Beauty in the Breakdown (A Rock Star Romance Novel)

by Natalie Baird

  “Gee, thanks,” I said, “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” she said, “Talk to you soon.”

  The line clicked off once more, and I downed the rest of my whiskey. My mom was right. Hiding out here and refusing to take my chances with Jackson was not the way to go. I needed to see this thing through, even if it meant fighting tooth and nail. I put a few bills down on the counter, despite the bartender’s insistence, and headed back out into the night.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I thanks the gods of GPS as I picked my way back through the streets toward the hotel I knew our party was staying in. After quite a hike, I found the place—it was much smaller than the one we’d crashed in London. This joint seemed more like a humble bed and breakfast than a place for a rock star’s entourage to shack up, but the choice of accommodations was hardly the most surprising thing about that trip so far. I lingered outside the front door of the hotel, weighing my options. I needed to speak with Jackson again, that much was certain. But what could I tell him that I hadn’t in our last conversation? As long as he was convinced of his debt to Mary, there would be no talking reason to him. With the guilt that hung over him from his mother’s death, he would never be able to forgive himself if he let another woman’s life fall to pieces, even if that woman was the diabolical Mary. How could I make him see that she wasn’t the helpless maiden she assumed the role of? Furthermore, how could I show him the truth of Mary without acting like a monster in the process?

  Paralyzing with indecision, I leaned back against the stone facade of the hotel. For perhaps the first time in my life, I wished that I’d been a smoker. It seemed like the perfect moment for a cigarette. And apparently, I wasn’t the only one who thought so. The front door opened almost soundlessly, and another figure meandered out into the open. Even in the darkness, I could recognize that shock of red hair. A match blazed to life, and Mary’s perfect features were illuminated in the night. Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, and a slow smile spread across her face as the match hissed out.

  “Look who decided to come back,” she sneered, taking a long drag of her cigarette.

  “Of course I came back,” I said, “You’re not going to get away with this charade without having to go through me.”

  “Are you threatening me, dear?” she asked.

  “I’m warning you. You need to stop messing with Jackson and the guys. You may be pulling one over on them, but I can see through you, plain as day. I’m a journalist, you know. I have a knack for sniffing out the true story.”

  “Oh, my,” she said in mock horror, “A real live journalist! What are you going to do? You’re a low-level blogger with no clout or influence. Excuse me if I’m not shaking in my boots.”

  “I may not be a big name in the press,” I said, “But Jackson trusts me. I can tell him the truth about you.”

  “But you won’t,” Mary smiled, “You won’t, because you don’t want to poison the well. You’ll keep all of your ideas and truths to yourself so that Jackson doesn’t think you’re acting paranoid and jealous. You’ll never do anything to get rid of me, really. You don’t have the guts. And eventually, you’ll get sick of being Jackson’s fuck on the side and leave us in peace. I can wait you out, Alexa. I’ve waited long enough already.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked, disgusted by her lack of shame, “Why did you come back here at all?”

  “That is an interesting question,” Mary said, “Very journalistic of you. The short answer, of course, is you, Alexa. I came here because of you.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” I said, “We didn’t even know each other before—”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” she cut in, “I was always planning to come back for what was mine. You just happened to move up the deadline, a bit. It was always my plan to show up on Jackson’s door step, playing the poor lost soul, and ride those assholes’ success all the way to the top 40. Jackson can’t resist a woman in need, especially not when he thinks she’s responsible for her downfall.”

  “You know about that? That he thinks—”

  “That he thinks he ruined my career by faking a relationship with me?” Mary smiled, “That he’s under the impression that I truly believed we were a couple? That he’s responsible for what happens to me because he let the label manipulate me? Oh, yes. I’m quite aware of all that. Jackson’s really not as smart as he thinks he is. I never once loved that boy. Not during all the time we were faking it for the press. I did, however, realize his weakness, and discover that it would be to my advantage if I had something on him in the future. I was laying the foundations for my big comeback even then. Poor Jackson saw me falling in love with him, getting sucked into the media’s game, but he was the sucker. Now, I’m poised for a huge reunion tour, a book deal, and piles of dough once our next record starts to sell like mad. I’m on top of the world, darling.”

  It wasn’t until Mary stopped to take another drag of her cigarette that the glowing tip illuminated another figure beside us. Someone must have slipped out the front door unnoticed during Mary’s tirade. I peered over her shoulder and swallowed a gasp. It was Jackson, watching from the shadows of the doorway. And from the look on his face, I could tell that he’d heard every damning word that Mary had just uttered. She saw my gaze swing away from her own and turned to see what I was looking at. When she spotted Jackson standing there livid, the cigarette dropped from her long fingers.

  “Jax...” she whispered, frozen stiff. “How much—?”

  “Plenty,” he answered, his voice low, “I heard plenty, Mary.”

  “I wasn’t...I didn’t mean any of it, baby,” she pleaded desperately. “This one, this chew toy of yours, she baited me into—”

  “That’s enough!” Jackson yelled, closing the space between himself and Mary, towering over her menacingly. “I don’t want to hear another word out of you about Alexa. I don’t want to hear another word, period. Get your things together and get the fuck off my tour. Stay away from me, and my band, and especially—”

  “Your lover?” Mary sneered, giving me a mean once-over. “Come on, Jackson. What are you doing with this girl? She’s a civilian. She’s nobody. Think about this for a second. If the two of us put on our old act, we’d be unstoppable! We’d be world famous, baby, big stars. Don’t you want that with me?”

  “I’m a big star all on my own, Mary,” Jackson said, “I didn’t need you to get where I am and I certainly don’t need you now, you washed up hag bitch from hell. Hit the fucking road.”

  Mary’s eyes seemed to catch fire in her rage. She looked furiously, impotently between me and Jackson. I could see the wheels of her scheming mind searching for a way to rectify the situation, to displace me, to beat me. But she was all out of plots. I thought I’d be satisfied by her outing herself, but instead I was just sad for her. All of the horrible things she’d done, she’d done out of desperation. I couldn’t help but pity her a little. A very little, to be sure, but still...

  With a sound that was somewhere between a whimper and a grunt, Mary pushed back Jackson and disappeared into the hotel to gather her few belongings. When the sound of her stomping feet faded away, Jackson and I looked up at each other in the darkness. My heart was caught in my throat, my stomach twisting as thought it were caught on the spoke of a wheel. I wanted to run to him, leap into his arms, but he looked so destroyed by Mary’s betrayal that I was afraid to touch him.

  “Alexa,” he said softly, taking a step toward me.

  “Yes?” I breathed.

  “Could you...?” he said, coming toward me with his arms spread. I let out a sudden wrenching sob of happiness and threw my arms around his strong shoulders. He fell against me, collapsing into our embrace. For a beautiful moment, all Jackson needed was to be held. And I was the woman who got to take him in her arms. For the first time in his life, he was trusting someone to support him, rather than insisting that he take the whole world upon his shoulders. And I was that someone—the someone he tr
usted with his entire self. It was even better than earning his love, though I had a feeling I’d picked that up along the way as well.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, drawing back to plant a kiss on my forehead. “I should have listened to you from the start. I should have known—”

  “You couldn’t have,” I said, pushing back his black curls. “You couldn’t have known she was capable of doing that to you.”

  “Still,” he said, gazing down at me with renewed intensity, “You were right. I could have saved us a lot of heartache if I’d just listened.”

  “Well,” I smiled, “I think you’ve learned a valuable lesson, here.”

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “I am always right,” I said with a grin, “And don’t you forget it, mister.”

  “I won’t,” he smiled, “I promise.”

  “You probably will,” I said, “But I’ll forgive you.”

  “I hope you always will,” he said adamantly, “Alexa...I’m bound to fuck up, you know. Probably more often than most guys you’ll meet. If you want to walk away from this, I won’t blame you. It’s a crazy thing to ask of someone, being with a man like me. But if you want to give it a try...”

  “Jackson,” I said, my voice low in my throat, “Stop talking and kiss me.”

  I didn’t have to ask him twice. Those firm, graceful lips met mine as Jackson’s arms circled around my waist. I pressed myself hard against his body, throwing my arms around my neck and holding him as tightly as I could. I wanted there to be nothing between us, ever again. I felt my body leave the ground as Jackson swung me around, pressed me up against the brick wall. A little moan escaped my lips as the bricks grated against the skin of my back—the pain mixed with the pleasure of his touch was too good to bear.

  “I wish I could fuck you right here, up against the wall,” he growled, bringing his eager mouth to my throat.

  I swung one leg around his legs, pulling his groin against mine. He was already hard from wanting me, and I nearly let him have his wish. I took quite a bit of control to push him gently away and suggest that we retire to a more private spot in the hotel. Jackson looked nervously at the old building, and I realized he was anxious about being discovered by a certain hostile body. He scanned our surroundings, looking for a place we could be alone. I watched his gaze fall upon the tour bus and a wicked grin spread across his face.

  “Come on,” he whispered, tugging at my hand.

  I felt like I was a high schooler again as we ran across the pavement. It was like we were sneaking out of our bedrooms in the middle of the night to make love in the backseat of his car. Only in this case, the car happened to be a million-dollar tour bus. Jackson reached the door and entered a code into a hidden keypad. The bus opened to us, and we tumbled inside together. No sooner had the doors snapped shut behind us than Jackson had me flat on my back on the plush carpet. He lowered his body to mine, kissing me in the aisle between the rows of seats. The little safety lights along the runway were the only sources of illumination, and Jackson’s fine features stood out sharply in the dimness.

  He pressed his throbbing, hard member between my legs, and I moaned my desire into the darkness, my lusty voice echoing back at us. I dug my fingers into his firm ass, pulling him closer and firmer against me. I felt every muscle in his finely-tuned body tighten as desire pulsed through him, and I didn’t know how much longer I could stand the anticipation. As Jackson was reaching to pull down the neckline of my dress, I scampered out from beneath him. Grinning, I crawled toward the back of the bus—back to the single tiny bedroom that the vehicle boasted.

  Jackson caught onto my game and came charging after me. I cried out as he snatched me up in his powerful arms. We careened through curtain that shrouded the bedroom, and my stomach hit the mattress hard. A thrill ran along my spine as I felt Jackson mount me on the narrow bed. I’d yet to have him from behind. I raised my ass toward him, waiting. His hands found my breasts, first, then ran down my sides, his fingers savoring each graceful curve. Finally, he reached beneath the hem of my dress and tugged my panties off in one swift motion.

  I gasped as the wetness between my legs met the night air. As I heard Jackson cast his belt aside and lower his jeans, I couldn’t help but arch my back, inviting him in. He took hold of my generous hips, led the tip of his member to the center of my aching need. I held my breath as he lingered there, just beyond me. I couldn’t wait a moment longer. I leaned back into his body, taking the full, hard length of him inside of me. Jackson groaned as my silky flesh surrounded him, bucked forcefully into my body. I gasped as he slid into me, going far deeper than he ever had before. I felt like he was going to tear right through me—but even if that were the case, I couldn’t stop. I needed more of him.

  We met each other stroke for stroke, thrusting and pressing as Jackson worked deeper and deeper inside of me. The delicious, urgent pressure was welling up in my core, ricocheting around my entire body.

  “Jackson,” I gasped as he pounded into me, “Jackson, I’m gonna—”

  “Come for me,” he growled, his thrusts quickening, “Come.”

  At his command, I let myself go—wailing unabashedly into the darkness. Jackson moaned throatily behind me, and I could feel him bursting inside of me. We bucked against each other as sensation overcame us, joined us in that moment of connection. Every cell in my body sang in utter bliss, reveling in the presence of this incredible man. He spent every drop of himself inside of me, and slowly, carefully, withdrew. We collapsed on to the narrow bed together, our limbs crossed and tangled in a mad puzzle. I lay my cheek against his chest, felt his heart beating wildly.

  I wanted to tell him how happy I was to be beside him, how wrong I’d been to mistrust or underestimate him. But that moment defied words and explanation. As we lay there in the dark, we understood each other completely, without a word passing between us. Something had shifted between us, something huge. For the first time, I didn’t fear what would happen when we put our clothes back on and headed out into the world. It’s like we had found home in each other—and wherever we wandered, we’d always end up back in each other’s arms. As I drifted off to sleep, I felt at peace for the first time since meeting Jackson. Had we finally figured out how to be together?

  Chapter Fourteen

  In what felt like a blink of the eye, the sky began to lighten. I could feel the sunlight against my eyelids, but tried not to acknowledge it. I could feel Jackson’s arms wrapped as tightly around me as ever. I would have been content to stay there all day...that is, if the engine hadn’t started to moan. My eyes shot open as the bus rattled to life beneath us. Jackson sat bolt upright, and we stared at the other’s nakedness, surprised. Together, we drew back the curtain that separated us from the rest of the bus. About twenty faces were turned toward us in the early morning sunlight. It looked as though the rest of the group had decided to get a move on as we slept.

  Sadie let out a low whistle, grinning back at us in our nakedness. “I guess this means you two made up then, huh?” she cackled.

  “Put some damn pants on, man!” Marco roared, amused by Jackson’s bewildered expression. “We’ve got another show tonight!”

  Jackson and I ducked back behind the curtain, stifling our hysterical laughter. If someone had told me a month earlier that I’d soon find myself stark naked in front of an entire bus of people, I’d have been horrified. But in the moment, it was the funniest thing that had ever happened to me. Maybe hanging around with a bunch of fast and loose rockers was helping me to lighten up, a little. By the time we’d scrambled back into our clothes and gotten ourselves cleaned up, we were nearly at our next destination. The guys had planned a good many shows in Ireland and England, to support their roots. They were playing a mid-sized venue that evening, a space that had been described more or less as a warehouse.

  I stayed by Jackson’s side as we got ourselves situated at yet another hotel. After everything we’d been through so far on that tour, there was no
way that I was going to spend a minute longer away from him than I had to. I sprawled out on his hotel bed as he put on his rock star costume, all leather and frayed flannel. The transformation he made on a nightly basis was amazing. Left to his own devices, Jackson was neat and tidy as could be. But up on stage, he was playing a character. He had to look the part.

  “Have you ever thought about what you’ll do after?” I asked, surprising myself with the question.

  “After what?” Jackson asked from the bathroom.

  “After you’re done being a rock star,” I said.

  He poked his head around the doorway. “Is this a research question or a personal question?”

  “Does it matter?” I asked.

  “Sure it does,” Jackson said. “If you’re asking me for the sake of your story, then I’d tell you that there’s no such thing as ‘after you’re done being a rock star’. I’m going to rock till I drop, baby, and probably afterward, too!”

  “And what if I was asking personally?” I went on.

  “Well,” Jackson said, smiling, “Then I’d tell you that as soon as I make enough money to live off comfortably for the rest of my life, I’ll be out of here in a flash. No more dirty hair, no more sleepless nights or random girls throwing themselves at me. I’ll find a little cabin in the woods somewhere and read for the rest of my life. Read and drink whiskey on the porch.”

  “OK,” I said, “But which of those answers is true?”

  “I think you know,” he smiled.

  “Perhaps you’re right,” I said. I pictured the two of us off in the woods together, savoring the quiet that came along with live beyond the city. I imagined what it would be like to be alone with him, really alone, away from fans and groupies and even his own characters. Would we still like each other then? Would it be as thrilling to be with him if he was no longer Jackson Brent, the rock star?