Jett

by Honey Palomino

  JETT: THE LOYAL BASTARDS MC

  Copyright © 2014 HONEY PALOMINO

  All Rights Reserved Worldwide

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means without permission from the author. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events, locations and incidences are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This book is for entertainment purposes only.

  This book contains mature content and is intended for adults only.

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  EVERY STORM RUNS OUT OF RAIN,

  AND EVERY DARK NIGHT TURNS INTO DAY

  I sank my fingers into Gigi’s copper hair, pulling her to me as I kissed her deeply. Sonny thrust into me, his hard cock delightfully massive. He had been a little shy at first, but after a little coaxing, and a fair of amount of alcohol and a few joints, what man wouldn’t be down for a little roll in the hay with me and two other beautiful women?

  I pulled my mouth from Gigi’s plump lips and turned my head to kiss Anna. She met my intensity, passionately kissing me as her hands roved over my naked skin, her fingers tangling with Gigi’s as they caressed my breasts. Gigi begin to trail kisses along my neck and down my chest until she enclosed my nipple in her hot lips. I arched my back, waves of pleasure running through my body as I pushed my hips up to meet Sonny’s relentless thrusting.

  Gigi’s lips kept traveling down, until she pushed on Sonny’s chest slightly. He raised up, his cock never missing a beat as he fucked into me rhythmically. Gigi’s head descended further, her tongue licking at my clit skillfully while Sonny pounded into me. The sensation sent me over the edge, and I sank my fingers into Gigi’s soft curls as I moaned and bucked beneath their assault. Anna’s mouth once again found mine, muffling my screams with her kiss as my body exploded in waves of ecstasy. Sonny grunted above me, his cock swelling inside of me as he found his own release.

  The four of us fell back, sinking into the bed, spent, exhausted, and collapsing into a pile of tangled, sweaty limbs.

  The room began spinning slightly, and just before I passed out, I cursed myself for once again drinking just a little more than I should have.

  ****

  The next morning, it was struggle to remember anything. My head was pounding as sunlight streamed through the windows of my hotel room. When I opened my eyes, I saw that mercifully, I was all alone. The events of the night before ran through my head as I closed my eyes and tried to will the rumbling in my stomach to subside, and the memories to stream in.

  The audience roared as beads of sweat shimmered on my forehead. I bowed once, waved, and bowed again as the chanting began.

  “Jett! Jett! Jett!”

  Thunderous clapping and stomping quaked through the arena as I smiled, flanked by my loyal band members, and turned away from the crowd’s relentless adoration. I handed my guitar to my tech, and stumbled down the steps at the side of the stage.

  Sam was waiting for me, as always, an anxious smile smeared tightly across her face. My loyal assistant held a towel in one hand and a bottle of ice cold water in the other. I took them from her, and without meeting her eyes, walked over and spoke to Rex, my bodyguard.

  “The blonde in the purple dress on stage left. The guy with the long, dark hair in the black shirt. And just to mix things up a little, the woman with the red curls in the black mini-skirt and thigh-high boots at center stage.”

  “Yes, ma’am. You got it,” Rex replied, nodding and walking away from me and into the crowd.

  Sam bounced at my side like a loyal, excited puppy. Her usual steady stream of compliments annoyed me like they always did. I paid her to say this stuff; didn’t she know I didn’t believe a word that passed through her pretty little lips?

  “The encore was just magical tonight! Did you see the way the crowd fell completely silent during the last verse? They love you so much, Jett. And I just received word that your single, Break Your Heart, reached number one on Billboard…” she dragged on mercilessly.

  I wiped the sweat from my brow with the towel, staining it with thick, orange makeup. I couldn’t wait to wash my face, hell, wash all of me. It was always my favorite part of the day.

  Which might be surprising, I know. You’d think it might be the roar of the crowd when I first walked onstage, or the look in thousands of people’s eyes as they trailed my every move for an hour and forty-five grueling minutes, or even waking up in the morning and remembering who I was.

  But no, it was none of that. It was the moment when I got to finally take it all off, and just be me. When I could peel away the claustrophobic, suffocating costume. When I could stand under the beating heat of the hot shower, the remnants of the scrubbed off makeup twirling down the drain, tinting the clean water a dirty brown, until every last trace of foundation, concealer, mascara, eyeliner, eyeshadow, lipstick, hairspray - all of it - had been dissolved. Gone. Disappeared.

  Quickly, I strode down the long maze of hallways until I reached my dressing room. This one wasn’t too bad. I’d seen worse. Much worse.

  “I want to be alone right now, Sam. See you in the morning,” I said, slamming the door in the face of the still talking Sam. She was a great P.A., but an annoying person. I needed lots of time away from her. I had long ago stopped trying to be polite when dealing with her, having realized she had no sense of social intuition.

  I breathed a huge sigh of relief as sweet silence fell over the room. I kicked off my tall boots, peeled my leather pants over my hips and began the tedious process of unlacing the black lace corset I was wearing. As soon as I was naked, I grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the counter, cracked open the seal, and took it with me to the shower.

  As I waited for the water to heat up, I poured the fiery amber liquid down my throat as fast as I could. Most days I tried to wait until after the show to start drinking, and on days like today, when I had succeeded at that, I couldn’t drink fast enough when I finally had the bottle in my hand at the end of the night.

  Or, was it the beginning of the night?

  There were days when I wasn’t entirely sure when the day turned to night, and vice versa. My life was a big blur of the same days happening over and over. Same shit, different city.

  God, it had all become so boring and repetitive. No wonder I drank so much. I kept looking for something exciting and new at the bottom of each bottle. Unfortunately, I never seemed to find exciting and new in the same place at the same time.

  By the time I finished showering, I had downed a third of the bottle and I was feeling much better. I threw on my favorite pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. I ran my hands through my straight black hair, and took another drink as I stared at myself in the mirror.

  The reflection didn’t lie. Time was catching up with me, as much as I didn’t want to admit it. Dark circles were beginning to form under my eyes, and deep creases were sinking into my forehead. The mirror showed me everything I didn’t want to see. Age. Weariness. Exhaustion.

  And, yeah, boredom. Woe is me, right? The sad, tortured rock star who was everything she could ever want, but nothing makes her happy, so she drowns her sorrows in the bottle.

  Yeah, I know. I’m a cliche. I’m pathetic. I get it. But this is my life, and no matter how many hours I spend staring out the windows of tour buses and airplanes wishing I had taken a different turn somewhere along the way, I was stuck.

  At this point, I was an institution. A corporation, not a person. I didn’t have a family to support, I had a whole fucking army of musicians, managers, agents, roadies, techs, assistants, crew hands and countless others to support.

  If I stopped? If I gave it up? If I walked off stage, threw up my
hands and retreated to a remote cave on a secluded island somewhere? Well, let’s just say that the impact on thousands of people’s lives would trickle down like an avalanche and I wouldn’t be surprised if they sent Sam to track me down, tie me up, and force me right back up on that stage.

  So, I kept going. I just drank a bit in the process.

  Three loud knocks at my door shook me from my thoughts.

  “Come in!” I yelled.

  The door opened, and Rex poked his head in.

  “Got ‘em, Jett. Where you want ‘em?”

  I sighed. I wasn’t quite ready.

  “Have them wait for me in the limo, Rex. And, hey, will you get my jacket out of my tour bus for me? The black leather fringed one? You can leave it in the limo. I’ll be right there.”

  “Sure, Jett, no problem,” he said, closing the door behind him as he left.

  I sat there a few more minutes, enjoying the silence, enjoying being alone, enjoying the warmth spreading through my belly as the whiskey hit my system. After a while, I stood up and looked in the mirror one last time.

  “Here we go,” I said to my reflection, before turning and walking out the door.

  When I reached the limo, I waved to the crowd outside the gates of the venue. King, my driver, opened the door for me.

  “Ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat to me, “where are we headed?”

  “The hotel, King, thank you,” I replied, as I slid into the limo, sinking into the white, buttery-soft leather seats. He closed the door and I was once again enveloped in silence. Just as I had requested, my favorite jacket was waiting for me on the seat. I had worn it for years, and the black leather had become a sort of safety blanket for me. It was the first thing I bought when I finally got some real money from the first record deal, and it had been my most treasured possession ever since. Once I was wrapped in it, I felt like I was me again. I turned and smiled at the three pairs of wide eyes staring back at me.

  “Hey kids. How’s it going? Want a drink?” I slid open the door to the tiny bar and pulled out four shot glasses and another bottle of whiskey.

  They looked at me just like all the others had. Star-struck. It was annoying, but I had become pretty adept at putting them at ease.

  “Jett, I’m Gigi,” the red-head said, outstretching her hand. I took it, and pushing her hand up to my lips, I kissed the back of it gently. She blushed, and I delighted in her shyness.

  “Nice to meet you, Gigi,” I said, winking at her. “And what are your names?” I asked the other man and woman who sat silently watching us.

  “I’m Sonny,” the man with the long black hair said, his smoldering grey eyes looking at me intensely and curiously.

  “I’m Anna,” the blonde offered, followed by a slight giggle as she ran her hands through her long, straight hair.

  “Gigi, Sonny, and Anna. Nice to meet you. Thanks for coming back here. You three up for a little party back at my hotel?”

  Their mouths gaped open and they looked at each other questioningly, just like they always did. Then they looked at me again, and one by one, each began nodding slowly, as if the answer was contagious.

  “Good,” I said, simply. “I’m certain we’ll all have a blast. But first, close your mouths and drink up!”

  I tapped twice on the roof of the limo, my sign to King that I was ready to go. Smoothly, the limo pulled out of its parking spot, and we were on our way.

  ****

  Slowly, I dragged myself out of bed. I opened the French doors that led to the balcony and walked out into the sunshine. The sun felt amazing on my naked skin. It was a beautiful day, a day that I wouldn’t get to enjoy. My days were spent traveling to the next gig, either by bus, plane or limo. It was exhausting.

  When I walked back into the bedroom of my penthouse suite, I saw the remnants of last night’s party. Empty bottles of beer, wine, and whiskey, and sprinkles of weed littered the tables. The bed sheets were tangled and thrown on the carpeted floor, amongst discarded condoms and panties.

  My phone rang and it took me several moments to find it amongst all the litter. When I finally did, I groaned when I saw it was Sam. I hit the reject button and within thirty seconds a text showed up on my phone. “The bus will pick you up in one hour. Please confirm receipt.” Poor Sam. I knew I drove her crazy, but she was paid good money to tolerate me.

  I confirmed so she wouldn’t pull all her hair out wondering if I had actually woken up this morning, and hopped in the shower. Once I was finished and dressed, I wandered into the plush living room and sank down onto the silk white couch.

  I had a few minutes before I had to leave, and my eyes trailed around the room. That’s when I saw the note taped to the inside of the front door. With each step closer to the door, the knot in my stomach tightened. I didn’t want to read it. I knew what it was, and I wanted no part of it. But I had to.

  My dearest Jett,

  You are a whore. But I can’t stop loving you.

  Someday, you’ll be with me, and you’ll be clean again.

  All my love,

  Jack

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  I untangled myself from the blonde whose long limbs were wrapped around my legs. Sarah moaned, slowly coming back to life next to me as I stood up and pulled my jeans over my hips. The sound of her whimpering when she realized I was leaving grated on my nerves.

  “Gotta go. Sorry.”

  She mumbled something incoherent as I dragged my shirt over my head, and ran my fingers through my hair. I leaned down, kissing her forehead quickly, before she could pull me back down into bed with her. She was one of those that liked it in the morning, but I had way too much club shit to take care of today, and no time for women like Sarah during my daytime hours.

  No, that was strictly a nighttime thing for me. Something to do when the long stretch of hours between dusk and dawn became a little too much to bear. It was a distraction, and perhaps, an addiction. They say you trade one addiction for another, and maybe that’s what I had done. But, since I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol or even a puff of weed in over five years, I cut myself a break on the sex. It helped me sleep.

  I threw on my cut and walked out of Sarah’s apartment, laughing to myself that any other man would have taken the time to sink into Sarah one more time before leaving, no matter how much work they had to do. But I wasn’t just any man, and my work wasn’t just any work.

  As the VP of The Loyal Bastards MC, I had people to answer to, and important, time-sensitive business to attend to. The MC had been the most important thing in my life since I joined five years ago. They were my family, my brothers. A loyal group of strong, intelligent, fearless men that I could count on having my back at any time and in any situation. The danger didn’t matter when we faced it as a club. Together, we were stronger, smarter, invincible, and unbreakable.

  The darkness we faced on a daily basis was nothing compared to the danger I faced in the pen. On the outside, I was a man. Inside, I was just a number. The fact that I possessed a soul was irrelevant. I was just a warm body that they needed to keep docile and alive. That’s all they cared about, if they cared about anything. The prison system is a cruel, unforgiving, inhumane thing to endure, and once I got out, I swore I’d never go back.

  It was ironic that I found sanctuary in the club, I know that. Especially considering the shit that went down all around us, but we benefited greatly from the combined experience of our varied pasts, our relationships with the local cops and even the other gangs, and somehow it worked. We didn’t keep our noses clean, but we were skilled enough to stay out of jail. We operated just enough under the radar that we managed to stay free.

  Today was no exception. A deal was going down in an abandoned warehouse on the south side of town, and we had been asked to help with ensuring everything ran smoothly. I raced home to shower and change before I went to the club.

  When I walked into my apartment, I was reminded of just how lonely and non-existent my life outside of the c
lub was. I devoured a bowl of cereal, showered, dressed, and I was back on my bike in half an hour. I didn’t spend much time at home at all, not if I could help it. Being alone made my mind wander too much, and as they say, idle hands are the devil’s workshop.

  I had had enough of the devil in my life.

  Staying sober was still a struggle, even now, but I was determined not to fall back into the same destructive patterns that landed me behind bars all those years ago. As much as I tried to think of something else, as I rode through town on my way back to the clubhouse, the past swept over me in painful, regretful waves.

  I was only thirteen, but I felt decades older at the time. I was young, stupid and reckless, but growing up with drunken, drugged up parents tended to force you to mature faster. And I had my younger sister, Ciara, to take care of, because nobody else would. In the end, I even failed at that.

  I thought I was doing the right thing. My parents were miserable at feeding us, our refrigerator was barren once again, and I had had enough of listening to Ciara’s stomach growl. I had a few of my passed-out father’s beers for ‘courage’, I told myself. I drove our barely running Ford truck to the corner gas station. I was feeling so confident, so sure of myself, invincible, even. I even took the time to put the gas nozzle in the tank, and let it fill up while I went inside the store. Once I was in, I used my outstretched finger hiding in my coat pocket to pretend I had a gun. That was all I had to do to get the clerk to give me all the money in the till. I’ll never forget how violently his hands were shaking as I smirked at him while he handed me fistfuls of crumbled cash. I took the money and strolled out like I had the biggest cock on the block and all the time in the world.

  The first shot ricocheted off the door frame, the loud ping echoing in my head. When I realized the clerk was shooting at me, I ran to the truck, jumped in, threw it into gear and peeled out of there in a whirlwind of burning rubber and loose cash flying out of my window. I was trying to catch it all. I was laughing. I was thinking about how awesome it was that I got away with it. I was imagining the look on Ciara’s face when I came home with some thick, juicy steaks.