Jet: An Enemies-to-Lovers Rockstar Romance (The Sinful Seven Series Book 2)

by Connie Lafortune

  “You have ten minutes to pitch whatever idea you have and then you’re out the door. Oh, and I will take you up on that interview. That’s part of letting you in.” She drops her keys in a fancy little dish on the sideboard and when I focus on her home instead of her, I’m blown away. “Now you have eight minutes.” She tucks her long legs underneath her before sitting on the sofa. Me, I’m too nervous to sit still, so I do what I do best. I pace.

  “There’s too much backstory to explain it all in eight minutes, so I’m going to get right to the point. It’s common knowledge that I ran away at thirteen. I lived on the streets for years and it isn’t the kind of life I’d wish on my worst enemy. Today was a wakeup call, an epiphany that I haven’t had in a while. Too long and I’m ashamed of it. Anyway, I took a shortcut to the diner. It’s an alleyway that’s on the side of the one I pulled you into.” I stop dead in my tracks when her nostrils flare with the memory. Shit, I shouldn’t have gone there.

  “Five minutes and counting, Jet.”

  “I’d forgotten about those faces. Young and old staring at me as I made my way through the filth of that alley. Cardboard boxes where they live—fuck, where I used to live. I have no idea why I never thought of it before, but I want to do a benefit concert for the homeless. Get tons of bands together that are willing to give their profits for one weekend. Kinda like Woodstock was all those years ago. I bet we could raise so much money. Maybe even buy some land, build a village of tiny homes and give the homeless in this city a home.” In this moment, I’m so passionate about getting my thoughts across, I don’t even realize I’m kneeling in front of her with my hands on her thighs.

  “That’s very noble of you, but something like this would take months to put together. And did you forget there’s still three months left to the tour? When would I have time to organize something of this magnitude? I think it would be tough to gather enough bands who are willing to donate their time.”

  “What if we run it by Caleb? It would be great exposure for Morris Music, and I don’t recall anyone ever doing anything like this before. It could help NY and so many other cities. All I ask is that you think about it, Quinn. If anyone could pull it off, it would be you.” I’m going with the flattery-will-get-you-everywhere routine. Truth be told, I sincerely believe she is the only one who could do this. I might not personally like her, but she’s smart and business savvy.

  “We can’t do anything about it tonight, but I promise I’ll make some calls tomorrow. Go home and get some rest. As soon as I find out anything, I’ll give you a call. Now, you’ll need to excuse me, it’s way past my bedtime and my liquor limit.”

  “You’re being more than generous after everything I put you through. Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

  “Goodnight… or should I say ‘Good morning’.” She’s smiling and I take that as a good sign.

  “It will surely be a good morning if the powers that be agree to your proposition. Bye, Quinn.” She waves before closing the door, and for a moment I feel a little bit lighter.

  Like maybe this could really happen.

  QUINN

  Never in a million years did I expect to find Jet waiting for me when I came home tonight. Never. Now I’m lying here staring up at the ceiling not able to sleep. My mind is bouncing back and forth with tons of ideas since he left. Some good, some bad, but the majority of them are doable. Lucky for him, I have connections. I’ve been in the biz for a long time and he’s absolutely right. If anyone can achieve this goal, it would be me. I’d need to hire an assistant to help out, though. With the last leg of the tour coming up, I’ll need to focus on that to perfection. I suppose a good PA could help me with the charity concert.

  Damn, that man has been a thorn in my side since day one. Most would have thrown him out in less time than the ten-minute window I gave him, but the sadness and the determination in his gaze was enough for me to take him seriously. He lived through this. Every tormented minute of his teenage years was spent alone on the streets. Just the thought of him and all those other kids going to bed at night, hungry and alone, just tears me apart. So, yeah, I’m hella onboard with this if we can get the backing to do it.

  Grabbing my phone on the nightstand, I swipe to see the time. Five thirty-five is much too early to call Caleb. He’d wring my neck. I need to wait until at least seven which gives me plenty of time to shower and guzzle a pot of coffee. I think I’m going to need it. And I’ve no doubt Jet will be calling me, desperate for an update. I guess it’s time to rise and shine. So much for vacation.

  There’s nothing like the smell of freshly brewed coffee first thing in the morning, so I decide to make a pot before stepping inside the shower. That way, it will be waiting for me instead of the other way around. I’m surprised I’m thinking this clearly with no sleep. Must be because I’m on a mission for a good cause.

  With my second cup of coffee in hand, I press speed dial and wait for Caleb to answer.

  “You’re on vacation, Quinn. Must be an emergency if you’re calling me this early. What’s up?”

  “Morning, Caleb. No emergency, I just wanted to run something by you. What are your thoughts on The Sinful Seven hosting a benefit concert with a bunch of other bands for the homeless? We could make it a huge weekend event and all the money we raise could be donated to the homeless per Morris Music. Would be great exposure for the label and for all the bands who take part in this monumental event.” I fidget for a beat waiting for him to answer.

  “First off, I’d say that’s very ambitious of you, but then I’d ask if you’re having a breakdown. It’s a great concept but a huge undertaking. You’d need a bunch of volunteers, and I’m not sure if the board would even sponsor something like this. They want to make money, not dish it out unless it’s for a band that’s been around for years.” I didn’t think he’d blow off a great idea like this but I do see his point. “Personally, I like the idea. I’ll tell you what, I’ll run it by a few of my business colleagues. And even if it’s not through Morris Music, we might be able to figure something out. You have a great business sense, and this was a great idea, Quinn. Kudos.”

  “Well, I can’t take the credit for something that wasn’t mine. Jet’s the one who came up with the idea, I only promised him I’d run it by you first. He really is passionate about this venture and my only hope is that we can make it come true. It would mean the world to him and benefit the homeless as well.”

  “No promises, but give me a few days to run it by them. I’m sure they will want to chew on it for a bit so don’t panic if we haven’t heard back by the end of the week. Now, go enjoy the rest of your vacation. If this is a go, you’ll have your hands full with the tour and this event.”

  “Thanks, Caleb. Fingers crossed it works out. I promise I can handle them both. Now I’m just as eager as Jet to see this come to fruition. Take care and have a great week!” We say our goodbyes and I want to wait just a bit longer before calling Jet. Even though I know he’s going to be persistent and want everything to move at the speed of light, I can’t make him wait any longer.

  This is one conversation that I can’t have via text. After last night, I’m certain he needs to hear the reassurance in my voice if I want him to understand the importance of patience. He picks up on the first ring.

  “What’s the verdict? Did Caleb love the idea or shoot it down? I’ve been pacing ever since I came home last night.” I can just picture him running his fingers through his hair while pacing. See, this is exactly the reason I called instead of texted.

  “Just the opposite. He really liked the idea, Jet, but it might take a few days before we have an answer. We both need to be understanding, and give them the time to make their decision.” Yeah, I can hear the loud puff of air that he’s been holding in.

  “I guess that’s a good thing, right? If he didn’t think he could make it happen he’d have said no from the get-go. Thanks for believing in my cause and proposing the idea to him.”

  “You’re welcome
, but we need to be prepared for both outcomes. He told me upfront that he didn’t think the board for Morris Music would go for it, but he has contacts he’s going to get in touch with. We might not hear back until next week, but no news is good news, right?”

  “I suppose. But we could get ahead of the game and start planning just in case. It couldn’t hurt and we are on vacation so it’s perfect timing.” My heart squeezes when I hear the hope in his voice. I’m not sure if I’ve ever heard that from this melancholy guy before and it breaks my heart. Yes, we have the time, but I think it would destroy him if we start something and then it doesn’t happen.

  “Stupid idea, I know,” he adds after a beat. “We could go through all the BS and then he pulls the rug out from underneath us. I’m sure you have better things to do with your time off than plot and plan with an asshole like me.”

  There are a few things on God’s green earth that just slay me. One is hopelessness and the other is abandonment. But I have a gut feeling that Jet Turner is going to destroy me before all of this is over. Being the empath that I am, I say, “Sure, it couldn’t hurt to get the ball rolling.”

  Sloth

  “That destructive siren, Sloth, is ever to be avoided.”

  Horace

  JET

  I’m ashamed of myself for judging Quinn the way I did when we first met. Don’t get me wrong, I still don’t like her and damn if I can put my finger on why. But she pulled through and for that I’m grateful.

  I jumped at the chance when Quin invited me over to brainstorm. For hours we jotted things down and came up with a great plan. We figured out some of the bands we’d like to invite. The ones we thought would jump at the chance for exposure and because they thought it was a great cause. Unfortunately, I should have known there was a hidden agenda. There always is.

  “Let’s take a break,” she says. “We both could use something to eat. I don’t know about you but when I stare at the computer screen for too long everything becomes blurred. I have greasy leftover pizza. Are you game?”

  “Sounds perfect. Thanks.” I wander into the kitchen with her, only because I need to stretch my legs. Sitting in the same position isn’t good for my arthritis. Yep, one of the many gifts I have from sleeping on the ground. “Need me to help with anything?”

  I’ve been around her long enough to know it’s not a good sign when she bites her bottom lip. “Nah, it’s all good, but this might be a good time to start on that interview that you owe me.” Yep, and now I’ve lost my appetite.

  “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that, but I’m afraid you’re going to be very disappointed. My personal life is my own, so be forewarned that I’m only going to share what the public already knows. I’ll take my secrets to the grave with me.” I’m not even aware that my hands are running through my hair. A sign that I’m as uncomfortable as it gets.

  “Fair enough, but can I ask you something that I swear will never go further than this kitchen?” Now I’m curious.

  “You can ask, but I can’t promise you that I’ll answer.”

  “Okay, but I’m asking anyway. Why were you doing dishes at the Hungry Dog Diner, which, by the way, is the coolest freaking name I’ve ever heard.”

  “Just helping out an old friend, is all.” Truth right here.

  She’s quiet as she busies herself with plates, forks, and something for us to drink. Both beers. I like her style. “By saying ‘old friend’ are you referring to their age or someone you’ve known for a long time?”

  “That’s for me to know and you to find out.” With her tenacity, I’m sure she would, too.

  With the pizza heated, we sit down to eat. I lied, I’m starving, and I think I could evade these questions for the rest of my life—even if I’m uncomfortable.

  “Your turn,” she smiles. “Ask me anything, and no it’s not an interview.” I’m taken aback because, truthfully, I’m not used to this laid-back Quinn. The one I know is all brash and business. With that said, I still don’t trust her. Hmm, maybe that’s what’s bothering me so much. Friends close and enemies closer.

  “Any brothers and sisters?” I ask. I’m not afraid if she asks me this one since my answer would be no.

  “No sisters, but I do have four older brothers and one younger one. Yes, it was hell growing up. Still is. The lot of them are very protective of their only sister.”

  Holy shit, I might feel a little bit of sympathy for her right now. Just a little. “Wow, that’s crazy, but I bet the holidays are fun.”

  “They used to be, but it’s difficult getting together now that they’re all married with children living all over the country. I might be the only one who goes home, since I’m the single one.” She looks sad and I’m not sure if it’s because she’s single or something else. I shouldn’t give a shit but I do.

  “You’re too young to settle down. Especially with all the traveling you do. Not many men could handle an independent woman such as yourself.”

  “Thanks, but I’m actually older than you, and my biological clock’s ticking like a time bomb. Although, I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to settle down and have kids. Maybe one day I’ll adopt a bunch of them when I’m too old to tolerate the narcissistic rockstars that I’ve been dealing with over the years.”

  “Ouch, I think that might have been directed at me.” She almost chokes on a bite of pizza and I’m ready to smack her on the back when she vigorously shakes her head.

  “In the beginning, I might have thought that about you, but not anymore. You come off as being standoffish, but you’re just the opposite. I’m slowly learning that you’re caring, sincere, and enthusiastic about what you believe in. All amazing qualities.”

  Is she trying to pacify me? As soon as I let my guard down, is she going to pounce like a tigress ready to rip out my entrails for a feast? Maybe, but I’m not sticking around to find out. “Hey, thanks for the grub but I got to head out. I’m second shift dishwasher at the Hungry Dog Diner again tonight.” Quinn looks disappointed, but I can’t stick around. I just can’t.

  “Okay, well I think we covered a lot of ground today so we’ll be ready when Caleb gives us a thumbs up. Don’t work too hard.” She walks me to the door and it makes me uncomfortable. Feels too familiar. Like a date or something, and my mind is suddenly unsettled.

  I need to get the fuck out.

  The doors barely open when I bolt with a thanks on my whispered breath. This is the reason I don’t get too close to people. I really don’t know how to connect and fully interact with anyone.

  I peel out of the driveway like a man possessed. I bet Quinn takes back everything good she ever said about me after that little episode. I wouldn’t blame her. Somedays, I can’t even stand the sight of myself.

  Sadly, it’s just another day in the life of Jet Turner.

  QUINN

  I’m stunned speechless as I watch him squeal out of the drive. Was it something I said? It’s apparent he doesn’t know how to accept a compliment. Even after all these years he’s fighting his demons. Understandable, since he’s been on his own for so long. I need to remind myself that Jet is a work in progress. I suppose I would be too if I lived the life he did. Standing on the outside looking in, it’s so easy to think the life of a rockstar is all glitz and glamor. Little do the fans know that it’s not all that and a bag of chips.

  I close the door before the dust has a chance to rush in. Everything was going so well and I thought he was opening up to me. Dammit, Jet! Here we go again. I feel like we take one step forward and three steps back. I’m getting dizzy from all this back and forth, but it would all be worth it if we were on the same page when we go back on tour. It would make all of our lives so much easier and cohesive.

  It’s too late now to do anything, so I load the dishes and opt for reading a book I started a long time ago. Hoping it will keep my mind occupied and far away from The Sinful Seven. My life hasn’t been the same since I’ve taken them on, and, truthfully, I don’t know if it’s for the
better. Time will tell, but I still have a long road ahead of me before I can make that call.

  Grabbing my book, I head out to my screened-in porch. It’s my little getaway from the hustle and bustle of the world around me. It overlooks my small fenced yard with all its colorful shrubs and perennials. I’m gone so much that it basically takes care of itself. Exactly what I needed when I bought this place a few years back. It’s perfect for me.

  Sitting on the chaise, I open my book and get lost inside the pages. Dreaming of perfect men with Adonis bodies and the happily-ever-afters of a romance novel. Unfortunately, it doesn’t last long when I start feeling guilty about the way Jet stormed out of here. Should I send him a text? I hate that I’m the one worrying about what happened when he’s the one who left the way he did. Still, I’m unsettled so it can’t hurt to send him one and let him make the next move.

  Me: Let’s get together the same time tomorrow and brainstorm some more. K?

  I wait, but nothing comes. I foolishly stare at my phone, and when nothing happens I go back to reading. But my mind is a million miles away now. All I can think about is a thirteen-year-old child roaming the streets of New York. Alone. I shudder to think what could have happened to him.

  Now I’m restless, so I grab my phone and google “homeless kids”. What pops up is too much for me to comprehend.

  Tons of articles on missing and exploited children, endangered runaways, and a master list of missing children. The list goes on and on. Some articles are more promising than others when I see that there are houses and shelters where they can go for a place to sleep, but I’m sure there’s not enough room for everyone. God, how scared are these kids? Wandering the streets, never knowing where they’re going to place their head at night for some much-needed rest. Not even mentioning how safe they will be when they do.