I rejoined the girls at the edge of the stage and waved away their questions as best I could. The concert hall was packed with people, chatting and buzzing at the performance. Part of me wished that I could be like them—at arm’s length from the whole crazy reality of fame. I wondered what this all must look like to them. Surely it seemed glamorous from where they were sitting, but rock and roll really just came down to people, regular people, and all the mistakes and bad choices they’d made.
The house lights dimmed and a hearty roar came up from the audience. Though the crowd was smaller this time around, their enthusiasm wasn’t. They cheered and applauded like mad as the four members of Carnal Knowledge took the small stage, waving out at the audience. As they gathered their instruments and settled into their various stances, Jackson approached the microphone, smiling warmly. Yet another version of the rock star Jackson Brent—a conveniently downsized one. I shook my head in the wings, amazed and rather impressed by the way he could transform himself so easily.
“Hello, everyone!” he said happily. The crowd threw mumbled salutations back at him, and he seemed genuinely pleased by their personal attention. “Thank you so much for having us, Dublin. It’s good to be back on this side of the pond!” The audience applauded warmly, welcoming their world travelers back into their arms without question. “As most of you know,” Jackson went on, “We got our start playing in little pubs all over England and Ireland, and you all were nice enough to humor us while we went from shit poor to passing fair. We’re glad we could return the favor with this concert, here.”
And with that the band was off again. This time, the songs they played were subdued, the edges smoothed out. They went through the major hits of the Carnal Knowledge songbook, but somehow managed to infused each track with a beauty I’d never noticed before. The lyrics that Jackson had written were downright poetic, if you really listened to them. The guys were playing my emotions like they were strings on yet another instrument. I was surprised to feel my chest welling up with pride as they played. Even stripped of all the rock star bullshit, they were still talented as hell.
Of course, Jackson occupied damn near all of my attention. He perched on a stool, microphone in hand, and crooned out song after heartbreaking song. The effortless, masterful way that he moved through those vocals was doing more than impress me...It was turning me on. I smiled to myself in the darkness as those perfectly balanced muscles rippled beneath the power of his emotional renditions. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to have me sitting in his lap by the end of the concert.
If only that had been the least of our worries.
As the audience applauded the graceful conclusion of another song, Jackson smiled broadly and addressed the crowd. “Thank you so much,” he said, “You’ve been a truly wonderful audience. But if you don’t mind, we’d like to play a few more songs for you.”
“We sure would!” said a voice from across the stage.
The guys’ head whipped around and spotted Mary at the same time I did. She had slipped into a stunning, slinky red dress and gotten her hands on a microphone. The crowd went mad as she sauntered onto the stage toward Jackson. It was clear from the looks of horror on the band members’ faces that this had not been a planned appearance.
But Mary didn’t seem to notice their quiet outrage. She was soaking up the adoration of the crowd, getting drunk off it. “It’s so good to be back with my boys,” she cooed, standing beside Jackson. “And it’s especially good to be back with my man.”
Before Jackson could say a word, Mary had wrenched his face toward hers and planted a hot, passionate kiss on his lips. I felt all the blood in my body rush to my head, and my every muscle was screaming at me to fly at her, rip her away from him with my bare hands. I felt six arms come down around me as the girls rushed to make sure I didn’t do anything drastic.
“Now,” Mary said, once she’d pulled her lips off my love’s. “Why don’t we play these fine people a couple of our old hits? You know, from back in the good old days.”
The guys looked helplessly at each other and, for lack of a better option, struck up one of the songs that Bloody Mary and the Marionettes had made famous. Mary began to belt out the lead vocals and Jackson, to my endless chagrin, uttered his “ooh’s” in the background. Watching him succumb to her again, so publicly, so completely, I realized how foolish I had been to think that this was an easy fix. Would Jackson ever really get over his commitment to Mary? Something about the way she stared at him under those stage lights left me thinking the answer was “no”.
Chapter Twelve
“Thank you all so much,” Mary cooed into the microphone. The audience went wild for her, and she smiled demurely to hide her malicious delight. “I don’t know about you, but this little get-together has me so excited for the future of the band. Our band.”
The members of Carnal Knowledge averted their eyes, horrified but trapped by Mary’s wily intrusion. Jackson was smiling gamely, waiting for the ordeal to be over, but it seemed that Mary was just getting started. I stood looking on from the side stage, my fingernail digging trenches in my palms. It had been bad enough when Mary barged onto the guys’ stage, reinserting herself into their set. What else was she going to ruin?
“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” she said sweetly, ignoring the band’s distressed looks, “And now seems like the perfect time to make the announcement.”
What announcement? I thought, panicking as Mary grabbed hold of Jackson’s hand. For a wild moment, I feared Mary was going to claim to be engaged to Jackson—but what she said was just as bad, and quite possibly worse.
“The band is getting back together!” Mary cried, eliciting roars of approval from the crowd. She clapped her hands together delightedly, giggling, “This has been on the table for quite some time, but we wanted to be one hundred percent sure before we told you! It’s been such a long time coming, hasn’t it?”
The guys were trying valiantly to look chipper, but all save Jackson were failing miserably. And even behind his eyes, I saw the quiet outrage, the simmering frustration. But even though I knew how he truly felt, it did nothing to soothe me. Mary had catapulted back into Jackson’s life, and she wasn’t going to give up until she had him all to herself. It just wouldn’t do.
Jackson managed to tear Mary away from the spotlight, and the rest of the band shuffled off stage like kids heading for time out. One by one, their faces fell as soon as they hit the backstage border. Jackson strode into the wings, towing Mary behind him. They were obscured by a curtain, but I could still hear them well enough from where I stood, paralyzed.
“What the fuck was that?” Jackson growled.
“What’s wrong, darling?” Mary cooed, her voice all innocent surprise, “I thought it was a perfect time to tell our fans—”
“We never talked about a reunion,” Jackson cried, “I didn’t even know you were coming here until you showed up at the hotel! Mary, we haven’t seen each other in years. Can you understand why I’m upset that you barged into our tour—”
“Barged?” Mary said, the hurt dripping from her voice, “Is that how you see it? After everything we shared? All we meant to each other? Do you really just see me as another one of your groupies?”
“Of course not,” Jackson said, “But Mary...You have to talk to me about these things, first! You didn't even talk to the band!”
“You’re right, baby,” Mary said. I could see her running those long fingers down Jackson's muscular arm. “From here on out, I’ll run everything by you first. And there will be a lot to run by—we’ve got an entire reunion album to plan! I can’t wait. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to us!”
I heard her plant a wet kiss on Jackson’s mouth and scamper away. The rest of the band along with the girls had all dispersed to lick their wounds. It was only me and Jackson in the cavernous backstage world. When I knew for certain that we were alone, I tore aside the curtain that separated us. Jackson stood before
me, looking like a man lost in the desert. For a long moment, we could do nothing but stare at each other, at a loss for words. Anger, hurt, sympathy, and shock all battled for prominence in my mind and heart.
“You have to stop this,” I said finally, taking a step toward Jackson. “You have to nip this in the bud, Jackson, or it’s going to grow out of control.”
“I think it’s well past that point,” he grumbled, running his hand through his hair.
“Just let her down easy,” I suggested, “Make up some kind of elaborate excuse. You’re good at thinking on your feet, right?”
“I can’t do that,” he said sadly, “It’ll wreck her. She’s full-on delusional, Alexa. You saw her out there.”
Had I ever. “Jackson,” I said, “Have you ever considered the possibility that she might be playing you?”
He looked as though I’d stuck him. “Are you kidding me?” he said, “You think I wouldn’t know if that was Mary’s game, after all the time I’ve known her?”
“I’m just saying, it’s very convenient timing,” I said, “Her career is in a slump, and she needs a little pick me up to get relevant again. And what better way to accomplish that than to force herself on all of you?”
“That’s bullshit,” Jackson said, “She’s a sick girl, Alexa, but she’s not evil. Being manhandled by the record label had knocked some of her screws loose, to be sure, but she’s not out to get anyone. She’s really a good person, once you get to know her.”
“You’re defending her to me?” I asked, appalled, “You’re defending this whole charade?”
“I suppose I am,” he said.
“And you still expect me to stick around, given that?” I said harshly.
“I...Yes,” Jackson said, backed into a corner.
I shook my head hopelessly. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to play second fiddle to that witch,” I said, “She’s not what you think she is, Jackson. I can’t prove it to you, but you’re getting played for a sap.”
“I wish you were right,” he said.
“I am right,” I shot back. “You’ll realize that eventually. Too bad I won’t be here to say ‘I told you so’.”
I turned on my heel and stalked away from him, hot tears springing to my eyes. For a fleeting moment, it had seemed as though we had a shot in hell. But we’d been so wrong to hope for it. I’d been so, so wrong. I had hoped, beyond reason, that Jackson would be able to parcel himself out—let the public have one identity and me another. But I’d been expecting too much from him. That was more than any human being could handle. Had I fancied Jackson a god, too, all the while claiming that I loved the man beneath the facade?
In a storm of conflicting emotions, I tore out the back door of the concert hall. The rest of the band was already on the tour bus, watching for Jackson and I to emerge from the venue. As I scanned the faces peering out the windows, I realized that these people were a breed all their own. I could never begin to understand the way that they lived and loved. Try as I might, I’d never be able to share Jackson’s life, his work, his passions. My eyes alighted upon a flaming mane of red, and Mary smiled diabolically at me from the tour bus window.
I couldn’t get on that bus. There was no way. I backed away from the vehicle, and watched as the group began to call out to me. Beckon me. But as much as I might have once wanted to, I was outside of their world now. Mary had taken up my space at Jackson’s side, and I knew that I’d never fit anywhere else. Though all of my belongings were on the bus, though I didn’t know a soul in Ireland, I turned and fled. I took off running through the dark streets, away from the noise, until I’d lost myself among alleyways and storefronts.
My lungs were screaming at me to stop, my heat thundering against my rib cage, but still I raced on. It wasn’t until my muscles were threatening to give out from under me that I finally slowed my pace. I stopped on the street and looked around. I had no idea where I was. The street was quiet but not deserted, dotted with warm-looking shops and a restaurant or two. I spotted a sign hanging over a quaint little stone building that proudly displayed the Guinness logo. At that moment, the pub up ahead seemed like some kind of minor miracle. An oasis for a weary traveler.
I trudged into the bar, slipping in the front door as unobtrusively as I could. Inside, the air was warm and dry, and a dozen locals perched on stools or huddled around tables. To my immense relief, no one looked up when I walked in the door. They carried on their conversations and didn’t even notice my short black dress, my surely mussed hair. I made my way over to the bar and settled down, thanking the gods above that I’d stashed my wallet in my bra rather than my purse that day. A heavy set man was cleaning glasses behind the bar, and glanced my way as I rested my elbows on the wooden counter.
“I know just what you need,” he said. I smiled at him with as much warmth as I could, and in a moment he plunked down a lowball glass of brown liquor. I took a sip and had to work to keep from coughing. The whiskey was smokier than any I’d ever tasted, but the bartender was right—it did hit the spot. I opened my wallet, but the man waved my hand away. “On the house,” he said, and went back to his work.
Sitting alone in an unfamiliar bar in an unfamiliar city felt strangely freeing. No one here knew anything about me. I didn’t have to concern myself with thoughts of Jackson, or Mary, or anything I didn’t want to. Maybe I could just shake off my traveling companions and stay here until they put a plaque on this particular bar stool with my name on it. I couldn’t see how the damage Jackson had gone by crashing into my life could ever be amended. Was it just better to start new?
The problem was that I didn’t want to start fresh, not really. I wanted more than anything for Jackson and I to be together. And what about everything that came before? I had an amazing family, the best friend a girl could ask for, a great job in the most wonderful city in the world, and good health to boot. But still, even with all those blessings in my life, I knew that they still wouldn’t be enough to satisfy me, now that I’d known Jackson. I couldn’t go back to the way life had been, I couldn’t wipe the slate clean and start again. I had to find some way to be with him, and I needed some good advice.
I took another sip of whiskey and pulled out my cell. I was a bit disappointed to see that no one had called or texted since I fled the concert hall. I’d been hoping that Jackson might try to find me. I ignored the minor hurt and pulled up my parents’ number, trying to figure out the time difference as the phone began to ring. In a heartbeat, the line clicked, and I heard my father’s voice from across the ocean.
“Well, if it isn’t our long lost daughter!” he joked. The sound of his voice almost moved me to tears of homesickness.
“Hi Dad,” I said thickly, “How are you?”
“Fine, sweetheart,” he said, “Your mother and I are a bit scared for our lives at the moment. Max and his classmates are filming some kind of zombie horror flick in our backyard. Apparently, it’s very sophisticated stuff that I don’t understand. Personally, I think it looks like a lot of bad makeup and bullshit.”
I heard the phone being wrestled away from him and my mother come on the line. “Excuse your father,” she said, “He’s in one of his moods.”
“Hey Mom,” I smiled, “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full. Is this a bad time?”
“Not at all,” she said, “I’ve lived through dozens and dozens of birthday parties, haven’t I? This is no different. It’s good to hear from you, sweetie! What’s new in Europe?”
“Oh...everything,” I said.
“Tell me about it,” my mom encouraged.
“Mom...” I said, resting my chin in my hand, “I am in way over my head.”
“With the assignment, you mean?”
“With...this guy I met,” I said. “I’m totally bonkers for him, but I just...I don’t know whether or not I can trust him. The second I think I’ve got him figured out, he goes and—”
“This is Jackson Brent we’re talking about, right?” my mom cut in
.
“Not...necessarily,” I dodged.
“But it is,” she pressed, “Correct?”
“Yeah,” I sighed, “Leave it to me to fall in love with a rock star.”
“It’s not exactly the easiest sort of person to get along with,” she allowed, “Someone who lives so publicly has to conduct himself a certain way, at least for the cameras.”
“Exactly,” I said, “But how am I supposed to know which version of him is the true one?”
“I think you already know,” my mom said, “I think you know exactly which Jackson is the real one, or else you wouldn’t care about him. You’re scared that one of the other parts in going to take over, are you?”
“I guess so,” I said.
“Alexa,” my mom said, “You can’t write him off because he’s confused himself with all these roles he has to play. Imagine how hard it must be to keep three dozen different personas straight. If you’ve felt something real for him, something true, then it’s worth sticking to. I’m not saying you have to marry the guy. I just know what you’ll regret it if you don’t at least know for certain. Give him a chance to prove you right, Alexa. He doesn’t seem like such a horrible guy.”
“You hate everyone I’ve ever dated,” I said, amazed by her sage advice.
“What can I say,” she said, “I’m a sucker for those blue eyes of his.”
“You and me both,” I said.
“Where are you right now?” my mom asked.
I looked around a bit despondently. “In a bar somewhere in Ireland.”
“What a comforting thing for a mother to hear,” my mom sighed. “Do me a favor and try not to get abducted, please?”
“I’ll do my best,” I said. “Thanks for the advice, Mom.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” she said, “By the way, did you know that you’re a tabloid star now? I put one of the covers with you and Jackson up on the fridge.”
Beauty in the Breakdown (A Rock Star Romance Novel) Page 13
