Jameson's Addiction

by Glenna Maynard

  “Oh.” Her question catches me off guard. “I have no idea honestly. I haven’t even heard everyone sing yet.”

  “Well, there must be someone you have sized up, but what do you think of the judges?”

  “They all seem nice. Professional from what I can tell.”

  “That Jameson is a real hottie, huh?” Her elbow digs into my side, and I want to jab her back with mine but refrain.

  “I guess he’s alright if you are into the whole tortured musician who will only ever break your heart thing.”

  “Sounds like you know from experience.”

  “Nope.” I recover quickly. “Just an observation. If you’ll excuse me, I need to hit the ladies room.” I hurriedly walk away from her. Maybe she is simply trying to be friendly, but the awkward conversation felt more like an interrogation than anything else.

  Flashback

  “Shit,” I hiss as some dickhead nearly takes me out with his briefcase. Coffee splashes down the front of my skirt. I’m interning as an assistant for my father for the summer at his firm. I think he is still hoping I will change my mind and go into law, but it isn’t going to happen. I do need the money that he is offering so here I am.

  “I’m so sorry,” the dickhead mutters reaching me his silk handkerchief from the breast pocket of his jacket.

  Seriously. Like that little fancy scrap of fabric is going to do anything for my ruined yellow skirt. I just bought it too. “It’s fine.” I wave him off even though I want to cry. Today is only my third day but I keep screwing everything up. I accidentally hung up on an important client yesterday and the day before that I shredded the wrong file.

  “It gets better, you know. Working here I mean.”

  “Right.” I smile.

  He extends his hand to me. “I’m Wes. You don’t remember me, do you?”

  “Have we met?” I squint at him.

  “Christmas party, you were here with your father.”

  “Oh yeah,” I totally lie. These dudes in their suits all look the same to me.

  “I’d love to take you to lunch. To make up for the coffee and treat you to a new skirt.”

  “Sure. Why not?” At my agreeing to lunch he smiles at me. He’s a nice looking guy. Handsome in that professional way. Neat and clean shaven. Nice and safe. The kind of man my father would probably approve of. The kind of guy Barb would love to set me up with.

  “I’ll come back by your desk say around one?”

  “Sounds good. Oh. I’m Peyton by the way.”

  Wes winks at me. “I know.”

  The Present

  I don’t know where things went so wrong with Wes. He was always nice and considerate but then as the wedding got closer, he became moody and a bit possessive. He changed. I don’t want to blame myself but can’t help but feel some fault and guilt despite my knowing better. I shit all over our relationship like Jameson did with me, but at least I was honest with Wes. I didn’t run out and leave him hanging.

  I feel his eyes on me and am immediately drawn to his gaze. He smiles at me with that stupid dimple popping out and winks. I run my hand over my hair and flip him my middle finger. Jameson gets under my skin in a way no one else can. He shakes his head and turns his attention back to the producer he is speaking with.

  “It’s gonna be bittersweet when I wipe the floor with you,” a southern and deep masculine voice rings out behind me.

  I turn to see J.J., one of my competitors walking toward me. He’s the vision of a good ol boy in his tight Wranglers, plaid shirt, and cowboy hat.

  “You mean when I wipe the floor with you, big boy.” I smirk.

  “We’ll see, sweetheart. We’ll see.”

  “Want to place a wager on that?”

  He rubs his jaw. “All right. What do you want if you win?”

  I tap my chin. “Hmmm. If I win you have to sing one of my songs in a dress live on the social media platform of my choosing.”

  He chuckles. “I’ll bite.”

  I arch a brow at him. “And if you win?”

  He steps into my personal space and tilts my face up at his. “If I win, I get to take you to dinner.”

  “You flirting with me, cowboy?”

  “What if I am?”

  I worry my bottom lip with my teeth. “Then I’d say your fan club might get jealous.” I nod my head toward Rebecca, one of the other contestants who follows him around like a puppy dog.

  J.J. shrugs. “I don’t want to take her out. I’m asking you.”

  “I think we both signed a contract that states no fraternization.”

  “I didn’t take you for a goodie goodie.”

  “You don’t know a thing about me, J.J.”

  “You aren’t making it easy on me.”

  “Nothing about me is easy.” I wink and turn on my heels.

  Chapter 22

  Jameson

  If Peyton thinks she can use this J.J. kid to make me jealous she’s got another thing coming. I can see straight through her little flirty act. It’s cute though to watch her try. The set is cleared, and everyone is in place for the first episode to tape. Episode one is about introducing the contestants and us mentors getting to see what they got with their first appearance. We’re taping two shows ahead of time and then we will start doing live shows with an audience.

  The theme song for the show plays and Viola steps out on the stage with her mic. If I had never met her before I might look at her and find her attractive, but she’s a fake bitch and nothing like Peyton. Maybe I was hoping to escape my feelings for her by dating someone like Viola. What a fucking mistake that was.

  Rebecca Martinez is up first. A nineteen-year-old waitress from Portland. Her intro plays on the big screen. She grew up in foster care, she’s diabetic, and loves giving back by volunteering at her local animal rescue. Walking out onto the stage she’s bubbly and cute in her pink dress and white heels though she kind of remind me of Little Bo Peep in her get up. Whoever dressed her was hoping to play on her youth, but it doesn’t work. The music to God Bless The Broken Road starts to play. Her voice is soulful for someone her age.

  Next is Hunter Calloway. A thirty-year-old single father of two who loves Jesus and his little girls. He’s on the heavyset side but he’s a seasoned singer who has made his name known locally singing in bars and at events. I remember hearing him one weekend when I went to a festival with my Aunt and Uncle. He’s damn good. I don’t remember seeing his audition tape. He just might be the man to beat.

  Four more contestants sing, and they are mediocre at best and could really use the one on one time they are going to get with their mentor. J.J. Reese is twenty-five and grew up in Texas on his grandfather’s cattle ranch. He’s got the looks and the talent to go far. I can see him landing a record deal whether he is successful on the show or not.

  They saved the best for last. Peyton. Her tape plays. They filmed her walking around the streets of Nashville in a pair of Daisy fucking Duke shorts that should be illegal with how they hug her ass. I try to remain calm and not show any reaction to her but it’s damn hard. I love her. “When I was seventeen, I was in a bad car accident that nearly took my life. I was thrown through the windshield when my boyfriend struck a telephone pole. I was down and out for a while but now I’m back and ready to take on the world.” Her infectious smile lights up the screen as they closeup on her face. The lights turn down low and Peyton takes to a stool that is setup on the stage with a guitar. She’s singing an Allison Krauss and Union Station song, Let me Touch You For A While.

  Her voice washes over me and soothes places in me I never knew ached until now. Chill bumps pimple across my arms and down my spine. Her vocal caress me and everyone in the room. “It’s been…let me touch...” She looks up at me on the word you and it takes every ounce of control I have to stay in my seat and not rush the stage and kiss her full lips.

  She can say she doesn’t love me but that song just now the way she was singing right at me, I know she is only lying to herself. My
Fancy can’t hide from me. She never could. After her performance the other contestants join her on the stage and each judge spends a moment giving their pitch. Each of us telling what we can do for them. The order they get to pick their mentor in is based on who scored the highest. Peyton was first place and Hunter placed second with J.J. in third.

  The spotlight shines on Peyton. “Mr. Cyrus, I have been a huge fan all my life. My Nan plays you every Sunday while she cooks. Gwen, I hear you on the radio all the time and think I’d love to do lunch or a girls day with you, but I’m not a pop singer. I love alternative rock and know in my heart that Jameson Lewis is the man for me.” When I smile at her she looks away to Viola and hands her the microphone back. Gwen and Jace end up with three contestants each, and I have Peyton and this kid who is fifteen named Kyle Mertzer. He has potential, and I look forward to seeing what I can teach him. My focus may be on winning Peyton back, but I still have a job to do.

  Taping ends and we are all loaded up into two limos and taken back to the house for dinner. Tomorrow we will be filming in the recording studio.

  The mentors are served in a separate dining room tonight. Viola is nowhere to be seen. I heard someone say she was feeling sick. It might make me an asshole, but I hope it is something that takes her from the show.

  **

  Everyone exits the studio, leaving Peyton and me alone in this room with a soundman and camera guy. “Well, are you ready to get started?” I ask her as I take a seat on the couch.

  She clenches her jaw, giving me a jerky nod and comes to sit down, pulling a notebook out of her bag. “I know the show wants to do covers and you’re to help with tuning my voice and all that, but I don’t want to do that. I want to sing my own songs.”

  I don’t blame her one bit. Who says we have to play by the rules? Sure, they gave us the set list, but they don’t need to know what’s happening until it does. We’ll deal with them after.

  “Sounds good to me. I’ve never been much on rules.” I wink at her and she rolls her eyes. “Let’s see what you have.” I grab the notebook out of her hand and look it over. “We’ll start without music. Show me what you got. I’ll give the song you choose to the band when we finish up, and we’ll work on it tomorrow before dress rehearsals.” As I read over her lyrics my gut tightens. Pain squeezes in my chest. Are all these songs about me? About the pain I inflicted on her?

  I wanted to love you

  Stolen kisses

  Playground memories

  All you were though was child’s play

  Nothing more

  Nothing less

  And yet your face haunts me

  I wanted to love you

  To taste your lips

  Feel your fingers bruise my hips

  My first

  My last

  Stolen kisses

  Playground memories

  I wanted to love you

  My first

  My last

  Pack you away in my suitcase

  Nothing but faded dreams of the past

  Torn pictures

  Feel your lips on my cheek

  One last goodbye

  My tattered heart on my sleeve

  All I wanted was to love you, boy

  All you wanted was to break me

  We work for an hour together, and over the hour she loses her anger towards me, even smiling at times. The cameraman and sound guy have everything they need and slip out of the room. Before I tell her times up, I take the spare minutes I have before the next contestant comes for their session to make a move.

  Peyton is stuffing her notebook into her bag and not paying me any attention. I catch her off guard unable to hold back what I’m feeling. Being here with her, hearing her sing, and having her alone…the moment just feels right to me. “Peyton?”

  She looks up, and I see the vulnerability in her eyes. Being with me is hard for her when it shouldn’t be. The two of us used to fit together so easily it was as natural as breathing to be with her. I miss that. I miss her company so damn bad. Every city, every show, every new girl who crosses my path…none of them fill the hole she left in my heart.

  “Yeah?” She looks at me expectantly.

  I don’t say anything. I don’t pay her any of the compliments I was intending on. I touch her left cheek and turn her face into mine. Kissing her deeply, I’m hoping like hell she doesn’t pull away. The taste of her lips brings back so many happy memories. I don’t push for more than a peck until I feel she is into it. I can hear and feel a surprised gasp leave her mouth. Her lips move with mine in perfect harmony soothing my soul. My fingers thread through her hair as I crave more of her. Her intoxicating scent wraps around me, holding me prisoner.

  A knock sounds on the door. “Mr. Lewis,” I hear the squeaky voice of that kid. I want to ignore him, but of course Peyton jerks away as though I slapped her.

  “We can’t do this, Jameson. It didn’t work well the first time around.” Her lips are swollen, and the expression on her face contradicts the words that just left her sweet mouth. She doesn’t regret kissing me in the slightest. Need fills her gaze as she stares at me. I’m not giving her the out that she is desperately searching for. Not this time. All bets are off.

  “Fancy, stop fighting me.” I pull her back to me, claiming her puffy lips for keeps. This time she doesn’t pull away. God, I missed this—her. I have fucking missed her so much it physically hurts. When her tongue clashes with mine, it takes everything in me not to lift her skirt up and fuck her right here on this couch. Slow. What she needs is me to take this slow. I won’t touch her again until I know without a doubt that she wants this as desperately as I do. There’s so much that needs to be said between us.

  The kid knocks on the door again. “Mr. Lewis, I’m here for our session.”

  I measuredly break our kiss and pull away, breathing heavily. “We’ll be doing more of that,” I promise, seeing a hint of the girl I remember and feeling the boy I once was returning.

  She bites her bottom lip. “I don’t know, Jameson. It’s too much too soon. We both were just caught up in the moment but this…” She motions between us. “It can’t and shouldn’t happen again. It won’t end well. We both know that.”

  I shrug. “I know enough for the both of us, Peyton. Tonight, go back to your room, sleep on it. Tomorrow I want us to talk. About everything.” I hate bringing up the past, but in order for us to have a future, we have to.

  “Okay,” she whispers and quickly gets up to leave. Giving me one last look over her shoulder, “I’ve missed you too by the way,” she says quietly, and exits the room.

  Kyle looks between Peyton and me as he enters the room and smiles like he is in on some secret.

  Chapter 23

  Peyton

  Since Jameson kissed me earlier, I can’t get him out of my head. I don’t know what came over me, but it was so easy to fall back into old habits. Being so close to him and smelling his cologne, making music together…I got swept away by the fantasy of what should have been and how easy it is to be with him. We’ve always fit together like missing pieces of a puzzle that is only whole when we are connected.

  Everyone else is hanging out in the game room downstairs, but after that kiss I need to decompress and get a grip on myself. I can’t be falling back in with him so easily. Jameson hurt me. I can’t forget the past five years he’s been gone and pretend they never happened. That he’s not been out there whoring around the whole world on tour and sleeping with God knows who. I know some stuff in the tabloids wasn’t true but there must have been some stories about him that were real. Pictures don’t lie.

  There’s an account on Picgram, the whole page is dedicated to his one-night stands. I stopped looking a few years ago. My heart couldn’t take it. It makes me sick when I think about it. I just had my tongue in his mouth like every other groupie on the planet. Stripping out of my clothes, I slide down into the large garden bathtub hoping to wash away his touch…the taste of his lips. Lips I alway
s thought were only for kissing me.

  He can say he loves me all he wants to. His actions for the past five years have proven differently. The hot water relaxes my body but not my mind. I wish I could talk to my friends, but we aren’t allowed any phones, TV, or computers. They don’t want us leaking anything about the show to the public. It’s like being in a five-star prison. After my soak in the tub, I put on my comfy pajamas and twist my hair up in a knot on my head. I grab my notebook and go out on the balcony to work on a new song praying Jameson doesn’t come out here too. I know his room is next to mine, but thankfully he hasn’t bothered me yet.

  I try to write but can’t. My mind keeps drifting back to that stupid kiss today. Stupid Jameson. This stupid show. I grip my pen in my hand nearly snapping it in half.

  All the restless nights

  Your love was my drug

  You infected me

  Injected me with your lies

  Suicidal heart

  Tell me another lie

  You set me on fire and left me to burn

  For you

  I called out your name begging for rain

  But you didn’t answer my call

  Suicidal heart

  Tell me another lie

  I thought you’d always be by my side

  You set me on fire and left me to burn

  All the restless nights

  Your looove was my drug

  Oh you set me on fire and left me to burn

  Oh you set me on fire and left me to burn

  For you

  All the lines you fed me were never true

  You left me in the flames

  Suicidal heart

  Tell me another lie

  I continue to burn and cry out your name

  All the restless nights

  You struck a match and held it to my heart leaving me black inside

  I’d burn forever for you

  Suicidal heart

  Tell me another lie

  My stomach begins to growl, and my hand is cramping from writing so much. I put my notebook away and make my way down to the kitchen. I missed dinner and the house is quiet. Everyone is probably already in bed. Tomorrow is live practice with the show’s stage band. Opening up the fridge I start pulling out stuff to make a grilled cheese. When I turn around Viola is sitting at the breakfast bar with a pack of crackers. I clutch my chest. “Jesus, you scared me,” I tell her.