“You need to get laid,” Derek said, settling back in his white wicker chair. The old furnishings had been in Jack’s family since the forties, and they creaked a bit under the man’s weight.
“Really.” Jack tossed his pen and linked his hands behind his head as he studied his campaign manager. Aside from politics, the guy thought of nothing but sex. Kind of inconvenient for a married man who liked variety.
“Really,” Derek replied, his dark eyes unwavering. “You haven’t been laid since you and Monique broke up.” Derek raised an eyebrow, a crooked smile in place. “Why don’t you call her? She’s not stupid, she’d come crawling back in a s
econd if you told her you wanted her. She’s just grandstanding. Waiting for an apology and truthfully, Jack, I don’t blame her. Hell, who would? Donovan fucking James? Your memory that screwed up?”
“Derek,” Jack warned. Donovan James was off limits. He wasn’t discussing her with anyone.
“I’m just saying,” Derek tossed back at him.
He’d known Derek McKenzie since fourth grade, and for most of his life, he’d considered Derek to be his best friend. They’d shared a lot of firsts together, including the bottle of lemon gin Jack’s father kept at the back of his liquor cabinet. They’d smoked their first joint together, lost their virginity within days of each other (to the same girl). They’d attended Harvard, did a tour of Europe and just for the hell of it, took a year off— one that they dubbed danger—to climb a mountain in Peru, ski the Swiss alps, explore the jungles of India and surf the coast of Australia.
Hell, for a while there, he’d been like an honorary Simon, always around the family. But something had changed over the past few years, and the two men weren’t as close as they once were. Jack wasn’t exactly sure when it had started, but he knew that sometimes people grew up and they grew apart.
Still, Derek McKenzie had a nose for politics like no other, and he was heading up Jack’s bid to become a senator.
Derek raked his hands through his thick crop of dark hair and shrugged. “I’m just telling it like it is. She wasn’t good for you five years ago, and she sure as hell would throw a wrench into our campaign now. Jesus Christ, you saw what happened with those pictures a few months back. The press would have a field day if you guys got together, and I’m not gonna let that happen.”
Again. The word was unspoken and Jack’s eyes flattened as he watched the play of emotion on Derek’s face. He’d never liked Donovan. Jack wasn’t exactly sure why, but the two had never gotten along.
“Derek,” he repeated, but his campaign manager plunged forward as if he never heard Jack.
“She might be a goddamn win in the sack, but she’d be a loss at the polls. We both know she’s nothing but an uneducated, backwoods hick who has no talent other than her tits and ass—”
“Enough,” Jack growled and this time Derek got it.
Jack got to his feet and faced the ocean, shoulders tight as hell and anger barely kept in check. “You and I are not having this discussion. My personal life is hands off and who I choose to spend time with is none of your business. You don’t want to push this Derek.”
“Am I interrupting?”
Both men glanced over at the young woman who stepped onto the porch and tossed a bright pink tote onto the low slung settee near the door. Jack’s eyes narrowed as he perused his younger sister from head to toe. Her skirt was on the short side, her top a little too low and—
“What the hell did you do to your hair?” Derek asked.
His sister Grace practically jumped up and down. “Do you like it?” She twirled around, that damn skirt lifting, and Jack swore when he caught sight of black underwear covering not nearly enough of her butt. The left side of her head was shaved, the top spiky and the rest hung nearly to her waist, the blond ends now a vibrant pink.
He sighed and hid a smile. Only Grace.
“Betty Jo’s stylist suggested it, and I love it.” She giggled. “I don’t think Mom is gonna be a fan but whatever.”
“Mom is going to have something to say for sure,” Jack replied.
Betty Jo was their brother Beau’s fiancé. A former fashion model and now a bona fide movie star in her own right, she was a little bit crazy and a whole lot fierce.
“She’s lucky.” Grace giggled. “The alternative was to go bald.”
“Bald?” Jack asked. Wow.
“Yep. Bald. It’s like, back in you know? And I have the right shape for it.”
“What the hell does the shape of your body have to do with shaving your hair off?” Was it just him? ‘Cause he sure as hell wasn’t following his sister’s logic.
“The shape of my head, Jack.” Grace studied him intently. “You could pull it off, you know.”
Derek groaned.
“You’ve got the Simon genes, so your face is pretty hot and your head is round so…”