Bad Boy vs Millionaire

by Candy J. Starr

  I laughed. Like I needed protecting. If Tamaki came with me, I'd probably have to end up protecting him.

  “It's fine. It's business. Eric will be there. Jack's fine anyway.”

  The waitress came over and we ordered a bunch of food.

  “Can you send me a message after you leave?” he asked. “Just to make me feel better.”

  That seemed incredibly unnecessary to me. I wanted to tell him no, I couldn't do that but he flashed me one of his charming smiles and I figured if he was going to worry too much, it would be easier to send him a text.

  ***

  “So, we have to put up these posters?” Eric asked me.

  I shook my head. “No, the tour people have someone they use for that. No running around town slapping up posters in the middle of the night for this tour. These are just so you can see what they’re like. Of course, if you want to put some up, that's okay or use them for fan giveaways. That kind of thing.”

  Jack held up one of the posters. “I see what you meant about getting our name up big on the posters. I like it.”

  Jack didn’t look at me. He kept himself distant and I wondered if he was annoyed about what had happened at the gig. He should not have thrown that can. It was a stupid thing to do but I didn’t want to mention it and have an argument that would just go around in circles and achieve nothing but having him walk out.

  There was something exceptionally sexual about Jack in those tight jeans. Like he was exuding extra pheromones or something. I tried to look at the poster but my gaze kept wandering to the curve of his butt. My skin tingled just being near him.

  I had to ask the hard question. Even though a huge lump in my throat seemed to block the words. I'd had another motive in going there, apart from the posters. I needed to find things out.

  “So, have you made a decision…” I couldn't look at either of them, “… about signing with Blainsley?”

  Eric and Jack exchanged a look.

  “We've put them off for a while. It's a great opportunity but you work so hard for us. We want to make sure that the people there will work just as hard. We can't talk to anyone there until next week and we'll let you know how it goes.”

  Jack actually sounded like he was trying to make me feel better. That just made the lump in my throat get worse.

  “I guess I should get going,” I said, not wanting to stick around now the tension was in the air.

  “I'll walk you out,” said Eric.

  I didn't know why he wanted to do that. I mean, it was just the front door onto the street. It wasn’t as if I needed walking but when I got outside he said he wanted to talk.

  “It's hard for me to say this Hannah, but maybe it's a good idea for you not to come to the gigs for a while. It's not you. It's Tamaki. We really don't need that. Jack did the wrong thing and it makes me worried that he'll do it again. Maybe next time his aim won't be so sure and he'll get one of the fans.”

  Eric didn't look at me and I could tell it'd cost him a lot to say it.

  “I mean, I'm okay with you coming alone but Angie said that guy just showed up. We can't stop him from coming. It's not like we can ban him or anything, it's a public performance but I don't think he'd have any interest in turning up if you weren't there.”

  I nodded and patted Eric on the arm. It'd crush me not to go but I understood what he was saying. Jack was far too impetuous to control his temper and I was the cause of that. I didn't have to go to the next few gigs anyway. They were playing at places that liked to handle the door and the merchandise sales themselves. The band was more than capable of getting their own drinks and setting up if Angie couldn't make it.

  “It's fine, Eric. I just wish things weren't such a mess.” I tried to grin at him but I could feel it come out wonky because it really wasn’t fine at all.

  Chapter 19. Hannah

  I couldn’t believe it when I got Jasmine’s text inviting me out for drinks. The last time I’d heard from her had been a few months ago. We’d been planning a girls’ weekend away and trying to work out which luxury resort would have the best cocktails. That had been a few days before Dad went missing.

  Then suddenly, when I tried to call her, her phone rang out and she hadn’t returned my messages. I wasn’t thick. I got the hint pretty fast. But still, I’d had nowhere to live and she’d been one of my closest friends throughout school. I’d thought she might have helped me out, maybe given me somewhere to stay for a while.

  I accepted the invitation, of course. If it went well, I’d be invited to house parties and on weekend trips away and all those other things I’d missed out on. My mind raced with the sparkling conversation and even more sparkling wines I’d be able to enjoy. It’d be so nice to be with people who shared common interests instead of music shit and obscure bands I knew nothing about. They were my people and we talked the same language.

  I’d be back, better than ever.

  Plus, you never burn bridges, especially when those bridges lead to influential families that might come in handy one day. I mean, this was why Dad had spent a small fortune on private schools and ballet lessons and lavish birthday parties.

  I'd never really fit in. Not in that fitting in way where you can do something crazy or outrageous and get away with it. It's not as if my family had been rich for generations. That, Dad said, is why I had to work harder. I had to accept every invitation and be seen in the right places, doing the right things and wearing the right clothes. But it'd been Dad who had destroyed all that, not me.

  I did not need to go to some stupid gig and watch Jack Colt strutting around on stage. I’d have people who appreciated me for who I was.

  Still, my stomach churned as I got ready to go out. I'd had my hair done, which had cost a fortune but natural blond doesn't come cheap. Because the weather had been stinking hot for the last few days, I searched in my wardrobe for something that would handle the heat.

  I had the designer clothes Dad had bought me in Japan but they were winter clothes. And I had the credit card he'd given me. I didn't want to rely on him any more than I had to.

  After piling everything I owned onto the floor, I found a dress I'd bought when I'd been shopping with Angie. Not a top label designer but a local indie label. It didn't seem that outstanding on the hanger but, when I tried it on, it looked made for me. The top fitted my body exactly and extenuated my boobs without being all low-cut, “look at me” sexy then the skirt flared out to swish around my legs. The apple green colour looked fantastic with my hair and the apple buttons all the way down the front were exceptionally cute. It had to be the winner, even if it was a bit too casual.

  It didn't take long to get to the cocktail lounge but it was steamy hot walking there. I prayed my hair didn’t frizz and that my makeup didn’t melt off my face. It was the kind of heat that seeped into the concrete footpaths and the brick walls so there was no escape. The kind of heat that sucked all the moisture out of your body and left you like a dried-out husk.

  I took the elevator up to the 21st floor and entered into the muted sounds of the understatedly elegant room with the cold air hitting my face. The thick carpet muffled my steps as I walked towards the deck at the other side of the room, where I knew my friends would be. No stained and sticky carpet there, like there’d be at the bar where the band played. No stale odor of beer either and no loud rock being played over the PA.

  “Hannah, how are you?” a voice screeched then arms flew to hug me, while air kisses almost touched my cheek.

  “Viola,” I said in greeting and stood back to look at my friend. In a glance, I took in the silvery dress hanging from her skeletal frame and the matching silver slingbacks. Viola had obviously been spending far too much time in the sun and looked as though she had a new nose as well. But that dress, I should've known she'd be in sparkles. I was totally underdressed.

  “Hannah, we haven't seen you for ages,” Viola said.

  “Way too long,” added Jasmine, who had on a far less sparkly but elegant red dr
ess.

  Because you never got in contact with me or answered my calls, I thought. But I smiled and sat down, perching on the edge of the chair. Jasmine sat in a chair beside the chaise lounge, sipping a red cocktail that matched her dress. She grabbed my hand.

  “Isn't your dress just divine? Where did you get it?” She said it all breathy, as if it was some big secret. “You look so sweet, we seem positively overdressed. Did you get it in Japan?”

  I told her the name of the store.

  “Oh, fantastic.” Jasmine's eyes widened as though she wanted to say so much more. “How clever of you to get a find like that.”

  My stomach dropped. Now I was totally convinced I'd under dressed. Compliments like that from Jasmine only meant one thing. And that thing was the exact opposite of what her words said. I wanted to rush home and get changed. It’d be better to swelter in a designer label than look “sweet”.

  Around about now, the guys would be loading their gear in. Jack would be in that zoned out mood he got in before gigs, where he could only think about himself and wouldn’t talk to anyone. Spud would be muttering away under his breath, cursing someone for some stupid thing and Eric would be running around making sure everything was organised.

  “Yes, it's fantastic,” I replied.

  I waved the waiter and ordered a drink, while Jasmine told me about her new boyfriend. He worked in finance and had a gorgeous beach house.

  “See this bracelet?”

  As if I could miss the glare of diamonds on her wrist. She’d been flinging her arm around to make sure the diamonds caught the light. I’d never been fond of diamonds. They’d always seemed like something you wore when you were middle aged to me.

  “He bought it for me when we went to London. He totally spoils me but I love it.”

  “Wow, Jasmine, you're so lucky,” I answered. I twirled the ring on my finger, my grandmother's ring, and wondered what the time was.

  Then she started telling me the gossip as if she’d never left off. Who were these people she talked about? Did I know them or had she moved onto a new crowd? I couldn’t even remember half the names she mentioned. And had they both always been so bitchy and judgmental? If Angie or even Jack had something bad to say about someone, they’d say it straight to their face, not make double-edged comments.

  I searched my brain to find something that I could talk about, something that wasn't shopping or holidays or guys but there was nothing. They sure as hell wouldn't be interested in hearing about the band. I guess I could tell them about my trip to Tokyo but Jasmine was just as happy talking herself anyway. Why had I never noticed before how self-obsessed she was? And how fixated on money.

  If I'd fallen through a hole in the time/space continuum and landed somewhere in another dimension, I wouldn't have felt so out of place as I did in this bar with its sparkling chandeliers and furniture no doubt by the latest fashionable designer; with its unobtrusive background music and it's award winning bartenders — and mostly I would not have felt as out of place as I did with these people who tried so hard to sparkle but underneath it all seemed so flat and boring.

  I suppressed a yawn and wondered if it would be rude to leave. Jasmine’s voice went on and on like a tap dripping. I could barely deal with listening to her.

  “Have you heard about Samantha?” Viola asked, leaning in closer to me. “It's so bizarre. She's been dating a plumber! A plumber. Of all the things. Of course, I've not been able to look at her in the same way since. Not that I've seen much of her. Imagine if you invited her for lunch and he came along with her. It would just be embarrassing for him, not knowing which fork to use or anything about skiing. I really hope Sam comes to her senses. I mean, you can have a brief fling with people like that but you don't officially 'date' them.”

  I tried to work out if Viola was being intentionally mean or just oblivious. It was pretty obvious that they'd have been talking about me in the same way, back when I'd been on the front page of the paper as the scandal broke, with pictures of my rain drenched and bedraggled self alongside the news of my father's financial ruin. They'd have been sitting around, giggling and bitching. Now they were fawning all over me and turning their bitch radar on someone else. What did it matter to them who someone dated or how much money they had? I would much rather spend the night laughing and joking with Jack than with some boring rich dude.

  “Maybe Sam likes this guy. Maybe, even though he isn't rich, he's a really nice person.”

  Viola and Jasmine stared at me for a while as though unable to process what I'd said. They looked down at their drinks before exchanging a glance with each other. Then Viola laughed.

  “Ah, good one, Hannah. You almost had me fooled for a moment but I see what you are doing.”

  It became harder and harder to conceal my irritation. I gripped my glass, my fingers tightening. I thought about not burning bridges.

  Jasmine waved her fingers at the waiter and asked for another round of drinks.

  “So, I hear the new wardrobe isn't the only thing you bought back from Japan. Tell us all the details.”

  It really didn't take long for gossip to get around. I wondered how they had found out. Maybe my father had mentioned something to someone.

  Jasmine leaned in close, as if to hear some particularly interesting bit of news. I moved away from her as best I could. Her heavy perfume smothered me with its vanilla undertones.

  “I didn't bring anything home. I'm not sure what you are talking about.”

  “Oh, come on, Hannah,” said Viola. “Don't be coy.”

  The windows of the bar looked out over the lights of the city. Somewhere out there, the band would be about to go on stage; the crowd shouting out STORM and working themselves up into a frenzy. The excitement and anticipation in the air would be a tangible thing, like the rise in air pressure before a literal storm. Every single person there would be feeling the same thing.

  It made the bar feel frosty by comparison. Did I really want to spend my night hearing about Viola's latest shopping trip to Paris ― there was always a latest shopping trip to Paris ― or Jasmine's newest boyfriend? The one that would sleep with other girls behind her back or would get into trouble only to have his father bail him out. I didn't want to listen to their vaguely racist jokes or their laughing about people who couldn't afford to drive a new car to university. It all made me feel kind of sick and a whole lot bored as well. I couldn't believe those people had ever been my friends or that I had cared what they thought.

  “Sheesh, what the fuck do you think? I bought a rich boyfriend, potential husband, home with me? Do you want to hear all the details of his cock or some shit like that?”

  “Hannah, really…” Jasmine fanned herself with the menu. “There is no need to talk like that.”

  “Yeah, yeah, there is a need. It's what you wanted to know, you’d just put it in fancy words and then repeat it back to everyone you know.”

  A look passed between Jasmine and Viola.

  “Settle down, Hannah. I know the past few months have been rough for you. You need to remember who you are though.”

  I picked up my bag.

  “I know who I am. And I'm not some lousy rich bitch with nothing to do but smack talk other people. I'm out of here.”

  I walked towards the door, knowing that they were holding their breath for me to get in the elevator so they could safely let fly. I'd done it. I'd burnt the bridges.

  When I got to the street, the heat crashed through me. The heavy air made it hard to move. Still, the air felt lighter than the heavy atmosphere in that bar.

  Then it hit me, the reason why Jasmine and Viola irritated me so much. I’d not been seeing them through the eyes of the old Hannah, it’d been seeing them through the eyes of Jack Colt. His judgment of them superposing itself over my old images. The way he’d dismiss them as being unworthy of his attention.

  And it wasn’t them he was dismissing. It was me. The old me. When I’d first met him, I’d been Jasmine as she was i
n that bar. Hell, I must have been so awful. With that realization, I could almost forgive him for that awful bet with Spud and the dickish behaviour.

  I wondered what to do, where I could go, but even while I argued with myself, my feet walked in the direction of Jack Colt. I just had to cross the river and I'd be in the same room as him.

  I wanted to get away from that cocktail lounge, putting as much distance as possible between those people and me.

  I can't go there, I thought. I didn't want to have him possessing my thoughts and constantly in my head. He made it quite clear that he didn't want me in his world but I wasn't sure where my world was. It sure as hell was no longer in that cocktail lounge world, floating high above the city. I wouldn't go to him, I couldn't, but my feet kept walking in that direction as though enchanted.

  Because what I really wanted was to obliterate any piece of the old me.

  Chapter 20. Hannah

  When I got to the bar, a girl I didn't know worked the door. To be honest, it was a bit of a relief. I didn't want anyone to know I was there. I didn't want Angie watching me and trying to interpret my feelings for Jack. I didn't want to be part of things. I wanted to be unnoticed, like a shadow. Watching, not being watched.

  I paid my money and found a spot at the back of the room in the dark.

  Storm had just started playing and already that special energy buzzed around the venue. I didn't even like the song that much. I felt as if it was a too generic rock song when they'd played me the demo. Some filler they'd written to make up the numbers. But hearing it live changed the whole sound. The subtleties that sounded so bland on the recording became mesmerising, like the death throes of a dying dream. I stood on the periphery of the crowd and wrapped my arms around myself.

  The lights dimmed as the last clash from the drum kit echoed around the room. Jack grabbed a stool from the side of stage and sat down, a spotlight on him alone. My skin tingled as I watched him. He seemed as though he belonged to everyone in the room, that the special connection we had had been diluted by the number of people sharing it. This wasn't the Jack I knew. This was the public Jack, who could control a room so easily.