The Trouble with Rock Stars: Jackson's Story (Access All Areas, #3)

by Starr, Candy J

  Everyone cheered when the song was over. Gina put down the microphone and ran from the stage but she had a grin on her face. She’d done it. My heart burst with pride.

  I left the stage and Drew stood there alone. When the cheers died down, he said he’d do an encore. I knew nothing about that. He hadn’t told me there’d be another song.

  He put down his guitar and picked up the mic. I recognized the song straight away. It was his “I beat Carlie at Galaga” song. He’d made it up and danced around the room after defeating her.

  It was a brave move. She’d kill him when he got off stage. But it got a laugh from the crowd.

  I didn’t search for Gina. I wasn’t sure if we had anything to say to each other. She’d surely still be angry at me. I didn’t expect any thanks. Just seeing her triumph was reward enough.

  When I went to the bar, she was there with Holden and Carlie.

  “Thanks, Jackson,” she said.

  I gave her a half-smile. “No worries.”

  I wasn’t sure if I should walk off and leave her be or stick around. Then Carlie handed me her drink and told me to mind it while she went to have her cigarette. She dragged Holden with her even though he didn’t smoke. Not very subtle. There wasn’t even a reason she couldn’t take her drink with her.

  “I meant it when I said thank you. I was freaking out up there.”

  “You did well. You could take it up professionally.”

  She shook her head. “It was fun doing it once but that’s enough for me.”

  A space had cleared around us. Nobody wanted to be within our range. No distractions, not even Drew popping up to make some stupid comment. I’d have welcomed his stupid comments for once.

  “So, you’re teaching Drew guitar?” she said.

  Things had become awkward between us. I’d made them awkward. I’d pushed us into this place.

  “Yeah, I lost a bet.”

  She nodded. I’m not sure if she knew about the details or not but it’d be a dick move to tell her, since she was the one he’d dated. Not even I’d tell someone they were asked out because of a challenge.

  Up on stage, Razer began setting up. His band was with him. They seemed pretty damn pleased with themselves. They’d done it. They were on top of the world. I didn’t know what the guys were going to play. Some old standards so that they didn’t have to learn anything new, probably.

  I glanced over at Gina. She hadn’t moved off but she wasn’t looking at me either. If I was a strong man, I’d have walked away and left her alone. This was no place for me to be, standing at the bar beside her as though nothing had happened between us. Almost touching her, occasionally brushing against her as someone pushed through to get a drink. This was temptation, dangerous and wrong.

  She had a strange look on her face.

  “Why did you do it?” she asked.

  I was going to ask what but I knew full well what she meant. I’d sound like a bastard even asking. Fact is, I’d sound like a bastard in any possible outcome here. I figured I’d go with the truth.

  “I’m not the one for you,” I told her. “There’s nothing here for you.”

  “Don’t I get to decide that?” She scowled.

  “My life is going to be a downhill slide from here on. It’s not going to get any better. Look at these guys. Look at Razer and Alex and Holden. Hell, even look at Drew. They might all fall into a heap, become has-beens or never-beens but they’re young enough to have dreams and the energy to go after them.”

  “That’s not good enough,” she said. “That’s no excuse.”

  She folded her arms and the band started. They started with a Rolling Stones song. Good choice. It got the energy up in the room. Gina stayed next to me but closed off. The music surrounded us but we were both alone.

  Was she right? Should I have let her decide? I wanted to protect her from anything that could harm her even if it meant protecting her from myself. But it was possible that she was stronger than I gave her credit for.

  When the song finished, Razer looked in my direction with an odd expression on his face. Almost fear. I had no idea what that was about until he played the opening bars.

  I walked out, pushing my way through the crowd. It was only when I got downstairs, I realized I still had my drink, and Carlie’s, in my hands. I polished them both off, then headed out to the street. I couldn’t stay in the bar and listen to that song.

  As I walked away, I heard footsteps behind me.

  “What’s wrong?” Gina asked. “Why are you leaving?”

  “No reason,” I said. “I’m fine.”

  She fell into step beside me. “I want an explanation. I think I deserve that much.”

  “For which part?”

  “For it all.”

  I wanted to put my arm around her and pull her tight but that wasn’t going to happen. I’d come this far, I couldn’t change my tack.

  “I’d need a drink for that story,” I said.

  She opened her jacket and pulled out a bottle of whiskey she’d secreted inside.

  “I thought you’d say that.”

  I stopped in my tracks and couldn’t help the grin from spreading across my face.

  “You stole that? From the bar?”

  “Yeah, I stole it. I can be badass. I’m not the sweet, innocent girl you think I am.”

  I stared at her until she turned her head.

  “Okay, I left the money on the cash register downstairs.”

  I laughed. A man can only be so strong and, with her eager face turned to me, that glow in her eyes healing my hurts, I couldn’t turn her away. And she was right, I did owe her an explanation.

  “Come on then,” I said.

  We walked to the riverfront and found a quiet spot. Boats of partygoers floated by, lit up in bright colors with music drifting across the water. Really awful music. The kind of ugly pop that gets stuck in your head. Across the river, the Ferris wheel glowed in the night.

  “So, what do you want to know?”

  “You can start with the injury,” she said. She twisted the top off the bottle and took a swig. Wiping her mouth, she handed it to me.

  “The nerves in my arm were cut,” I said. I rolled back my shirt sleeve and showed her the ugly white scar. “I have nerve damage and I’ll never play guitar again. I’ll never do much with this hand. I can’t hold a glass, I can’t tie my shoes and I’ll never be able to fully make love to a woman. Not with all the extras.”

  She nodded. The basics of the story were common knowledge. How that happened was a story I didn’t want to tell her, and I hoped she didn’t ask.

  “There’s nothing that can be done about it?”

  I stared at the boats. “Not really.”

  “Not really? So, there is something?”

  She picked up on that far too easy. I’d have to be careful. I took another swig of the whiskey before handing her the bottle.

  “There’s an operation but the odds of it being successful are slim. It’d be months and months of recovery, probably for nothing.”

  She picked at the label on the bottle, trying to pry away an edge. The tinny music faded in and out of our hearing.

  “And what about me, Jackson?”

  “You deserve better. You deserve someone who is fully functional. It’s not just the arm, it’s my whole life. I drink too much, I don’t give a damn about anything and I’m not much of a man.”

  “Do you have depression?” she asked.

  I snorted. Depression? Hardly. That was something spoilt kids got. I wasn’t crazy and I wasn’t mopey. Why would she even think that?

  Then I made the connection. The scars.

  “I didn’t try to kill myself, if that’s what you’re thinking.” I’d thought about it a few times since but I wasn’t divulging that much about myself. I’d had a few people look at the scars on my arm and give me that look. I tried to keep them covered most of the time.

  She turned to me. “What if I said I didn’t care? I don’t wa
nt anyone else.”

  “It’s not that I don’t like you. I do, Gina, trust me, I do”

  “No, you just don’t like yourself.”

  That was true facts. I really didn’t like myself. I was a weak man. I’d squandered what I’d been given in this life. I ruined the things I had. I’d ruin her too. That light that shone in her eyes would dim and go out. She’d waste the best part of her life with nothing to show for it. In time, in two years, maybe five at the best, she’d realize that I’d been right and she should just run.

  We sat for a while in silence, watching the lights on the water. I had no idea what to say to her, how to tell her that my heart beat faster when she was near and her smile lifted my day.

  “Why did you leave when they played that song? It was your song, wasn’t it? But you hate it now.”

  “I hate it now — and that’s a story that would take more than a bottle of whiskey.” Just a song but enough to swill up all the bitterness that lay on the bottom of my stomach.

  “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

  When we got to her apartment, we looked at each awkwardly. We lingered on the doorstep, talking and still sipping on the whiskey, until the bottle was done and we threw it in the trash.

  “I guess I should go up...”

  “I guess you should...”

  The night was so still, you could hear the cats in the street blocks away, their howling filled with desperation. I understood that howl, I felt it myself.

  I left her then. I left her with a quick goodbye and walked off down the street. It took all my strength to leave her. I ached to hold her. I would walk away, though.

  But I looked back.

  She stood at the gate of the apartment building, watching me walk away from her. If only she’d gone inside, I’d have not had my senses addled. I’d fought this thing ever since I’d first laid eyes on her. Every single time we were together, I wanted to take her into my arms and kiss her like nobody in the world had ever kissed before. I wanted to make her mine and not ever let her go. I’d fought and I’d fought, but I could fight no longer.

  I paused.

  I turned.

  I rushed back to her and swept her into my arms. I held her body tight against mine, feeling her heart beat like a trapped bird. I bent down to kiss her lightly on the forehead, just my lips brushing against her skin. A goodnight kiss, that was all.

  But her mouth found mine. I didn’t want to overwhelm her with my need. But, as our lips connected, she pressed hard against me, hot with desire.

  Oh, dear Lord, how could I resist that? She had fires in her I’d never dreamed of. I kissed her deeper as she twisted her fingers through my hair, pulling me closer too. Her lips becoming brutal with need.

  The intensity with which she kissed me made me quiver. I’d known a lot of women but none had ever kissed me with that kind of need, a pure longing to be mine.

  This woman loved me in ways I could not even imagine, with a depth that scared me. She loved me in a way I should cherish. I had no idea what to do with something like that. I should’ve run, but I could resist no longer.

  Chapter 16 Gina

  JACKSON KISSED ME AND I knew I wanted more. I wanted so much more. With his arms around me, I felt complete. In an instant, I’d gone from wanting him to knowing that I couldn’t live without him. His arms were the only arms I would ever want holding me. His lips were the only lips I wanted to kiss me. There would be no one else for me in this lifetime.

  I wasn’t sure what made him turn around and come back to me but I was so glad he had. It killed me inside to watch him walk away.

  Then he turned back and my heart stopped. Maybe he’d forgotten something, maybe he had a logical reason. I didn’t dare hope it was anything else.

  When his lips met mine, he woke something inside me.

  Our kiss seemed to go on forever, stuck in some place where time ceased to exist. My heart beat so fast. His too. I clung to him desperately, willing him to go further, to go as far as he could, shaking with a need for him so strong that it hurt.

  But then one of the neighbors coughed. They were trying to get out the doorway and we blocked them. I moved aside and then we both laughed.

  When he broke away from me, a wave of loss hit me. Then I did the hardest thing I ever had to do in my life. I sent him home.

  Was I being a fool? All I wanted was for him to keep holding me, to kiss me again. To take me upstairs and make love to me for the rest of the night. Well, for the rest of eternity.

  But, even though I had no doubts in my mind that he was the only man for me, if we went any further and he rejected me again, I’d never live through it. I was too weak, too vulnerable. The intensity would destroy me.

  My body ached, literally ached, from our separation.

  As much as I loved him, I doubted him too. Not his love for me, after that kiss, I’d never doubt that. What I doubted was his emotional stability. He could pull away from me at any minute and I’d be left distraught.

  “You’re not ready for this,” I told him. “And I’m not ready to handle that.”

  I wanted him to convince me otherwise, I’d admit that. I wanted him to fight for me, to tell me he’d do whatever it took to keep me. I wanted him to sweep me away on a wave of passion that neither of us could control.

  I said goodbye and ran up to my apartment as fast as I could, before I changed my mind. I leaned against the door, panting from the effort and torn from the parting. Tears stung my eyes.

  The teddy bear that Drew won for me at the games center sat on my sofa. I picked it up and punched it in the stomach.

  “Why are you messing with my mind, you bastard?’ I yelled at it. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  I punched that teddy bear again. I punched it hard. It still didn’t answer me.

  “Why can’t you just take me in your arms and hold me forever.”

  Teddy’s sewn on mouth just kept on half-smiling in the same grim way.

  I wandered aimlessly through the apartment, not able to settle. Sleep would be impossible. I couldn’t settle to watch a movie or read a book.

  Finally, I sat down at the computer. I went online to investigate nerve damage. I had no idea what the actual issue was but he’d been holding stuff back when he’d mentioned the surgery, I could tell that much. I could understand that surgery was a huge step, terrifying even, but if it would restore the use of his hand, surely it was worth trying. All the work and rehabilitation would have to be better than just sitting in the bar, feeling so lousy and defeated.

  He hadn’t said how it had happened in the first place and I’d felt that subject was off-limits.

  There were so many options available. The chances of recovery lessened over time but there was still hope that he could be fixed up. If it were me, I’d definitely take that chance.

  Before tonight, I’d not realized how much it worried him. But now I realized how that feeling of weakness hit.

  That song they’d played, I wanted to hear it. I went online and found an old clip on YouTube. Jackson’s band, Vireal, were so young. It was just over ten years ago, the first song they’d ever released, but he seemed like such a baby. Watching him play reminded me a bit of Drew. So naive and eager. The song was fantastic. As soon as it finished, I’d put it on repeat.

  In most bands, the one you look at is the singer. They’re usually the charismatic one, the one who takes the limelight. Maybe I was biased but in Vireal, it wasn’t the singer you noticed at all. It wasn’t just that he wasn’t good-looking, he seemed to lack something important. His lanky frame jumped around the stage, all nervous energy and pent-up emotion. He wasn’t bad, he just wasn’t Jackson. Meanwhile, Jackson exuded a calmness, as though he knew exactly what he was doing and knew he did it well.

  I was definitely biased.

  I wanted to learn more about the band. I put on the kettle and made a coffee, then settled down to read more.

  I don’t know why I’d never googled Jackson before
. I guess, I’d always thought of him as Jackson from the bar, not as this once-famous guitarist.

  Even though people talked about him, calling him a guitar legend and genius and all that, I’d actually had no idea of just how famous he was. Around the time his band was at their peak, I wasn’t even that into rock.

  That was one of the secrets I wanted to hide. Sometimes, at the club, people would talk about bands as though everyone should know who they were but they were unknown to me, so I’d go home and look them up online.

  The Jackson on the internet was not the Jackson I knew, that’s for sure. He’d changed and there was some mystery to his past other than just the injury.

  On the outside, he looked pretty much the same as he did now. Messy hair and a slightly too big nose. He had the same broad shoulders and solid body, the same sardonic smile. But there was something about him in those photos that was missing now.

  There was a ton of information and I read through it all. Even the stuff about Jackson’s alleged girlfriends. I mean, it was in his past and obviously, none of them were around anymore so there was no reason to get jealous, but the lead weight in my belly got heavier, the more I read.

  There’d been a lot of women.

  I listened to some more of their songs. I even knew a couple of them, although I’d not made the connection. Songs I’d heard on the radio without focusing.

  Part of me wished I’d known that Jackson. The one who still had some faith in the world. Maybe, if I’d known him then, he’d have not given me the time of day though. Not with all those hot groupies hanging around.

  There were a ton of articles on Jackson leaving the band. At first, the reason was unknown but the press must’ve found out and there was stuff on the injury. Some medical details that I wrote down so I could learn more about it.

  I’d been at the computer so long, the sun came up but I kept at it. I read through a forum where people had conspiracy theories. A lot of them thought he lied about the nerve damage and it was something else.

  A couple of people talked about him having depression and suggested that he’d tried to suicide. I’d believed him when he’d said it wasn’t that, though.