Tak: The A**hole Club Series

by Ivy Harper

  “Fucking you would be like fucking a monk,” I said aloud. I gave a shiver.

  “I’m glad you feel that way,” he said. “Now that you’ve decided to show up, what do you want?”

  I turned around to fully face him as the hastily dressed woman ran past me and shut the door behind her.

  “I came about some very, very disturbing news,” I said, moving over to his desk. I turned and plopped down on top. Losing my joking tone, I continued. “You hired a babysitter for me?”

  “You signed yourself out of the hospital and took off for two fucking weeks.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  Kole walked around the desk and stopped beside me. Leaning over, he grabbed up a newspaper from off his desk and held it out to me. “This and your behavior of late tells me differently.”

  Snatching the newspaper from his hands, I looked at the headline. “Rocker returns after spiraling out and a failed suicide attempt.” I crumpled the newspaper in my hands. “I told you already. I. Didn’t. Try. To. Kill. Myself,” I snarled, throwing the crumpled paper to the floor. “It wasn’t me.”

  “Then who was it?” he asked, staring at me with those eyes filled with both skepticism and worry. He looked at me like he was the older brother I never asked for. “Tell me, who the fuck is bored enough to stage such a scene around a drugged-up rocker?”

  “Fuck you, I’m your best earner,” I retorted, barely holding myself back from yelling.

  He nodded. “Yeah, you are, but you’re also a good friend. Which is why I won’t watch you fuck up your life like this. I want you watched twenty-four seven, you’re worth too much for me to just leave you on your own.”

  “So, which is it, are you doing this as a friend or as the CEO?”

  “Can’t it be both?” Kole argued.

  I laughed. “If it’s the CEO, I can just buy you off. I have plenty of money without being an artist. And if it’s as a friend, I can tell you to kindly fuck off.”

  “That might be true,” he admitted. “But the other artists signed with us aren’t as fortunate to be trust fund babies. Many of them have lost possible sponsors and advertisement because of you.

  “As the lead singer of Rejected One and the first artist I ever signed, don’t you think it’s only right you do what you can to rectify this issue? No more drugs, no more wild parties. It’s time to grow the fuck up, Tak. And honestly, as your friend I care enough about you to force the issue and not fuck off as you so nicely put it.”

  There were many things I hated. Being told to grow up was one of those things. He didn’t know shit about me or my life. He only knew about the strung-out kid who’d come to him with a demo, not thinking about the consequences because he’d thought he was going to be dead by the age of twenty-five.

  People always looked at me as if I was a third-grade puzzle, easy to figure out. I don’t know what happened that night. A part of me knew I could have done it, but the method wasn’t my style at all.

  If I was serious about dying, I would have used the gun I kept tucked away in my bedroom. Let’s face it, the slices to my wrist weren’t even done right. I’ve looked it up enough to know the proper way to take myself out.

  Besides, I wouldn’t have done something like that on one of the happiest nights of Skittles’ life. I had done a lot of fucked-up shit in my life, but I wouldn’t dare to mar Skittles and Pit’s bachelor and bachelorette party with my death.

  Kole pressed a finger against his temple. “Look, if you can stay out of trouble for three months, I’ll tell Chelsea to move your bodyguard somewhere else. Then maybe we can talk about you seeing someone.”

  He looked at me and immediately I felt the urge to deck him. Pity. He was looking at me with pity.

  “Don’t look at me like that.” The tone of my voice turned dangerous. He tensed, averting his gaze. I could see the guilt on his face. “Keep your fucking guilt, I don’t need it or want it. I won’t take him.”

  “It’s a her,” he said.

  “I don’t give a fuck if it’s an oompa fucking loompa. I won’t have someone, a stranger, in my house, watching me and following me around. I didn’t choose this life to feel like I’m trapped.” I pushed off his desk and marched toward the door.

  “I’m serious, Takuya,” he stressed behind me.

  Hearing my full name caused me to stop. No one, literally fucking no one called me that.

  I curled my hands into fists at my side. Whipping around, I moved toward Kole. He knew better than anyone how I felt about my full name. The aggressive need to plow my fist into his smug face rode me. I was abruptly stopped in my tracks when he lifted a slim piece of paper.

  “You will let her into your house, or I will not only put a hold on your band’s activities, but you’ll be getting my resignation today. And while you won’t suffer, Jay and others will. Those guys’ main income is endorsements and advertisements that my connections and reputation get them. And since you’ve refused to reenter the studio for the last few months. They’ll put the entire blame of their loss of income on you.”

  He used his free hand to push his glasses up. “You like to act like you don’t give a shit about anybody else, but we both know you give way more fucks than you’d like others to know. What will it be, Tak?”

  Without speaking, I walked toward him and grabbed him up by the collar. “You know I fucking hate you, right?”

  He didn’t bother to defend himself against my move. “Don’t worry, I love you enough for the both of us.”

  I mentally ran through the pros and cons of pushing for the bodyguard to be fired. I knew one thing for sure about Kole. He wouldn’t back down. Both of us were bullheaded, the two of us had a habit of focusing on the end goal.

  “Shit.” I shoved him away, turning my back on him. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”

  He coughed. “No, you won’t think about it. You’ll do it.”

  “Fine,” I spat as I glanced over my shoulder at him. “If one of them loses a single deal, I’ll come looking for you.”

  With that, I slammed out of his office. Storming past his secretary, I ignored the woman and entered the elevator, staring ahead blankly. Fuck Kole and the day I handed my fucking music to him. I’d been high out of my mind and had thought to leave behind some musical confession.

  Banging the back of my head against the wall, I wanted to wrap my hands around that fucking car thief’s throat and squeeze. If it hadn’t been for that man, I would’ve been living my life as usual. Instead, I was assigned a babysitter.

  What the fuck? I already had my brothers and Skittles demanding answers and blowing up my phone. Not that I answered it. One thing at a time, please.

  “Fuck,” I shouted and scrubbed a frustrated hand through my hair.

  How could I explain, yes, I’d contemplated killing myself? Yeah, I’d pushed a little harder on the gas. And fuck yes, I’d smoked and swallowed more drugs than were healthy and had lived to tell the tale, but no, this one fucking time, I didn’t sit my happy ass in a bathtub and slice my wrists. Telling anyone this would be admitting to being weak enough to have those thoughts.

  And what I hated more than Kole was fucking pity. Seeing that look on my brothers’ faces would make my stomach turn. I’d fought so hard to be a part of their world. I cursed and drank as much as they did and sped my cars as fast as they did. I wanted so much to belong—

  Shit.

  I didn’t want to think about it. What I wanted was to clear my head and remember that night so I could prove my innocence.

  With a ding, the doors opened. I pulled my sunglasses out of my pocket before putting them on. I stepped outside.

  “You’re here?”

  Chelsea, my manager gave a nod as she scrolled through her tablet. “You’ve got a photo shoot tomorrow at seven a.m. and an interview with Music Review at the end of the week. Danny has sent another email asking for your agreement to do that commercial.”

  “No. No and fuck no,” I said.
/>   She paused in scrolling and looked up at me. “Yes, yes, and I’ll work on it.”

  I side-eyed her. “I should fire your traitor ass. How could you let Kole hire a fucking person to watch me?”

  She pursed her lips, squinting her eyes up at me. “Because it will be funny.”

  “Bitch,” I muttered.

  “Asshole,” she whispered back, smiling up at me brightly. “Also, could you give your clingy ex a call? She’s annoying the fuck out of me. Apparently, she wants to make sure you’re okay.” She rolled her eyes. “Not that she couldn’t just check online to find that out. I don’t know what it is about you that makes women lose their common sense.”

  “If you weren’t allergic to dick, I’d show you,” I said as we drew closer to the exit of the building.

  “You don’t have to,” she said, placing her own sunglasses on. “I know why. It’s in your back pocket.” She pushed the door open. “Now, smile for the cameras.”

  The sound of screams and shouts from the paparazzi filled the air as I stepped out past her. Immediately my sight was filled with the backs of guards as they held off the fans of my band and the reporters who crowded forward with their phones out to record the words I wouldn’t say.

  “Tak. Tak. Have you recovered? Where have you been?”

  “Is it true you were in rehab?”

  “How are you feeling after your failed suicide?”

  “Tak, we love you. We love you.”

  Entering the car and shutting the door, cutting off the many voices, I released a tired breath and leaned back. “When is she coming?” I asked.

  “Tomorrow,” Chelsea, who sat in the front didn’t bother turning to look at me when she answered. One would think she paid herself.

  “Right.” So, I couldn’t do anything about the person coming to my house, but it wasn’t like I couldn’t figure out a way to get rid of them.

  “Great.”

  Chapter 9

  Mr. Jensei

  Jazz

  * * *

  Catching a taxi to the place where Tak lived was a surreal experience. I still couldn’t believe I was moving in with him. He lived in a well-known gated community, with its sprawling mansions and groomed lawns. It was my first time in the neighborhood, but I spent more time looking at my cell phone than looking around.

  I feared I’d get a message telling me I’d been mistaken about everything. That I wasn’t really hired by Tak and they’d meant to hire the dick who’d had something to say about my words.

  The taxi came to a stop right when I convinced myself I should tell the driver to turn around. I was reckless and I enjoyed stealing cars but pretending to be someone else was a whole different thing. What if they figured out I wasn’t really the woman on the resume—she didn’t exist?

  However, I was the only one who knew someone was out for Tak’s life. I was the only one who knew the faces of the two who’d taken him. If I didn’t step forward, who would?

  Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the car door handle and got out. I’d left the delivery of my bags to Leonard. I figured lugging it behind me wouldn’t look good when meeting Tak for the first time.

  I finished paying the driver and took in the front of the house and the cars that were parked in front. The loud music emanating from the house, along with the yells of a large group of people were a clear sign there was a party going on.

  I walked up the steps unsure if I should enter. Stopping on the top step, I reached out to knock on the door only for it to be pulled open.

  “You’re here,” Chelsea stated, looking me over.

  I tugged at my white shirt. I’d worn a white wrap shirt, with flared black pants, and low kitten heels for an altogether professional look. She lifted a brow.

  “Okay, well, here’s your first test. He’s been told no partying, so… stop it.” With that, she turned and left me looking after her in shock.

  “What? Wait, Ms. Chelsea.” I chased after her.

  I was stunned at the sight of the people who were clearly drunk, lounging here and there. The house was full to near bursting. Models strolled past me as they paraded through the living room, where a few people were making out.

  Unsure as to what to do, I continued forward, hopping over the writhing bodies. Muttering a curse, I staggered, nearly tripping on the shag rug. Annoyed, I walked outside to where there were people hanging around the pool.

  I squinted as I scoped it out. Spotting my target, I was momentarily stupefied. The fan in me losing my grip. It was really him.

  I almost sighed, but I didn’t. Instead, I checked my mouth for drool. Takuya Jensei was a work of art and no one could tell me differently. Since he’d released his first album as a freshman in college, I’d followed him closely.

  Too closely as my cousins would say, but who else in life was as beautiful as him? He was a god walking amongst us filthy humans. At six three, he stood taller than most of the men surrounding the pool.

  His skin had a warm glow. His handsome features were only outshined by his natural charm. His black hair was pulled back in a low bun and every time he smiled his canines would pop out.

  He didn’t look like a guy that was knocked unconscious two weeks ago. It was a shame he wasn’t singing. To me, his voice was like the call of a siren.

  The sudden scream of a woman as she was tossed into the pool took my attention away from him. I immediately reminded myself I was there for a job. I needed to act like a professional and not a teenage fangirl.

  “Control yourself, Jazz,” I whispered to myself.

  Straightening, I made my way toward him. A semicircle of what I assumed to be his friends surrounded him. As I drew closer, I continued my mental pep talk.

  Reaching him, I stepped forward, ignoring the dirty looks some of them sent my way. I introduced myself, praying I wouldn’t choke midway.

  “H… hello, Mr. Jensei, I’m supposed to be starting today as your bodyguard—”

  “Who?”

  For a second, I didn’t hear his question. All I could hear was his voice. It was smooth deliciousness, poured over chocolate. Tak, the lead singer of Rejected One had just spoken to me. I was so occupied with that I barely heard his next words.

  “Looks like we’ve got an intruder. You guys know what to do,” he said, pointing at something behind me.

  The two men beside him took a step toward me. I looked them up and down in confusion. Returning my gaze to Tak, I attempted to explain. “I… I’m sorry. I misspoke, I was recently hired by—”

  “I…” He closed the space between us. Leaning down, he used a finger to tug his sunglasses down. “Don’t know you,” he iterated, his gaze boring into mine. Pushing his glasses back up, he gave the curt command. “Toss her.”

  “Wait.” Before I could argue my arms were grabbed and I was lifted up. I struggled, cursing myself for being so starstruck I’d let them get a hold of me.

  “Wait, stop. Mr. Jensei,” I shouted his name, but he only waved at me. A wicked smile decorating his lips. “Son of a bitch I… agh.” I released a scream as I was tossed into the pool.

  The water swirled overhead. My purse exploded open around me. I was so shocked, I let myself sink for a second.

  He’d barely let me finish my introduction. Takuya Jensei apparently didn’t like the idea of having a new bodyguard around.

  Ms. Chelsea had said this was my test. Kicking off my heels, I swam up, breaking the surface. The laughter of those around me only fired my anger higher.

  “I don’t know who sent you, but I don’t want or need you, so leave,” Tak shouted at me from where he stood at the edge of the pool.

  He shot me a smile, before turning away, treating me to a view of his nice ass in swim shorts. Swimming to the steps, I then made my way up them. He didn’t want me here, okay. However, I refused to leave, and I was going to do whatever I needed to do to stay.

  Brushing my hair back, I muttered under my breath, disgruntled. I’d have to wash it again. Sans shoes,
I looked for a way to pay Tak back for his punk ass act. Spotting one, I smirked. Marching over to a high table, I grabbed the ice bucket that sat on top of it.

  I followed behind him. “Hey.”

  He stopped making his way to the DJ, turning around. He looked me over before smiling. “Now, now, I’ll gladly fuck you if I can fit it into my schedule… it would have to be a quick fuck though.”

  Keeping my face blank, I walked toward him lifting the bucket. He frowned. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing,” I said innocently. Passing him, I stopped right in front of the DJ who hadn’t noticed me yet. “Just fulfilling my assignment.” I let the contents pour out over the DJ’s turntable.

  “What the fuck? Are you crazy?” the DJ said. Shocked, he retreated from the sputtering equipment.

  A hand landed on my shoulder. Dropping the bucket, I grabbed the wrist and dove under the person’s arm and twisted. “Agh, shit. Let go,” they shouted in pain.

  I kept an innocent face and met Tak’s astonished expression. “Ah, look at that. It looks like it’s time for your party to end. How sad is that?”

  “Shit let me… argh,” Tak’s goon cried out. I lashed out with my foot, forcing the guy in my hold to his knees.

  “So… Hi, I’m your live-in bodyguard, Jazz Ryland.”

  There was only silence after my introduction. I took a deep breath to clear my head and groaned.

  I’d snapped again.

  Tak

  * * *

  Who the fuck was this woman?

  She’d had the balls to pour ice over the turntable like it was nothing—a few thousand dollars’ worth of equipment. She apparently wasn’t the least bit worried about what I would do to her after what she’d just done. Instead, she glared at me from between the strands of her wet hair, holding Dereck’s hand like he was a toddler.

  He kept cursing, but she’d completely stilled him. Looking at the hold she had on him, I couldn’t help being impressed. Not many could subdue a guy over six feet.