“Mrs.- er, Mayzie. Hey there,” he stammers, giving me a wave of his hand.
“Hi Shane,” I return hesitantly as I slowly approach him. “What are you doing here? Wait… forget it, I know.”
“Sorry.” He looks guilty as he presses his lips together and puts his hands in his pockets.
“It’s okay,” I assure him as he falls into step beside me.
“He just cares about you,” he offers out of nowhere, and my heart goes soft.
“I know.” We walk in silence for a few beats as I reflect on all the emotion I just worked through, and like a damn two-by-four, a thought hits me and I stop dead in my tracks.
“Are you okay?” Shane asks me as he stops a few steps ahead of me.
“Yeah…” I answer, as I take in his broad frame, that he most likely acquired through God only knows what kind of training. “Actually Shane, can I ask you a favor…?”
Later that night, after showering and changing on an empty bus, I walk to the arena to catch a glimpse of the show. Jack and I haven’t seen each other since we butted heads earlier, and I want to see him, just for a minute. Shane is accompanying me, as always, as we make our way through the dark lot in the cool, late November night. My hoodie with a puffy vest and UGGs are doing a good job of keeping me warm. The guys are about a third into their set, the music getting louder and thumping harder as we near the stage.
When I reach the side of the stage where I can see what’s going on, I can tell that the people of Charlotte are getting a treat tonight. The rest of the guys are bringing it like usual, but Jack has upped his game. His stage persona is at full tilt as I watch him wrench and wrangle his guitar, swinging it around like it’s some kind of wild beast that he’s trying to tame. He’s standing in front of his mic stand, belting out the lyrics to their song Breakthrough harder than ever before. He’s unleashing some serious aggression. I guess you could say that while I have the dance floor, he has the stage.
I stand there, leaning my shoulder against a wall as I take him in. I watch him move and let his voice invade my mind, carrying me away. His energy looks like it has no end, whereas I am fading. I’m exhausted, drained and spent; not to mention already feeling sore from my earlier dance party for one. I’ll just watch for one more song.
They wrap up Breakthrough with a slamming bang before Pete, Jack’s guitar tech, meets him halfway across the stage to trade guitars with him, handing him the acoustic one he uses for See Her. As Jack grabs it from Pete, he looks past him at me, and our eyes lock on to each other. His gaze holds mine as he slips the strap over his shoulder, his expression one of wonder and interest mixed with relief. He reclaims his position in front of the mic. “I know you all know this one,” he teases, letting his hardcore stage demeanor slip for just a couple of seconds. I’m standing in the perfect position to catch his dimple, making my heart give a hard squeeze and then spreading warmth when it releases.
As his low, hard voice sends the lyrics out into the arena, the ones that were inspired from the first time Jack saw me dance, I watch as his face slowly shifts into a pensive expression; like he’s realizing something the song never told him before. I feel a smile turn up the sides of my mouth as I watch and listen, giving me no choice. As the song gets close to its end, I decide now is a good time to head back to the bus. I’m so tired and I accomplished what I wanted, which was to see Jack and connect for just a minute. But there’s still a lot of unaddressed tension and I don’t want to stir him up for the rest of the show. I turn and walk back to the bus with Shane shadowing me, and when I get there, I strip and get into bed. With the dogs keeping watch at the foot of the bed, I drift off almost instantly.
JACK
I’m bringing the noise a little extra hard tonight, exerting every ounce of energy and driving it into the notes that I crank out on the guitar. The crowd is freaking out and it only feeds the fire. I’m practically shouting the lyrics into the mic. We finish the revved up, electric song that was one of our firsts with a thunderous boom and the fans respond with a roar. I take my guitar strap off my head and turn to take the one Pete is holding out to me when I see her - come on, I had to say it once.
I see my girl, leaning against the side wall off the stage, arms crossed, lips slightly parted. God, she’s so beautiful, and she’s looking at me with an expression that says she’s still holding her ground, but wanted me to know she’s thinking of me.
So much goes through my mind as I sing the song that was our first hit, the one she inspired. Like how strong and tough she is underneath when she needs to be. When I finish the song and turn to trade guitars with Pete again, she’s no longer standing there, but that’s alright. In that fleeting moment, we communicated, and as soon as my job is done up here, I’ll be holding her again.
MAYZIE
In the middle of the night, I’m pulled into that pocket between sleep and awake as the bed dips, and the covers gently lift beside me. I feel one of Jack’s strong arms, dewy from a recent shower, wrap around me as his chest lines up flush against my back, making me feel nothing but contented happiness and warmth. I feel his clean-shaven cheek rubbing gently back and forth across the side of my face along with a few damp strands of hair tickling my forehead as he nuzzles me. I can’t help but lean into the affection, counter rubbing my face against his. When he burrows his face into my neck, I turn over to face him. His hand splays protectively against my back as mine connect with his chest, basking in the feel of it. My head has since cleared and I’m not mad at him. Even if I were, I’d still be doing this. That’s how amazing this makes me feel. When he holds me against him like this, there’s no happier or safer place in the world for me. We don’t speak; we simply fall asleep in the security blanket of each other.
16
Mayzie
In the morning, I wake to find myself in the same safe place, Jack’s dark blues already on me. They aren’t searching my face, but more… exploring, like he’s trying to see something that he hadn’t before. When he reaches over to push a strand of hair off of my forehead, the gentle smile that softly spreads across my mouth couldn’t be more natural.
“Hey,” he rasps at me with a sweet smile of his own. I can tell by his voice that he sang himself hoarse last night.
“Hey,” I whisper back.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m sorry too.”
“Baby, I know you can do anything. I just -,”
“Shh, baby you need to whisper,” I urge. His voice is seriously scratchy and cracking a little.
He obliges, whispering, “I just can’t stand the thought of… you know.”
I nod, knowing what he’s saying. “I don’t want to do it. I’m not even saying I should do it. I just don’t want to discount it. I know it seems like the buy-out option is the safest, but I feel like the dipshit still wins. And even then, he still might not actually leave us alone, you know?”
“I know,” he mouths, his eyes at half-mast. “And I promise, we’ll figure it out together sweetheart.”
“Okay,” I smile and nod at him. Together. We’ve used the word plenty of times, but for some reason, when he says it now… it’s like our relationship achieved a whole new level I never knew was possible. My insides give a warm squeeze at the notion we’re on solid ground. “You should get some more sleep,” I urge him.
“No way, get over here,” his grumbling voice breaks and cracks with the words as he pulls me closer.
“Jack, listen to yourself! You need to rest your voice so you can sing the next show,” I try to lecture as I let him throw both an arm and leg over me.
“Okay, okay. I will,” he placates in a whisper. “Just stay in bed with me for a while.” He buries his face in my shoulder. “Baby, I missed you. I hate when you’re mad at me.”
“I wasn’t mad at you,” I reason as I try to find somewhere to put my hand on him. Seriously, he has me buried. “I was just mad.”
“I love when that fire comes out of you,” he lean
s back to look in my eyes. “One of the things that made me fall in love with you is how you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever met, and yet you don’t take any shit. Not even from me.”
“Well, that could just be me overcompensating for all those years I didn’t know I had it in me,” I say self-deprecatingly.
“I don’t give a shit where it came from. It’s you,” he whispers, still being careful of his vocal cords.
I can’t argue with him. Jack knows me, all the way through. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like how protective he is of me, like he’s my knight. Even when he takes it a little into caveman territory I still like it. There’s just a bigger picture here, and I hope he’s starting to see it.
We cuddle under the warm covers and we feel the bus rumble to life. As we pull out onto the road for the next city, the gentle rocking persuades me to drift back off for a while.
I don’t sleep for very long, less than an hour, but the extra bit of rest gave me a little boost. I glance over to see that Jack did indeed go back to sleep too, which is reassuring. He’s lost his voice a time or two on tours before so we know the drill for taking care of it. The good thing is that the next show isn’t until tomorrow. I roll on my back to stretch out and… OWW. Oh, my muscles are sore from my little dance tantrum yesterday. Worth it. I feel significantly lighter. I stand and peak out of the side of the blinds to find that the early morning weather is bleak, rain slashing at the window.
Since the bus is in motion I can’t shower, so once I’m clad in yoga pants and one of Jack’s hoodies, I stagger my sore ass out to the lounge area of the bus to find not only Matt, but Josh and Chris too.
“Hey,” I say to everyone as the Keurig’s tractor beam pulls me in. They greet me back, looking as worn out and rumpled as I feel. “Did you guys sleep here last night?” I ask, wondering why they aren’t on their own bus. Well, I ask Josh, as Chris is unconscious on the couch that lines the window. And sweet lord, what is on his face?
“Yeah, we wanted to work on the song today, so we thought it would be easier to sleep here rather than waking up at the ass crack of dawn before we got on the road.” Josh answers me. I see a writing pad out, and their respective guitars are resting nearby.
I nod, taking a sip of coffee. “Get anywhere with it? And what the hell did you do to Chris’s face?”
“Relax. I didn’t use a Sharpie, its Magic Marker. He doesn’t need to know that though, right?” Josh sits back in his lounge chair and gives me a lazy grin.
“How did you happen to have one of those?”
“I bought some a while back. That dude sleeps so hardcore it’d be just plain wrong not to mess with him on occasion, and it’s even more fun to let him think it’s permanent.” He holds his hands out and shrugs.
“Well, kudos for not doing it on the day of a show. I can only imagine him trying to look serious behind his drum set with kitty-whiskers drawn on his face.”
“Hey!” Josh raises his voice indignantly, “don’t miss the masturbating alien on his forehead.”
I take a closer look at Chris and shake my head. The details on his forehead are disturbingly intricate. Matt starts shaking with laughter. These guys are absolute kids on the road, Jack included.
“What about the song?” I ask, shuffling over to the table to open my laptop.
“Haven’t started yet,” Matt answers me “waiting on Jack.”
“Oh. Well FYI, your lead singer has lost his voice, so you guys will have to be the guinea pigs if you want to test out any new lyrics.” I plop down and start looking for where I left off on my next blog post.
“Shit.” Matt lowers his head before looking back up at Josh. “All you, Timberlake.”
“I do not sound like him!” Josh defends.
“Can’t stop the feeliiing!” Matt taunts, singing obnoxiously high pitched, making Josh smack his shoulder. Chris snorts at the ruckus and turns over on the couch. They continue their antics, having zero clue that they are giving me great material for this week’s entry.
Jack moseys out about half an hour later, looking like sex on a stick in his worn jeans and a black Henley. He leans over to kiss me and I catch a hint of lemon from the lozenge in his mouth. He makes a cup of coffee that he can’t drink until it cools, and sits down with the guys while I continue to write.
After spending an hour where they got a feeble amount accomplished due to Jack not being able to talk too loudly, and Chris not contributing at all because he’s still passed out, they decide to call it and pack their guitars away. I’ve long since shut my laptop and have been reading a book when Jack leans over and whispers that he’s got something to show me before leading me back to the bedroom.
I walk in to find a perfectly made bed. I press my lips together in a knowing smile and look to Jack who has a cocky smile on his face. He puts his arms around me, pulling me close. He places tender kisses on my cheek, my nose, my forehead. “We don’t have to,” he whispers. “I just wanted to…” he trails off, but I know what he’s trying to tell me. Come to think of it, we never did properly make up…
17
Mayzie
That evening, we arrive in Richmond after a long-ass haul on the highway; definitely one of our longer stretches on the road. The silver lining is that it’s a rest night with no show, and we get to sleep in a hotel. The weather is still damp and chilly outside, I haven’t showered since yesterday, and I’m still sore. In other words, the jetted bathtub in our suite is screaming my name. Even though Jack is still out of commission, he and the guys decide to take another stab at a writing session in Matt’s room.
When I get out of the tub a while later, I feel realxed and my muscles are less angry. I wash off in the shower after, and secure a huge fluffy towel around myself. I’m just reaching for another one as my phone rings in the main room. I leisurely walk through the suite, toweling off my hair as I go. I hear the tell-tale beep of a card key opening the front door and Jack walks through, carrying his guitar case. I give him a smile as I reach for my ringing phone. He smiles and winks before I look down at the screen.
“I don’t know this number,” I frown down at it. I set it back down and let it go to voicemail as I continue to towel off my hair and ask Jack how the writing went. I’m happy to hear that they made a little progress this time, when my phone beeps with a voicemail notification. I punch in my code and let it play on speaker so that I can search through my bag for something comfy to put on. While I’m warm from my soak, the inside of my chest turns to ice at the sound of the voice coming from my phone. I stop with my hands still in my bag and look at Jack, whose dark blue eyes immediately shift to black.
“Smart girl, not answering numbers you don’t recognize. But I assure you Kitten, you know me. So I’m going to give you a chance to listen to this, and then we’ll try again. Talk to you in a minute.”
End of new voice messages, the nasally robotic idiot that lives in my phone informs me.
Jacks hand goes to his hair and his other clenches in a fist at his side. Then, a look of realization comes over him and he scrambles to my phone and punches the code to save the message.
“What the fuck…” Jack grumbles out, forgetting to whisper.
I slowly straighten up, my mouth open. This shithead sure has a knack for taking me by surprise. “What do we do? Should we answer when he calls back?” We don’t have time to debate, because my phone starts ringing again.
Jack grapples in his back pocket and produces his own phone. “Speakerphone,” he tells me as he brings up the voice memo app and starts recording. He places it on the bed while I sit down and answer Eli’s call on speaker.
“I was right about you,” Eli’s voice comes through, slimy and… icky. I’m sure he thinks he sounds smooth as caramel but the sound is seriously grinding away on my nerves. “You’re a smart girl. You make smart decisions.”
“How did you get my number, Eli?” hoping Jacks phone is picking up his voice, and my saying his name.
�
��From Jack’s client file of course,” he says in a tone that makes me surprised he didn’t add silly at the end.
“And why are you calling?” I ask, trying to keep the nervous waver out of my voice.
“You know, it sounds an awful lot like I’m on speaker,” he observes, ignoring my question. I falter for something to say.
“I… I’m working on the blog, my hands are kind of full.” I look up to Jack who is standing in front of me with his hands on his hips. He’s keeping quiet so that we can hopefully get some incriminating words from Eli recorded, but on the inside, he’s absolutely raging.
“Well, I’ll wait until you’re able to take me off of it to start talking again. It makes it kind of awkward and hard to hear, you know? Or I can just call you again later, it’s up to you.” I can practically see the jackass shrugging as if he’s not toying with me his nonchalant tone. Such a sneaky, slithering, piece of… I close my eyes, as Jack mouths fuck with a heavy nod of his head. When I open my eyes again and look back up, he nods at me. He very carefully sits down on the bed next to me and leans in as I take the phone off of speaker and hold it to my ear. I angle the phone so that we can both listen in.
“Okay…” I start in, hoping I’m not overcompensating because I don’t want him to know he has me rattled. “So, you didn’t answer me. Why are you calling?”
Still Her (Turn it Up Book 2) Page 13