by Kira Blakely
“Excuse me,” I snapped at her and the hotel manager. “I’m kind of busy over here. I said charge my credit card.”
“I can’t charge you for the pool,” the manager said, exasperated. He turned to look at Ava who looked away from me. “Please, just get him the fuck out of there. He’s going to drown.”
“Let him drown,” Ava said.
Those three little words stabbed through my chest. Ava stalked away from the pool with the hotel manager standing there with his hands in the air. He turned to glare at us.
“If you all don’t get the fuck out of this pool, I’m going to call the cops. Famous or not.”
I pushed the blonde away from me. She fell back into the pool with a shriek of surprise, followed by a chorus of laughter. I managed to find a towel hanging on the back of the chair to wrap around myself. I ignored the calls coming from the poolside patio as I found the door to the stairs. I used the stairs, tripping a few times, until I found Ava stalking down the second-floor hallway in the direction of her room. She slammed her door shut, unaware of me right behind her.
I reached her door and knocked on it loudly. “Ava. Let me in!”
The door jerked open a second later. I pushed it all the way open when she tried to crack it, and I stumbled into the room. Pain erupted in my head when I caught the edge of what felt like a dresser. The world seesawed beneath me, and I felt Ava’s hands helping me roll over onto my back.
“Can you get up, Jude?” she asked, voice strained with effort as she tried to lift me. “Please, get up. Get out of my room.”
I refused to get off the floor by rolling away from her with a groan. “I want you to tell me why you think I’m a bad person.”
“I don’t think you are,” she said, exasperated. “Do I need to call Chuck?”
“No. Fuck no. Don’t do that.”
I got up to my hands and knees and crawled forward until I felt the edge of the bed. Not caring that I was sopping wet still, I climbed up into the bed with a relieved sigh.
“You can’t stay here,” Ava said, her voice sharp. “Jude. What the fuck are you doing in here? You agreed to—”
“Keep it professional,” I monotoned, waving her away from me. “Don’t you know that I lied to you? I mean, it’s fucked up because you’re too good for me. You’ve always been too good for me. You don’t even look at me the way those chicks down there look at me.”
“You’re not a motocross god to me.”
“I know. That’s why you’re the best.”
“Let me get you some water,” she said. “You’re going to have a hangover tomorrow. That’s for sure.”
I rolled over to cuddle with a pillow that smelt of Ava’s shampoo. “Fine. That’s fine by me.”
Darkness took me, then. The world stopped tilting back and forth. I was out cold before Ava could return with water.
Chapter 16
Ava
I stared down at Jude’s tall and lean form, spread-eagled on my bed. His towel was tangled around his legs, while the waistband of his boxers was pulled low to reveal his ass cheeks. The sheets were damp around him from passing out cold in a drunken stupor.
What the fuck is he thinking?
Alcoholism ran deep in his family. There were only a handful of times I had ever seen Jude drink heavily. Last night counted toward that. He drank when he was bothered because he didn’t know how to emotionally cope with his thoughts and emotions. He was trying to bury something in him.
It had to do with me, too, judging from the way he had followed me from his poolside party with young fans. Particularly that young and fake-titted blonde who had practically hooked herself around him like a prized possession.
I couldn’t feel sorry for him, though. Everything that had happened the night before was all on Jude, acting like a complete jackass because he couldn’t step back to understand my position.
Knock. Knock.
“Room service.”
Jude stirred with a loud groan. Cradling my cup of coffee, I padded across the room to open the door to let the hotel staff member push the food cart in. The rattle of cutlery drew another groan and curse words from Jude on the bed.
“Oh, don’t worry about him,” I said cheerfully when the staff member gave me an alarmed look as Jude rolled around on the bed. “He’s just having a very shitty morning. Put this on Jude Jacobs’ credit card.”
“Fuck you,” Jude snapped, getting to his knees to cradle his head. “My head is going to explode if you keep rattling that shit around on the cart.”
The door clicked shut. I pushed the cart farther into the room and settled down at the small dining room table. I pulled a couple plates off the cart.
“You need to eat something,” I said.
“No, I’m fine.”
“Don’t be stupid. You need to eat something like the eggs and sausage links I ordered you.”
Jude’s fingers ran through his glorious bedhead. He gave me an agitated scowl. “You’re doing this to torture me, aren’t you?”
“Plenty of gravy for you, too,” I continued, stifling my laugh as Jude bolted up from the bed to dash into the bathroom. “Serves you right for being a drunk prick last night.”
I turned on the television to block out the sound of Jude’s retching in the bathroom. I sipped at my cup of coffee, trying to ease the ache out of my neck from sleeping on the couch all night because of him. It was about fifteen minutes later when the bathroom door opened to reveal a haggard-looking Jude. He stumbled blearily to the chair across from me. Sheet marks covered his entire torso. His face was pale as snow. He smelled of vomit and pool water, combined with alcohol.
My own hunger was now gone.
Jude punched the television button off as he collapsed in the chair in front of me. His eyes were firmly shut as he cradled his head in his hands.
“Don’t say it,” he said. “I know what you’re going to say.”
I set my coffee cup down on the table. “That you’re an idiot? Probably something like that?”
“You made me act this way.” He grimaced at the sound of me picking up a fork from the plate. “Don’t make so much noise for fuck’s sake.”
“This is my room,” I pointed out, tapping the fork on the plate just to be peevish. “You came here last night. I didn’t ask for you to come here.”
“You never ask me to do anything.” He snaked out a hand to grasp my wrist tightly. “Stop. Hitting. The. Plate.”
I wrenched my wrist free from his fingers. “Serves you right for being a jerk. If you don’t want to be here, then go somewhere else.”
“I do want to be here! That’s my damn problem.”
“Then you need to eat something,” I said, pushing a plate in front of him. “I’ll get you some aspirin, too, for your hangover.”
“I can’t put anything in my stomach right now,” he replied churlishly. “Just let me sit here in peace for one fucking moment. Okay?”
I narrowed my eyes as he rested his head on the table. “Don’t you dare think you can pass out here again after what you did last night. Go pass out with the blonde skank you were fooling around with.”
“You sound jealous,” Jude said, voice muffled by his arm. “I didn’t do shit with that chick. I just wanted to get in the pool.”
Anger burned my chest as I stared down at him, slumped over the edge of the dining room table, miserable and pitiful looking.
“You don’t think about how you make other people feel,” I blurted out, clutching the side of the table. “You go out there, do your stunts, and expect every single person in that arena not to care if you fall and break your neck.”
Jude lifted his head to glare at me through bloodshot eyes. “You’re the one who doesn’t give a shit about how you make other people feel.”
“Excuse me?”
He rose from the table, kicking back the chair in the process. He swayed for a moment on his feet while he regained composure. Concern shot through me when I realized how drunk he st
ill was from the night before. He had to get on a bike in a few hours to do his stunts. Nerves spiraled through me again.
“You are the one who doesn’t care about how you make other people feel,” Jude said. “Think about that for a little bit, huh? I think you feel something for me but you’re just too damn afraid of me for some unknown fucking reason.”
“You can’t do your tricks like this,” I said, pointedly ignoring his observation. “You’re still drunk, Jude.”
He scowled at me. “Like that matters to you. They aren’t tricks, either. They’re called stunts. Make sure to use the correct word in your article.”
He slammed the door shut behind him. I let out a pent-up breath of aggravation. I couldn’t handle these moods anymore. He was charismatic and charming one minute and a brooding complete dick the next. It reminded me of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. He was torn between two versions of himself.
I took the next couple of hours to myself to shower and get ready for the day. I had no idea what was going to happen with Jude at the arena, once the exhibition started. He was still clearly intoxicated from the night before.
“This is going to be a nightmare,” I said as I opened my computer to check through my emails. There were a few emails from my mom, which was no surprise, but her recent one from this morning caught my attention.
What the hell is going on in Austin? Saw the headline. Call me. Love, Mom.
“Great,” I muttered, pulling up the Internet to type in Jude’s name in the search engine. An array of articles popped up.
Several of them were from the night before. I scrolled through them with a pounding heart.
Supercross star parties with young fans. New woman in Jude Jacobs’ life? Is this the downward spiral of a famous star?
No amount of press coverage would protect Jude from this. I shook my head as I took in the picture of that busty blonde with fake boobs, pressing up against Jude intimately at the side of the pool. His face was utterly blank. Nothing there to judge how he felt. The photograph was grainy, which told me it came from a cellphone.
My phone vibrated on the table. I grimaced when I recognized my boss’ number on the screen. So far, I had managed to do everything through email so I didn’t have to answer certain questions. Andrew Miller was a stickler for asking hard questions. It was one of the many reasons why he was a good journalist and editor-in-chief.
“This is Ava James,” I said.
“Oh, good! I’m so glad that your phone still works,” Andrew said wryly. “I was worried that the only way I was going to communicate with you was through emails. Given what I woke up to this morning, I figured we should be able to talk on the phone, yes?”
I winced at the displeasure in his voice. “Right. I know what you’re probably seeing in the headlines—”
“It’s not the blonde wrapped around Jude Jacobs that I’m seeing in the headlines. It’s a video of Jude Jacobs following you into the hotel that I’m concerned about.”
“There’s a video of it?” My heart sank with dread. No wonder my mom emailed me this morning. They were probably wondering, along with everyone in Gypsum who followed Jude’s story, what the hell was going on between the two us.
“That confirms to me that the video is real,” Andrew said. “I’m just going to ask you this once, Ava. If I find out that you aren’t being honest with me, I’m going to fire you. Got it?”
I swallowed thickly. “Got it, boss.”
“Are you and Jude Jacobs sleeping together?”
“What? I mean—” I didn’t know how to respond to the question without being entirely honest with Andrew about the nature of our relationship. I wasn’t even sure what to expect out of it. “It’s complicated?”
Andrew sighed into the phone impatiently. “I got an interesting phone call from a member of JJ’s team suggesting the two of you have rekindled some sort of history. They are concerned that you are going to distract him.”
Chuck. That bastard.
Anger smoldered in my chest as I closed my computer. Given what happened last night, I couldn’t say that I was too surprised by this move. JJ was a high-earning client of his on the brink of ultimate stardom. Naturally, Chuck was going to protect his client at all costs if he felt there was a distraction somewhere.
“It’s just old history,” I said through clenched teeth. “None of it matters or affects this article. I can—”
“It sure as hell won’t affect the article,” Andrew interrupted me. “This member of the team told me that this article better be up to their standards, or he will sue the both of us for gross incompetence. Can I trust you? I can’t pull you off this now, because our readership is soaring in anticipation for this.”
“Of course, you can. I know Jude Jacobs better than this member of his team. I can tell you that much.”
“Good,” Andrew said shortly. “Now, keep it to yourself, Ava. Keep this professional because I don’t want my ass in boiling water because of you. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Send me a draft tonight. Make sure to get some pictures as well from the shows.”
“Yes, sir.”
I stared down at the phone before chucking it hard against the bed. I was sorely tempted to call Chuck and tell him that I would rather walk my ass back to Gypsum, broke and hitchhiking, than negotiate this article on Jude. It gave me a sickening feeling that while Jude pictured himself in control his career, the reality was starkly different.
A lot of people viewed him as a money-maker. Not a human being with a painful past, trying to do better with his life than his parents. That was the Jude Jacobs the world deserved to know. Not the man who did dangerous tricks, signed endorsements, and started up a new merchandise line.
Chapter 17
Jude
My head felt as though it was being split open with an axe. The taste of alcohol was thick on the back of my tongue when I stumbled blindly up to the fourth floor for a few hours of sleep. I needed a hot shower, too, and some fucking Advil. I reached for my wallet in the back pocket of my jeans but found that I was only clad in my boxers.
“Fuck,” I groaned, rubbing my face as I leaned up against the door of my hotel suite. Memories from the night bubbled back to me. The fight with Ava two nights before. The bar in the hotel restaurant along with those fans. The swimming pool. My clothes were still at the swimming pool.
A door opened down the hallway. I forced my eyes open to squint at the person approaching me with a handful of clothes in their arms. I let out a relieved breath when I realized that it was Chuck, not a reporter, or some stranger.
“Looking for your pants?” Chuck asked snidely. “You left them down at the poolside last night. I made sure that those new friends of yours didn’t take any of your credit cards or cash.”
He held out the hotel key card. I snatched it from his fingers, not in the mood to be lectured for drinking the night before an exhibition. I pushed the door to my room open but turned to glare at Chuck as he followed me in.
“I need some sleep,” I said. “Get the fuck out.”
“We’ve got problems, JJ. Big problems. All because of your stunt last night.”
“What stunt?”
“You know which stunt I’m talking about,” Chuck snapped, tossing a paper into my chest. “Here. Read this headline. It’s just one of many headlines that are going to follow you around all day.”
I peered down at the grainy image of me and that girl from the bar. Shit. That was all I could think of as I stared down at the headline. Jude Jacobs parties the night before the start of the Games.
“Shit,” I said.
“Indeed.” Chuck scowled at me as he took the paper back. “This was not what I wanted to deal with today, you know. I have to do damage control but also assure the officials that you are sober enough to get on that bike.”
“I am sober enough,” I insisted, even though my head was still swimming sideways. “Just let me get in the shower, get a few hours of sleep, and—�
�
“You don’t have time for a nap to nurse your hangover,” Chuck said. “We are meeting with Nike here in two hours for that endorsement contract. Remember?”
I smoothed a hand over my greasy hair with a grimace. “Fine. I’ll settle on a really strong energy drink and coffee, then. I need to shower.”
“Good idea,” Chuck replied, eyeing me with disgust. “You stink, man. You smell like chlorine, alcohol, vomit, and cigarettes.”
“That’s what I feel like, too. All of those combined.”
“Sober up. Take a shower. I’ll get the coffee for you.”
The hot blast of water against my face felt good. I spent the next twenty minutes slouched over in the shower, trying to piece the entire night back together. The memories were too fuzzy. The only thing I could think of was the fight with Ava two nights ago but I had also ended up passing out in her room. It all started and ended with her. There was no doubt about that.
I dialed the number for Ava’s room after I dressed for the day. She answered on the third ring.
“Hello?”
“I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry about last night,” I said, rubbing a hand over my face. “I’m sorry for showing up to your room like that. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“You shouldn’t have been drinking last night at all,” Ava said tersely. “You realize how stupid you were behaving yesterday?’
My bad mood worsened drastically. Given that it was Ava’s stubbornness causing all this drama, I didn’t appreciate being lectured by her for trying to get past the drama of it.
“Do you even realize what you’re doing to me?” I asked.
“What am I doing to you?”
“You’re fucking with my head with all these games that you’re playing.”
“I’m not playing games, Jude. You’re playing a game in your own head.”
“Whatever,” I snapped, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Look, there are headlines going around. I need this article to be done right because it’ll save me some bad press. I don’t even know where that picture came from.”
“Probably from one of your fans,” Ava supplied sarcastically. “Fake boob job, by the way. That blonde you were with last night looks like she’s barely over the age of eighteen, and she already has a fake boob job. That’s sad.”