Jett

by Honey Palomino

  Once I was locked up, it wasn’t as easy to find, but it certainly wasn’t impossible. And once I went to prison with the adults, it was abundant. The adults were a lot more resourceful. Hooch was a hot commodity amongst the prisoners, and easy to make. I imbibed, often. Until I finally came to my senses and decided freedom was a lot more important than being fucked up and getting in fights behind bars with a bunch of assholes.

  I was always tempted, and it wasn’t easy. But, besides keeping me free, sobriety kept me sane. It was a struggle, sure, but so far I was winning.

  As we approached the arena where Jett was performing tonight, the crowd on the sidewalks slowly thickened until there was a steady stream of people filling every inch as they formed a line that stretched for blocks. I knew Jett was popular, Ciara had told me she had several number one hits, but I didn’t pay much attention to stuff like that. The sheer volume of people surprised me. No wonder she had crazies after her.

  The limo made a few turns, and slid into an underground parking lot, through one security gate manned by a pimply faced teenager, and then stopped by an opened door that led into the building.

  I got out, and the driver pulled my bag from the trunk. He led me down a maze of hallways that were filled with people streaming past us. When we reached the end of one of them, he stopped and handed me a laminate that said ‘All Access’ across a picture of Jett’s face and told me to wear it.

  “This gives you full access. Ms. Jett is in here,” he said, knocking on the door we were standing in front of. There was a sign taped to it, with a big star and Jett’s name printed inside of it.

  Quickly, the door was flung open and a petite girl with long brown hair, tortoise shelled glasses, and a clipboard in her hands stood there staring at us. She took a long look at me, her eyes squinting as she took in my clothes.

  “Ms. Sam, this is Mr. Colton James. Ms. Jett asked me to bring him back once he arrived.”

  “Oh. Yes, of course. Thank you, King,” she replied, then stuck out her hand to me. “I’m Sam, Jett’s assistant. Nice to meet you.”

  I shook her hand, just as a loud voice yelled from behind her.

  “Colt!” Jett pushed Sam aside, and flung herself at me, her arms snaking around me, pulling me into a big hug. The smell of whiskey and perfume hit me all at once. I hugged her back, both of us laughing.

  “Hey, girl,” I whispered in her ear, pulling her close and raising her off the ground. “It’s fucking amazing to see you, Jett!”

  I put her back down and she beamed up at me. Her apple green eyes were just as I remembered them, and I was locked in to her gaze.

  “Everyone out! Now!” The smile that spread across her face made me feel like I was thirteen again, sitting in the back of my Dad’s truck. “I need a few minutes alone with Colt.”

  “But, Jett, your hair isn’t finished.” Sam spoke at her side, watching us curiously.

  “I don’t give a fuck,” Jett said, her voice slightly slurring. “It’s fine. Everyone get the fuck out, now, please!”

  Jett grabbed my hand, turned, and walked past the half dozen people walking out of her room, pulling me along with her.

  “You’ve got fifteen minutes until show time, Jett.” Sam closed the door behind her, giving me a little smile before she left.

  “Colt fucking James.” Jett said, leaning against the mirrored counter behind her that was filled with makeup, hairbrushes, blowdryers and a huge vase of white flowers.

  “Jett fucking Ghianni.” I shook my head as I drank her in. She looked exactly the same and completely different at the same time. Those green eyes that always reminded me of Granny Smith apples? Those were still there, looking at me thoughtfully, as if she were trying to crawl inside me and understand every inch of me.

  But everything else had changed. Her boyish frame had turned into a roller coaster of curves. Her voluptuous breasts were tightly wrapped with some sort of black leather and lace contraption that pushed her breasts up and out, and her curvy hips were hugged by the tightest pair of leather pants I had ever seen. What was once wildly unkempt hair had turned into a blue-black shiny curtain that hung in waves around her heavily made up face. Any trace of the thirteen year-old body I remembered was long gone.

  But those eyes were what hit me. Her eyes were the same, she looked at me just as she always had, but they were hardened, closed off to the Jett that I used to see there. No more of that instinctual wide-eyed curiosity about the world, no more…what? No more innocence. Yes, that was it.

  But hell, what did I expect? I know she wasn’t seeing innocence in my eyes, either.

  “Not anymore,” she said, grinning at me.

  “What?” I was lost somewhere between the past and the present, trying to reconcile the girl I knew with the intense creature in front of me.

  “My name. I’m just Jett now. I changed it a few years ago. Legally.”

  “Oh, wow. Okay,” I replied. “Well…” I took a moment to rake my eyes over her amazing body once more. “You look incredible. So different. You certainly grew up,” I laughed.

  “Hell, yeah, I did,” she said, leaning forward and running her hands over my arms and then fingering the edges of my cut. “Looks like you grew up a bit, too. Those are some serious guns you have there.”

  “I um…I like to take care of myself,” I said, feeling my cock twitch in my jeans as her hands squeezed my biceps.

  “I can see that. That’s good. That’s real good,” she said. She let go of me, turned away and reached for a bottle of whiskey on the counter. She sipped on it heartily as she looked at me again.

  “I’m glad you came, Colt. Ciara filled me in a little on your life. I can’t wait to catch up.”

  “It’s nice to see you, Jett,” I said. And goddamn was it nice. I didn’t expect to feel like this right out of the goddamned gate, but there it was. My cock was hard as rock and we’d barely said two fucking words to each other. I had to keep my shit together. I wasn’t a kid anymore, and this wasn’t the back of a pick-up truck.

  “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice filled with the raspiness that had made her famous. “You too. So, listen, my show’s about to start. Come and watch from backstage. You can leave your bag here. And afterwards, my record label is throwing a huge party at my hotel later tonight. We can talk then, okay?”

  “Yes. There’s a lot we need to go over, and we should do it immediately. I have a lot of questions about your security situation. I can’t believe how many people are here to see you.”

  “Yeah, it’s out of control, isn’t it? And yet every night, I still think nobody is going to show up.” She smirked, sat down and began pulling on a tall pair of shiny, black leather boots.

  “I’m happy for you, Jett. You’re doing so well for yourself.”

  Her eyes clouded over with sadness, and she looked at me seriously.

  “Don’t be. It’s fucking hell. This is no kind of life for anyone. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful, I really am. I have some wonderful fans, but the price I pay is ten-fold.” She stood up, now five inches taller than she was before. “You’ll see. It’s not all limos and champagne breakfasts.”

  “I see. Well, it sounds like we have a lot to talk about. Is there anything I need to know before your show?”

  “No. The edge of the stage is lined with security that the venue provides, and I have Rex, my bodyguard, whom I am going to most likely be firing any day, now that you’re here. He’s on the side of the stage. In the meantime, you’ll be his boss. I’ll introduce you. For tonight, though, why don’t you just relax, enjoy the show, and hang out with me later? You can start work tomorrow.”

  “Well, that sounds nice and all, but I don’t think your stalker is going to be taking the night off. I’ll start now.”

  “Crazy Jack.”

  “Huh?”

  “Crazy Jack,” she said. “That’s what I call this one.”

  “This one? Well, fuck Crazy Jack. He’s not getting near you. From now on,
I’m going to be glued to your side,” I said, looking down into her eyes. She slid her arm around mine, and pressed her breasts into my side.

  “I like the sound of that, Colt,” she whispered up to me, the smell of whiskey on her breath.

  A loud knock sounded at the door.

  “Five minutes, Jett!” A voice called from the other side.

  “Showtime!” she said to me, pulling open the door and pulling me with her down the hall. As soon as we rounded the corner, she was surrounded by people, and her hand pulled out of mine. I watched as one person attached a black box to the back of her waistband and another one put an earpiece in her ear.

  Sam was there, too, her clipboard still in hand as she muttered a long thread of instructions in Jett’s ear. Her glasses kept slipping down her nose, and in between every sentence, she pushed them up frantically.

  Jett ignored them. She was the most relaxed of all of them, and she smiled at me over the top of the crowd, winking before she was whisked away.

  ****

  The next hour and a half passed in a blur of flashing lights and overly amplified guitars, raucous drum solos and Jett.

  Jett - sexy, hard, sensual, and incredibly fucking talented. No wonder she was so popular. She was absolutely fucking incredible. She sang, she danced, she played the fuck out of her electric guitar, and more than that, she had the crowd eating out of her hand by the end of the first song. And then she kept them there.

  She played with their emotions, moving from a monster rock ballad that had them swaying in unison with their lighters held high, a shimmering crowd of people singing at the top of their lungs, every word memorized, to a fist-pumping, rocking number that turned them into a frenzied crowd of screaming, rebellious, angsty rockers.

  By the time it was over, I was breathless. I was beaming at the stage, astounded that my old friend had become such a powerhouse of a performer.

  During the show, I had made a point to make note of all the ways I could see someone getting close to Jett, and unfortunately there were a lot.

  When her encore was over, she jumped off the stage, and ran over to whisper in the ear of what I assumed was the bodyguard she had referenced earlier. My assumptions proved correct when she pulled him over to me.

  “Rex, this is Colt James. He’s your new boss,” she said, as she grabbed my hand, and led me back to her green room. Sam and a bewildered Rex followed us, with Sam sputtering a constant trail of compliments towards Jett.

  What an odd little bird of a woman, I thought. I looked over at Rex, and the look on his face told me I was going to have some trouble with him. He was pissed.

  When we reached the end of the hall where Jett’s green room was located, she pulled me in once again and I laughed as she slammed the door in Sam and Rex’s faces.

  “Wow, that’s not very nice of you,” I said, as she dried her face and neck with a towel and gulped down a bunch of water. She was panting, her breasts heaving under her corset, and it took all my willpower to look at her face.

  “I have to do that, otherwise they won’t leave me alone. Trust me, I’ve tried being polite. They don’t get the message.”

  “I see.”

  “So, what did you think?” She beamed at me, and I shook my head.

  “Girl, you were on fire! Do you do that every fucking night? I loved watching you perform. It was amazing, Jett!”

  She threw her arms around me, catching me off guard, and almost knocking me off balance. I caught her, and she kissed me on the cheek and pulled away.

  “Thanks. I’m glad you liked it.”

  “I loved it.”

  “Sweet.” I watched as she looked around the room, located the bottle of whiskey and took a big gulp of it.

  “Want some?”

  “No, no, it’s cool,” I said.

  “Oh, right, you’re sober, I forgot,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind if I do?”

  “Of course not,” I said.

  “Sweet. I gotta take a shower real quick. Wait for me.”

  “Sure, okay,” I said, as she started removing her clothes right there in front of me.

  “Hey!” I said.

  “What? You’ve never seen boobs?”

  “Um…well, I’ve seen plenty, but I’ve never seen your boobs. How about you go in the other room, especially if you wanna keep this professional,” I suggested. If my cock could have slapped me right then, it would have.

  She smirked, clearly pleased that she had ruffled me.

  “Alright, if you say so…” she said, her voice teasing me as she wandered into the bathroom, making sure to leave the door open. I could see everything in the reflection of the mirror. I tried not to, I really did, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away as she pulled off her clothes, her muscular back and ass in full view for at least half a minute before she disappeared from sight and into the shower.

  I groaned and ran my fingers through my hair. Clearly, this was going to be an interesting gig.

  ****

  The limo crawled through the crowd of frantic fans at the exit, some of them attempting to peer into the back seat, hoping for a glimpse of Jett.

  “This is fucking insane,” I said to Jett, as we sat in the backseat.

  “It’s always like this. Insane is a good word for it,” she replied. She seemed to take it in stride, and I wondered how someone got used to something like this.

  We sat alone in the back of the limo, our thighs touching as we looked out the window. Jett had poured herself a drink as soon as King closed the door of the car. Now, she was sipping it and somberly watching the crowd stream by us. As we made it onto the road, we began moving a little faster, and I was thankful when, after a moment, we had gotten past the suffocating crowd.

  “So this is your life now, huh?” I asked. “What a trip, Jett. Did you ever think it would turn out like this?”

  “No, I didn’t. My mom sure did, though. After you left, she decided the singing and dancing lessons I was taking had worked well enough, and she made me audition for that ridiculous television show. You know, Double Trouble?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one where you have to sing and dance at the same time?”

  “Yeah. Mom was obsessed. I let her push me, I wanted to please her. She was awful if she didn’t get her way. So I auditioned. I never expected they would put me on the show. But they did. It was torturous. Politics. Back-biting. Everyone was so greedy and nasty to one another. I never expected to win, but I did. And then everything happened so fast after that. Sony gave me a record deal, and I thought Mom would burst from happiness. It was fucked up from the beginning though. They wouldn’t let me record my own songs, they insisted on telling me what to sing, and exactly how to sing it. They told me how to do my hair, what to wear, what to say. It was like I was their robot. I hated it.”

  “Damn, I had no idea, Jett,” I said, looking into those gorgeous green eyes as the world flew past the window behind her.

  “Yeah, it sucked. I didn’t want to do any of that bubblegum shit anymore, and when my contract was up, I refused to sign another one. Mom was pissed. My manager, Seth, was pissed. Everyone thought I was crazy. So, I told them all to fuck off and that I was quitting. No more playing at all if I couldn’t play the shit I wanted to play. By then, they were desperate, and they agreed to let me do one album of all my original stuff. I think they did it just to humor me, because they thought it would fail. But it didn’t. I sold ten times more of that second album than all of the previous ones combined. I got my way. I got to be me. But now? It’s been years, and while I don’t have them forcing me to wear dresses and dye my hair blonde, they are forcing me to keep going. The schedule is grueling, and never-ending. I’m fucking tired, and I would give anything for a vacation.”

  “So, why don’t you take one?”

  “Guilt. The one thing the suits are right about is momentum. You gotta keep the bus rolling, or the whole machine stops. If the machine stops, hundreds of people would be without jobs. They all rely o
n me to keep going.”

  She sighed heavily, and leaned her head against my shoulder.

  “It’s nice you’re here, Colt. It’s nice to have a friend around.”

  “I’m glad I’m here, too,” I replied, putting my arm around her and pulling her in close.

  I kissed her forehead gently and she closed her eyes.

  ****

  The crowd outside the hotel was almost worse than the one at the venue.

  “Motherfucker!” I said, as we drove up to the front doors. People were everywhere, pushing and shoving each other to get a glimpse of Jett, yelling for autographs or asking her to pose for photos, and on top of all of that, there was the paparazzi, dozens of men and women with huge cameras with even bigger flashes going off in our faces as we pushed past them all to get into the lobby.

  I shielded Jett as best as I could, and wondered where the hell the Rex was.

  We were whisked up to her room quickly on a private elevator, and within minutes, we were alone in the most luxurious hotel room I had ever seen.

  “Welcome to the penthouse,” Jett said. “I have a room for you reserved on the floor below.”

  “Well, that was wasteful,” I said, as I strolled around the suite, taking it all in. Everything was dark wood and chandeliers, and my leather boots sank into the plush white carpet with every step. I was almost tempted to take them off, sure there was probably some motorcycle grease on the bottom of them somewhere.

  “Why do you say that?” she asked.

  I turned to her, and she watched me silently as I strode over to her, peering deeply into her eyes.

  “Do you really think I’m going to be leaving you alone?” I said quietly.

  She smiled softly, and shrugged.

  “Alright, well, um…there’s only one bed.” She looked almost shy, but I could see right through her. If she thought we were going to be having sex, she was wrong. Was she trying to seduce me? It wasn’t going to work. Fuck, it had better not work. I had spent years fantasizing about Jett, but they were boyish dreams that I had no business revisiting. The Jett in front of me now needed much more from me than a good fucking.