it. “Okay. Tell me the rules.”

  There weren’t many. She wouldn’t sleep with either one of us, and she wanted to get rid of Skype, too, which I resisted but eventually gave in. Her theory was that she wanted to remove the physical stuff and focus on the mental/emotional connections. Whatever. As if the chemistry isn’t the heart of everything.

  She also said, “If you want to go out with someone else, you should.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Go out?”

  “You know what I mean. It’s not realistic to ask you to be faithful. Not when we are so far apart and will be for such a long time.”

  A stone fell into my gut. “It sounds like you’re cutting me loose.”

  “No!” she put her hand to the screen. “Not at all.” Her eyes were so troubled that it softened my throat and I leaned in, wishing I could press my forehead against hers, that I could breathe in the scent of her skin. She said, “I just don’t know how to sort out my feelings without doing this.”

  The thing is, I never stop thinking about her. Never. It’s been nearly four months since that day at the bar in Queenstown, and I still wake up with her on my mind, and it’s still her I imagine when my unused dick needs at least my hand for the moment.

  A lot of women are around now that the Grand Prix qualifying events have started, and I get my share of invitations. I haven’t taken any of them, yet.

  But now, my old enemy is running bright red up all the nerves in my body, setting them on fire. I can’t sit still. I fling my body out of the chair, feeling the pulse of fury banging at the top of my head, threatening to blow the top off. This thing, this madness, is what put me in jail. It’s what made me lose it over Jess’s old boyfriend and in the end, lose her.

  What feels good?

  That was the trick the therapist finally settled on. What would feel good, not bad?

  Breaking faces. Not an option.

  Throwing something through the window. Not an option.

  Seeing her, holding her. A cool breeze blows on my hot nerves. Yes.

  I have exactly five days before my next obligation, not an official training run, but a hard-to-get one-on-one with a famous coach.

  Five days. It will take at least twenty-four hours to fly to New Zealand, another twenty-four to get back. Which, given the loss of a day when I cross the dateline, will give me about a day to spend with Jess.

  See her. Touch her skin. Kiss her.

  Surely kissing is allowed.

  Even if it isn’t, I can convince her. I know it. That’s where chemistry comes in handy.

  I open another window on the laptop and search for flights leaving in the morning from Denver. I’ll be back in time for the meeting.

  It costs a liver and an arm to get the tickets, but I take it out of the slush fund my dad established, then head out to find
my coach Alice and break the news. She’s gonna flip out. The flights are dehydrating. My body needs the downtime. We have some important shit coming up and she’ll think I’m blowing it off.

  It’s insane.

  But I don’t care. I’m going.

  Chapter ONE

  JESS

  I’m in the greenhouse when the phone call comes, the call that turns my life upside down, again. It’s hot and I’m working next to the open door, hoping to catch some stray breezes. The dog is crashed in a thick patch of shade next to a broom bush, and a fly keeps landing on his nose.

  It’s December, only eight days until Christmas. The sun is high and hot, the air as still as a held breath. My dad says the grapes love this weather, especially when the nights get cool with breezes off the ocean.

  I’m by myself at the moment, a rarity these days. Dad and Katie have gone to Wellington for some winery business stuff, Darcy is living in Christchurch after much begging, and Kaleb is on the North Island, finishing a stint on a popular television series he landed after our commercial. The offers have come in hard and heavy for him, and I’ve hardly seen him the past three months—he’s only been home twice since September, both whirlwind trips to mostly help my dad. We had one weekend up in Auckland, which I keep trying not to think about because it kind of broke the rules I set up for this crazy triangle thing.

  Anyway.

  I did not get the part I read for after the commercial, which was not as disappointing as I thought it might be. It’s been good to stop and take a breath here with my dad. We’ve been surfing and exploring the world I almost remember now. He’s had a couple of gatherings so I could get reacquainted with my cousins and my Nan and my aunts and uncles. So much family! It’s heaven. It’s funny to see things in other people, like the same shape of our mouths, and the tendency toward a slightly crooked eyetooth, even a way of laughing. I’ve never had this in my life, and it thrills me.

  The other thing I’ve been doing is working with my dad, learning the vines. He’s given me a section of the greenhouse for my own stuff, and I’ve been growing flowers of various kinds—some gloxinias and a couple of orchids, and a lot of other more mundane things, which I’ve been planting around the house and the café area.

  It’s been a fantastic four months. Not having to work my ass off. Not having to hustle to keep a roof over my head. Not worrying every second if I have enough money for both gas and food. I stashed my money from the commercial, so I have a cushion. My dad loves me and wants me to stay here, so I have no rent. He pays me to help around the vineyard. I’m learning so it’s not tons of money, but enough.

  The thing I haven’t been thinking a lot about is what to do about Kaleb and Tyler. Nothing has changed. I love them both for different reasons, and both of them have been willing to step back and give the whole thing some time. I haven’t had to take any action because they’ve both been so swamped with their own stuff.

  That’s about to change, in a big way.

  My phone rings against my butt, and thinking it’s my dad calling to check in, I swing it up to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Jess,” says an American accented voice, very rumbly and deep. “This is Peter Barlow, with Blue Lagoon Productions.”

  My heart squeezes inside out, making it impossible to speak for what seems like a year. Then it rights. “Yeah, hi.”

  “I’m calling with what I hope is good news. We want to offer you the part of Jules in Torches.”

  “What?” My voice squeaks. I curl my body around the phone, swinging away from the too bright sunlight as if it might be creating a mirage. It’s been a couple of months since I auditioned for this part, in a cold dry room up in Auckland. I just assumed I didn’t get it. It is the most piercing, crazy-beautiful story, and I can admit now that I really, really, really wanted it. “Oh, my God, yes, yes. Of course I do. It’s the most beautiful story ever.”

  “You’re perfect, Jess, and the writer especially wanted you. I’ve called your agent, too, of course, and he’s going to call you with all the financials and other details, but I asked if I could break the news.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Barlow. Really. Thank you so much.” I take a breath, wondering about Kaleb. “Are you allowed to tell me who is playing Rome?”

  “Oh, of course. It’s your friend Kaleb—it was the pair of you that made the magic.”

  A bloom of yellow happiness bursts around me. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I’m so excited my mouth is as dry as the dust under my feet. “Thank you!”

  “It’s my pleasure,” he chuckles. “I’ll see you very soon.”

  The phone clicks off, and the happiness fills my legs and arms, electrifying my spine so much that I have to run outside and twirl in a circle, laughing, my head back, the sun on my face. The dog jumps up and runs around in a circle, barking, and I let everything sparkle through me, like a thousand stars. I laugh and stomp my feet and laugh some more.

  Torches was one of the biggest teen novels of the year last year, a story of star-crossed lovers sort of loosely based on Romeo and Juliet. I read it when I found out they wanted me to try out for the part, and I cried so hard that there was a pool of tears on the table when I was finished.

  My phone rings in my hand. It’s Kaleb. “Hey, Jules,” he says in his sexy Kiwi accent. “It’s Rome.”

  The night we spent in Auckland comes rushing back, hot and sexy and full of all the emotion we generated reading the script. My skin goes hot from forehead to toes. “Oh, my God, Kaleb, can you believe it? We’re in!”

  “We’re going to America!”

  I laugh, that this is the first thing. “It’s the best story!”

  “Darcy is going to kill me.”

  “She can come visit. I mean, I haven’t asked, but I’m guessing one of us can afford to fly her out, right?”

  It’s his turn to laugh. “You haven’t asked?”

  “Is it a lot?”

  “Yeah, Jess.” He pauses. “It’s a lot. Neither one of us will have to worry about much for a long time to come.”

  It seems distant and strange, not real. “I can’t believe it.”

  “I know.” He pauses briefly, then, “Ted is on the other line. I’m sure he’s calling with details. Talk soon, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I hang up and laugh some more, spinning in a circle of happiness, my hair flying around me. I have to cut my hair, I realize—it was one of the stipulations—but I don’t even care right now.

  The story is so, so, so good. I can’t wait to bring it alive.

  * * *

  I’m too filled with excitement to focus on the plants, so I head inside the house and try to phone my dad, but I know he’s in meetings. I leave him a chirpy message: “Hey, Dad, call me. I have some very interesting news.”

  My agent Ted calls, too. I never think he likes me that much, honestly, but he loves Kaleb and so reps me, too. This time he’s really excited and congratulatory. He’s going to send an email with all the important stuff in it, but just wanted to let me know the details himself. “You’re going to be great, Jess,” he says.

  “Thanks.”

  “Things are going to jump off as soon as they make the announcement. Enjoy the calm before the storm.”

  The storm? I’m not sure what he’s talking about, but I don’t want to say that. “Um, I sure will. It’s almost Christmas.”

  “So it is.”

  My excitement is like big soap bubbles rising through my body and popping out of the top of my head, all iridescent and amazing. I laugh again.

  I check the time and it’s fine to call the US, so I pull up Skype on the iPad and try Tyler first. I’ve been mainly trying to keep to phone conversations and emails, which is a suggestion Electra—who is sort of a friend, sort of a mentor/mother in my life—gave me when I was so freaked out over my conflicting feelings for two guys. If I’m not looking at either one of them, I’m focusing more on who they are.

  But this is special—such big, big news deserves to
be shared face to face. Unfortunately, he doesn’t pick up.

  A little deflated, I try my stepdad Henry and then Electra, but neither one of them are home, either. It’s too soon to post anything to Facebook, or Instagram, which I’ve started to use a lot more lately. I follow both Tyler and Kaleb’s feeds there—they both have a bizarre number of followers. Kaleb’s numbers have been creeping way, way up since the news came out that he would play the boyfriend of a girl in a popular TV series for a five-episode set, which is what he’s been filming up North. Ted asked him to start posting something most days, and although he resisted at first he’s been really good with it—silly selfies with one actor or another, crazy pictures of the dogs and cats he sees, and shots of all the behind the scenes people on the set. He also takes pictures of bottles of Long Cloud Wine whenever he sees them, and there are some of us whenever we get together. A lot during the trip to Auckland, and some around the winery.

  Tyler, on the other hand, shoots pictures of himself and his friends doing crazy stunts, powder flying everywhere, girls and guys both. His coach Alice figures in a lot, scowling over a meal or cheering him with a beer. There’s another girl, too, also an Olympic contender, the younger sister of one of his friends, he says, and a daredevil who has a taste for river rapids and rock climbing. I have sort of wondered if she might be somebody he might have sex with sometimes, but something about the way he talks about her makes me think not. Like a kid sister.

  It’s weird that he never posts pictures of his paintings, but he never does. I’ve never heard him mention that part of himself in interviews, either. He’s been doing a lot of interviews lately, everyone intrigued by the has-been making his comeback.

  Anyway. I can’t post to Instagram about the film, either, but I can post a selfie of me smiling gigantically. Something exciting just happened. #secret

  Now what? All the lovely alone time now just seems irritating. Katie told me I could start decorating the Christmas tree if I wanted. She’s set up a fake green tree, really pretty, in the corner of the family room. The ornaments are in a storage area with everything else people don’t use—old skis and a pair of skates, boxes and boxes, few of them with anything on the outside. At the back, there are a couple that say Xmas, and I drag them into the family room one at a time. Neither is heavy.