by Megan Derr
Jason sighed, but then regretted it. He hated when his ribs suffered. Wasn't one bout with cracked ribs enough? Apparently not. "It was only one other time, and he only got one good swing in before security showed up to handle him. We took care of it quiet and tidy."
"Why the fuck did you never tell us!" Dai shouted. "Jay, I ought to kill you my goddamn self!"
"What?" Jason asked. "You were in Asia at the time. I was supposed to call you back because my ribs hurt thanks to an asshole with a bad case of anger management and a bat? It was all very anti-climactic, I promise. Stop yelling about it."
Dai just glared. "The minute you're healthy again I'm punching you."
"Get over it."
Closing his eyes, Dai drew in several deep breaths. When he looked at Jason again he said, "It gets worse."
"What could be worse than rumors flying that I'm mixed up with mobsters and the news gossiping about my ill-fated encounter with a baseball bat?" Jason asked, wondering what a guy had to do to get more morphine.
Dai looked ready to throttle him, but he only said, "Come on, Jason. You're not stupid. Everybody is talking about how Azura is one of your clients; shit has really hit the fan since you were beaten nearly to death at one of our concerts. They're wondering just how deeply involved you are and what the firm has been doing for him all this time. The company is in a bad fucking place. Forever and a Dai is coming under suspicion, too. Especially as upset as Jet was when he found you. People are rattling off all kinds of shit. Thankfully it's really only the tabloids running the torrid kissing cousins shit. Unfortunately, Dad isn't stupid—he wants to kill you right now, for the firm and for Jet kissing you."
Dread dropped like rocks into Jet's stomach. "What are you talking about, kissing me?"
"Jet was the one who found you in the hallway, and Christ you were a fucking mess. He freaked a bit, and of course there was some asshole who managed to get some of it recorded before security finally started throwing people out. I'm sure the scumbag made a tidy profit selling that video," Dai said bitterly as he scrubbed a hand over his hair. He collapsed on the couch, head dropping low as he tiredly rubbed the back of his neck. When he finally looked up again, his mismatched eyes were somber. "The paramedics could barely get him off you, he was so upset. Refused to trust you to anyone at first. I only barely managed to get him to let you go, and he kissed your forehead before he finally gave up. It was harmless, except, you know, nothing is ever harmless when the media gets hold of it."
"Wonderful," Jason replied, the lawyer part of him already trying to plot damage control, but the in-love half of him secretly, selfishly, stupidly pleased that Jet did not completely hate him. "Where is Jet now?"
Dai sighed and sat back. "I finally made him go get real rest and cleaned up and food. I told your goons not to let him back in until he could prove he'd done all three. It's been about eight hours, so I'm sure he'll be here soon. Mom and Dad are waiting in the lobby, and they're going to want the next crack at you. I don't think I need to reiterate just how livid dad is by all of this. The firm isn't exactly singing your praises either."
Jason tried to shrug and winced when that failed miserably. "I'll fix it as soon as people stop yelling at me and let me get back to work. I can't do much of anything stuck here or under the house arrest I'm sure is in my future. This is why I don't like to discuss it when people attack me."
"Just how often have you been attacked?"
"Not often. The baseball bat really was the worst of it. You and Jet have been in more fights, I promise. It was mostly stuff during school, and since then just the guy with the bat and some crazy fans for various and sundry clients."
Dai made a face. "I still can't believe I never realized Azura was one of your clients until all this shit happened."
"Did you really not already know that?" Jason rolled his eyes at the withering look that earned him. "Dai, everybody knows we're Azura's firm of choice."
"They certainly do now."
Jason heaved an irritated sigh. "I need to get out of here. I can't—" he broke off as the door opened and his parents strode in. "Dai. Go."
Dai opened his mouth to argue, but then saw something in Jason's expression that made him close it again and, with a nod and a look of sympathy, fled.
"Oh, Jason," his mother said and after a moment, found a way to give him an awkward hug. He couldn't remember the last time she'd given him a hug. It was … weird.
"I'm fine," he assured her. "It looks worse than it is. Promise."
She nodded, but looked far from convinced. "All those pictures going around and some awful thing posted a video of it all."
Jason wondered what his father was demanding in the lawsuits flying out of the office and felt tired. "Don't worry, we'll take care of it. Why don't you go get some coffee, Mom. Father and I will work out how to handle everything." When she looked like she wanted to argue, he added, "You know how we are about work, Mom. It will keep my mind off the pain. Go relax. Thank you for coming to see me."
To his astonishment, she pecked his cheek, patted it, and then quietly left the room. "Am I dying?" Jason asked as the door closed. "Someone can just tell me, I prefer to know."
"Watch your mouth," his father said coldly.
Jason sighed and rested against his pillow, out of energy for sitting up. "So how do you want to do this? Ride the scandal out, or have me quietly resign?"
"Is all this bullshit about you and Jet true?"
"You're asking about Jet?" Jason asked. "Whatever was caught on video is nothing that anyone but the tabloids care about according to Dai. I would think your bigger concern would be the firm. Jet is nothing."
In reply, his father just pulled out his smartphone and activated it, then handed it over. "You look through those pictures and tell me it's nothing. Maybe the media doesn't care, thankfully, but I'm not stupid."
Reluctantly taking it, Jet scrolled through the images, stomach knotting, roiling at the sight of himself beaten to hell and back. Worse was Jet, the abject terror on his face, the way he was covered in so much of Jason's blood. The last picture stopped his heart: Jet kissing him gently on the forehead. It was a brotherly type of kiss, nothing at all for anyone to look at amiss—unless, of course, they knew him and Jason well enough to know they didn't do brotherly anything.
"Tabloid material, as I said. There is nothing there but concern for me. We may not get along, but we don't hate each other. What does this have to do with the Azura scandal? Nothing," Jason said coldly. "Stop trying to cause trouble where there is none and focus on the trouble we already have."
"So it's true. You've been fucking your own cousin all this time."
Damn it. Jason briefly considered continued denial, but the set of his father's face said it was a waste of time. "Who I fuck is none of your business—"
"It is when you're fucking my brother's son! My nephew! Your goddamn cousin, Jason! This is not what I raised you to be—"
"No, you raised me to be just as ruthless and cold-hearted and self-absorbed a bastard as you," Jason cut in. "Fortunately, or unfortunately, for us both, you were largely successful. Tender my resignation. Do whatever damage control you want. But don't hurt Jet, or I swear to god I'll kill you."
His father reared back from those final words, the cold tone in which they were spoken, in shock. "What?"
"You heard me," Jason said. "Now get out."
"We aren't done discussing this."
"We'll discuss it further when I'm out of the hospital. I doubt you're going to resign me before then, anyway, since that would make you a capital asshole and the firm is ticked off enough. Go away, or I promise I can have that goon outside remove you."
Though he clearly had more to say on the matter, his father had always known when to withdraw—if not how to withdraw gracefully. Jason grimaced as the door slammed. He closed his eyes, wishing for either sleep or Jet, a sinking feeling telling him that nobody was going to let Jet back in to see him.
The door ope
ned again a few minutes later and Jason's eyes flew open, heart thudding in anticipation—
And promptly sinking into disappointment when he saw a stranger standing in the doorway. "Who are you? Why did Allen let you through?" Jason studied him, but despite a nagging familiarity, could not place him. Why had Allen let a total stranger in to see him? The man might have looked like a cheesy action star, but if he worked for Azura he was no fool.
The man looked to be somewhere in his fifties, with the sort of grace and style that made fifty look like the sexiest age ever. Jason thought fleetingly that it would be nice to look that good when he was that age. Something … damn it, what about the man was familiar? He wore a beautiful, dark gray suit with silver pinstripes and a pale green tie, and black-rimmed glasses that framed sharp blue eyes, with a long coat and dark green scarf draped over one arm. "My name is Abraham Huxley, and I … just wanted to know that you were well, Jason." He strode up to the bed and lightly touched the back of Jason's hand. "The news reports are quite awful, the nasty vultures. I am certain you are only going to have rough times ahead. I would not normally come, but well, I was worried. I am glad to see you are recovering."
"Who are you?" Jason asked again.
"An old friend. You would not remember me. I cannot stay long. Be careful, and if you need anything—anything at all—give me a call." He slipped a business card beneath Jason's fingers, then lightly touched his hair and, with a sad sort of smile, turned and left as abruptly as he had arrived.
Jason stared after him, completely at a loss as to what had happened. He picked up the business card and looked at it. Abraham Huxley. Accountant. The address was for a nice part of downtown; it was only a couple of blocks from the firm. Jason frowned and tucked the card away.
He looked toward the door, willing the only person he gave a damn about right then to walk through. He waited and waited, until a nurse came to check on him and give him more pain killers.
And still he waited, until he just couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.
Track 09: Tabloid Love Affair
Jet lightly traced Jason's cheek, careful to keep clear of the bruises that surrounded his eyes from the broken nose, another at his jaw. The stitches across his forehead stood out starkly against his pale skin and the awful bruising.
Drawing back, Jet curled his fingers into a fist and then slowly forced his hand to relax. Sighing softly, he sank down on the rock hard couch and just tried to breathe, absently touching the bruise on his own jaw from where Uncle Henry had clocked him a good one. Fucking asshole.
Jet couldn't blame him, not really. Everything was in upheaval. It was one thing to wind up naked on TV more times than he cared to count. The occasional spat with Nikko, the odd fight back in their early days, those dumb parties they'd gone to for promo.
Getting caught kissing his cousin, even if only Uncle Henry and a bunch of stupid tabloids seemed to realize it was more than just concern for a cousin … and all that on top of the really bad shit about criminals and the firm, with the family right in the middle of it …
Jet scrubbed at his face and tried to figure out for the millionth time how he was supposed to fix it all. Uncle Henry was livid and out for blood. Sighing, he leaned back and let his head rest on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling, willing some brilliant fix-it-all idea to come to him. Short of pleading insanity, he just didn't fucking know.
He glanced back toward the bed where Jason slept, almost smiling when he thought about just how irritated Jason probably was to be stuck in a hospital until Uncle Henry couldn't make them hold him any longer. Once the stitches were out, Jason would be free and clear—and probably sneaking out the back door before they finished preparing the paperwork.
Unable not to touch, Jet stood up and returned to the bed, curling his fingers around Jason's hand. He jumped when Jason's hand moved, and then he was staring into Jason's blue eyes. They were dazed at first, but then sharpened to that laser clarity Jet loathed and loved. "Hey," Jet said quietly, voice only a little unsteady, a touch husky.
"Jet …" Jason shifted, made a face, and then ordered, "Help me sit up."
"You shouldn't be moving."
Jason rolled his eyes. "It's a cracked rib and some bruising. I'll live. Lying here doing nothing is what's making me miserable." He started struggling on his own, and Jet finally reached out to help him get into a mostly-sitting position. He brushed back strands of mussed hair, wincing at the stitches.
"I think you'll have to pass on starring in the swimsuit calendar this year," he said with a crooked smile.
"Don't make me hit you," Jason said. He narrowed his eyes. "It looks like someone else already has—who?"
Jet shook his head. "Doesn't matter."
"My father, then. What else has he done?"
"Nothing, really. He's told the media to fuck off, came to see you once you finally woke up, but otherwise stays in his house making lists of people to sue." Jet sighed. "I'm sorry. I've fucked up everything from beginning to end. I never should have—I should have left well enough alone, right from the start. If I hadn't blackmailed you, then you wouldn't have been at that party—"
Jason cut him off with a sigh, only wincing slightly. "None of this is your fault, Jet. You think this is the first time Azura has caused some sort of major scandal? The man lives for drama and attention; he knows exactly how to get rid of the spotlight when he wants. My father and the tantrum he is throwing over us is all that concerns me. He does not seem to understand that it's best to let the tabloids have their feeding frenzy, and in a few weeks they'll be talking about Nikko sleeping with an alien and fathering some weird purple-skinned alien baby."
The words managed to make Jet give him a half-hearted laugh and a crooked smile. "I'm still sorry. You don't need Uncle Henry this pissed off with you on top of the firm being out for your blood."
"Forget it," Jason replied with a sigh. "What's going on out there?"
"People are gossiping, paparazzi are clamoring, and your little bit of muscle and his crazy ass partner out there are damned good guard dogs. Dai is just itching to start a fight, but won't because it'll just make things worse. The band is preparing to post bail for when he finally does. On the bright side, Ex has been supportive through the whole thing and that's kind of throwing people for a loop." He tried to smile, but knew from the look on Jason's face the attempt had failed miserably. "Look, it'll be okay, I promise. I fucked up, I know I did. I never should have made you do anything, should have left you alone. I shouldn't have followed you home that night like I had some right to be there. I shouldn't have freaked o-out—"
He withdrew shaking, mortified he was going to fall apart again and right in front of the most collected, cool, and controlled person he knew. Jason got the living shit beat out of him and woke up cranky about being in bed. Jet … he'd fucking ruined everything and couldn't even fucking hold it together.
A hand closed around his and he gasped when Jason tugged him close, surprisingly firm. Jet could have twisted free anyway, but was too scattered and upset to do it. Jason tangled his fingers in Jet's shirt and pulled him even closer.
Whatever Jet had expected, it wasn't for Jason to kiss him.
It was exactly what he'd wanted, but not what he'd expected. He'd never been one to turn down whatever good shit came his way. He held tightly to the railing on the bed so he wouldn't do something stupid like try to cling to Jason and wind up hurting him. Fear of hurting also made him try to keep the kiss easy, but Jason was having none of that. He let go of Jet's shirt and fisted his hair instead, holding Jet close and kissing him like there was a prize to be won.
Jet half-hoped that maybe there was. When they finally drew apart, he could taste blood. He licked it from his lips and reached out to wipe more from Jason's reopened split lip. "Stop making shit worse, you idiot."
"Oh, yeah, get the nurse. My lip is bleeding for the five thousandth time in my life."
"You're such a crabby patient," Jet said, smiling. "
Why did you do that?"
Jason sighed and finally let him go—but only to take hold of his hand again, holding it tightly. "I'm sorry," he said. "I went to your concert to tell you that, which you must already know from Dai. I had to do something for Azura, but I was ninety-nine percent there to see you and fix my massive fuck up. I didn't mean any of what I said that night. I just—"
He broke off, but Jet didn't say anything, too startled. Hopeful. He stared at their joined hands.
"Are you hiding away in your house when you're not here?" Jason finally asked.
"No," Jet said. "I haven't been home since everything went to hell. I crashed at Dai's place, stole some of his clothes and shit. I need to go back, but I haven't fucking felt like it."
Jason let go of his hand and grabbed his chin, forcing Jet to look up and meet his eyes. "If you don't want to go to your place, go to mine. Hopefully I'll be there soon, too."
"You said I didn't—"
"I was wrong. I was being stupid. That's always been the problem, hasn't it? Being stupid. Just—go to my house, Jet. It'll only anger my father further and the tabloids will eat it up, but I don't care. You look exhausted, even if you did take a nap. Go sleep for a few hours. I'm going to work on getting out of here."
Jet laughed. "They aren't going to let you out. Not until everything has quieted some and your father has done more damage control. He's paying them good money to keep you here 'under observation'."
"Watch me," Jason muttered. "I have too much to do to keep lying about here."
Surrendering to impulse, Jet leaned in to kiss him again. "Rest."
"That's all I've been doing the past—how long have I been stuck here now?"
"You were out for a day and a half, and then you've been going in and out for another day and a half. I would have been here yesterday, but I couldn't get through the media for ages. Sneaking out is going to be another adventure." Jet blew out an irritated breath. "Honestly, it's been three days. Shouldn't they have moved on by now?"