Jazz: A Romantic Suspense Aladdin Retelling (Happily After When Book 1)

by Emily Bourne

Adrian waves off the question and scoots next to Gene on the couch. “You ok?”

  Eddy tells them he has an appointment with Tessa and leaves for the hall.

  “I’m ok, but seriously, are you ok?” Gene asks, scrutinising Adrian’s features.

  Adrian runs a hand through his hair. “I was worried about you.”

  “Ok?” Gene says sceptically. “What were you doing beforehand?”

  Adrian laughs. “What are you fishing for?”

  Gene narrows his eyes, waiting for Adrian to tell him what he wants to hear.

  Adrian turns his head. “Would you stop looking at me like that? I was talking to Jazz, ok.”

  “Knew it!” Gene cheers. “You like her, huh?”

  Adrian wipes his brow. “She’s pretty, but––”

  “––Pretty?” Gene repeats. “Jazz Abadi is not pretty, she’s a goddess.”

  Adrian turns back to Gene. “You know a lot about her?”

  Gene pulls out his phone and scrolls through Collage. “Only every outfit she’s ever worn to every event ever.”

  “Wow,” Adrian murmurs, watching Gene’s moving screen. “She goes to a lot of parties.”

  “How do you not know about her?”

  Adrian taps the screen. “Well, I don’t have one of these things.”

  “What? A Collage account?” Gene asks, but then his dark brown eyes widen. “Do you mean a phone? You don’t own a phone? How is that possible?”

  Adrian smirks and shrugs. “I just don’t.”

  “Good lord. You really are shut off from the world, aren’t you?”

  “I dunno. I meet a lot of people.”

  “I guess. But no one like Jazz, am I right?”

  “She sends me dizzy.”

  “So, why don’t you go back and talk to her more?”

  “Because I’m here to check on you.”

  “I’m fine. You need to get to know her.”

  “We’re having dinner tonight.”

  Gene leaps from the couch. “This is huge. What are you gonna wear?”

  “What?”

  Gene’s face screws up and he gestures to Adrian’s jeans and t-shirt. “You’re not going to dinner in that.”

  Adrian stands and says, “It’s just dinner in my office. No big deal.”

  “No big deal?” Gene repeats, going up an octave. “You’re having a private dinner with Jazz Abadi, one of the most influential heiresses in Maiden City.”

  “Why are you trying to freak me out?”

  “I’m trying to make you see the light.” Gene loops his arm around Adrian’s. “I heard there’s a room of clothes somewhere here. Show me. I’ll fix you.”

  “Fix me?”

  “Uh, enhance you, is what I mean.”

  “I really don’t know,” Adrian says, letting Gene drag him out of the room.

  “Trust me. You wanna make a good impression, don’t you?”

  “She’s met me.”

  “But does she know you?”

  “Ugh, fine.”

  Adrian shows Gene to the donated clothes, and his disgust is vivid on his face.

  “This is how you treat your clothes?” Gene winces.

  “They’re just clothes.”

  “Just?” Gene bats a hand and wades through the clothes. “It hurts me. It physically hurts me.”

  “Anyone ever told you, you’re overly dramatic?”

  Gene puffs his chest, shooting a look back at Adrian. “Duh.”

  Adrian’s body loosens, and he slouches with a laugh. “Ok, Genie, what do you recommend?”

  “You don’t have any nice clothes you wear for special occasions?”

  “I wouldn’t say I have any special occasions... but, I guess, I have a suit I wear for meetings.”

  “Oh?” Gene grows enthusiastic. “Tailored for you?”

  “What for me?”

  “Boy, lemme guess, it’s two-sizes too big for you?”

  “Well, it’s–”

  “–Ugh.” Gene lifts a hand, closing his eyes. “I’m now assuming you own no clothes.”

  Adrian laughs, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. “Ok, go for it.”

  Gene tilts his head, running his eyes up and down Adrian.

  Adrian rocks his jaw. “What are you doing?”

  “You’re a good-looking guy. You should act like it.”

  Adrian pulls himself off the wall. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “If you show off your assets, people will take you seriously.”

  “Believe me, that’s not something I’m interested in. The people I see every day do not give a damn what I look like. And I don’t care what they look like.”

  “And what about your meetings? Who are they with? What are they for?”

  Adrian moans, feeling hit by a freight train.

  “Are you all right?”

  Adrian shrugs. “I had to go into a government office to ask for grant money. It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

  Gene grows serious. “No, tell me.”

  “We have to shut this place down,” Adrian says, sadness weighing down his shoulders. “We don’t have any money to keep it open.”

  “I saw you turning people away,” Gene says in a small voice.

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t put this on you.”

  “Please, I’m too nosey to keep out.”

  Adrian laughs. “Yeah, I’m realising that. Anyway, Jazz thinks she knows some ways to keep the place going.”

  Gene beams. “That’s great. So tonight is a big deal in a few ways. Ok, let me work my magic on you.”

  Adrian shakes his head, smiling. “What am I getting myself into?”

  “I’m just getting you ready for a special night. You like Jazz, right?”

  “Sure, she’s great.”

  “Just make sure you speak from the heart. Don’t make it all about business.”

  “I need help with this place, though.”

  “I know. That’s important, but open up too. You two look good together.”

  Adrian’s stomach flips, and he laughs. “Ok, relax. You’re making me nervous.”

  Gene laughs. “Ok, sorry. Hey, this might actually work. I need an iron.”

  Wished

  GENE hurries when he spots Jazz in the hallway. “Jazz! Ah, Miss Abadi. Wait up.”

  Jazz turns and smirks. “Just Jazz is fine.”

  Gene wipes his brow and grins. “It’s still so surreal I’ve met you. Do you have a minute to talk?”

  “Sure. What’s up?” Jazz gestures ahead. “I was just going to my bedroom. Do you mind if we go in there?”

  Gene’s insides buzz. “Yes, please.”

  “You’re an excitable young man, aren’t you?”

  “Um, do you know how many times I’ve looked at your Collage feed and wished to transport into your bedroom?”

  “Well, don’t get too excited,” Jazz says, leading him into the room. “It’s a dorm room for me and Tessa with nothing I own.”

  Gene deflates as he takes in the desolate room. “Yeah, not exactly what I pictured.”

  Jazz humphs and picks up something from the edge of her bed. “Well, except this. This is mine.”

  The buzzing inside him returns and Gene edges to Jazz’s bed with interest. “What is that?”

  “I was wearing this dress when I ended up here,” Jazz says, letting the material spill from her hands and hang against her. “I don’t know why I haven’t chucked it out. It’s torn and filthy.”

  “No way,” Gene says, grabbing the material. “You can’t throw this out. This is vintage sheath. Hang on.” He tilts his head, taking a closer inspection. “This is the dress they photographed you in, going into Overity. Is it true you were there with Ethan Roth?”

  Jazz drops the dress, which Genes catches and cradles like a newborn, and huffs. “Don’t remind me.”

  “He’s who you’re running from?”

  Jazz sits on the bottom bunk and lifts an eyebrow as she looks at Gene.
“You’re very perceptive.”

  Gene shrugs with a smirk. “It’s a gift.” He looks at her sideways. “The photos of you leaving Overity weren’t as flattering.”

  Jazz groans and collapses her face into her hands. “Oh no, the paparazzi snapped me leaving?”

  “Don’t worry. You’re still a babe. So, what are you wearing tonight?”

  Jazz lifts her head. “Tonight?”

  “Your dinner with Adrian.”

  “You know about that?”

  “I just had to get it through Adrian’s head that it’s a big deal. Don’t tell me I need to sort you out, too.”

  Jazz stands, her almond eyes enlarging. “He thinks tonight is a big deal?”

  Gene smiles and wriggles his eyebrows. “Don’t you?”

  Gene notices a warmth highlighting her high cheekbones.

  He rubs the fabric between his fingers and says, “I can fix this.”

  “Really?”

  “I’ve seen the donated clothes and think you’re wearing the best thing here.”

  Jazz laughs. “Me too. But how will you fix this?”

  “I can wash it in a sink, I’ve seen a hair dryer that I hope to God works, and,” he pauses and gulps as he looks at her, “Do you mind if I cut it?”

  “Cut it?”

  “Alter it. Make it shorter to get rid of this tear.”

  Jazz nods. “I was going to toss it. If you can fix it, go ahead.”

  “Perfection. Lord, I’m altering a dress for Jazz Abadi. Am I still standing?” he rushes, holding his forehead.

  “Stop being silly,” Jazz says with a laugh as she moves to the mirror and combs her fingers through her hair.

  “So you’ll save this place?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “What makes you want to do that?”

  Jazz looks over her shoulder at him, her face serious. “They’re so accepting. This is the first place people treated me well despite my name and money.”

  “It’s crazy they didn’t know who you are. Did you know Adrian doesn’t own a phone?”

  Jazz’s eyes narrow. “How is that possible?”

  Gene throws his arms up. “Beats me.”

  Jazz turns back to the mirror. “Explains why he doesn’t follow me, I guess.”

  “He’s a good guy, isn’t he?”

  Jazz smiles at her reflection, and whispers, “One of the best.”

  “Try to loosen up tonight,” Gene says, moving towards the doorway. “Don’t make it entirely about business and finances. Have a good time.”

  Jazz nods at him. “I will. Good luck with the dress.”

  “Thanks. I’m gonna raid the place for scissors and something resembling thread.”

  Lucky

  JAZZ fixes her hair in soft waves over her shoulder, and they cascade over her chest. She was apprehensive about wearing this dress again after the state she’d left it in, but Gene did an amazing job, almost convincing her it was a new dress.

  She takes in a long breath and notices her hands tremble. She frowns and wonders why she’s acting so nervously. She’s always conducted herself in such a strong and confident manner for business meetings. She then takes in her attire. She laughs and shakes her head. This is new. She’s never gone into a meeting wondering if it was a date. She never let romance play into life before. Hell, she was proposed to at her last meeting and didn’t lose her cool.

  Her teeth grit. Well, I got drunk and blacked-out. Her stomach tosses with disgust at the memory of Ethan’s actions.

  She flexes her fingers and pushes the memory aside. She smiles as Adrian’s face fills the space in my mind.

  “Ok, here goes nothing,” she says to her reflection.

  She controls her breaths, the same way she would during a run, on the way to Adrian’s office. The only room I haven’t been in yet.

  The door is ajar, and she lightly taps at it. Adrian’s frame hunches over a table and when he moves away, Jazz realises he was lighting a candle.

  “Hey, come on in,” he says as Jazz pushes the door open.

  “Hi.”

  “Wow, you look so fancy,” Adrian says, his eyes running up and down her dress.

  She smooths down her newly altered dress and bites her lip. “I do?”

  Adrian moves his eyes up to hers and smiles. “Beautiful, I mean. You look pretty.”

  Jazz smiles and takes in his dress shirt and pleated trousers. “I could say the same about you. Very handsome.”

  “Thanks,” he says bashfully, gesturing to a chair. “Well, you’re here to save this place, I needed to dress up for you.”

  “You didn’t need to do anything,” Jazz says, taking a seat. She giggles under her breath as he pushes her chair in for her.

  “This is probably pretty shabby compared to what you’re used to,” Adrian says, rounding the table to relight the candle. “There’s not much light in here and Maria found this candle for me. It’s probably dumb.”

  “It’s not dumb. It’s lovely. Almost perfect in a topsy-turvy way.”

  Adrian sets the lighter down once the wick stays lit and laughs as he sits across the table. “You don’t need to lie. This isn’t perfect.”

  Jazz shrugs, her smile sliding to the left. “It’s a nice change of pace.”

  “Do you go to those fancy balls held by the Mayor?”

  “I’ve been to a few. My family is close with the Walsh family.”

  “Whoah.” Adrian leans in with interest. “What are they like?”

  “The balls? They can be stuffy. You need to dress and act a certain way. There’s a lot of talk of money and business. In a lot of ways, it’s very fake.”

  Adrian’s expression drops. “Oh. I was hoping you’d say they were fun.”

  Jazz laughs. “Well, I guess some girls find it fun. I’m just not one for getting excited to dress up.”

  “You always look so nice though.”

  “I do it, but it’s not for fun. It’s for an image.”

  “Oh.”

  “You must judge me harshly for playing a role. Like I’m a fake.”

  Adrian shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”

  “Adrian, you flipped out when you found out I’m an heiress.”

  “Ok, I might have a few thoughts about rich people that made me do that.”

  Jazz sits back in her chair and looks around the room for the first time. The walls are chipped and cracked, exposing the outside brick. The air is stale. Cobwebs cover the overhead light, which is littered with dead bugs. But what steals Jazz’s attention is a skinny fold-out bed with a flimsy mattress pushed against the wall.

  “You sleep in here?” she asks abruptly.

  “Yeah, this is my room.”

  Jazz turns back to him. “I assumed you had an office and a bedroom.”

  “No, I have them both in one. I don’t want to take up that much room.”

  “You deserve more space than this.”

  “Nah, it’s enough. We need space to help people. That’s if we can keep the place running.”

  “You can. I have a few ideas.”

  Adrian plays with the cuffs of his shirt and keeps his eyes down.

  “You seem nervous.”

  “You’re rich.”

  “I’m the same person you’ve spoken to all week.”

  He laughs. “Yeah, the person I knew there was something off about.”

  She twitches. “Off?”

  He smiles. “Different.”

  “That we are.”

  “I try to treat everyone the same. I didn’t want to freak out because you’re from money, but I’ve had bad experiences with people from your side of the city.” He fidgets in his seat. “I wanted to keep my cool, but then Gene told me it was a huge deal to have one-on-one time with you, and he freaked me out. He kept saying your full name like you were royalty or something. Sorry, I still don’t know how to pronounce your last name. What is it?”

  “Abadi.”

  “Abadi. Ok, I’ll remember t
hat. Jazz Abadi.”

  Jazz giggles. “Ok, good. What’s your last name?”

  “Cassidy.”

  “Well, nice to officially meet you, Adrian Cassidy.”

  “Like we’re meeting the real us?”

  “I’m ready to put all my cards out on the table if you are.”

  “I guess I’m gonna have to. I need your help.”

  “How did you start running this place?” Jazz asks, looking around at the room. “Did you start it up, or take it over from someone? It’s hard to get real estate in the city.” When Adrian flinches, Jazz is quick to add. “I promise I’m not trying to acquire the site.”

  Adrian smiles and lets out a weighted breath. “You were honest with me. I should do the same thing.”

  “You’ve been lying about something?”

  “Geez, you know how to throw out the questions to make people feel like they are on trial.”

  Jazz’s shoulders droop. “Oops.”

  Adrian grins. “I’m teasing you. No, I haven’t been lying, just haven’t been open.” He stretches his neck side-to-side, preparing to lay it all out. “I came here after leaving a group home.”

  “What’s a group home?”

  Adrian splutters a laugh. “Wow, we really are from different worlds. It’s foster care, but when you’re not in a family, just living in a place run by the city.”

  Jazz’s demeanour strains. “You didn’t have your own family?”

  “Just their baggage.” He shifts in his chair. “My parents died.”

  Jazz’s cheeks pinch as her eyes gleam with tears. “That’s awful, I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks. It was a long time ago.”

  Jazz’s stomach pangs as she takes in the sorrow paling his face. “I lost my mother a long time ago too.”

  “I’m sorry. It never matters how long ago it was, it still hurts, doesn’t it?”

  Jazz sniffs back a tear and smiles. In a small voice, she asks, “Can I ask what happened to your parents?”

  “They were shot,” he says flatly.

  Jazz’s heart plummets. “What? Really?”

  He nods, grinding his teeth as he looks to the floor. “I saw it happen.”

  Jazz rushes off her chair and races to his side. She kneels beside him, touching his forearm. “Oh, Adrian, I’m so sorry. No one should ever have to see that.”

  He meets her eyes and takes her hand. He clears his throat and says, “Is it bad to say I’m better off without them?”