All That Jazz (Butler Cove #1)(56)

I stopped reading. I must have made some sound because Woody was in front of me. Crouching in front of me.

“You okay?” I saw his mouth form the words. But he spoke them from very far away.

“Jazz,” he said again.

I was shaking. No, he was shaking me. He was holding my shoulder.

“Jazz, are you okay?”

No. No, I was not okay.

Woody took the letter from my hands and read the words. His brow furrowed and then he brought a fist up to his mouth. His grey rheumy eyes filled with water.

He looked up at me. This dear, dear man who’d watched me grow up. Who was there for me when my mom wasn’t. When my dad wasn’t. I reached out and laid my hand on his. “It’s okay, Woody.”

“I’d never have given this to you if I’d known.”

“I know,” I said. “Can you read it to me. I only got about half way.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded.

Woody pulled up a chair next to me and sat.

“...and an even better friend.” He picked up where I’d stopped. “I have informed your father’s lawyer of the news I received from the magazine. I’m sure they’ve been in touch. I believe they will want to do their own investigation and get confirmation and reports etc. before dispersing his estate, but in the meantime I thought you’d want to have this, his most beloved Leica camera. It was his first professional camera. Still works like a beauty, but he preferred to take equipment he didn’t mind losing or damaging. I am enclosing the last letter you wrote him unopened and this picture of you. You look like you have his fire.”

Woody smiled lightly at that. “Ain’t that the truth.”

I swallowed. “Go on.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Woody read on. “I only have this address for you. If you are ever in New York, please look me up. I’d love to meet the daughter of such a talented man. David Fraser had a gypsy soul and a free bird’s heart. A bird who liked to fly too close to the sun. He will be sorely missed. Warmest regards and deepest sympathies, Albert Hoffman.”

He folded the letter. I gripped my hands together, squeezing hard. Then I squeezed my eyes shut as hard as I could. Then my teeth. As if I could keep the shock and grief contained.

Woody laid his hands over mine. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

I opened my eyes. “It’s fine, Woody. I didn’t even f*cking know him. So is it really a loss?”

He pursed his lips. “You’re hurting.”

“Actually, I’m not. Not at all. I feel quite … pain-free. I grew up just fine without him. What did he really contribute in the whole grand scheme of things, you know?”

My heart thumped erratically. It pounded in my ears and beat in my throat. I needed to be alone.

I stood up, accidentally dropping the letter and picture. I picked them up clumsily, stuffing them in the envelope.

Woody stared nervously at me.

“I’m fine, Woody. Seriously. It was just unexpected. Of course I’m sad. But I’m fine. I’m gonna go put this in the apartment.”

I gave him a hug. “Thank you.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

I nodded and grabbed the box. “Yes.”

Hurrying to my apartment, I slipped into my room through the sliding door and dumped the box on my bed. Then I took the picture and walked through to the kitchen. Mom was still not home, which suited me fine at that moment. I reached up into the cupboard above the fridge and pulled down the vodka. There was only about a fifth of a bottle left. Dammit. I stuffed it in my back pack and then slipped back through my bedroom and out the door. I took the long way around and made it to my kayak without Woody seeing me. I glided over dark water to All That Jazz.

As soon as I was down inside the cabin, I turned on the camp lantern and put some Ella on really low. I wished I could play it loud and lose myself but sound carried over the water. I swallowed down a shot of vodka. Followed by two more.

Ugh, it made me feel ill. I put the rest of the bottle away.

I was at a loss. It didn’t feel comforting being here at all. The music wasn’t helping. I fidgeted and pulled the photo of me in my cowgirl boots out. I couldn’t even summon up the happy feeling I’d had upon first seeing it. I think I’d even laughed. How was that possible?

Had my father taken this photo, or had my mother sent it?

Why was I even out here? I let out a long sigh.

Then I heard the unmistakable sounds of someone outside, tying up a kayak. I knew it was Joey. And tonight I was going to make sure he helped me forget everything.





I POPPED MY head above deck, and as soon as I confirmed it was Joey, I climbed down without saying a word. Perfect.

I felt cold and lifeless in my chest, which was unexpected. I thought I’d be sadder about my dad by now. At least now that the shock had worn off. But maybe it hadn’t.

Running shoes and bare calves appeared on the ladder.

I sat on the bench and waited for him to climb down. Joey turned, and I grabbed his hand, pulling him down toward me.

He laughed lightly at my enthusiasm and dropped his lips to mine.

Opening my mouth under his, I kissed him hard. I kissed him like I was wild with want. I was wild. But it was wildness borne of a frantic need to feel something. To feel anything. I grabbed his hair and stroked his tongue with mine.