I have to say that I have a special place in my heart for today's hero, Jace Riga. He is the king of all my nice guys, because his goodness is unwavering. Whereas many of my other "good guys," like Graham and Jonah, have their missteps, Jace is like a lighthouse in the storm. This wounded war vet, who lost his leg in the service of our country, has a very strong sense of what is right and what is wrong, but mostly what is worth living - and dying - over. He plops into my heroine's life right when she needs a strong, steady influence the most.
In this way, he's much like my husband, Steven. More than that, he truly, truly, loves Jordi for who she is. He sees her in a way she can't see herself, because she has so many outside voices telling her she's not good enough because she's fat. He doesn't see any of that. He sees her talent, her strength, her heart... her. In that way, he's most like Steven.
He's the kind of guy who would buy a lonely girl a rose just to make her smile, or give that much-needed pep talk to lift someone's spirits and get them ready to go back in the ring. And he's the kind of guy who decides a woman is worth romancing, even when the rest of the world would rather she didn't exist at all.
“What is this?”
“This, Boo Boo,” he said as he pulled a basket from the back of the cart, “is a pick-a-nick.” I couldn’t help but giggle as we climbed into the boat. He shoved off and we drifted along the water. “I figure why stay on a stuffy old sound stage when we have the entire universe at our disposal?”
“I like the way you think. Maybe tomorrow we can dine at a Paris bistro.”
“Consider it done, mademoiselle,” he said with a really bad accent.
He rowed us out into the center of the pond, then placed the oars inside so we could bask in the afternoon sun. He then pantomimed being a waiter as he pulled out the basket full of food, which included a fruit platter, some cheese and crackers and a bottle of sparkling grape juice. I had to laugh when he made a production out of uncapping the juice and pouring it into some plastic stemware. He sniffed the juice, then swirled it around in his mouth like wine. “A lovely vintage,” he pronounced. “Sweet with a hint of fruit. But it will sneak up on you if you’re not careful,” he advised with a wink.
I couldn’t help but giggle as he poured me a glass. “You have excellent taste,” I complimented after I took a sip.
“I’m a man of many talents,” he assured as he spread some cheese on a cracker. He fed me the first bite, which I savored with eyes closed. To return the favor, I spread cheese on another cracker, topped it with a grape and fed it to him.
Our eyes met as his sensual mouth closed over the food. It sparked something way deep down inside of me that took me so off guard I almost gasped.
“Delicious,” he said softly, before feeding me a plump, juicy grape.
The way he watched my mouth as I took a bite unsettled me even further. Clearly this was heat stroke. I pried myself out of his intense gaze and reached for my glass of juice.
“I’m so glad Imogene didn’t eat you and spit out your bones. I would have hated to miss this.”
He laughed. “No, she took pity on me. But she did say that my song choices were a bit too dated.”
“What did you pick?” I asked.
He told me the title of a 1970s tune that talked about being lonely. The sheer coincidence that he’d pick a song like that when I had told Jorge that was how I was feeling nearly knocked me into the water. I was speechless as he went on. “She told me that I needed to pick something more current.” He named her selection, which as a fine song, and would certainly win him some fans with girls especially. A veteran singing a song about heroes? It couldn’t lose.
“I think I would have liked to hear the first one,” I mused.
“All you have to do is ask,” he offered softly.
My eyes searched his. Finally I said, “Sing it to me.”
He gave me a tender smile before he started to sing. It wasn’t a showstopper by any means. It was quiet and sweet and sentimental, and for that moment it was as if he was singing it especially for me. I was captive in his eyes as he sang. He hit a falsetto that gave me chills as he finished the song. I didn’t even know he could pull off that kind of range. Imogene wasn’t as smart as she liked to think she was if she discouraged him from singing this song.
“That was beautiful, Jace.”
“To be honest with you, you kind of inspired it.”
“Me?”
He nodded. “I thought about you all weekend,” he confessed, and for a second I couldn’t breathe. “I knew how rough it was for you, and I just wanted to let you know that I would be there for you if you needed someone to talk to. A friend,” he clarified. Then, softer, “Maybe more.”
“Jace,” I started, but he was quick to cut me off.
“Was that out loud?” he joked. He looked away, and I could see how much courage it took him to admit how he was feeling. Despite his flawless good looks, he faced the same kind of rejection I did from a society that demanded perfection. What was worse, the things that made me different I did to myself. The thing that made him different had been done to him in a cruel twist of fate.
I scooted from my bench over to his and took his hand in mine. “Jace,” I started again, wanting to say so many things but at a loss for words. When his eyes met mine, there was only one thing to say. “I’ve been thinking about you, too.”
His eyes searched my face. My breath caught and held as his our gazes locked. Desire poured from his soul as his head tilted slowly towards mine. His lips were warm and firm as they covered my mouth in series of slow, open-mouthed kisses, each hungrier than the last. My heart raced as his hand slipped into my hair, cupping my head as his fingertips gently brushed my scalp. When his tongue pushed through my lips, I was beyond stopping him.
I groaned in my throat as the kiss deepened. Every nerve ending came alive under his touch, and my frustrating weekend bubbled to the surface as he explored my mouth. When he finally dragged his mouth away, he rested his forehead against mine. “I’ve wanted to do that all day,” he whispered.
“Why?” I couldn’t help but asking. Of all the women on this lot to romance, why me?
His eyes locked with mine. “Because you’re sexy.”
I shook my head and looked away, but he was quick to grab my chin with his hand. “You come alive on that stage, Jordi,” he told me. “There’s something magical about you. Something beautiful.”
I chortled in disgust. “Please.”
“Why don’t you believe it?” he wanted to know.
“Why are you the only one who sees it?” I demanded in return.
“I’m not,” he assured. “And soon you’ll see that. You’re going to win this whole thing. I feel it.” He traced the line of my face with his finger.
“Pretty soon the whole world is going to know what kind of star you are.”
He is by every definition of the word a hero. I can't even think about him without swooning a little bit.
In fact, Jordi was the one who routinely made the mistakes that hurt their relationship, thanks to her massive insecurities and the influence of her less-than-loving inner circle, which we see play out in that very same scene when she withdraws from his passionate embrace, and has to tell him why.
“Things… happened this weekend,” I tried to explain. “When I went home. There was this party and all the people I knew… all the people I thought I wanted to like me or love me or want me.”
A look of understanding dawned on his face. He sat back and waited.
“My mother is moving out here. She’ll be here a few days.”
“And?” he asked softly, as though he sensed there was something more.
“And,” I started, taking a deep breath, “my boyfriend is coming with her.”
He closed his mouth and gulped down anything he might have said in response. It only made me want to explain even more.
“I’ve been in love with Eddie Nix since I was eight years old. And now he wants me too. And my mom thinks that we’d be a good match, so she let him stay in the house…”
Jace reached for the oars to row us back to the shore. “I get it,” was his clipped response. “This was pity.”
“No!” I was quick to correct. “It’s not pity.”
His eyes flashed as he turned back to face me. “Then what was it?”
“I don’t know. I’m confused. I’ve never felt lonelier in my whole life the way I felt this weekend. The best thing about getting what I thought I wanted from him? The texts I got from you.” He stopped rowing. “And now they’re coming and I’m not even sure I want them here. This is all happening so fast.” I cursed the tear that escaped from the corner of my eye. Jace captured it on the tip of his finger.
“Don’t cry,” he said softly. “You’ll ruin Jorge’s makeup,” he added with a grin, which made me laugh despite myself.
“I’m sorry,” I offered, for what it was worth.
“I’m not,” he told me. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time. I won’t apologize for that. The only thing I regret is that I didn’t do it sooner.”
I took both of his hands in mine. “Me too.”
He squeezed my hands in his as he gave me a reassuring smile. He pulled me into a long hug, but he didn’t try to kiss me again. He was too honorable a man.
In fact, despite how horrible both her "boyfriend" Eddie and her mother are to her, Jordi's insecurities remain her biggest antagonist all the way through all three books. (I know a little about that, too.)
My message in this series was simple. You can have THE perfect man, who loves you like you never thought you'd ever be loved, but if you don't love yourself, if you don't think you are worthy of every good gift he has to give you, you run the risk of losing it all.
Granted, it's hard to stay body-positive in a world that doesn't want to hear anything from a fat person except how they plan to become thin, as if that excuses you in some way for committing the sin of being overweight. Eddie and Jordi's mother were horrid, yes, but they were the vocal embodiment of our culture, in which we shame someone for not being more like we think they should be.
Allow me to introduce Eddie.
“A steak, Jordi? Really?”
“What’s wrong with a steak? You got one.”
“I’m also not a hundred pounds overweight,” he said as he cut off his first piece.
His comment cut me to the core. “So what am I supposed to eat? Lettuce?”
“For a while, maybe,” he offered as he dug into his baked potato covered in sour cream, bacon and cheese. “You’ve gained a lot of weight since you’ve been out here, Jordi. And that was weight you couldn’t afford to gain.”
“I see,” I said as I put the plastic dome back over my plate. I rose to my feet and went into the bedroom, but he didn’t bother to jump up from his side of the sofa until he saw me carrying my bag toward the door.
“Where are you going?” he wanted to know.
“Home,” I said, trying my best not to cry. I would be damned to show him how hurtful his comments were.
He met me at the door and held it shut so I couldn’t leave. “Jordi, you have to know that the way you are isn’t healthy.”
“I took a physical for the show,” I informed him. “I’m in fine health.”
“For now,” he conceded. “But you are on a fast track to an early grave. Only the people that really love you will tell you the truth about that.”
I looked into his eyes, searching for a hint of sincerity. He was saying the words, but why didn’t they make me feel any better? “You love me?” I asked.
He took the bag from my hand. “I’m here, right?” He took my hand and led me away from the door. He dropped my bag into a chair and pulled me down onto the sofa. “More than that, I got my mom’s wedding dress out of storage. I brought it here to Los Angeles. All we need to get married is for you to fit into it. Then we’re solid for life.”
“Why do I have to lose weight for you to marry me?” I wanted to know. “Are you embarrassed by me? Like you were in Iowa when you were sneaking around to see me on the sly?”
“Jordi,” he began, but I cut him off.
“You think I’m stupid,” I accused. “I know why you never told anyone about me.”
“I was a stupid kid,” he offered. “But I’m a man now. And I’m willing to come here to Los Angeles and support you in your career. I left my home, my family, my school. How many other guys do you think would do that? All I ask is that you meet me halfway. Show me that you are equally committed to our future. I mean, look at you, Jordi. Where do you see yourself in ten years, honestly? You think you could have babies being so overweight? How healthy would that be for you or for them?”
I turned away so he couldn’t see the tears.
“I’m not going to settle down with a wife I’ll have to bury at age 40. I’m healthy and strong for you. I just ask you do whatever it takes to be that way for me.” He lifted my head with his hand. “What better time to fix this problem than when you have the show? Imagine how many people you will win over as they watch you lose weight. People love a winner, babe. You could be that.”
My chin trembled. “I could win without losing weight, too. That’s the whole point of the show.”
He brushed my hair back with his hand. “I think you know deep down that will never happen. If you don’t have any respect for yourself, why would anyone else?”
The difference between the two men sounds night and day, as if any sane girl could tell the difference and know instinctively who to pick. But Jordi is a very young girl who has been browbeat all her life for not being (whatever the people she wanted to love her wanted her to be) enough. She wasn't thin. She wouldn't have known how to play it small. She had outgrown her cage by the time she was eighteen years old, and flew the coop accordingly.
The only cage left was wanting to prove to her childhood crush and her mother that she was good enough. She was special enough. She could be and was already a winner. Yet, despite how well she did on the show, they could never see that simply because she wasn't dropping the weight. She could win a hundred competitions, or sell out hundreds of arenas all over the globe, full of fans who loved her not in spite of who she was but because of it. Yet her final value for them and so many others like them, was how she looked. That wasn't even her issue, yet they felt perfectly entitled to punish her for it.
There are people who won't read this book because it's a romance starring a big girl, and they don't want to read about a fat girl having sex. We can crawl into the skin of just about anyone in a book, from Scarlet O'Hara to Hannibal Lecter, but for some reason being a fat person finding love is just too "oogie." Sadly this proves I didn't exaggerate with these awful characters - the kind of people we are told "love" us enough to treat virtually treat us like shit. And we somehow deserve it for not being something/someone else. In the scene above with Eddie, we see him employ all the pseudo-caring bullshit that lift him up into a position of superiority over her where he is allowed to (and in many cases, encouraged to) punish her for not being more like him. If he mocks her, insults her or hurts her feelings, then it's her fault for not being what he wants her to be. If she doesn't like it, then she can change. And we expect her to, even though he hurts her feelings because he WANTS to hurt her, simply because she's fat and he doesn't like it.
Personally I think that is the least loving thing anyone could do.
There is so much more to Jordi than a double-digit dress size. Those readers can't see it. Many people in our culture can't see it. So needless to say her very own mother and first boyfriend couldn't see it either. That's as realistic as it gets, folks.
The only one who saw it was Jace Riga - and in that way, he does Steven proud. (And guess what? That's pretty damned realistic too. I'm living proof.)
Jace was movie-star handsome, but he was no longer "perfect" due to his missing leg. It gave him perspective what it would feel like to go through this world surrounded by people who thought one was lesser than just by how they look. And he gave both Jordi and me perspective on how it would feel not to give a shit. I learn this during a moonlight swim one night at the mansion where all the Fierce contestants live. Jace had taken up swimming at midnight, just so he could take off his artificial leg and swim without bothering anyone. Everyone gave him a wide berth out of respect, figuring he wanted that alone time. One very memorable night, Jordi decides to join him.
Jace seemed startled to find me there as he walked over to one of the lounge chairs. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” he said offhand as he dumped his towel onto the chair.
“I’ve wanted to come down for a while,” I admitted. “Every midnight for two weeks,” I added softly.
The look in his eyes was intense as he sat on the chair. “Why didn’t you?”
“They told me this was your time. I didn’t want to impose.”
He chuckled. “I thought they were just uncomfortable.”
I shook my head. “They love you, Jace. They never wanted you to feel embarrassed.”
“I’m not,” he stated simply. His eyes never left my face as he proceeded to remove his artificial leg. I watched as he removed the prosthetic, and the supporting garments underneath, such as the sheath and the socks. When he stood, he didn’t waver. He hopped easily over to the edge and dove into the deep end.
I watched as he swam over to me, only breaking surface to pull himself up in front of me. “Come in with me,” he suggested softly.
I shook my head. “I don’t have a swimsuit.”
His hands ran up my bare legs to the edges of my shorts. “So?” Our eyes met and locked. He couldn’t really be asking what I thought he was asking.
Before I had any chance at all to argue, he grabbed my arms and pulled me into the water. “Jace!” I squealed as I toppled into the cold pool.
He wore a self-satisfied smirk. “Refreshing, isn’t it?”
Playfully I splashed him, and then swam away before he could retaliate. He was quick on my heels. He lifted me up and dunked me again.
“Of course you know,” I retorted, “this means war.”
I swam after him and then lifted him up to dunk him. We chased each other, splashed each other and played together for long, blissful, uninterrupted minutes. When we finally had to catch our breath, we swam lazily over to the shallow end by the steps. He propped himself up on one arm.
“That’s so much more fun when there’s someone else here,” he said with a crooked smile.
I nodded. Even though I wasn’t planning on getting in the pool, it had been way more fun than I imagined.
“There’s still one problem, though,” he said as he studied me thoughtfully.
“What’s that?” I asked breathlessly.
“You’ve seen what I normally don’t show the world. I think it’s only fair that you show me something, too.” His eyes traveled across my face and down to the wet shirt clinging to me like a second skin.
“You’ve seen it all,” I tried to argue as I crossed my arms in front of myself.
“No, I haven’t,” he insisted as he pulled my arms to my side. “But I’d like to."
It was a moment of shared vulnerability, which is what made this particular couple so damned special. He didn't shame her for falling short of his expectations. He included her, as is, opening up to a whole new life where - surprise, surprise - exercise could be fun, something they could do together. She didn't have to wait until she was thin to be included. He included her, and in that way helped her a few steps along in her journey, without the lectures and the piousness - and without making her feel bad. He didn't have to tear her down to build her up. He simply met her where she was. THAT is how you show love to someone. THAT is how you demonstrate you care. What Eddie did was self-centered. He piously beat her down for being "inferior," just because it gave him some perverse joy to do so... and then landed all the blame for the abuse on her shoulders.
Jace simply showed Jordi another way. Needless to say, this was a turning point in the relationship, though Jordi still had to wade through a lot of bullshit to be worthy of this particular hero. We see that play out in this scene as well. As always, her insecurities, fed daily by those inconsiderate assholes around her, played third wheel.
Only this time, Jace wasn't having it.
"Show me, Jordi."
“Someone will see,” I protested but he shook his head.
“No one comes down here, remember? Not once, in all these weeks. We’re all alone,” he promised. “I’ve been dreaming about this moment for months. Don’t make me wait anymore,” he begged as his hands slid up my arms.
My voice was small, like a squeak. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Yes, I do,” he said. “That’s why I am asking it. Show me,” he commanded again.
I was shaking as I leaned back and slowly peeled my shirt from my body. The argument to keep it on was really moot, as it didn’t hide anything. But it was a barrier, and I liked my barriers. And little by little, Jace Riga was stripping them all away.
I sat astride his lap in the water, wearing only my shorts and my bra. His hands slid up my back until his fingers reached the fastener. My breath caught and held as he released it and pulled the garment away. The longer he gazed upon my half naked body, the more naked I felt. “You’re beautiful,” he finally whispered as his fingers danced over my shoulder and across my sensitive flesh. “Like a goddess,” he said as he looked up into my eyes.
I shook my head. His praise was too lavish to be believed. Yet his body still strained against me. It was literally hard evidence that his compliment was sincere.
“Why don’t you believe me?” he wanted to know as his hands traced every spare inch of my exposed skin. “Why can’t you see how beautiful you are?”
“Because I’m not,” I answered tearfully. “I’m a 260-pound beached whale.”
His hand cupped my chin and he stared into my eyes. “Don’t you ever talk about yourself that way.”
I swallowed any self-effacing retort. “I just… I just don’t look like anyone else,” I offered helplessly.
“Why would I want you more if you did?” he asked.
This size-20+ girl needed to lose weight... but not the kind of weight you think. She needed to stop carrying around all the baggage that everyone wanted to heap onto her shoulders, to make her feel lesser than because she didn't fit in.
Both Jace and I agree...why fit in when you're born to stand out?
Jace Riga gave her permission to be herself, without shame and without apology. What better hero could there ever be?
Keep your men who fall in love with those "beautiful-but-don't-know-they're-beautiful-even-when-everyone-else-says-they're-beautiful" girls. I want the man who can see me at my worst and still think I'm the best damned thing that ever happened to him. Not sure why it's some unrealistic fantasy to find the guy who can love you for being "real." To me, that IS the fantasy. And it's worth chasing because it's every dream come true when you finally catch it.
I can't really "cast" Jace because the man I used to mentally fill in the photo was a man I lusted over when I was a kid myself, and I am currently not in possession of a time machine. I dug way back into the 1980s, when Blackie Parrish landed in Port Charles, bringing a little swoon-worthiness to my afternoons watching General Hospital.
Those who has read the book had directed me towards Alex Minksy, who is a hot vet with an artificial leg just like our Jace. I did pursue getting Alex to model for the cover, but at the time, I couldn't afford his rates. He was worth every penny, though, cuz ... look at him.
He's the reason that my squeaky clean vet got all tatted up and drove a motorcycle.
Like Graham, Jace pops up in whatever story that tickles my fancy, including THE UNDISCIPLINED BRIDE, ENTANGLED and CHASING THUNDER. And every time he appears, I swoon a little bit. He is by any definition the perfect man... simply because he can love an imperfect girl. And take it from me, Jordi and Bonnie Tyler, that's a hero totally worth holding out for.
Start your adventure with Jace Riga in FIERCE, which is free to read across all platforms.
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