In the days after the operation, Gina was at the hospital the whole time.
“You didn’t need to take time off to be with me,” I said.
“I don’t mind. You might need something.”
I did. I needed her. The gap between us meant that I couldn’t say that out loud. I’d painted myself into a corner. I was the grumpy guy, the cynical one. I couldn’t suddenly start on the flowery talk. I had nothing to offer her from my hospital bed anyway.
“I need whiskey,” I said. “You haven’t brought me that.”
I grinned at her so she’d know it was a joke but I really was hankering for a drink. It was the longest I’d been without one in many years.
“I think it’s doing you good,” she replied. “Your skin looks a better color and your eyes are brighter. They have some wheatgrass juice downstairs. Maybe you should try that. Anyway, what do the doctors say?”
“Wheatgrass juice? Are you crazy? Anyway, I’m out of here tomorrow. I have to wear a splint on my arm for the next few weeks and have a ton of medical appointments but, other than that, it’s wait and see.”
She nodded. “I’ll come and pick you up.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I want to.”
“Then you’re back to work. I don’t want you wasting your holiday leave on me. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m in no hurry to go back there. It’s not like I’m being all dutiful and self-sacrificing being here, you know. Compared to that place, hanging out with you in this comfy hospital room is a breeze.”
“Yep, but I’ll be fine once I leave.”
She turned to me with a wicked grin. “Are you sure you’ll be able to shower with your hand in a splint? I might need to help you with that.”
Holy shit, that look on her face and the implication of her words shot an arrow straight through me. I thought I’d have to call the nurse to deal with my rapid heartbeat. It definitely stirred up something and, even if the nerves weren’t working in my hand, they sure as hell were elsewhere.
She laughed. “You should see your face.”
Hell, was I fifteen years old again? I’d never seen this sexy, flirty side of her before and it was damn hot. My quiet, shy Gina coming out with something like that stirred up images that I couldn’t shake. I wanted to turn that thought around in my mind and explore it from every angle. I’d thought of her as something pure and breakable but she definitely had another side.
The most beautiful sight I’d ever seen was her face above me as she rode my cock. The sweat glistening on her skin, her hair stuck to her face. Her eyes narrowed with pleasure. It was true what I’d said to her. I never imagined she’d be like this, so wild, so hungry for my cock. I’d had no idea what had happened to that shy girl but I wasn’t about to complain.
I was falling. She had me entranced and the hold she’d taken over me wasn’t ever going to leave me.
Before I could explore it any further, Drew walked in the room. Total cock block. I hadn’t wanted any visitors other than Gina but word had gotten out at the bar and I’d had Carlie in to see me yesterday, now Drew. He had a huge bunch of flowers in his arms too.
“The guys at the bar chipped in for these,” he said.
“Flowers? Flowers? What the hell would I want with flowers? Do those people even know me? I’m in hospital, not dead.” I tried to sit up in bed but it was hard to leverage myself with only one hand and even harder to fully express your anger and indignation laying down. I found the remote and made the bed rise up.
Drew set the flowers down on the table beside my bed.
“I think you’ll like these flowers, Jackson. These are your favorite kind of flowers. Ho ho.” He even winked in the creepiest manner. I had no idea what he was talking about. He’d obviously grown deranged in the few days I’d not been around.
He pushed aside the foliage at the bottom of the arrangement, revealing miniature bottles of whiskey.
“Because these are whiskey flowers...”
“You legend!” I grabbed one of the bottles. Drew took it from me and twisted the top off.
“I take back every bad thing I’ve said about you.”
“Drew! What are you thinking? Jackson’s recovering from surgery. That’s the last thing he needs. You’ll kill him with that stuff.”
I managed to have a decent slug before she grabbed the bottle off me.
“Hell, woman, if that stuff was going to kill me, it’d have done it way before now.” But her fussing made me happy. No one had ever fussed over me like before. I’d have killed anyone else who’d done it but, when it was her, it was different. With her, it was always different.
“So, do you like your flowers, Jackson?”
“Hell yeah. If this woman would let me near them.”
Still, I’d give up all the whiskey if I could go back to that moment before Drew entered the room. I wanted to see that wicked grin on Gina’s face again. I’d told her to wait until I sorted things out but I was damned impatient to get my hands on her again. And things were getting as sorted as they could be.
Chapter 25 Jackson
“I’M READY FOR MY LESSON, Jackson.”
We’d been having the lessons at the club since I didn’t want Drew hanging out at my apartment. We practiced in the band room in the afternoon before the actual bands came in to soundcheck. Most of the bands turned up late anyway, which gave us a decent stretch of time.
Drew sat on the edge of the stage. He liked sitting there.
“I can see what it’s like to actually be on the stage,” he said. “But it’s not like I’m ready to go all the way. I’m just halfway, right, Jackson?”
“Halfway is pushing it.”
He’d improved a helluva lot, though. I did notice lately he’d started imitating Razer quite a bit in the way he played. That was normal. It’d be Razer for a while, then someone else, maybe Holden or Alex. He’d keep that up until one day he found his own style. At least he was picking up good habits.
“Play that bit again, but slow it right down,” I said.
I’d pulled a chair up next to the stage. The room was a bit echoey with just the two of us in it.
Alex came up the stairs and walked over to the sound desk. I couldn’t really see what he was doing.
“Not bad, Drew. You’re coming along nicely.”
“Can I play with you sometime?” Drew asked.
“Not yet, but maybe one day.”
Drew lowered his head, a huge grin spread across his face. That was about as good as it’d get from Alex.
After Alex finished and went back downstairs, Drew stopped playing. “Did you hear what Alex said?”
I nodded. “Still don’t trust that guy though. There’s something fishy about him.”
“I know.”
I glanced at Drew. He didn’t mean “I know” as in, “I agree with what you are saying.” He said it as in, “I know why Alex is fishy.”
“What do you know?”
“I shouldn’t really tell anyone. It’s kind of secret and Alex’s parents paid a lot of money to keep it hushed up. They’re stinking rich.”
I’d figured there was money somewhere. You don’t just sweep into town and buy up a club, even a dirty old dive like this one, without money behind you. He’d spent a fortune doing up the band room. It had one of the best sound systems I’d ever heard. Then there was the other stuff. The fancy clothes, the guitars, the car. Alex was no struggling muso, that’s for sure.
I’m only human. If Drew had the shit on something like that, I had to know. I couldn’t beg him for the info like a pissy little schoolgirl. I’d have to use finesse to pry it out of him.
The only other fact I knew was that Alex had some success with his old band before coming to town. You don’t turn your back on something like that, not without good reason. And the most likely reason of all was fall out between band members. He’d slept with a band mate’s chick or stole their coke or —
“He killed hi
s drummer.”
Whoa, that’d been too easy. Drew would never make a good spy. He grinned at me. The kind of grin a cat has when they bring you a dead rat as a gift.
“Come on, kid, he wouldn’t be walking around today if he’d murdered someone.”
“Well, he didn’t do it on purpose, obviously. That would be murder. It was an accident but it was Alex’s fault.”
“This isn’t some bullshit story you’ve heard, is it? People talk a lot of shit.” I’d done enough speculation about Alex myself but I’d have never thought of him killing someone. Drew had to have the wrong end of it. He’d overheard something and got it wrong or he’d gotten it mixed up. Alex could be cold-blooded but not that cold-blooded.
“It’s true facts, Jackson. You can look it up but there won’t be Alex’s name attached to it. Just that the guy died in a car crash. But my friend told me. He went to school with Jake’s sister. Jake is the dead drummer. Their family hate the heck out of Alex now. Not only did he kill the brother but he got away with it. He said everyone in town knows, or at least suspects, but no one says anything because most people work for Alex’s dad or someone in their family does. You don’t talk bad about that family.”
I went behind the bar and poured myself another drink. This was a gruesome story.
“Ever notice how Alex doesn’t drink much. It’s because he is scared to. He was drunk when he drove the car. They were on their way home from playing out of town. Alex drove home even though he was totally shitfaced and smashed the car into a tree. Rod, that’s my friend, says if he’d gone the other way, they’d have tumbled right down a huge cliff and the lot of them would’ve been killed. He says that Jake’s family should be grateful for that much but I think they’d rather have Alex dead too.”
Shit, no wonder the guy acted like he did. Other bands hung out together. They were friends, even when they were enemies. At least at the start, you hung out together, sharing the dream, working your guts out for each other. Because you had nothing else, just the five of you and, if one failed, you all failed. You fought over songs, you got at each other’s throats but you were there for each other. It was a team effort. Later, that might all turn to shit but that’s how it always started.
But not Alex. Alex’s band were there for one reason and that was to play. There was no socializing after gigs, no fooling around. Fabian, the bass player, said it was like working as a session muso. You turned up, you got paid well, and you did as you were told. Alex had final say over it the entire process. He did the songwriting, he arranged the songs, he prepared the setlists.
“Hell, he’d even tune my bass if he thought he needed to.”
That wasn’t a band. That was a solo artist.
Explained a lot.
“His parents told him he had to get out of town, start afresh somewhere. They wanted him to take over the business but Alex came here instead.”
We heard footsteps on the stairs. Drew grabbed his guitar and began playing random chords. I sat back in my chair and tried to look like I’d not heard a thing about Alex.
It wasn’t Alex though, it was Sally. Man, she had a heavy step for a girl.
“What’s up, guys? You’d have thought I was a ghost coming up those stairs by the looks on your faces. I’m just setting up for the soundcheck. You’ve got another half hour. You’ll be finished by then?”
I almost wished I’d not heard about Alex. It’d change the way I looked at him. I’d warn Drew not to mention a word to Carlie about it. And I sure wouldn’t be telling anyone.
Chapter 26 Gina
“YOU COULD BECOME A nurse,” Jackson said. “You’re really good at it.”
I’d been readjusting the splint on his hand.
“Not likely,” I replied. “Having to empty people’s bedpans, yuck.”
“I dunno, I think it would be kind of hot if you emptied my bedpan.”
I slapped him on the arm for that. “That is the wrongest thing you’ve ever said.”
Jackson laughed. He was just teasing, I hope. I mean there are some limits to things I would do for him and that was definitely one of them. I’d gone to his apartment to help him shower and then we’d fooled around for a while. At least he had full use of his right hand so he didn’t need help with going to the toilet.
“You looked scared there for a moment,” he said.
“Well, no wonder.”
“I can’t help it, that look you get on your face is so pretty. You really are the most beautiful woman on this earth.”
He said things like that to me but I never believed him. All I’d heard all my life was that I was awkward and weird-looking. My nose was too big and my chin too pointy.
“Maybe, if you had surgery, you’d look alright,” Mum would say. Like I could ever afford surgery. I wasn’t that concerned about my looks anyway. I’d never had anyone I’d tried to impress until now, and Jackson didn’t seem to care.
“You’re just saying that,” I replied.
“Seriously, no. I don’t think you even realize.”
“Ha, look at Carlie and Violet. They are both good looking. Me, I’m kinda plain and boring.”
“You are most definitely not boring. Just because you don’t look like them doesn’t mean you aren’t beautiful. Don’t believe what your mother told you. She was a bitch.”
My mouth hung open but I couldn’t deny what he said. I’d only told him part of it but that was enough.
“What about you?” I asked. “What were your parents like?”
I’d never heard Jackson talk about his family, except for his brother.
He shrugged. “We had a pretty rough home life,” he said.
“In what way?”
“Dad worked long hours and drank a lot. He wasn’t home much and, when he was, he was usually in a bad mood. Mum never wanted us kids underfoot. She was always telling us ‘don’t disturb your father’ and throwing us out of the house. I think she just wanted peace and quiet for herself. We never got along. Then, when I started playing guitar, things went from bad to worse. I was over at—a friend’s place most of the time.”
I noticed he didn’t mention his friend’s name. He’d caught himself as though saying the name would hurt him. Obviously, one of his bandmates. They’d all started playing together when they were about 14 years old but, since Jackson’s accident, there was a lot of bad feeling. That’s as much as I knew.
“Should we go out to get dinner?” I wanted to change the subject, not wanting Jackson to get into one of his black moods.
“In a while,” he said, pulling me onto the bed beside him. He inched up my tank top and kissed my belly.
Later sounded good to me.
Chapter 27 Jackson
IT STARTED OFF AS A usual day in the bar when he came in. Fred. Last time I’d managed to spot him first and get out of the place but this time, he slipped into the seat beside me without me noticing.
I was too wrapped up in myself, thinking of Gina’s eyes shining when she’d been watching the band and the way she twirled her hair. Mostly, I’d been thinking about that hungry look she got, just before we got naked.
She’d held good on her promise to help me shower, and I’d never showered so often in my entire life.
“Hi, Jackson.”
Shit, that’s when I noticed him.
If I didn’t acknowledge him, he might go away. Fat chance but you never know. Even if I didn’t turn my head, I was aware of the stringy length of him beside me. His legs curled around the barstool, always too long and gangly for him to deal with. The way he hunched over. After all the years, I knew what he’d be doing without looking. Sometimes, I knew before he did. I had nothing to say to him. Everything had been said, a million times.
“Jackson, there’s no need for this. We were friends once. We should talk.”
I turned slowly, not wanting to look at him. Not wanting the blinding pain of memories rushing back. I’d worked too hard to bury them. If he was here to see me, it wouldn’t be f
or any good reason.
“What do you want?”
It had to be self-interest for him to be here talking like that. He had no wish to rekindle old friendships any more than I did. He only had his own interests. He’d been a selfish bastard all along and I’d been too blind to see it for years.
“We need your help with something.”
“I’ve nothing to give.”
“You’ve got your name, your signature. That’s all we need.”
He’d cleaned himself up a bit. He didn’t have that starved junkie look he’d started to develop. Either he’d gotten off the junk or he hid it better now. He wore long sleeves though, to cover the marks. That habit had scarred him for life but I had scars too and my hand still in a splint.
“You still haven’t forgiven me?” he asked.
“There’s nothing to forgive, right, mate? You were well within your rights to act like you did. I was the one in the wrong. That’s been well established now. Case closed.”
I wondered if Carlie had anything stronger than this whiskey behind the bar. She hovered nearby as though, at any moment, she’d need to jump the bar and sort things out. She wasn’t wrong in that assessment either. I could handle it myself though. I didn’t need anyone else to fight my battles. He’d soon get the message and leave.
“That’s right, it’s in the past.”
It’d always be in the past for Fred. Gone and forgotten. I wondered how much he remembered of that night. It burnt clear in my mind but then I’d been clean, apart from a few drinks. No convenient excuses for me. I had complete recall of everything.
I nodded.
Carlie walked over and gave me a look. I gave a slight shake of my head to let her know I had it under control. Fred ordered a beer and she walked off. The silence between us hung heavy. I didn’t plan to break it. There was just Carlie’s music playing in the bar and someone laughing out on the street and, from somewhere, the sound of Drew practicing guitar.
Fred took his beer off Carlie, put a tenner on the bar and took a sip.
The Trouble with Rock Stars: Jackson's Story (Access All Areas, #3) Page 11
