They’re in heavy winter coats, their breaths coming out in puffs of white while they have it out. For the most part, Melanie keeps her hands in her pockets and her eyes downcast while Jack goes between gesturing wildly with the tongs, his forehead crinkled in frustration, and shaking his head. Occasionally the dogs come up between them, wagging their tails until Jack picks up a ball and chucks it across the yard for them to chase.
During dinner, we find out she still hasn’t talked to Sarah or their dad which revs Jack up again.
“I just need a little time, Jack,” Melanie protests over the dinner that she’s barely touched. “I was on the other side of the world! I’m a day and a half ahead of this time zone still. I’d just like to have a clear head when I talk to them, is that so crazy?” She waves her hands around as she speaks before dropping them on the table and giving her brother a pleading look.
Jack rests his elbows on the table with his hands clasped, regarding her sternly as he finishes chewing. You’d never guess he’s the younger sibling at this table.
“Sarah, maybe, but I think after everything Dad has done for all of us, he deserves a little more consideration,” he grumbles, picking up his beer.
After some more back and forth, she retreats to the guestroom once the plates are cleared.
Jack snags two beers from the fridge and cracks them open before handing one to me as we rack plates in the dishwasher and put away the leftovers.
“I cannot believe she has put us all through this twice now, and now that she’s back, she hasn’t even told our father,” he grumbles as he leans back against the counter and takes a long pull on his beer. “I have half the mind to do it for her,” he finishes after he swallows. He rants on a little longer, while I let him get it off his chest, occasionally taking a pull off my own beer, until his agitation seems to fizzle out and we head to bed.
The next morning, Jack has cooled off some, and the conversations between him and Melanie are a little more amicable. Christmas is now only two days away, and Jack makes no bones about the fact that if she doesn’t tell their family, then he will. Thankfully, she borrows my car to go visit Sarah later that day.
“You know,” I wonder out loud as Jack and I sit in the garage and I watch him do some fine tuning on his dad’s Harley, which has pretty much been his the last two years. “Maybe we could offer Melanie the chance to stay here while we’re back on the tour.” Jack’s cranking motions on the socket wrench halts as he looks up towards the ceiling, considering this. “I know she isn’t owed any favors right now, but having some space to herself might help her get her head on straight.”
“Like she hasn’t had enough space already?” he asks cynically as he resumes tightening the lug nuts.
“True,” I concede, “but if she’s staying in your sisters’ pool house while she’s trying to find work and an apartment and all that, she might feel stifled and it might be counterproductive. Plus, it would be good to know our home is being looked after.” Jack starts nodding with every point I try to make, and I try to lighten the mood. “And who knows, the locals could see her and it might throw them off. They could think we moved.” I hold my hands up and give him a goofy grin that earns me a chuckle and a dimple sighting.
After a Christmas with the whole family that started off super awkward, but had eased up by the New Year, we packed up the dogs and our essentials and got back on the road with the guys and the crew, making our way across the Midwestern states.
The rest of the tour is kind of a pain in the ass as we have to occasionally fly to and from New York from wherever we are to attend one court proceeding or another, so that the guys don’t have to postpone any shows or disrupt the tour in any way. It technically only has to be me that shows up to most of them, but you know Jack. He’s not going to let me deal with any of this alone.
Besides, it’s worth it in the end when our case against Eli does indeed go to trial, and by then, fourteen women have added to the mounting pile of complaints against him.
It’s crazy how, when I find myself sitting in board rooms, and eventually court rooms, with Eli only feet away from me, I don’t feel scared or nervous. I just want to laugh. Instead, I manage to keep my face an emotionless mask when I’m addressed and questioned. I think the only time it slips a little is when I have to recount his attack on me, but just like every time I’ve had to, relief settles back over me once it’s over.
If I thought lavish charity dinners were bad, they are an amusement park compared to sitting in stuffy courtrooms, listening to legal jargon being spewed out by some sleazy lawyer trying to defend the world class douche that harassed me and, ahem, fourteen other women, some of which are hanging out in the pews behind us hoping to see Eli get his. Before the proceedings, I was even introduced to Lola, who made a point to be there, seeing as how Morris had to be, and she is one of Eli’s accusers.
At least I get to see Jack dressed up, even though the poor guy hates wearing ties and usually gets away with wearing a suit without one. He sits with his body turned toward me most of the time while staring daggers into the back of Eli’s head.
When I’m called to testify, he leans in to whisper that it’s going to be okay and that he’s right here, before kissing the spot right beside my ear. I nod as I rise and make my way to the stand.
JACK
I don’t know who’s worse – my ex-agent or his low life lawyer that’s going after Mayzie right now. The fucker is ruthless, almost to the point of badgering. My hand is gripped in a fist so tight my knuckles ache as I watch the shit-show he tries to put on. The DA has called several objections during his cross examination. Obviously, they try to go after her for using self-defense against Eli, but the recording from Mayzie’s wire along with the ball-busting DA we have on our side shut it right down, not to mention Mayzie’s cool, unwavering demeanor and refusal to be bullied. On the inside, I know she’s freaking out and screaming for a shot or six of tequila, but she’s holding it together so damn well on the outside in the face of these assholes. She does well following the DA and Mike’s instructions to keep her answers clear and concise, simple yeses and no’s unless she’s asked to elaborate.
She lets out a long, heavy breath when she sits back down next to me and my arm immediately goes back around her. I’ve never been prouder of her, especially when some of the women Eli has harassed in the past come up to her as court adjourns to show their appreciation. A lot of numbers are exchanged, and I would not be surprised if some of their accounts pop up in her next book. Once the conversations have waned out, we make our way out of the back of the courthouse to an SUV that will get us to a plane so we can get back on tour. While home would be preferable, the tour bus is some sense of normalcy, and far away from this hell.
MAYZIE
Shortly after the sting, Mike and a couple of his colleagues were able to determine Turn it Up’s contract with Eli became voided, and they were free and clear to sign with Excel PR. They decided not to enlist Rachel as their agent as she already represents The Shock Wave, and no one wanted any reason for conflict between the two bands that have such a healthy friendship. Instead, one of her colleagues, David, has taken on PR for the band, and so far has proven himself to be ambitious, efficient, and has a healthy respect for boundaries. He was also able to get in touch with the pro football commissioner who was able to confirm that he had in fact signed the band to do the halftime show. That said, Ron, and all the guys in the band agreed, it wasn’t their time. Not through Eli’s power of persuasion. They wanted to earn it in a way that had nothing to do with the sweet talking, deal making and coercion of whatever sort that Eli had employed to get his way. They would wait patiently for their time to come. Besides, The Shock Wave had more time and albums under their belt, and so David subtly recommended them as their meeting with the commissioner concluded.
In between trips to New York and stops on the tour, I tidy up my Little Demon Fucker Eli piece into a few well-rounded pages and submit it to Mike, who contacts
a couple of entertainment lawyers to look it over. After a few tweaks and contracts, I was clear to publish it. No, not as a tell-all book; Eli doesn’t deserve a book written all about him, no matter the content, but I’m totally okay with smearing him around a little bit in a chapter of Rock Wife, Volume II.
Needless to say, this tour has been chaos, and the fact that it’s beginning to wind down now is more than welcome.
Matt seems a little distant. Anytime Jack or I mention it, he seems to snap out of it and act as if nothing is amiss. He plays the part well, and though I can tell something is weighing heavily on his mind, there’s no way he’s going to tell either of us if he doesn’t want to. And he sure as hell doesn’t seem to want to.
Early February finds us back home. Finally. This tour was a long and difficult one for sure, and being back in our own home is a kind of relief I can’t describe. I wake up easily to the morning light coming through the window, and give myself a delicious stretch before looking over to Jack’s side of the bed to find it empty. That’s… odd. He’s normally the one to sleep in of the two of us. I reach down to the floor and find the white t-shirt he had on yesterday and pull it on. I’m just about to scooch out of bed when he strolls into the bedroom, looking tired but completely at ease. He’s in his running pants and a Henley and carrying his guitar by the neck.
“Hey,” I greet him with a curious smile.
“Hey,” he smiles back and leans down to kiss my cheek.
“What are you doing up?” I ask as he gets comfortable beside me, drawing his guitar across his lap.
“I’ve got a little surprise for you,” he informs me, dismissing my question.
“Hmm… what could it be?” I tease, eyeing his guitar, and he chuckles, his hair falling in his eyes as he starts tuning it and picking at the strings.
“Do you remember that song I was playing when you walked in, the morning after the sting?”
“Yeah,” I nod. I remember some of the lyrics, but more so the way his singing and playing made me feel. His voice delivering those words with that melody warmed my soul and made it glow that morning. “I remember,” I quietly affirm when the memory washes over me.
“Well…” he starts explaining, as he continues his tuning, looking between me and the task. “That song is about you, and… our love… and how we get through things together. And I’d like you to hear the whole thing.”
“You finished it?” I start nodding, “Please, I want to hear it.” His smile is faint but sweet, and his gaze sensually locks on mine as he starts strumming. I hear the same words I heard the morning he first started writing this song, and they wrap me in comfort, at the same time sending a thrill up my shoulders, hearing them put to the more solid, self-assured rhythm Jack is putting out. I let it overwhelm me as I hear new lyrics that make it complete. Jack goes between looking down at his strings and looking up in my eyes with those dark blues of his.
A wall you can’t tear down
A bond that you can’t break
A love that’s too damn deep
A heart that you can’t take
The lyrics build and Jack sings louder and then abruptly stops, before lowering his voice to sing the rest.
And she’s still her…
Still setting me on fire
Still her,
We’re still climbin’ higher
Still her…
Still mine
He ends in a long, slow strum across all of the strings, the notes trickling like water; and I am stunned. I can’t bring myself to react in anyway other than to stare at him, mesmerized by what I just heard, the emotion living in every note and lyric of it, and everything it made me feel.
“What do you think?” Jack’s eyes are on me, searching. “Should we put it on the next album? Because if you want it, it’s yours.”
I swear my heart stops and the air catches in my throat when I register what he just said. He’d give me this song. This epically beautiful, mind-blowing song. He’d forego making it an unbelievable smash hit, just to let me keep it close to my heart. In this life of ours, that’s the same as offering me the world. I’ve barely processed the wonder of the song itself, let alone the idea of him…
“What?” is all I can manage in my state of disbelief.
“I mean it,” his gaze fixes mine with sincerity. “We can keep it between us, if you want to.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I’m in love with you,” he states simply as he rests a hand on my knee.
“Jack…” his name comes out on a shuddery breath. I consider his words and what he’s offering while I look around the room for the answer, but it’s no use because I already know it. I bring my face back to him and hope he can see how very much I love him, showing in my eyes. “It would be just plain… wrong… to keep that from the rest of the world. That song needs to be shared. It needs to be heard.”
Not taking his eyes from mine, he reaches across me to lay his guitar down on the bed beside me but doesn’t lean away. “Are you sure? It can be just for you.”
“I already have one of those,” I remind him of the song he wrote me years ago when we were first falling in love. The one we eventually named Only Ours. “And I have no problem being selfish with that one. Think what this song could do out in the world, what it could make people feel.”
Jack smiles softly. “Wow,” he says on an exhale.
“You won’t regret it,” I tip my head to the side and arch a teasing eyebrow at him. “You know you won’t. That song…” I shake my head, still blown away. “It’s not even a risk, Jack,” I encourage softly.
He gently presses me back so that I’m lying back down with him hovering over me, his forehead resting against mine.
“Will you be in the video?” his lips pull up on one side, knowing it’s a longshot.
“No,” I answer firmly.
“Maaaze,” he groans at me, dropping his face to the mattress beside my head. “Come on…” he prods.
He’s asked me on a few occasions to appear in one of the band’s music videos. I was in the first one, but that was different. They were not yet in the public eye, and I had no idea I was going to become his wife shortly after. Fans have been intrigued with our relationship ever since, and I don’t want that to be the focus of their interest. I want Turn it Up to be about being a band, the one they’ve always been.
“Jack,” I return plainly.
“Sweetheart,” he toughens his tone to match mine, “we release this song, we’re going to do it right. All the way.” He pins me to the bed with his stare, daring me to challenge him on this. He’s not backing down.
I let out a defeated sigh. “Fine. A cameo then.”
His smile is relaxed but victorious. Brat.
“You just keep giving me reasons to love you,” he rasps, planting a light kiss on my lips.
“Well… you make it pretty easy for me too, you know.”
Epilogue
Ten Months Later
MAYZIE
I’m in yet another bathroom, in another dressing room, in another venue, but fortunately, not another city. The band is wrapping up yet another tour, but in our hometown, which is an amazing feeling. It’s going to be so nice to already be in the comfort of our own home tonight. We should end every tour here. Thankfully, we don’t have to worry about that for a while because this is the last tour for some time as the guys decided they’d like to take a break, and so are in no hurry to put out another album. Which… is kind of perfect timing. They will keep writing songs and making albums, but they’ve reached a point in their success that there is no longer that urgency to keep the momentum going. The feeling gives me a sense of contentment as I stand up and flush the toilet I was just squatting in front of.
After brushing my teeth, fluffing my hair, and putting my backstage lanyard back on, I take one last look in the mirror. Smoothing my black and white paisley top down over my still flat stomach and adjusting it around my bare shoulders. I�
�m satisfied with my appearance, and whip around to head out the door. My grin is unavoidable as I make my way down the backstage corridor toward the stage, nodding and waving at the crew members I pass.
The last year has been quite the ride, overcoming what we have. Eli keeps appealing his case and that’s perfectly fine. He can keep right on draining his bank account, especially since every time he does, he seems to lose a lawyer from his army and gains another accuser that has decided to come forward.
As I get closer and closer to the stage, I get a little more nervous; in a good way. I’m excited to tell Jack he’s going to be a dad. I found out a week and a half ago, making me nine weeks along today. I haven’t been scared to tell him, I just knew exactly how I wanted to: tonight, right before the encore, when he sings the last two songs of the tour.
As I approach the corridor at the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the stage, the intensity of the crowd is palpable. I feel it in my chest. Ending a tour in a band’s hometown is sentimental for both sides, and the guys and the fans are like two tsunamis of energy colliding in the arena.
Kelly is waiting against a wall, holding towels and water bottles to hand off to the guys when they come down. I hold out my arms and flex my fingers at her, signaling her to give me one of each to me for Jack. She smiles and hands them over, and I lean against the opposite wall to wait. Jack and Matt do the whole bit, acting like that’s it for the show, shouting ‘thank yous’ and ‘goodnights’ while Chris bangs out a rapid beat on the drums, matching the lights that strobe across the crowd, before bringing his sticks down with a final crash.
When the music ceases, the fans go ape-shit, obviously cheering for more. The guys come clambering down the stairs, having handed their guitars off to the techs, their faces flushed and their breathing rapid. While the other guys swarm Kelly, Jack gives me a surprised smile when he spots me and comes over to where I’m standing before leaning down to give me a kiss.
Still Her (Turn it Up Book 2) Page 26
