I’m just about finished when my phone pings with an incoming message. Usually I’d ignore it, but just in case it’s Abby or Willow, I reach for my phone. Apprehension flows through my body when I notice it’s a number I haven’t seen in a long time.
Zander Stone. Question is, do I open the message or ignore it completely? Sadly, it’s never been in my nature to avoid something that makes me feel uncomfortable. On the contrary, I usually go in with both barrels. I blame that on my five brothers.
Swiping my phone, I open it up and hold my breath.
Zander: Can’t wait to see you in a few weeks. It’s going to be just like old times.
Is he fucking serious? The ink is barely dry on the divorce papers and he can’t wait to see me! What a joke. Well, maybe it’s best if we get the awkwardness out of the way so when the time comes, pleasantries will be in order.
Me: Sorry, I can’t say the same about you. Let’s keep it professional, Zander. This time it isn’t about you.
Zander: Oh, I beg to differ, baby. It’s always about me.
I can’t do this. Nope, I shut off my phone and close my laptop. I’m so done with him. I actually feel bad for Rebel Riot. Those guys are amazing and why they put up with Zander is beyond me. Well, I guess they do because he draws in the fans. Lead men always do.
I startle when warm lips caress my neck. Just below my ear. The place that’s connected to all of my pulsating girlie parts. “You look angry, Quinn. Something I said?”
“No, just trying to catch up on my never-ending emails. You all packed?”
“Yep, did you finish or did you get sidetracked?”
“I finished while you were in the shower. Limo will be here in twenty. Are you ready for Philly?”
“I’m ready for anything as long as you’re there with me. Kinda cheesy but so true. Don’t get me wrong, I like my band, but you’re so much sexier than they are.” I love this funny side of Jet.
“Thanks for your vote of confidence.” Now, if only my ex would leave me alone, maybe I’d be able to relax.
“I’ll grab all our stuff and leave it by the door so the bellboy can do a grab-and-go when it’s time to leave.”
“Sounds good, I’ll be out soon. I’m going to pack up my laptop and grab my purse.” I throw everything together and meet Jet in the living room.
He strides over and grabs my hips, pulling me in. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right? Like a migraine, or if you’re getting tired of me hanging out with you?” Insecurity comes off of him in waves and I feel awful that I’m the one who made him feel that way.
“Of course I would. I swear it’s nothing. I’m just trying to dot my I’s and cross my T’s. Just because I’m screwing around with the sexy bassist for The Sinful Seven doesn’t mean I can slack off ya know.”
He dives in for a kiss and parts my lips with his tongue. A sigh and a moan later and there’s a knock on the door. It’s for the best since we don’t have time to spare.
“Your limo’s waiting, Mr. Turner. Everyone’s already downstairs.” Jet slips him a tip and we walk hand-in-hand to the elevator.
The gang’s already popped a bottle of bubbly for the ride to the airport and I gladly accept a glass. That message is weighing heavily on my mind. Zander’s up to something and I’ll be damned if I know what it is. Can’t be good. I pray he doesn’t do anything to sabotage the concert. He’d be a fool if he did.
“I call dibs in the bedroom, Quinn, and I need to be a part of the mile-high club before this tour is over.” As much as I’d love to have him inside of me as we fly five hundred miles per hour, it wouldn’t happen with all of my friends on board.
“Down boy. You’ll need to wait until we get to the hotel. I don’t think your friends want to hear us going at it like a bunch of animals.”
That gets a chuckle from the crowd. The next thing we hear is the pilot telling us to buckle up, ready for takeoff. It’ll be great spending the night all alone with Jet. It’s been a rough couple of days but he pulled it off beautifully. Closing my eyes, I rest my head against his shoulder. It’s the last thing I remember until the wheels come crashing down as we land in our next destination.
Pride
“If you believe in yourself, have dedication and Pride and never quit, you’ll be a winner.”
Paul Bryant
31
JET
Tonight is bittersweet, since it’s our last concert for the Distraction tour. Caleb’s throwing us a huge afterparty with thousands of guests, and my anxiety is off the charts. We begged him to keep it small and simple but he didn’t listen. He wants to shout it from the rooftops since our album has been number one on the Billboard charts for over six months. The Sinful Seven went from zero to sixty in two seconds and it’s all because we won the battle of the bands that Morris Music hosted last year. Now, Caleb wants to cash in on the publicity, and Quinn agrees it’s a win for both parties. She’s the boss, so we just go with the flow.
Our opening act, Laid Bare, is taking some much-needed time off before going on tour with Wicked Immortal next year. I’m sure the time will come, when the record companies will be competing for them to sign on the dotted line. These guys are the real deal and there’s no doubt in my mind that, Decker, Finn, Levi, and Miles will have a bright future. It’s only up from here.
The production people have been busy behind the scenes, filming us throughout the tour. So now we have several live music videos up on all our social media platforms as well as our YouTube channel. As well as some fan-made videos that were filmed during our concerts. I must admit, they’re really cool and now everyone can get a free clip of us live in concert. Quinn mentioned earlier they’d be doing a few more during the benefit concerts, too. I know it’s all part of the PR and marketing process but it’s never-ending. I’m thankful that she’s in charge of the whole thing and not me.
At this time, we still have no clue who sent us those pictures. The prints they lifted off the pics were not found in any of the criminal databases, so they were of no use. Therefore, we have no proof whatsoever that my stepfather was behind it. And Mr. Miller told me in private that it’s not a criminal offense for someone to send pictures of your family members. The envelopes didn’t contain any threats, letters, or anything of that nature. As far as I’m concerned, there are no other suspects, case closed.
Miller assured me that Joseph wouldn’t bother me again. In person or in the media. I didn’t ask for specifics and he didn’t tell since I’m paying him to do a job. I’m sure it was a hefty lump sum and I informed him to take it out of my cut and not the band’s. This isn’t their fight, it’s mine. He agreed. I need to trust whatever agreement they came to and if Joseph shows his face again, this time he’ll be thrown in jail for breaking a restraining order and a contract. If it doesn’t stick, I have something up my sleeve. Whether I’m brave enough to pull it all off is another question. Time will tell.
We thought it was appropriate to end our tour where it all began, so we’re in New York, playing to our home crowd. It will be nice to see some familiar faces, and Mack promised to bring Amelia and a few of her friends. It was my way of saying thank you for giving Mack her ticket that night he watched me bleed on stage. It was a pivotal moment in my life and I was glad to share it with him.
The tension backstage is off the charts and tonight there’s a heaviness in the air. Being that it’s our last night together since the start, it’s very emotional. We all knew this time would come, but it doesn’t make it any easier. When you work this closely with the same people day in and day out, we become a close-knit family. The camaraderie is unlike anything I’ve ever felt in my lifetime. It feels like hope and contentment all rolled into one.
Out of everyone on this tour, hands down, I’m the one who’s changed the most from this experience. In the beginning, I acted like a prick. Keeping everyone at arm’s length. If they hated me they couldn’t hurt me is what I thought. Being on the street made me realize that I wasn’t t
he only kid who had been sexually abused. Some talked openly about it, others like me let it fester for years and years. Not good, because then your mind tricks you into believing it was all your fault.
The shame and self-isolation are debilitating.
QUINN
I’ve been receiving text messages from Zander for a month now. I haven’t responded to any of them, with the exception of that first one. I keep telling myself I’m not going to read them, and then I do. Only because I’m afraid that if I don’t open them, he’ll know and make my life a living hell when we get to California. Is it wrong of me to hope he falls off the face of the earth or gets an STD so his dick falls off before we do?
I haven’t mentioned anything to Jet about the messages because if I do, he’ll be furious. I’m desperately trying to avoid confrontation between the both of them, and I might be going about it all wrong. Out of sight out of mind might not work this time around but I’m hoping if I ignore Zander’s messages, he’ll move on. Could be wishful thinking on my part, but I know all too well that when he doesn’t get a rise out of someone he gets easily bored.
I’m standing backstage and there’s a buzz that’s never been here before. I think it has a lot to do with the fact it’s our last night together. Some will follow us to the benefit concerts and some will go home to their families. It’s always tough and I usually get sentimental because we are like one big happy family. Hopefully, it won’t take too long for the guys to cut a new album and they can all be together again.
Fingers crossed.
A pair of leather-clad arms wrap around me and I just lean against Jet for support. It should be the other way around but I’m having a very sentimental moment. “Hey baby, are you ready?” I turn around in his arms and breathe in his scent. Spicy with a hint of leather and citrus. It’s seductive, irresistible, and downright panty melting. Yeah, I got it bad and he knows it since my nipples always salute his arrival. It’s embarrassing as hell. But, in all fairness, picture a six-foot-two Jet in leather from head to toe. Now that’s what I’m talking about.
“So ready. How about you?” I’ve seen that look on his face many times. Only this time around, he’s conflicted. On the one hand, he’s sad that the Distraction tour is over but happy that the benefit concerts are coming up next. I’ve told him several times in the past that when one door closes, another opens.
I can’t help reaching out to smooth over his frown. His voice is husky when he replies, “I’m good, really. We’re all excited about Coins for Change and meeting up with all of the bands, but it sucks that it’s going to be a long time before we’re all together again.”
“Yep, but that’s part of the process. Think of how exciting it will be when you start planning the next tour. It will be like coming home when everyone’s together again.” The words “except me” are on the tip of my tongue. Nope, not going there tonight. I’m on the verge of tears as it is.
“Sure will and I’ve no doubt that we’ll be so damn busy that time will fly right by.” Both of us can read between the lines. In a little over a month from now, I’ll be working with another band and they will hire a permanent PR agent. If his stare is any indication, he’s reading my thoughts. It’s that elephant in the room that we’ve been evading at all costs. Unfortunately, it’s creeping up on us and with everything else I have going on right now, I can’t deal with the thought of not being with Jet every day.
Leaning in, he kisses one cheek, then the other. So soft and gentle it brings tears to my eyes. When one falls, he crushes his mouth against mine. Greedy and demanding. Making me lose all train of thought which I bet was his intention from the start.
We’re interrupted when Bruce pops his head in and shouts, “You guys are on in ten, let’s make it the best one yet!”
“Break a leg, baby,” I say as I reluctantly slip away from him. That gorgeous smile and those baby blues will haunt me for the rest of my life.
Before walking away, he gives me an embrace that I’ll not soon forget and then whispers, “I love you so much, Quinn, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life showing you just how much.”
What? I’m sobbing so much that I can’t find my voice, so I mouth, “I love you more.” With a smile and a wink, he walks onstage to thousands of adoring fans screaming his name. I want to yell “Back off, he’s my man!” and the thought has me hiccupping because I’m both crying and laughing simultaneously.
“Sweetie, are you all right?” Abby asks. She’s been my sidekick through thick and thin in this crazy thing called The Sinful Seven.
“These are happy tears for a change. He loves me, Abby! Jet finally told me he loves me.” Okay, so I don’t usually kiss and tell but I’m euphoric right now and I need to share my good news with someone. She gives me a big hug and then we squeal like a bunch of adolescent girls. It feels wonderful!
“I knew it. I told you. I’m so happy for the both of you. Now you can stay with us. I’m so excited.” We chat for a bit longer and then I focus on my headset and what’s happening on stage. But you couldn’t wipe the smile off my face for all the greasy burgers in the world.
Four encores later, and they bound off the stage with so much adrenaline that they’re higher than a kite. It’s well deserved after all the blood, sweat, and tears they put in night after night. Laid Bare is right there to congratulate them and the next thing I know, champagne is being popped and sprayed all over them. My heart’s near to bursting when Jet crosses his arms over his stomach, trying to catch his breath. It’s a beautiful sight to see.
“C’mon, Quinn. They want us to join them.” Abby grabs my arm and we rush over to join the craziness that’s happening all around us.
Jet pulls me in, holding me close. Funny how I’m not bothered by the stickiness of the champagne or the noise of the crowd since I’m just focused on the man holding me. He’s all that matters. My beautiful broken man. “I love you, Jet Turner. So much.”
He leans in, captures my lips and whispers, “I love you more, Quinn Taylor. Thank you for loving me.”
32
JET
One month later . . .
We’re on the last leg of the benefit concerts and I couldn’t be happier with the outcome. With only two more concerts to go, we’ve already raised twenty-three million dollars, which equals a little over one million per concert. Twenty cities will now have the funding they desperately need to help house and feed the homeless. We all know it’s just a drop in the bucket and we’re already in negotiations to do more concerts in more cities within the next few years. I’m amazed at the outpouring of love and support that so many have shown for this necessary cause. This might be my proudest accomplishment by far.
Tonight, we’re playing at Clark Stadium with Rebel Riot. Not looking forward to meeting Quinn’s ex but I’m confident in knowing she’s chosen me over him. She’s told me time and time again. So, I’ve already talked to the band to see if we can afford to hire her on moving forward. Of course they agreed wholeheartedly. Once the last set has been broken down and the last truck is packed and loaded, The Sinful Seven will approach her with a deal she can’t refuse. And I’ll be the first one to admit after sharing my space, truths, and love for over six months, I can’t let her go. Unless it’s what she wants. I’d never hold her back but I’m hoping she chooses me.
Lucas, Trevor, and I are just hanging out in the private pool area while the girls have a much-needed spa day. We had a few hours to kill and we felt restless and just needed some down time. I can’t think of anything better than a few good friends and a couple of cold beers for a little R&R.
“So what’s our game plan when we get back home? Any thoughts?” I lean my elbows against the wall and take a long pull on my beer.
“We need to get working on the new album as soon as possible,” Lucas says. “I really like the idea of all of us coming up with two or three songs on our own and blending them all together to create a different kind of album. It’s risky but I think our fans would lo
ve it.” Lucas feels the way I do about the collaboration. Trevor, not so much.
“I’d have to disagree. Maybe a third or fourth album but not our second. We need to solidify our brand first. If there’s too much inconsistency with the music, we’ll lose them all.”
“I’d have to agree.”
The three of us whip our heads up to catch Zander Stone approaching us. Here to crash the party. Oh fuck to the no.
“The Sinful Seven isn’t established after only one tour. You’d lose the majority of your fans if you put out a collaborative second album. That’s my advice, you can take it or leave it since I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about.”
Lucas glares in my direction before he slowly steps out of the pool. “Thanks for the tip, Zander. We’ll def take it into consideration.” I want to gag as he reaches out to shake his hand.
“This is a private party and we were just tossing a few things around is all.” Trevor quips as his lips quirk before tipping his bottle back to polish it off.
“No worries. I have a habit of putting in my two cents where it’s not needed. It’s one of the things that used to piss off Quinn big time.” Yep, he had to go there and now I’m the one bounding out of the pool.
“In case you didn’t get the hint, this is a private party and you weren’t invited. As much as we appreciate Rebel Riot giving their time for this event, it’s best if we keep this professional and not make it personal.” Lucas stands between us because he knows I’m street smart and I’ll take this fucker out if he so much as looks at Quinn.
Jet: An Enemies-to-Lovers Rockstar Romance (The Sinful Seven Series Book 2) Page 20