True For You (Boys of the South)

by Valentine, Marquita

  “Bliss is tired.”

  “Then take her to your old room and put her to bed.”

  “No.”

  Kathy’s eyes flash, her lips thinning. “Don’t you dare disobey me.”

  Everett shows up out of nowhere. “Don’t make a scene, darlin’. All these people are here to see you.”

  “And I see you, showing off your latest floozy.” She grabs my arm and jerks me to her. “How long have you been sleeping with him?”

  I’m so shocked that I blurt, “We waited until we got married.”

  A few people, the ones standing the closest to us, snicker.

  “Not my son,” Kathy says, her eyes as black as night. “My husband, you little slut.”

  Jackson’s face turns livid and before I can defend myself, he growls, “Apologize, before I cause a scene, and let everyone know what you really do in Florida.”

  “I’m sorry for assuming you were a slut, like the rest of the girls that come here,” she sniffs.

  Everett links his arm through his wife’s, tugging her along. I have no choice but to follow since she won’t let go of me. He doesn’t stop until we’re in his office, and Jackson closes the door behind us.

  “Unhand, Bliss,” Everett says, lighting a cigar. “She hasn’t done anything. It’s all him.”

  Jackson steps in front of his dad. “Still waiting on a real apology, Kathy.”

  Kathy lets go of me. “Don’t you dare call me that. I’m your mother.”

  “Crystal Newton is my mother.”

  Shrieking, Kathy slaps Jackson so hard that his head whips to one side.

  Without thinking, I shove her, shouting, “Get away from him.” Her arms flail, and she falls right on her butt.

  “Damn it, Jackson,” Everett roars, helping his wife up. She clings to him. “For one night, couldn’t you keep your mouth shut?”

  I see red. I can’t help it. “Don’t you blame Jackson. You were supposed to keep him safe, and you didn’t.”

  “Bliss.” Jackson takes me by the shoulders, turning me to face him. His mother’s handprint is a vivid red on the side of his face. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay,” I cry. “They’re supposed to protect you, not hurt you and make you hide outside because you’re scared.” I’m shaking I’m so mad for him.

  “It wasn’t that bad, baby doll.”

  “Yes, it was,” I insist.

  How can he defend them? When the Coreys first started putting their hands on me, I told everyone and no one believed me, because the Coreys were such nice people. People who went to church on Sunday, worked for the government, and went to little league games and dance recitals, but no one knew the truth. No one but me and the kids living in that house.

  “I remember how bad it was for you. I remember the bruises on your arm, and how you couldn’t sit down, because she’d hit you. You couldn’t even sing a happy song for me, and you were only eight. Who doesn’t know happy songs at eight years old?”

  “How do you know all of that?” Jackson asks, and Everett starts laughing.

  “Seems like Bliss has been keeping some secrets from you,” his dad says.

  I keep my gaze on Jackson, hoping he understands. “We met when I was a little girl. I was only five and my parents called me June, not Bliss. Actually, I was their June Bliss, but when I got placed in foster care, the lady asked me what I wanted to be called and I picked Bliss.” I swallow, unable to vocalize how I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone calling me June or worse—Junie, like my mami had.

  “You’re Junie.” His eyes widen. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It was so long ago. I didn’t think you’d remember, and you never did, not once while we were on tour.”

  “That’s not all she kept from you.”

  “I don’t care.” He strokes the side of my face, astonishment shining in his dark blue eyes. “I remember you. We played together, and I sang to you.”

  “You’ll care about this.” Everett takes Kathy to the nearest chair and helps her into it. “I hired her to keep an eye on you. She was my second choice if you and Violet didn’t work out. I made a promise to her daddy to look out for her, and I kept that promise by allowing her to go off with you. I figured you would do something really stupid, but marrying her…well, that shocked the hell out of me.”

  “That’s not true,” I whisper, but Jackson’s looking at me, his jaw hard.

  “Did he know who you were when he hired you?”

  “Yes, but let me explain.”

  “No buts, no ifs… just answer the question.”

  I can’t lie anymore. So I tell the only thing I’d been keeping back from him. “Your dad knew exactly who I was when he hired me. He made a promise to my daddy, and he said he had to keep it. So he created an intern position for me, paid me, and I got to come on tour, but only for the US part. Then I was expected to find another job, because he’d fulfilled his duty.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.” I hold out my hand. “Your dad was supposed to have come and gotten me when I was little. He was the one named as guardian, but he told the lawyer that he didn’t want me.” I look at Everett, but he doesn’t even flinch. Nothing bothers him, and he cares for no one but himself. “I heard you talking to her. I heard you tell her to put me in the system.”

  “I couldn’t keep you, and risk the home visits. Not with her crazy ass,” Everett points out. Kathy whimpers, but I don’t feel sorry for either of them, only the boy standing beside me. “Both of you would have been taken from here. So I had to make a choice. I kept my son.”

  “I’m no son of yours.” Jackson’s hand slips into mine. “Let’s go, Bliss.”

  I look at his hand, and then up at him. “Where?”

  “Home.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jackson

  Bliss curls up next to me in the limo, her curvy body my anchor in the storm, but my mind is reeling. She’s the little girl that my memory would every so often interject into my present.

  “Should’ve known it was you,” I say.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Those nasty hot snaps you love to eat. Dead giveaway.”

  She giggles. “I promise not to make you eat them.” Her laughter dies down. “I thought I’d lost you in there.”

  “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” But for a moment, I had been lost. I thought Everett had polluted my relationship with Bliss. I’d thought he’d been the mastermind behind everything. “But what about us getting through security?”

  “Do you really think you’re the only one who doesn’t like your dad?” The limo stops at a red light. “Security was more than happy to let us take his car for a ride.”

  Figures. “I think he actually believes his own lies.”

  “What will you do now?”

  “He’s not the only producer or agent in town.” But he does own my name, and his record label owns the rights to all the songs I’ve performed in the past. “Tomorrow, I’m hiring my own lawyers and getting rid of him.”

  “Maybe you could talk to Violet and ask her what she did.”

  The pang of hearing my ex’s name doesn’t come, and I pull Bliss into my lap, hooking a finger under her chin. “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “She’s my friend, and she’s not in love with you. I’m not worried at all,” Bliss says confidently.

  “I’ll call her, but you’ll be with me when I do it. No secrets and no feeling like she is your competition,” I say, kissing her lightly on the lips.

  “I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much tonight, with what I said and what I’m wearing.”

  I give her a look. “One—I should be down on my knees thanking God you didn’t walk out of there, with how you were treated. Two—I don’t give a damn about what you wear. If you like it, then I like it. Three—you met my family, right? We hit every crazy stick on the insane tree when God kicked the first Morgan out of Heaven.”

  “Then our kids ha
ve no hope.” She glances away. “I mean… you know what I mean.”

  Unsure of what to say, I simply hold her. Having kids with her hasn’t crossed my mind, not once. Yeah, we’re married, and yeah I’m committed to this working, but kids… I don’t know anymore.

  Our driver takes us to the bottom floor of a parking garage. I help Bliss out and guide her to the elevator. While we were at my parents’ house, I had our stuff delivered here and the fridge stocked, not that I planned on leaving her alone like I had before. But I did plan on keeping her in bed for the next month or two.

  The elevator doors open, and we step right into my apartment. After the doors close, I punch in a code. No one, beyond emergency services, is getting in my penthouse tonight.

  Taking her on the grand tour, I show her the highlights: the kitchen, master bedroom, theater room, and my music studio.

  Bliss walks to the wall of windows in the living room, and I tug at my tie, loosening it. Her hips sway from side to side, inviting me to come closer.

  “How high are we?”

  “Fifty stories. It was scaled back from seventy and a bunch of penthouses were built instead.”

  She tosses me a grin over her shoulder. “I like the view.”

  Taking in her curvy form, or rather what little I can see of it, I smile. “So do I.”

  “But you’re not looking at—” Her smile slips a little. “Thank you.”

  I join her, brushing a thick fall of hair over her shoulder. She shifts to one side, and her shirt gaps, giving me a tantalizing view of skin and the barest hint of cleavage. But after what Everett revealed, I’m not sure I should touch her.

  “Since Everett didn’t apologize, I will for him. I’m sorry he let you down. I’m sorry he abandoned you, instead of protecting you.”

  “It’s not your fault. Besides, before the Coreys, it wasn’t that bad. Most people were nice, even if they didn’t really want me.”

  “I really want you.” I trace the line of her collarbone, and her breath catches. “I’ve wanted you ever since you introduced yourself to me on the tour.”

  “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

  My arms go around her, and I dip my head to whisper in her ear. “I had so many fantasies about you riding me while wearing those glasses.” My hands move to cup her breasts. “And these…” I rub my thumbs over the nipples, and they harden at once. “Perfect tits from heaven. They always made me hard when I’d see them bounce.”

  “But I wore a bra, even when I went to sleep,” she whispers.

  “Still bounced when you ran or walked. I wasn’t the only one who noticed either. Every guy on that tour liked watching you, thinking about you, and wishing they could get their—”

  “Stop!” She laughs. “I’m not every man’s fantasy. I didn’t have a bunch of guys hitting on me every second of every day.”

  “Damn girl, you’re ruining my seductive spell.”

  She leans back, her hands covering mine and dragging them down to her waist, where she wraps my arms around her. “I don’t care about any guy but you.”

  “Did you have fantasies about me?”

  “Yes.” She gulps the word.

  “Really?”

  “But they’re nothing compared to yours.”

  “I bet they were really naughty.” I nibble on the top of her ear. “Don’t be shy, baby. Tell me.”

  “Mostly I thought about kissing you.”

  She’s right. Her fantasies are nothing like mine. Sure, mine involved kissing… but I bet my favorite guitar that hers did not involve her mouth around my dick. “Mostly, huh?”

  “I can’t,” she says. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”

  I turn her to face me. “I won’t ever think you’re stupid. Silly, shy, sweet, sexy, and smart—those are the words that describe you. You’re not allowed to think you’re stupid, or ever say that word again.”

  Her eyes light up, behind her glasses, like I’ve given her the most precious gift in the world. “I won’t.”

  Please let me be worthy of that gift. “C’mon, tell me about the rest.”

  “I imagined you up on stage, singing to me, and not just any song, but a song you wrote just for me, like Violet did for Cole.”

  “Why do you want us to be like them?” I can’t help but ask. I’ve never written a song for any girl, not even Violet. While we were on tour I’d considered it, but the words and the melody never came, and now I know why.

  It’s all because of the girl standing before me.

  “I don’t. I just want someone to love me like that,” she says. “I know that’s probably not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth.”

  I stare at her, nonplussed.

  She sighs, and then extricates herself out of my arms. “It’s okay, Jackson. I’m not going to hold you to it—that’s why it’s called a fantasy.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To bed.”

  “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “I ate at your parents’ house, before the questions started. Someone handed me a plate of food and took it away when I was done.”

  I watch her walk away, to our bedroom, and open the door. She gives me one last, lingering look and still I stand there, like a jackass. Maybe that’s what I should have been named, instead of Jackson, because I sure as hell live up to it often enough.

  The door shuts behind her, and I lower my head to the glass, pounding my fist on the window a couple of times in frustration.

  My phone buzzes and I take it out of my pocket, glancing at the screen. It’s an email, not a text from Everett. I open it and read the first few paragraphs.

  “Shit.”

  He’s let me go, and so has his record label.

  Money’s not a problem, but my ego sure as hell is. I had wanted to be the one to break things off, to email him and say we’re done, but because of tonight’s spectacle over my marriage… none of that happened.

  Knowing Everett, he’s already put out the word that no one touches my music, or me, and whether I like it or not, people in this industry will listen to him.

  I toss the phone across the room. It hits the sofa with a small thud and falls to the floor.

  I was born to make music, and if I can’t make music, then what can I do?

  Chapter Twenty

  Bliss

  I wake up the next morning, with Jackson sprawled out beside me. He’s still in his clothes from last night. His face is turned toward me, and my heart jumps. He looks innocent lying there, with his flushed cheeks and full lips.

  His tongue darts out, licking his bottom lip, and I grow damp at the sight.

  Trying not to wake him, I ease out of bed, but before I can get very far, an arm winds around me.

  “Ahh!” I tumble into the bed, Jackson rolling me under him.

  “Morning, beautiful.”

  “Morning.”

  He settles against me, his hard body a delicious weight against mine. “Tonight, I want to take you shopping.”

  “Aren’t men supposed to not like shopping?”

  “Depends what they’re shopping for.”

  I level him with a look. “So cars or tools?”

  “Lingerie.”

  My eyes round. “I am not shopping for that with you.”

  He pouts, his lower lip sticking out. The same one his tongue had licked earlier. I want to lick it now. Oh God, I’m shameless. “Please, Bliss.”

  “Fine, but you have to wear whatever I pick out.”

  “Huh?”

  “We’re shopping for your unmentionables, not mine, right?” I blink up at him, all innocence.

  He throws back his head and laughs. “I knew I could count on you to keep my mind off last night’s disaster.”

  Reaching between us, I take his face in my hand and turn it to one side, examining his cheek. The handprint is gone, but to me, it still looks tender. I kiss him there, and he draws in a breath.

  “Better?” I ask.

  “Got more
places you can kiss,” he says gruffly, reminding me of the little boy I used to know. Of all the bruises he endured from the people who should’ve protected him. My heart melts.

  “I’ll kiss you anywhere and everywhere you want.”

  “You’re too good to me,” he says, lowering his head to my chest. “I have a meeting this morning. Would you like to come with me?”

  “What kind of meeting?”

  “An appointment with an agent. One of the best, if not the best in the industry.”

  “Oh, did Violet tell you about the agent?”

  “No.” He looks up at me. “Davis, her dad, emailed me. He recommended him. I don’t know why he’d do that.” He grunts. “Actually, I do. He’s exactly like Cameron and believes in helping the less fortunate.”

  “You’re less fortunate?”

  “In spirit, I guess.” He exhales. “I might have overstepped my bounds and did something for you.”

  Try as I might, I can’t think of what he could do for me that would overstep his bounds… except divorce. My heart thuds loudly in my chest. So loud, that I’m sure he can hear it.

  “What’s that?”

  He closes his eyes. “Just a minute. I’m listening to you.” His mouth kicks up at the corners. “The beat of your heart. The look in your eyes.”

  “You can’t see my eyes.”

  “Hush.” He taps out a rhythm on the bed. “I need to think on this some more.”

  “What about overstepping your bounds?”

  He hops off the bed, all bashful as he grins at me. “I might have found a few schools for you to pick from up here so you can go to classes, while I record my next album.”

  Shocked, my mouth falls open. “You did that for me?”

  “You’re not mad?”

  “Why would I be mad?” I throw the covers back, leap out of bed, and tackle him. “You, Jackson Morgan, are the sweetest husband ever.”

  “Sweet enough to go back-to-school shopping for lingerie?”

  I snort. “Only if you let me wear it on the first day.”

  He frowns. “School supplies it is, then.”

  *** *** ***