ALMOST PARADISE
Page 1
ALMOST
PARADISE
♫~♫~♫
A ROCK AND ROLL FOREVER NOVEL
BOOK ONE
~~~~
MARY J. WILLIAMS
© 2019
Copyright © May, 2019 by Mary J. Williams.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.
First E-book Printing, 2018
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
~~~~
Writing isn't easy. But I love every second. A blank screen isn't the enemy. It is an opportunity to create new friends and take them on amazing adventures and life-changing journeys. I feel blessed to spend my days weaving tales that are unique—because I made them.
Billionaires. Songwriters. Artists. Actors. Directors. Stuntmen. Football players. They fill the pages and become dear friends I hope you will want to revisit again and again.
Thank you for jumping into my books and coming along for the journey.
HOW TO GET IN TOUCH
~~~~
Please visit me at these sites, sign up for my newsletter or leave a message.
http://www.maryjwilliams.net/
https://www.bookbub.com/authors/mary-j-williams
https://www.facebook.com/maryjwilliamsauthor/?ref=hl
https://twitter.com/maryjwilliams05
https://www.pinterest.com/maryj0675/
https://www.instagram.com/2015romance/
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5648619.Mary_J_Williams
MORE BOOKS BY MARY J. WILLIAMS
~~~~
Harper Falls Series
If I Loved You
If Tomorrow Never Comes
If You Only Knew
If I Had You (Christmas in Harper Falls)
Hollywood Legends Series
Dreaming With a Broken Heart
Dreaming With My Eyes Wide Open
Dreaming Again
Dreaming of a White Christmas
(Caleb and Callie's story)
One Pass Away Series
After the Rain
After All These Years
After the Fire
Hart of Rock and Roll
Flowers on the Wall
Flowers and Cages
Flowers are Red
Flowers for Zoe
Flowers in Winter
WITH ONE MORE LOOK AT YOU
One Strike Away
For a Little While
For Another Day
For All We Know
For the First Time
The Sisters Quartet
One Way or Another
Two of a Kind
Three Wishes
Four Simple Words
Five More Minutes (The Sisters Quartet Christmas)
Six Days (The Sisters Quartet Wedding)
COMING SOON
Other Books in the Rock and Roll Forever Series
Almost Blue
Almost Everything
Almost Home
DEDICATION
To everyone who dreams of finding their own version of paradise.
Whatever that may be.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
~~~~
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
HOW TO GET IN TOUCH
MORE BOOKS BY MARY J. WILLIAMS
DEDICATION
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
♫~♫~♫
To music lovers everywhere.
Don’t let anyone tell you the kind of music you love isn’t cool or relevant.
Be true to yourself. Listen to what makes you happy and fills your soul.
♫~♫~♫
CHAPTER ONE
♫~♫~♫
ANOTHER NIGHT, ANOTHER concert. Another sweat-drenched, give the crowd a piece of his soul performance.
One arm raised, his fist clutching the microphone, Jaxon Cross waited until the lights went black to exit the stage, the cheers of his fans bouncing off the stadium walls as they begged for one more song.
Always leave them wanting more. Good advice handed out by Ryder Hart, a man almost twenty years at the top and still sailing the crest with cool, Rock God ease.
Enjoy the adulation while you can, Ryder told Jax when he was still wet behind the ears. Savor the rush, the unbridled adoration. The day might come when an audience couldn’t care less if you sing one song, let alone beg for another.
One day, Jax thought with a grin. But not tonight.
Tired to the bone, yet hyped beyond the desire for rest, he wiped the sweat from his face, stopping to down a bottle of water in three gulps.
The last night of a year-long world tour was bittersweet. So much he would miss. The energy of the crowds. The chance, night after night, to share his vision, his music, his way.
Nothing was perfect. But the problems of a world-famous rock star were minor compared to most people—the kind of things he would be embarrassed to mention except in the comfort of his own thoughts.
While life on the road could be a royal pain, royal was the operative word.
Jax’s superstar status meant he was treated like a king in every city, at every venue. His healthy bank account took care of the rest. A private jet, chauffeur-driven cars, the best restaurants, the finest designer clothes. All his.
Twenty-nine years old and exactly where he wanted to be. Every wish, every whim catered to. Life wasn’t good, it was freaking fantastic.
Still, Jax never let himself forget the not so long-ago days when he was lucky if one night at a dive bar included a meal and a few bucks to get him and his bandmates to the next town, to the next one-night stand.
They slept in a rusty van bought from a butcher—the smell of blood permeated the seats, a fact no amount of scrubbing or disinfectant could cure. Their laundry room, when lucky, a roadside gas station bathroom sink.
Humbling? Maybe. Yet, Jax wouldn’t have traded those early days for anything. Young, ambitious, the future a wide-open, joyous mystery. Time had softened much of the bad, leaving an unrealistic but necessary rosy glow.
If only the end were as easy to gloss over as the beginning. Unfortunately, he couldn’t enjoy the good without confronting the bad. The shock of betrayal, the gaping hole left by missing friends, couldn’t be swept under even the largest rock.
Jax refused to dwell on the bitter memories for long. But he couldn’t forget.
Carl Mann attached himself to Jax’s side. A bodyguard was an ever-present necessary evil he’d learned to accept as a part of fame. Luckily, Carl turned out to be as much a friend as an employee.
A crazy-good sense of humor and the soul of a pussycat, Carl was all business when on the job. With the laser-sharp gaze of an avenging angel and a rock-hard linebacker-sized body to back it up, one look kept most people at bay. Anyone who decided to take their chances, as Jax witnessed on several occasions, soon lived to regret the decis
ion.
Carl wore a stern expression. Or, as he liked to call it, his game face. Jax knew the second his friend went off duty, the scowl would soften, and his natural personality would take over—pure teddy bear.
“Hey, boss. Great show.”
“Great crowd,” Jax corrected. Nothing revved his engine like the energy from a packed-to-the-rafters stadium. “Any trouble out front?”
“Nothing worth mentioning,” Carl assured him. “Our security team knows their stuff. Tonight, things ran as smooth as the proverbial baby’s backside.”
Jax nodded, trusting Carl and his crew to patrol the crowd with trained efficiency. Their mandate, step in before trouble could begin.
Blatant drug use was not tolerated—abusers were escorted from the building and into a taxi without a chance to plead their case.
Disrespect to fellow ticket holders was more discretionary.
Any dickheads hyped on anticipation and testosterone were issued a warning—one more strike, and they were out. Physical harassment—especially toward women or anyone under the age of consent—was grounds for instant expulsion. The violator’s name was recorded, the person forever banned from another Jaxon Cross concert.
Next, he or she was handed over to one of the police officers who patrolled the parking lot. The rest was left in the hands of the local authorities.
Jax hoped his fans made the right choices after the show, but once they left the arena, his responsibility ended.
Some would take the sensible path and head home.
Others would seek to keep the party going. Booze, drugs, sex. Perhaps a combination of the three. Anything not to lose the high Jaxon Cross’ no-holds-barred performance had freebased into their bloodstream.
“Long as the fans get out of the stadium without anyone dying, we’ve done our job.”
“Cut the act.” Carl shook his head as they approached Jax’s dressing room. “You’re a softie, man.”
Jax had been called many things. Hardheaded. Heartless. A cold, calculating bastard. But softie? Carl was out of his mind.
“Try again,” Jax snorted.
“The rock star image might play with the press and your fans, but I remember the kid in St. Louis who wrecked his truck on the way home from your concert. Not only did you visit him in the hospital, when you found out he didn’t have insurance, you paid the medical bills—anonymously. Including rehab on his knee.”
Jax’s only answer was a shrug. He could afford to be generous. Long as no one was the wiser—the recipient or the press—he saw no reason not to help.
Life as a Rock God was good. Better than good, he corrected himself. As a kid, all he wanted was to share his music with the world. He would have played for free.
Money, he learned, was power. The more he made, the more respect he commanded. The fact Jax could make a living—a mind-boggling, fantastic living—put him in a place beyond his wildest dreams.
In a business where a person praised you to your face one second, stabbing you in the back the next, the only way to survive was to be a ruthless son of a bitch. He embraced his well-earned reputation wholeheartedly.
If, now and then, he gave into his softer side, so what? Jax’s philanthropic activities were private—not for public consumption.
“Any plans for your vacation?”
Carl’s lips quirked into a smile. He knew when Jax wanted to drop a subject.
“Wife and kids are all hyped about our trip to Arizona.”
“And you?”
“A tour of the Grand Canyon isn’t high on my priority list, my family is. Long as we’re together, whatever they want, I’m good.” Pride and love beamed from Carl’s dark eyes. “How about you? Gonna jet to the south of France? Sail the Mediterranean? Hobnob with the social elite?”
Jax swallowed his laughter. Not so long ago, the social elite would have fainted at the idea of him, a rag-tag kid from the Australian outback, moving in their lofty circles. Crazy how a few hit records could change a person’s status so dramatically.
“Rubbing elbows with a bunch of bluebloods isn’t my idea of a vacation.” Just the thought made his head hurt. “My only plan is to fall into bed.”
“Alone?” Carl teased, well aware of his boss’ healthy sexual appetite.
“Hell, yes.”
Women were the last thing on Jax’s mind tonight. He needed a break—from the tour, from his fans, from everything but total, unconscious oblivion.
He didn’t sleep well when on tour. Truth be told, sleep wasn’t his friend, period. He was lucky if he cobbled together four or five restless hours a night before he gave up.
At home, despite his chronic insomnia, with the pressure of the tour behind him, he could at least relax.
“Sera thinks you need a good woman.”
Carl’s wife was a sweetheart. If only she could get past her need to marry off every single man on the planet—Jax in particular. He tried to explain that life on the road—the life of a musician—was not conducive to wedded bliss.
Jax had years of statistics and endless examples to prove his point.
“Tell Sera the last woman I had was good. And talented.” Grinning, Jax let out an appreciative whistle. “I’d share the details but…”
“You never kiss and tell.” Carl let out a disgruntled snort. “Damn gentleman’s code.”
“I’m no gentleman,” Jax assured his friend. “What I am is a man with a keen sense of self-preservation. If I fill your head with tales of another woman’s sexual prowess, your wife would kill me.”
“Sera would never know.” Carl’s expression turned sheepish when he caught Jax’s raised eyebrow. “Okay, she always knows. Swear the woman’s a witch.”
Carl adored his bride of nearly twenty years. Jax almost envied their relationship. Almost. He knew himself too well. The list of things he believed in wholeheartedly, was short. Some would be surprised to learn the sanctity of marriage was near the top.
If he married, Jaxon Cross would become a one-woman man. Trouble was, to make a life-long commitment, he would have to fall in love, an emotion no longer in his repertoire.
Jax’s heart hadn’t been broken but decimated. The organ healed, as organs do. The pain dissipated, became a dull ache. Then, nothing. He told himself he didn’t miss the rush of looking into one special woman’s eyes. He didn’t long for the answering spark she couldn’t hide. Nor did he lie awake wanting what he couldn’t have.
What would be the point?
He didn’t long for what he’d lost. How could he when she was never really his? Still, the scars, deep and barely faded, taught him a valuable lesson. Love, outside of a song, was for fools and masochists.
A man in a black t-shirt stood guard outside Jax’s dressing room. Arms the size of tree trunks, thighs twice as large, his baby face carried a deep frown furrowed into his normally smooth brow.
“Please don’t fire me.” The words gushed like water from a broken pipe. “I need the job.”
Jax shot Carl a questioning look. The big man shrugged.
“What’s the problem, Rocco?”
“I… She…” Rocco swallowed hard as one word tumbled over the other. “I let a woman into your dressing room, Mr. Cross.”
“Son of a—” Carl crossed his arms. While his body vibrated with anger, his voice and eyes were cool. “You’re fired.”
“But—” Tears formed in Rocco’s eyes, genuine and incongruous. “She has a full-access backstage pass.”
“Are you kidding?” Carl turned to Jax. “Is he kidding?”
“Take a breath.” Jax wasn’t happy, but a woman in his dressing room wasn’t the end of the world. “Rocco hasn’t been with us long.”
“No excuse.”
“She’s so pretty. Gold hair, like an angel,” Rocco blubbered. “Said she’s an old friend from the early days.”
Gold hair? Early days? Jax felt his stomach do a slow roll, a feeling he hadn’t experien
ced in five years. Could the woman be…?
“She was so friendly. Persuasive, you know?” Miserable, Rocco wiped his cheek on his shirt sleeve. “I meant to keep her out. I swear. Somehow, she talked her way in.”
Jax’s stomach settled. A different blonde. A half smile lifted one corner of his lips. A different blast from the past.
“Somehow? Jesus.”
Afraid blood might flow, Jax stepped between the men before Carl could lose what was left of his cool.
“Have you learned your lesson?” When Rocco nodded, Jax patted him on the shoulder. “Everyone gets one mistake. Just one. Go. Join the other guys.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Mouth agape, Carl stared in horror as Jax turned the knob on the dressing room door. “You don’t know what she wants.”
“True.” After so long, Jax couldn’t begin to guess. “But if I’m right about who she is, I’m ninety percent certain she means me no harm.”
“And the other ten percent?”
“Now and then, you have to take a chance. Besides,” Jax chuckled. “You’re only one scream away.”
“A whole lot of bad can happen in a heartbeat.”
“Then I’m safe. Everyone knows I don’t have a heart.”
“I hope everyone’s wrong.”
The voice was unmistakable. Husky, with a hint of Mississippi twang she couldn’t shake no matter how hard she tried. Slowly, sending a look of reassurance toward Carl, he shut the door and turned.
“Hello, Joplin.”
“You aren’t surprised to see me?”
He was. Very surprised. Though of all the people Jax left behind, he and Joplin shared the least baggage.
“After Rocco’s description of a friend from the old days, persuasive and angel haired? Had to be you.”
“Please don’t fire him.”