“Let’s close out.” Garrick signaled for the final song of the evening. A tribute to their host’s selfless actions.
Jackson moved off to the back of the stage, switching out his bass guitar for his acoustic/electric one. During their version of Toby Keith’s Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue, sung by all of them, the crowd joined in for the signature lyric. Garrick followed with Greenwood’s God Bless the USA, the crowed quieting as slides of their graphics played on the whitewashed wall behind them. The images changed to pictures of their family and friends holding up signs signifying how much they were missed and appreciated. As the final strains of Garrick’s voice tapered off, Jackson moved in sync with Jimmy toward the middle of the stage.
“Being here has been an honor. Shea, Jimmy, Jackson and I sincerely, love and support every one of you out here. We hope to see you back at home rocking out with us at another show. Be safe. Much love.”
Jackson took a drink of water wishing for a beer. He moved with his bandmates to pack up their gear. Garrick stood off to the side conversing with a group of soldiers who were given access to interview them.
“Jimmy’s already at it.” Shea shook his head as he finished packing up his kit.
Jackson shrugged.
“Being here has to be hard on him. Did you notice he wore his brother’s tags, he’s had them on since we left the states.”
“Yeah. I’m proud of him, he gave homage to his brother well. Without alcohol he can only get into so much trouble, be an asshole to the extent of being arrested. Wait, no that’s you.” Shea smoothed his blue tipped mohawk.
“He talk about him yet?”
“Nah. Not pushing him to either. Maybe when we get home. Shit’s gotta be eating him alive. Hell it’d do me in.”
“Yeah, death and dealing with it is a hard pill to swallow.”
* * * *
“What in the fuck is this?”
“What?” They’d only been back at their lodging for an hour and already faced a media issue, while out of the country. Jackson shrugged on a shirt and ran his hands over his damp head. To keep up with the sites they checked and fan forums, showers were done in groups of two for time management, even though there were enough stalls for them all to take one at the same time. “Shower is free.” He made his way over to Shea who was staring at their fan site online.
“There is a lot of talk about Carlie on the board.” Jackson peered over Shea’s shoulder to check out the comments.
“Let me sign in on my computer. I’ll see what’s up while you answer fans.”
“Bro, it’s not good. Just glad Garrick wasn’t on here first.”
“I’ll help in a few.” Jackson slipped his laptop out of his bag and plugged in. After booting up, he logged into the band site and used a search engine for Carlie’s name.
With her athletic past, multiple pages always came up. He’d kept up with her success since her junior high years. He waited for the screen to refresh and took a swig of beer.
Nude images popped up. Jackson spewed beer out his nose, and then pinched the bridge to quell the burn.
“What did you find?” Shea peered over at him. Jackson turned his screen from Shea’s questioning gaze.
“Just some pictures of Carlie, I’m reading some celeb status posts right now.”
Expelled from college. Sorority Vice President Carlie Stevens hides from media after posing nude during spring break. Click here for live feed to the sorority girl’s championship mud wrestling match. No word yet from her famous brother Garrick or her family.
There has been no trace of the ‘good’ twin sister since her fall from grace. One can only wonder where she’s holing up.
“Where’s Garrick?” Jackson clicked on the link and watched Carlie’s image come up on the screen, mud covered in a pit with another chick. Her barely there bikini molded to her toned body. He knew she was a fitness nut, but damn the girl had some abs and strength. Transfixed, both he and Shea watched her take down her opponent without appearing to tax herself.
“Fuck that’s sexy.”
“Damn, Jimmy, let someone know you’re behind them.” Jackson blocked the computer screen from his mates.
“Garrick left to clean up. Glad he ain’t here right now to see this shit. I mean this is something Carrie would do. Not Carlie.”
“Fuckhead, that’s my woman you’re talking about.” Shea shoved his chair back.
“Chill out, bro. You know Carrie was wild as fuck before you tamed her.”
“Fuck, the boards are insane. Bossman’s gonna blow a stack once he gets a load of this. That’s his baby sister looking like an adult star.”
Jackson snarled at Jimmy. “Really? She’s family.”
“Sure and that’s why your sporting wood…because she’s family. I’m just speaking the truth. You should admit you’ve wanted to bone her sexy ass for years. Instead of playing game on her, you clam the fuck up like a virgin getting his first taste of head.”
“Jimmy, stop being a dick. C’mon. We have to figure out how to break this gently. We still got another event before we go home. He won’t be able to crack some heads or fix this from over here.”
Jackson laughed.
“I fail to find the comedy in this situation?” Shea pounded out responses to their fans about new tour dates and ignored the questions regarding Carlie.
“Come on. How many times have we all wondered when our perfect princess was going to fall off the fucking impossible pedestal Garrick and her parents put her on? What did you all really think?”
“That you’d fuck her and fall in love.”
“And that didn’t happen.”
“Because you pussed out and didn’t fuck her. Wouldn’t go through with her drunken declaration.”
“Asshat, because she deserves more from us than that. I’m not a complete asshole, you know. So here’s the plan. I’ll swipe Garrick’s cell phone, and we can make excuses about the laptops not working. Shea log off.”
“I want a turn.”
Jackson slapped Jimmy in the back of the head. “No. We can address fans later on. Right now we work on damage control and containing what little we know of the situation. I’m going to check my security feeds for my house before our prima donna brother returns. Never been so glad that fucker takes so long to groom.”
“Done.” Shea closed the laptop. “He’s not going to believe the world wide net is broken.”
“He will if we tell him the internet is hell-a spotty.” Jimmy ran a hand through his hair. “This is nuts, we should tell him the truth.”
“Tell him if you want, but I’m not dealing with him in his shit attitude, we’d end up throwing punches.”
Jackson snorted and brought up his home. His eyes scanned the various rooms. He’d stopped in before flying out and swore he turned off the lights. He tapped the mouse to lead him back to the parking area looking for his housekeeper’s vehicle and didn’t see her compact car. Thieves didn’t normally keep lights on and make themselves at home. Intrigued he kept searching for who occupied his house by opening links to every room in his house. He found nothing until his eyes fell on a lump in the middle of his bed. Zooming in, he saw Carlie curled in a ball fast asleep, hugging his pillow. He wondered what she was doing in his place but at the same time was glad he didn’t have to call the police and report trespassing.
“Garrick’s heading this way, bro.” Jackson snapped his head up at Shea’s words. He cleared his history, signed out and powered down.
“So we’re in agreement, we’ll deal with the press and this mess when we touchdown at home?”
“Sounds like a bad plan to me, but yeah, at least til we’re on the plane heading home.”
“Nothing like feeling clean, man. This chill is fucking ridiculous.” Garrick dropped down in an empty chair.
“You girls ready to go grab some grub?”
Jackson flipped Garrick off. “I got your girl right here.” He grabbed his dick and winked.
“
Food. I’m always down for something to eat.” Jimmy rubbed his stomach.
“Let me just text Neveah and ask now my baby is. Then we can go.”
“Nothing says I love you like waking up a pregnant woman at four in the morning,” Jackson said, and slapped Garrick on the back.
His friend checked his watch and sighed. “Nimrod, its only eight-thirty back home. Damn, shoulda called her before we got on stage.”
“Still, she’s probably asleep. Pregnant women take a lot of naps. Do you want to risk waking her?”
“Nah, I guess I’ll call her when it’s morning. She’s gonna be in a mood though, we don’t go a whole day without talking at least a few times. Two nights ago, I wasn’t able to call her at all.”
“She has you by the dick, man. I think she’ll be okay with not speaking to you for half the day.” Shea chuckled.
“When was the last time you called Carrie?”
“Before the show,” Shea muttered under his breath.
“I’m single for life and Jackson is my wingman. Never leave a brother hanging.”
“Dude, I’m not your wing man. I fly solo.” Jackson shrugged by Jimmy, leading them toward the chow hall.
“Bro, what is your major hang up?” Shea moved behind Garrick.
“Sorry, programming my watch so I can wake up and call home.”
“Really? We’re going home after the meet and greet, give it a rest.” Jimmy snatched Garrick’s phone out of his shirt pocket and tossed it to Shea.
“What is this, monkey in the middle? Give me my damn phone.” Garrick jostled Shea.
“Dude. Ya’ll play too much.” Jackson grabbed the smart phone and stuck it in his front pocket. He winked at Garrick and nodded in acknowledgement to the soldiers watching them.
“I don’t have an aversion to fishing for my shit,” Garrick hissed.
“You might not, but I do.” He nudged his friend as they entered chow hall. His mind wandered to the exhausted woman lying in his bed, with worry lines etched in her face. In the morning he’d find a private moment to call his housekeeper and have her stock the house with fresh produce. If he remembered anything at all, Carlie kept a strict diet, no processed foods, meat, etc…the boring food, but damn her athletic build made his dick lurch.
“We should sit at different tables and socialize since we’re leaving in the morning.” Garrick’s suggestion made sense.
Jackson watched Jimmy bypass the healthy bar, heading right for the grill line. There were more options than he thought. Breakfast this morning was damn good, he headed for the main line spying pizza. Shea trailed after him while Garrick followed Jimmy. With their front man’s new eating plan, he’d cut out junk in order to bulk up some. There was a running bet to see how long he could go without beer. The fact there wasn’t any—at least not an alcoholic one—had them all laughing at his outraged face in the base px. So far he’d won twenty bucks.
He waited his turn and plied his plate with a two small pizzas, fist bumped Shea and headed over to the grill to nab a grilled chicken sandwich. Easing around the buffet style dining facility, after grabbing a can of soda, he headed over to a table with only one empty seat. “Mind if I join you?”
“Hell no.” Sergeant Sanders moved over. Jackson grinned and set his food down, sliding into his seat. He acknowledged his new dinner mate’s before bowing his head for a few seconds in thanks.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a rocker pray before eating.” The table caste glances past him to his bandmates who were in conversation and eating.
“Sometimes we surprise people.” Jackson grinned at the cute African American woman beside him.
“I’ve never been to a rock show before. To think, I’ve been missing out all this time. You play one of the guitars.”
“Yeah, I normally play bass but sometimes I switch up with Garrick and play lead. Jimmy plays rhythm. All of us can play more than one guitar and other instruments.”
“Oh. That’s complicated. I didn’t know there were different guitars.”
“Jimmy and Garrick play the high notes and all the fancy showboating. While the bass and drums bring all the sounds together. I enjoy the low notes and the responsibility that comes with playing the low end.”
“That’s cool. I never thought about the individual parts.” She engaged in eating for a few seconds.
“So long have you all been in the army?”
“Two years,” a soldier at the end of the table answered. Jackson couldn’t see his name.
“Seven,” the man next to him replied, and dug into his food. Jackson looked over at the young woman thinking less than five for sure. Since she couldn’t be a day over twenty-one.
“Six years,” she answered. Damn he was wrong. He cocked his head to the side trying to figure out how she looked so young and shook his head.
“I’m grateful for the sacrifice you make for me every day. Thank you.” He dug into his pizza.
“How was the flight?” Jackson didn’t catch the name and didn’t want to rudely stare to search it out, figuring the speaker would introduce himself at some point, or not.
“Combat landing was surprising and harsh, felt almost like I was in a simulated video game. They should warn a man that the plane is going to spiral down into this tight ass valley. I swear Garrick was praying and Jimmy was all fuck yeah, damn adrenalin junkie. Shea’s face had a green sheen for the rest of the day.”
“Yeah, that can be harsh if you’ve never experienced before. I barfed during my first ride. Wearing protective gear was pretty cool though.”
“For a second there the thought crossed my mind too. I’m sorry I didn’t get your name.”
“Staff Sergeant Grant.”
“Well, the plane for sure doesn’t have a bed to crash in or a wet bar. But all in all it wasn’t a bad flight.” Jackson looked down the table and chuckled.
“Or attractive flight attendants,” Staff Sergeant Grant interjected.
“I’m trying really hard to not be my normal—I’m trying to be respectful here, at least more so than back home. Comments like that make it hard.” Jackson polished off his food.
“Do you have time for a quick interview?” Staff Sergeant Lopez, the newest addition to the table asked. The rest of the table all waited on his answer.
Jackson noticed she didn’t have a plate loaded with food, but a pen, pad of paper and digital camcorder. “Need me to get the rest of the band?”
“There are dozens of band interviews and podcasts but the only ones of you available on tape or quoted are drunken, boasting womanizing behavior and crude words.”
“Well, ma’am, seems you already know all there is about me, so let me get my bro’s and you can—”
“I wasn’t finished speaking, merely pausing for a moment. What I’m, what women are really interested in is why you act like a tool when there is clearly so much more to you than you let on.”
Jackson fought the tic in his jaw and tamed it. He cut her questioning off with a cool gaze and leaned over the table. “What women want is my dick, at every signing, at every concert, when I’m off tour, eating with the band or friends at a restaurant or any other public venue. There is no escape. I give them what they want—an illusion and nothing else. I don’t have the time or energy to let them steal another piece of me.”
“What happened to the teenage heartthrob who ran five star restaurants and cared more about his family than leaving it behind for the rock star life?”
Her knowledge of him showed she did her homework. “That heartthrob grew the fuck up, still runs five star restaurants and lives, breathes and rocks the rock star life. I never do shit halfway, sweetheart.”
The tension around them was palpable. The others he was enjoying lunch with weren’t amused with her tactics of extracting information. He noticed she outranked them and guessed at their silence. No matter, he could handle a little thing like her. Big brown eyes with a compact body and hair he could fist his hands in. Her plump mouth would f
it nicely around his dick while he was punching in her mouth, effectively shutting her up. With what was going on with Garrick’s sister, he didn’t need a man basher venting her anger on him. “So have you always been a man basher?” Her sudden intake of breath pleased him. She did call him a tool for that he’d give her what she assumed.
She scoffed. “I’ve been a fan of your music for years. Sue me if I want to know what makes the man hiding behind a mask tick. Don’t get your boxers in a twist. I won’t publish anything you don’t want known.”
“Darlin’ I don’t wear boxers but thanks for the worry. Publish what you want, I’ve never given a rat’s ass about the media, I won’t begin now.” They hadn’t respected his need for privacy after the deaths of his grandmother and mother. He promised himself he wouldn’t allow them to see the important aspects of his life. Instead he played into what they wanted to see. The woman beside him was smart. He could nearly see the gears turn in her head as she focused to find common ground.
“How is Garrick handling the media flurry centered around his sister?”
“That topic of conversation is closed. He doesn’t know and we, the band, want him left in the dark until we’re headed home.” He leveled his gaze on her brooking no argument.
“All right, he won’t hear a thing from me. See, there is more to you than you let on.”
“If you got a firsthand view of his temper you’d want to preserve your sanity and patience.” He let his gaze drift over her immaculate hair and makeup.
“One more personal question.” She put the tip of the pen in her mouth. After raking her gaze down him once again, she leaned away from his personal space. Her shrewd eyes not missing a thing.
Jackson sighed. “Shoot.”
“I read an article saying you quit cooking but never explained why.”
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