I sprang up from the park bench, newly energized. I was not going to let this trip spiral out of control. I was going to take charge and get what I’d come for—an amazing story that would launch my career as a music journalist. I was going to dress the way I wanted, act the way I wanted, and be who I really was. And if anybody gave me crap for it, that was their own problem. Jackson would have to see me as I really was, not as some approximation of who I thought he wanted me to be. And if who I really was didn’t appeal to him, or if Bloody Mary appealed to him more, that was something I would have to live with.
With new determination, I headed back into the hotel. We were heading for the next city in the morning, it was a fresh start. And I was ready to get myself back into the game. I’d let my guard down, let my feelings cloud my judgment, but that was all going to end. I was a professional journalist, and professional journalists didn’t fall in love with their subjects, let alone bed them. The idea of never again feeling Jackson moving powerfully over my body made my bones ache a little, and I tried to put it out of my mind. I just had to get through this one month, and then everything would go back to normal.
Chapter Ten
When the sun finally cracked over the horizon, the party was still going strong. I tried my best to mingle, keep my spirits up, but I was anxious to get a move on. The band’s manager, Pete, finally barged into the suite and demanded that everyone get ready for the next leg of trip. We were heading up to Dublin for a series of smaller shows, and we needed to hurry and get moving. I slipped away from the crowd, glancing back at Jackson as I left. He’d been pinned to Mary’s side ever since she arrived, and everyone was avoiding them like the plague. Our eyes met briefly as I fled from the room, and I thought I spotted regret there. I hoped he didn’t regret our sleeping together. That might just kill me.
By some miracle, I managed to locate my belongings and steal away into an empty room. I sidled into the bathroom and turned on the hot water. As the mirror began to get steamy, I took a good long look at myself. I looked like I’d been hit by a Mack truck. My hair was matted and tangled, caked with sweat and smoke. My face was a splotchy collection of makeup stains, and my clothes suddenly seemed laughable. Who the hell was I trying to be? I slipped out of the rock and roll getup and ran my fingers through my hair as best I could. When I stepped into the hot stream of water, I felt like I was being born again. The scorching flow was enough to wash away all the impurities that had collected on my body since I set out on his crazy trip...but it wasn’t quite hot enough to burn away the memory of Jackson’s hands on my skin.
My desire for him hadn’t been sated by our encounter, I admitted to myself. If anything, I only wanted him more for it. I let my hands linger on my breasts as I soaped up my body, letting myself imagine that they were his. I pinched lightly at my nipples, gasping at the tiny streaks of pain that ran through me as I did. Jackson knew how to make me hurt just enough—just enough to make it feel so good. I’d never been with anyone who had understood my body as well as he had.
I let my thoughts wander back to our encounter in the empty room. My hands travelled down my torso, down to the still-needy place between my legs. Leaning back against the cool tile, I let my fingers rest against that hard, throbbing nub. I stroked myself as I thought of Jackson, letting my mouth fall open with the pleasure of—
A knock at the door made me jump halfway out of my skin, orgasm foiled. I covered my body with my hands, alarmed by the unexpected sound.
“Hello?” I called, “Who is it?”
In answer, I saw the door swing open. My heart stopped for a beat as I spotted a shock of red hair through the foggy shower panes. Mary.
“I thought I saw you disappear in here,” she drawled, closing the door behind her.
“Can I have some privacy, please?” I asked, angry at her intrusion.
She let out a little laugh. “There’s no such thing as privacy on the road, Alexa.”
“Well,” I said haughtily, “Good thing that I’m not here for long, then.”
“A good thing indeed,” she trilled in her Irish accent, “I’m glad that you’ve already come to that realization. It wouldn’t do any good for you to pretend to be something you’re not.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” I said, glaring at her through the steam. “Now if you could just get the—”
But my words were cut off as she wrenched open the shower door. My mouth fell open as she leaned against the glass doorway, mercilessly sizing me up with a condescending look on her pretty face. She sneered at me, clearly convinced of her superiority.
“Do you mind?” I spluttered, trying to cover up my breasts with my hands.
“Stay away from Jackson,” she said, in a deathly quiet voice. “Trust me, you’re not his type.”
“Oh, and you are, I suppose?” I shot back, enraged.
“Jackson and I are meant for each other,” she sniffed.
“Does Jackson know that?” I asked, “Or did you just come to that agreement with your record company?”
“So cynical,” she said, clicking her tongue at me. “You Americans are so stunted. Jackson is my perfect partner. The media loves us together. And let’s face it, dear, you really aren’t enough woman to satisfy him.”
I planted my fists on my curvy hips, standing my ground. “Listen, stick. You can get the fuck out of my face and mind your own damn business. I have a job to do, plain and simple. Whatever paranoid convictions you have are your own, you nutcase. Now pick that bony little ass up and get the hell out of here! I’m trying to shower. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”
She wrinkled her nose, amused by my outburst. With a dainty little wave, she finally closed the shower door and floated out of the room. I let the hot water pour over me, paralyzed in astonishment. This whole thing just kept getting more and more surreal. I stepped out of the shower and looked at my freshly-scrubbed face in the mirror. I could actually recognize myself for the first time in days. I dried my hair straight, applied my signature light makeup, and pulled a gorgeous little black dress out of my suitcase. As I unabashedly fixed a headband into my smooth hair, I couldn’t help but grin at my reflection.
I was back.
Holding my head high, I made my way to the front of the hotel, where the tour bus was parked. The whole gang was already assembled in various states of disarray. My heart twisted as I saw Mary standing by Jackson’s side once more, her claw-like hands latched onto this muscular arm. As I made my way toward them, my kitten heels clicking against the sidewalk, Sadie turned and caught sight of me. For a second, she didn’t seem to recognize me. But then...
“Well, excuse me!” she crowed, giving me a startled once over.
“Wow, Alexa!” Britt said around her lollipop, “You look like a real ball buster! In a sexy way, I mean.”
“Thanks, Britt,” I said, coming to a stop beside them. I kept my gaze well away from Jackson, though I could feel his eyes raking over my body. That deep hunger moaned inside of me, and I wanted nothing more than to walk right over there, knock Mary out of the way, and lay my mouth lustily against his. But this was the new me. The professional me. Or at least, something like it.
We piled back onto the tour bus one at a time and settled in. We’d be taking the jet over to Dublin in just a little while. Jackson and Mary brought up the rear of the party, and I couldn’t help but steal a glance at them. Mary was wearing that perpetual smug smile that I wanted desperately to knock off her face. She gave me an evil grin as she passed my seat.
“Love the new look,” she said, sitting down behind me, “It’s much more you, I think.”
“Yeah,” I said lightly, “I got sick of looking like something that had been picked out of the gutter. No offense, or anything.”
Jackson’s eyes lingered on me as he sat down next to Mary. I dared to meet his gaze, and was amazed at what I found there. He was in anguish, I could feel it. He was miserable, and had been ever since Mary had come back. So why was he even humoring
her? Why didn’t he just tell her to hit the road? She had some kind of power over him, some kind of draw that I couldn’t understand...
The bus roared to life and took off for the airport. The group’s mood was depressed, at best. Everyone had been in a funk since the red headed bitch from Hades had arrived. I wondered, briefly, if she was actually some kind of succubus who'd come here to plague us all? She was some kind of witch, I knew that much. All the way to the jet, I heard her cooing little nothings into Jackson’s ear. It was almost more than I could take. We transferred from bus to jet, and I braced myself for the even more cramped quarters. Maybe I could just hide in the bathroom again—though that hadn’t exactly worked as planned the last time.
As the rest of the group settled down around the cabin, I dug out my brand new notebook from my bag. I hadn’t written down one thing since we’d set out, and it was high time that I got started. I sat back in my seat, wondering how I could even begin to frame the experience I was having so far. Should I go for the American Girl Abroad thing, with all the culture shock and wide-eyed wonder? No...that wouldn’t really get at the story in the end.
Jackson climbed onto the plane with Mary at his heels, and for the first time, I observed him as a writer would. I thought about everything he’d told me so far, everything I’d seen from him. In the short time we’d known each other, he’d changed skins at least a dozen times. But after last night, I really felt like I’d at least glimpsed the core of him. That was the vulnerable, true part of him, the part he didn’t want anyone to see. At least, that’s what he claimed. But if that was the case, what was I doing there?
What did he really want out of this story? He’d invited me along on purpose, claiming that my talent had sold me. He said that I was able to see through people’s artifice and get at the soft, sensitive core that was at the center of even the toughest musicians. But when I thought of him onstage in front of all those people, I wondered why he would even want to expose that part of him to scrutiny. He’d built up defenses twenty feet high to protect his real self from the onslaught of fame and attention. Why did he want to ruin it all now?
He must have felt my eyes on his as the engine began to rumble. I dropped my gaze to the blank sheet of paper in front of me, but could feel that he was still looking at me, silently begging me for attention. I knew that we’d have to talk about what had gone on between us eventually, but how was I going to get him away from Mary? She was curled up next to him like a contented house cat, and smiled around the cabin as we lifted off the ground.
“This is so wonderful!” she sighed, “It’s just like the old days. Do you guys remember touring for Bloody Mary and the marionettes?”
“How could we forget?” Marco grumbled.
“Those were the days,” Mary said wistfully, “Simpler days. Not that the private jet isn’t a nice touch, but we did OK with our dinky little tour bus, didn’t we? It was a school bus, I think, now that I’m remembering...”
“We did just fine,” Eddie said, “You were the one who was clamoring for champagne and five star hotels.”
Mary smiled coldly at the guitarist, “So I got a little star stuck,” she said, “You aren’t exactly innocent of that, are you?”
Eddie fell silent and busied himself with restringing his guitar. Everyone adopted an activity to take their minds off Mary’s stifling presence. I turned my attention back to the page, but still could feel Jackson’s eyes on me. I looked up at him and saw the need that shone in those beautiful blue orbs. I sighed deeply, truly dreading “the talk”. He probably was just feeling guilty that he was going to have to call things off with me before they’d even begun. I figured that we might as well get it over with.
“Jackson,” I said primly.
“Yes, Alexa?” he answered, the stifled optimism in his voice tearing a hole in my heart.
“I was hoping that we could squeeze in a short preliminary interview before we land?” I said, folding my hands in my lap.
“Sure,” he said, “That sounds like a good idea.”
“How exciting!” Mary chimed in, “Your own feature story, Jax! Go ahead, Alexa. Ask him all the little questions you have prepared. I’m dying to watch you guys in professional mode.”
“Actually,” I pressed on, “I was hoping that we could do this in private. The interview.”
“Oh,” Jackson said, “Yeah, of course. That sounds like a much better idea. I, uh...get stage fright, you know.”
“You do not,” Mary said, her voice steely.
“Sure I do,” Jackson said, “Only with small crowds of my friends, but still...”
“We can use the back room,” I said, “Just for a minute, if now’s a good time.”
“Now’s a great time,” he said, standing up.
“But Jax!” Mary whined, “I wanted to talk to you about some new ideas I had about—”
“We’ll have plenty of time to talk about all that,” Jackson said, “I just need to speak with Alexa first.”
“Ok,” Mary allowed, “But you two be careful! You know how people like to jump to their own conclusions. If you keep spending time off on your own, people will start to—”
“Thank you, Mary,” I said, rising to my feet, “I do have a rather firm grasp on the machinations of the popular media. Some of us have jobs that aren’t limited to looking pretty and singing pop songs.”
“I do not sing pop,” she growled.
“That’s enough,” Jackson said, shaking his head. “Come on, Alexa.”
As I followed him back through the jet, I could feel Mary’s eyes throwing daggers into my skin with every step that I took. She was going to make me sorry for dismissing her, I knew, but I could handle it. What was the worst that a vindictive Irish pixie could possibly do? I tried not to remember all of Grimm’s grimmer fairy tales as Jackson pushed open the door of the back room. I followed him inside and let the door click shut behind me. Finally, after what seemed like days, we were alone again at last. Unspoken words hung like a thick curtain between us, and I opened my mouth to tear it down.
“Jackson,” I started, staring at my toes, “I want to—”
But my words were cut off as Jackson crossed the room in two quick paces and brought his mouth to mine. In my shock, I let him kiss me firmly, opening my mouth to his. A gushing surge of relief flooded me as his arms wrapped around my body. Kissing him, being held by him, felt like coming home again. But as he thrust his powerful tongue into my mouth, my rational mind kicked back in. I pushed him away from me with all my might, and though he could have easily held me still, he let me wiggle out of his embrace.
“Stop it,” I said firmly. “That’s enough.”
We were locked in the jet’s master bedroom, a fact that I only registered for a moment. I realized that perhaps a room that featured a king sized bed was not exactly appropriate for the discussion I had in mind, but I barreled ahead anyway.
“First of all,” I said, “I want to apologize for letting my...physical needs...get in the way of my work. You brought me here to do a job, and I’ve been failing at it.”
“Is that what you’d call it?” Jackson asked, standing between me and the door, “Physical needs? Not a sense of connection, not a recognition of similar souls?”
“Can you even hear yourself right now?” I scoffed, “How can you say that there was something special between us, and then cast me away the minute your old flame walks through the door?”
“I know,” he said, his face falling, “I know what it must look like. I’m so sorry if this has hurt you. I never in my life expected Mary to show up again! You have to believe me.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, straightening my skirt, “This whole thing between us has been a misunderstanding. I was a little dazzled by your star power after the concert, and I lost my head a bit. But if it’s OK with you, I’d like to put all that behind us and start fresh. I’ve got my head screwed back on my shoulders, now.”
“You’re back in a power skirt,�
� he said, not-too-kindly, “That doesn’t change a thing.”
“Jackson, I didn’t come back here to fight with you,” I said.
“Then don’t,” he said, coming toward me, “Don’t fight it. Whatever we have going on between us...It’s important. Far too important to throw away because of some hurt feelings.”
“Some hurt feelings?” I cried, “You fucked me in a hotel room, then abandoned me an hour later to dote on the woman you used to love. I think this goes a little bit beyond hurt feelings, Jackson. And what really gets under my skin is that I should have known better. I knew about your reputation before we even met. I should have known better than to think that I could trust you.”
“Don’t say that,” he whispered, placing his hands on my hips, “You can trust me. I don’t know what it is about you, but...I know that I can be good to you. Faithful.”
“Right,” I laughed, “You’ve been doing a bang-up job so far.”
“Look,” he said, his fingers digging into my skin, “This is new for me. Can you take a minute and think about that, please? I’ve never in my life been in any kind of relationship, besides a one night stand, of course.”
“What about Mary?” I asked. I knew that I should knock his hands away from my body, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Jackson said, bringing his face very close to mine, “Mary and I were never in a relationship.”
“How is that possible?” I said, trying not to let those icy blue eyes mesmerize me.
“We were presented as a couple,” Jackson said, “It was the record company’s idea. They thought that we could sell more records if Mary and I were thought to be dating. We were so young, back then. So hungry for a little piece of the action. We decided to go along with it. At concerts, on tour, wherever we went, Mary and I played the little parts that had been written for us. And it worked, a bit. Our sales picked up, and the label just kept egging us on. I didn’t mind playacting. I’d been doing it ever since I was born. But Mary...she’s not a very good actress. I mean, she’s not very good at separating reality from fiction.
Beauty in the Breakdown (A Rock Star Romance Novel) Page 11
