One of the photos showed Jack with a guitar slung over his back, walking down the street. The light shone behind him and he looked happier.
Then some photos of Jack with various women. I didn’t need to see those.
In none of the photos did Jack look like he was aware that his picture was being taken. I checked behind me just in case there was someone there.
There were some more recent ones of Jack onstage, or walking down the street, then—holy fuck—a few of inside the apartment, including some with me in them. From the angle, they must have been taken through the window, maybe from one of the warehouses nearby. My blood ran cold.
Hell, the first thing I was going to do after this was buy curtains for that window, and I’d never go into the courtyard again.
My hands shook when I replaced the photos. I saw a business card and picked it up. It was for a private investigation firm.
I grabbed the papers and took them to photocopy, being extra careful to keep them in the right order. All the PA’s reports were still printing so I used the other copier.
I ran Frank’s papers through the photocopier, and the freakin’ copier jammed. I opened the copier and tried to prise the paper out, but it tore.
I got a grip of the torn edge of the paper and tried to gently pull on it so it didn’t tear it more. My hands were so clammy, I couldn’t grab it properly and I felt faint, imagining all kinds of situations where I got busted and maybe disappeared without a trace.
Then something clanged and I jumped up, screaming.
It was the cleaner with his bloody mop bucket. When my heart rate got back to normal, I tried the paper again and it came out intact. And blank. I could’ve just left it in there. I looked through the files, wondering if I’d gotten enough information. There were a few more files, but it seemed like all the information was similar. I had no idea what it meant.
I folded up the copies I’d made and put them in my bag, then took the reports and the files back to Frank’s office. I replaced the files in the cabinet and locked it. Then I realised I couldn’t remember the exact position of the key. It’d been somewhere near the top at the back of the cabinet but would Frank know exactly where? I put more tape on the key and hoped it was around the same place.
The reports were on Frank’s desk, the files back in the drawer. I could leave. I took a deep breath but imagined a hand popping out to grab me on the way out. I wanted to run from this office, run as fast I could to leave it all behind me.
-o-
I showed the papers to Angie, hoping she’d be able to make some sense of them. They seemed to be in a code, or written in a way that I couldn’t understand. Just a bunch of numbers and three letter codes. I looked at one that had a list of names. Those names included my father and Ichiro—Tamaki’s father! That was freaky. Obviously I knew Frank had been friends with Dad since university. I had no idea that Frank knew Ichiro though.
“Would he keep anything incriminating at the office, though?” Angie asked.
“Who knows? Maybe he has more stuff at the house. The dates on the files look pretty recent. If he needed to contact people during business hours, he’d need to have files at his office. There was other stuff too.”
I told her about the photos.
“Whoa, that’s some seriously freaky shit. You need to get curtains. Put up a sheet up at the window or something. I never even realised anyone could see into that side of the place. Those windows just look out onto the courtyard, and then it’s all industrial buildings. I never dreamed anyone would be looking in. I did not sexy dance in my underwear in that room, did I? Please tell me I’ve never gotten drunk and done anything like that with freaky photo-taking people looking in.”
I shook my head. “There were photos of me and photos of Jack, but just casual photos of us sitting around. Nothing weird or wrong.”
Angie had gone bright red and I wondered why… then I realised. I’d had sex in that room in front of the window and, from her reaction, so had she. I gulped and we both looked away.
“How is Jack?” Angie asked. “Is he still wallowing in grief?”
“He’s not good. He’s been drinking more, going out too much. Getting wasted. I’m worried about him. I think he’d feel a lot better if he’d get back into the music, but he’s avoiding it. It’s like he hates it now. He’s afraid to be alone with the songs and would rather fill his days with booze and drugs. When he’s home, he just zones out. Playing games, or watching movies until after the sun comes up.”
“How’s the sleep thing?”
I shrugged. The sleep thing was not good. In fact, it was getting worse. I tried not to act scared of him because I didn’t want to accept it myself, but on the few occasions we actually had had sex, I fled from him as soon afterwards as I could. Other nights, he didn’t even come to bed until the sun was up. I’d lie in bed alone, given up on any hope of him coming to me. He’d be too involved in some game instead.
“Are they going to play any gigs soon?”
“I’d love to talk him into it, but he’s not talking.”
“Maybe he needs to get out of his head. We should organise a double date, go out and do something fun. Take the pressure off him. I mean, it’s going to be a while before he gets over this. Eric is pretty gutted too, but he’s not as likely to act out as Jack is.”
“How’s he coping?”
“You know Eric. He’s more worried about Jack than anything.”
I felt sorry for Eric. Jack got all the sympathy with his angst but Spud had been Eric’s friend too.
-o-
I hadn’t been home long when they came thudding on the door. I answered. They looked like cops, but not real cops. They were in some kind of special international unit.
They talked, but my brain took a long time to catch up to their words. They said a lot of things that I couldn’t process. What were they were doing here? I’d done nothing wrong, but a feeling of incredible guilt came over me, and I wanted to confess to every minor sin. I waited for the tall, good looking one to cuff me and take me in. I wasn’t sure where “in” was, but I was convinced he’d take me there.
Instead, the older one kept getting in my face.
“We can’t do it without your permission. We need you to help us out with this, and we can see that the correct legal channels are followed.”
I looked to the younger one, confused.
“The trace for your phone. Have you been following?” His eyes crinkled as he smiled. I liked younger cop much better than the other guy. He seemed calm and reassuring. He definitely was the “good cop” in the relationship.
“No, I’ve been as confused as hell. What’s this about?”
“Sorry, Jet here can talk in a bit too much jargon, gets people confused.”
“Is your name really Jet?”
“It’s Detective Simpson.” He glared at the other cop. Obvious this name thing was an issue between them. Jet. I wanted to laugh, even though it would be totally inappropriate.
“Your father escaped from house arrest before we could get him on the plane. We are trying to locate him, but we’d like you to co-operate by letting us trace the calls on your phone.”
“Huh? So what do I have to do?” The pieces slowly came together. This was about my father. Of course it was. It wasn’t like I’d done anything wrong to feel this guilty over. I don’t think they’d send a special force to bust me for copying some papers in Frank’s office. If Frank was as dodgy as I thought, he’d surely not get the police even involved. I shuddered to think how he might deal with it.
“Nothing. Just sign a few papers letting us do this so it’s all legal. And, if your father calls, act all normal and don’t let him suspect anything. At the moment we don’t even know what country he’s in. He’s a slippery bugger.”
I nodded, wanting them to leave. I’d agree to what they wanted, but I wasn’t sure that I felt comfortable ratting out my dad, even with all that he’d done. This was the difference between him g
oing to the slammer or being free, and that was not something I wanted to make a decision about.
“He’s hardly likely to make a call that can be traced, though, is he?” My father was smarter than that.
Jet shrugged. “People do stupid things when they’re desperate.”
He’d obviously never met my father. I think desperate times just made him wilier. Still, if they thought it would help I’d go along with it. I didn’t have much choice unless I wanted to look guilty myself.
As I was filling in the paperwork, Jack came downstairs. His hair was wild and he had on only a pair of boxers. He must have known there were people here. He’d have heard their voices from upstairs, and he could have put clothes on if he’d wanted.
The younger cop shook his head, but the older cop, Jet, I reckon he wanted a piece of Jack. He was pretty much drooling on my floor. Even at his most rundown and shit-looking, Jack had that effect on people. The way his boxers hung from his hips was almost obscene.
It was obvious he’d just gotten out of bed, even though it was after three in the afternoon.
“Late night?” asked the younger cop.
“Yeah, always,” said Jack with a salute. He moved, zombie-like, to the kitchen, and grabbed a beer out of the fridge. He twisted off the top and sat down on the couch, picking up the game controller.
The younger cop rolled his eyes at me.
“Is that your boyfriend?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m a freakin’ rock star,” Jack replied. “Living the rock lifestyle.” Jack put his feet up on the coffee table. “What are these guys doing here, anyway?”
“Nothing. They are just leaving.”
I gestured toward the door with my head. The younger cop handed me his business card. His name was Daniel. Nice and normal. I wanted the other guy’s, too. I wanted written proof that his name was actually Jet.
“Don’t hesitate to contact us if anything happens at all.”
For a second, I thought about those papers in my bag from Frank’s office, then dismissed the thought. I knew I should hand them over but my gut said no. My gut said don’t get further involved in this than I need to.
When they left, I sat down beside Jack. He didn’t look up or even acknowledge that I was there. I wondered if I threw the controller out of his hand and straddled his lap, he’d pay attention to me. That’s how dire things had gotten. I was too scared to even try to touch him in case he rejected me.
“Do you want something to eat?” I asked him, more for something to say than because I was hungry.
“Maybe later…”
There was a wall between us and I didn’t know how to get through it. I didn’t even know where to start. Jack had issues, massive buckets of issues, and I didn’t know how to deal with them; I just knew I wanted to fight to stay with him. This had to work out. We’d been through so much to together, and I wasn’t going to give up.
I couldn’t remember ever feeling like this before, this uncertainty and fear about our relationship. I watched Jack: his eyes focused on the screen, blocking out everything around him, his beer nearly finished and probably the first of many that night. I really hoped Angie was right and a night out would put a small dent in that wall.
Chapter 16
Things were awkward, really awkward. The silence Jack put around himself made the rest of us feel strange. Even Angie wasn’t talking.
We’d been out to a Thai place for dinner. Jack had barely touched his food. We’d tried, really tried, but the effort to make conversation got harder and harder as the night wore on until we just kept eating in silence.
Then Eric had suggested moving on to a bar, and we’d got out of there so fast. But it was the same thing. Jack stared down at his beer, making us feel guilt for wanting to laugh.
“How about we play a game of pool?” Eric suggested. “Doubles?”
“Yes,” said Angie and I in unison.
Eric put his arm on Jack’s shoulder.
“Come on, Jack. It’ll be fun.”
“Fun,” Jack sneered. “Fun?”
“Well, this is cheery,” said Angie. “I’m going outside for a cigarette.”
“I’ll go with you,” I said, but Eric said it at the same time. I let him go. Boyfriend privileges.
Then it was just Jack and I alone.
“Jack, do you want to go home?” I asked. This was becoming torturous.
He shrugged.
“Just tell me what you want. I want to help you, but you just get further and further from me.”
“My friend died, Hannah. He’s dead. I can’t just play happy and forget that happened.”
I couldn’t answer that. I knew he needed time, but I didn’t want him to ruin everything the band had worked for in the time it took him to recover. He needed to take a step toward fixing things, and I really believed that getting back to his music would help.
Angie and Eric came back with more drinks. I pursed my lips to let them know this wasn’t going well.
Angie asked me about my studies and how they were going. To be honest, I was finding it pretty easy. I’d never had to study that hard to get by. It was the rest of my life that sucked.
The crash of cymbals interrupted our conversation. A band was setting up on the small stage on the corner.
Jack’s head shot up and he turned towards the stage.
“I can’t handle this.”
He stamped out of the bar. I ran after him. I didn’t want him alone in this state. The cold air stung my face after the warmth inside.
He walked fast so I picked up my speed to keep up with him. Out on the street, he knocked into people, keeping in a straight line no matter what. He seemed to be single-minded about walking somewhere. I kept following. I wasn’t even sure if he were even aware of me behind.
Above us, a train rumbled over the lines. People sat at tables on the street, drinking and eating. The sound of their laughter seemed like something faraway. Cars drove by with guys leaning out the window, yelling and screaming. From somewhere in the distance, I could hear the siren of an ambulance.
Jack walked on, oblivious. The faces blurred around us. He dodged the buckets of a late-night florist, with a few drooping bunches of flowers left in them. He swerved a woman in a wheelchair coming straight towards him. A busker with dirty dreadlocks reached out for him, but Jack shook his arm off.
“Whoa, mate, what you doing?” A bunch of guys came at him, smacking into Jack with his shoulder.
Jack swung a punch at him and kept on walking, while the guy reeled back from the impact of Jack’s fist.
We got to the business district and the streets became quieter. Lights blazed in random offices, and some rats scurried around skips in the narrow laneways. Not much else moved.
Jack didn’t pause for traffic lights, but the number of cars driving by had lessened. I kept following him. Not talking to him. Not trying to stop him, just following behind like a creepy stalker. I wished I’d worn more comfortable shoes, but I didn’t want to stop to adjust the strap digging into my foot. I wanted to stay with him. I needed to be sure he was safe.
A couple of guys in suits stumbled out of an office building and jumped at the sight of someone storming down the street.
Jack kept going. He walked and he walked until he reached the docks. All he had in front of him was water. He had to stop.
The wind coming off the water froze through to my bones, cruel and biting. Seagulls swooped, flying inland from the sea. Jack sat down on a pile of pallets. He seemed to crumple now that he’d stopped walking. I moved beside him and he reached out for my hand. He pulled me closer, unsurprised that I was with him.
He buried his face into my side, his arms wrapped around my hips. I didn’t know if he was crying or just needing someone close to him. Standing like that, with him pulling against me, was as uncomfortable as hell, but I didn’t dare move until he did. I’d let him stay like that all night if he needed to.
I stroked his head. A ship moved across the
bay out to sea. I followed its lights as it moved. It was the only thing alive in the world apart from us.
Finally, he pulled me down beside him.
“You’re freezing,” he said, and took off his jacket.
So many times I’d given him a hard time about not offering me his jacket. I’d thought he was insensitive prick, but now he was offering, I wished he hadn’t. I’d much rather the cocky talk than this broken Jack.
“I can’t take your jacket. We’ll share it.”
He put it around the both of us. It didn’t make a very satisfactory covering but his body so close to mine filled me with warmth.
For a long time we didn’t talk. We sat on that dock with the rough wood from the pallet scratching into our legs and our breathing in time with each other. Even without words, it felt like that wall between us had gone. I buried my face into his shoulder.
“Hannah? Are you too cold?” he asked.
“No, I’m fine. I wish I’d worn jeans instead of these tights, though.”
Jack rubbed my legs, trying to warm them up. The rough wood prickled beneath my thighs.
“It’s been such a shock,” he said. “I never thought this would happen.”
I nodded.
“I’d told him a shitload of times not to drive when he’s been out partying. That’s just damn stupid. He could’ve stayed with us, crashed on the couch. He could’ve got a cab…”
The comment about the couch was like a knife twisting in my chest. I was the one who’d told him to die. That guilt would stay with me for the rest of my life but I knew I’d have done the same thing again.
“I shouldn’t have—” Jack stopped himself and looked away. I waited for him to continue but it was like the wall had come back between us.
“Do you want to walk?” Jack said. “To warm up.”
I didn’t think I could walk any more.
Instead, his arms moved around me and his lips came close. He brushed them softly across my cheek. I could feel his breath and the harsh stubble on his chin. I turned so he could kiss me. The tenderness of the kiss shocked me. His tongue pressed into my mouth and I clung tighter to him. His body against mine flickered like static electricity, sparking with life. I never wanted him to let me go. He pushed me back against the pallet without taking his lips from mine. Then he stopped.
Bad Boy Redemption (Bad Boy Rock Star #3) Page 8
