Jordan

by Lindsey Hart

  “Maybe he’s shy.”

  “I guess he does sometimes interact with the crowd, just not any of us. I guess we’re not good enough since we’re hired.”

  “Maybe he’s shy,” Cora repeated. Her lips curled up in far too wide a smile.

  “What?” Effie had the notion Cora was almost accusing her of something with that too knowing smile. She nearly panicked. Her throat closed up with emotion, though she couldn’t even begin to define what that emotion was.

  “Nothing. It just seems like you know an awful lot about him for someone who says they haven’t really paid any attention.”

  Heat rushed to her face and Effie nearly choked. She didn’t like the fact that she was blushing. Or that Cora’s observation hit very close to a truth she’d been trying very hard not to consider.

  “No, it’s just that I have to work with him. Closely, like I said. I guess that’s why I’ve noticed him more.”

  “And that’s all.”

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  “I don’t know. Could be interesting.” Cora did that brow arch thing which gave her comment that little bit of extra evil flare.

  Effie laughed it off while all the while her face flamed hotter and hotter. She was thankful when Cora moved away back to her bench across from the table and picked up her book again. Effie didn’t want to, but her eyes slowly moved to the cover, where the dark haired, blue eyed, clean-shaven face of Jordan Wall stared back at her. Those damn lonely eyes.

  She silently cursed him and trained her eyes out the window to the left of the table. He was so not her type. Not at all. Or he wouldn’t have been if she had a type. She’d keep telling herself that for the next six months. It won’t last that long. Irrational crushes never do.

  CHAPTER 2

  Jordan

  Imposter Syndrome. It wasn’t something unfamiliar to Jordan Wall. He’d read about it before. Essentially it meant making it big. Achieving success or fame or recognition, all the while feeling like you didn’t deserve some or any of it at all.

  That pretty much described how Jordan felt about the past four years. He’d gone from struggling, trying to sell his manuscript to a publisher and being rejected time and again. He’d finally found someone to take a chance on him and it paid off big. They’d wanted two more books. He’d delivered and all of a sudden, he was a bestselling author. Though it had taken years to get where he was now, it sometimes felt like it hadn’t taken long enough. That he hadn’t quite worked hard enough. That even after everything he’d endured and lived through, after the way he’d turned it around and put a positive spin on the negative events, events that might have broken another man, he didn’t deserve to be where he was now.

  Selling out stadiums of all things. Not just auditoriums or halls or a small venue here and there. Stadiums as well.

  It scared the hell out of him. He’d felt that way after the response for his first book. People wrote him and said he’d saved their lives. He’d given them a reason to live and keep going. It was what he wanted all along, to help people who had been where he was, who felt like giving up.

  But going from writing a series of bestselling books to putting on a tour was a huge step. Some people had their books made into movies. For him, it felt like he was actually living in the movie. He felt strange, being up on that stage. He was shy by nature and he had to force himself to get up there. Once he was, though and he got underway, he loved it. He loved being able to help others. He loved the energy from the crowd. He loved the way people felt with him. They felt his shame and his suffering, his joy and happiness. When he was close to tears, so were they. When he was elated, they came along for the ride. It was like having millions of friends he didn’t really know but who were on his side, who understood him.

  For a guy who grew up with absolutely no friends at all, it was quite a ride.

  They had just finished up two shows in Los Angeles for a total of six shows in two weeks. It was a grueling schedule, but Jordan wanted it that way. He wanted to keep busy.

  With a long, silent sigh, he stretched out in his large bed in the back room of the tour bus. He wasn’t comfortable. It was nearly impossible to sleep well on the moving bus even though it was, by all accounts, considered luxury.

  His driver, Ted, was one of the best. He was ancient, as old and grizzled as they came. Grey hair, a long scraggly grey beard, wrinkles for days. He’d driven for bands all his life and wanted to get out of the industry into something a little less rowdy.

  He was the perfect fit. Drove with the steadiest set of hands. He was a good companion too, full of interesting stories. Quiet and talkative in turns, he never pried and Jordan liked that. He half considered planting himself in the passenger seat up front and asking the older man if he wanted to tell his own life story. What? So I could author it? Yet another bestseller…

  Ted was a nice guy. He didn’t know a lick of ASL-American Sign Language, but he and Jordan got along just fine. Ted was content to tell stories all day long and Jordan was content to listen. Other times he sat up front for the company or to lend his to Ted and they listened to audio books. Mysteries, adventures, crime thrillers, even romance. It didn’t seem to matter to Ted and he had a massive collection.

  As it was, Jordan dismissed the idea about getting up for the rest of the drive. He hadn’t slept well and he had a show to do that evening. He needed a couple hours of rest.

  If only he could shut off his mind, maybe he could get some. But the thoughts and the memories were always there. He never stopped thinking, even in his dreams. That was the thing he never told anyone. That even though he’d made it through the worst of it, the bullying and the violence, the shame, the names, the harsh reality of growing up different, even though he’d come a long way and tried to live out what he spoke of, it wasn’t as easy as he made it out to be.

  He kept himself distant from everyone because life was just easier that way. If he remained detached he didn’t have to find out the hard way that people were just his friends because they wanted something from him that he was now in a position to give. Money brought new opportunities, but it had also changed his life in ways he had never imagined. Friends were never in short supply, but real friends, as they always had been, were hard to come by.

  Jordan shut his eyes at the same time he reached for his phone. He stuck in a set of earbuds even though they were uncomfortable as hell and always hurt his ears. He jammed them in a little too far and winced at the sharp pain. A flick of his thumb and a click of his index finger turned on a meditation.

  He took a few deep breaths, half hoping for the oblivion of sleep, half dreading the dreams that stalked him. It was there, in his sleep, that he was powerless to fight the bad feelings, the memories and the pain. He’d managed, for the most part, to numb himself out while he was awake, but it never translated over into sleep. In sleep, he wasn’t a big motivational speaker or a bestselling author. In sleep, he was just the lost little boy that deep down he still believed he was.

  CHAPTER 3

  Effie

  “Are you ready? Five minutes.” Cora smiled broadly, all friendly confidence as she checked Effie’s microphone and the little black box that connected to it at her belt, tucked under her shirt at her back.

  “Yes. I’m ready. You’re right, by the way.”

  “About what?”

  “When you said this would be routine the more we did it. Pretty soon I won’t have to check your mic or suit you up with it at all. You’ll be able to do it all on your own.”

  “Oh god, please don’t not check it.”

  Cora laughed her pretty melodic laugh. “Don’t worry. I would never leave you hanging. Oh, and by the way, that hot guy I was talking about, Hank, we’re going out for drinks later tonight. You can join us if you want.”

  “Wow, that was fast.”

  “It might have already been in the works. I just didn’t want to sound over confident.” Cora winked. “We’ll see The Strip, like we were talking about.�
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  “Are you sure that I won’t be a third wheel?”

  “Does anyone still use that term?” Cora rolled her dark eyes dramatically. She blinked her long lashes. They had enough mascara on them that they actually didn’t even look real they were so long and thick. They were the kind of lashes Effie would kill for.

  “I don’t know. But are you sure you want me hanging around? Won’t that kill your vibe?”

  “What vibe?”

  “You know, your sexy vibe.”

  Cora laughed so hard her shoulders shook. She reached up and brushed the start of tears from the corners of her eyes. “Oh my god, Effie, that’s hilarious. I’m not going to do anything with Hank on this tour other than hanging out. For one, there’s nowhere to do it where no one else is watching. A bunk on the bus isn’t the most romantic setting. I don’t think it would even be possible… anyway, it would just be so awkward after too. I told him this is a friends only kind of deal so we can get to know each other better. It would keep it that way if you were there.”

  “Okay then, I’ll come as a chaperone. Thanks for the invite.”

  “No problem. We’re a pair now. We’ll stick together.” The smile never faltered from Cora’s red lips.

  Effie could only nod, her throat suddenly tight. She’d grown up in a small town, of around ten thousand inhabitants, but it had been a close knitted crowd. Going out on her own was a big step and she would be a liar if she said she didn’t feel overwhelmed and lonely half of the time.

  Cora gave her a wave and hurried off to see to whatever else needed it. Effie turned her attention back to the stage. She stood fifteen feet back, waiting for Jordan Wall to join her in the wings like he had during their other shows, so they could walk on stage together.

  He still hadn’t appeared, but he was always there last minute. He normally stayed on his bus as long as possible. They did whatever hair and makeup he might have needed on there.

  A tap on her shoulder caused Effie to start. She whirled when she realized Jordan had somehow snuck up behind her.

  She stared into those haunting eyes of his and was so mesmerized for a second, she nearly forgot to look at his hands and almost missed what he signed.

  Ready? His hands asked her twice, or at least, she figured he did, since she’d missed it the first time.

  She nodded, the familiar heat of a blush starting on her cheekbones. The part of her shoulder that Jordan had just tapped burned like fire. It buzzed with electricity, like a wasp sting she’d once had. Please don’t let him have noticed how badly he just unnerved me.

  As it was, he didn’t give her a second thought. He turned and faced the stage. The noise of the assembled crowd in the massive auditorium hummed through Effie’s ears. The same horrible storm of butterflies rose in her stomach. Her chest squeezed tight and her lungs compressed. She always felt that way before getting up there.

  Unfortunately, Jordan didn’t just walk on. He turned to face her again, dark blue eyes cutting right through Effie. He was easily the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Sure, she’d seen good looking men, but no one held a candle to Jordan Wall. His dark hair wasn’t long, and it wasn’t short either, it was somewhere in the middle and slicked back with hair oil, which on him looked vintage and not greasy at all. He had strong features, a square jawline, dark eyes set into a masculine brow. His nose did have a small ridge at the top, like it really had been broken once before, like he’d written in the part of the book Cora read to her on the bus.

  Jordan was tall. He’d probably look good in any kind of clothing, but he looked amazing in a suit. He wore a dark grey charcoal blazer with a black dress shirt, buttoned up as far as it could go. The jacket was unbuttoned and cut to fit Jordan’s broad shoulders, strong chest and tapered waist. His pants hung off his hips at just the right angle. He wore them well. His shoes weren’t the typical polished kind. He opted instead for something comfortable, a dressed-up version of a grey cloth shoe. It made sense, given how long they had to stand up on that stage.

  His hands moved and she blinked, snapping right out of her trance when she realized his hands were moving in a sign and she should be watching them, not caught in the middle of an open perusal of his very considerable assets... I was cataloging the details of his face and form for goodness sakes. She could have died of mortification.

  Let’s go.

  Her only saving grace was the fact that Jordan was so preoccupied with going on stage, he didn’t seem to have noticed her staring.

  Effie squared her shoulders and followed behind Jordan. She wasn’t quite used to the bright lights and blinked hard. Her eyes watered instantly, but she knew that would stop soon enough. She would get hot, but that’s why she’d chosen a sheer black blouse with a black lace camisole underneath. It breathed easily enough. Her black pencil skirt fell below her knee. She wore sensible black flats that she could stand to be on for hours at a time.

  Jordan started speaking He detailed his childhood, the bullying and abuse. She already knew what he was going to say and like she’d told Cora, she could almost anticipate the routine. She’d been so stressed and anxious the first couple shows, but now she was settling in. She didn’t want to think of what she was doing as a partnership with Jordan. She knew he was way above her on the invisible ladder, but right then, on the stage, she felt strangely one with him. While his hands flew, she was his voice. She was the way he reached millions of people who didn’t understand ASL.

  After a long two hours and a standing ovation, the show was over. Effie was thankful for a chance to get backstage. She’d run out of water halfway through and had pushed through it, but her throat felt as dry as cotton from all that speaking. She was Jordan’s voice. The voice he didn’t have.

  She was so intent on getting back onto the bus and diving into the fridge for a cold bottle of water that she nearly ran right into Jordan near the exit door of the auditorium.

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, faltering a step back.

  She’d come close, so close to his back that she could see the way his clothes stuck to his damp skin below. The lights are hot for him too then. The realization was oddly human. It brought a man she considered to be quite aloof, down to the level of mundane body secretions.

  His eyes flashed, and he nodded once before opening the door. He held it open and let her pass through first, like a gentleman.

  Okay, just because he holds the door open doesn’t make him a gentleman.

  Like everything he did, Effie felt a little like it was just for show. She turned and found Jordan staring at her. He let the heavy metal door close with a decisive slam.

  Before she knew what she was even doing, her hands flew and she was signing, asking Jordan if he wanted to join her and Cora and Hank for a night out on the strip. I’m just being polite. That’s all. A formality. There is no way I actually really want him to come. She flushed with the heat of her own lies. What point was there in lying to yourself when you already knew the truth?

  His lips parted. Lips that were way too full and kissable to belong to a man. What the hell am I doing looking at his damn lips anyway? I need to get a grip here.

  His eyes darted around the parking lot as though someone was waiting to jump them behind their four lined up tour buses. She regretted asking him as soon as she’d done it. She wanted to believe that she was just being friendly. She told herself she felt obligated, in the moment, to extend an invitation.

  No thanks, he finally signed.

  “Okay. Have a good night.”

  She turned and tried very hard not to run all the way to her bus. Her face was on fire again. It was becoming way too common an occurrence. I do not feel disappointed. There is no way that word even factors into what I feel.

  It would probably be an hour before Cora and the rest of the girls were back on the bus. Effie unlocked the door and as she suspected, the bus was quiet. She had a small bag of makeup she kept at the foot of her bunk. In her suitcase was a dress she’d never worn. Just a
plain black thing, the token little black dress. She pulled it out. It would have to do. It was the fanciest thing she owned. It wasn’t sexy or dressy. It wasn’t casual either. It was strapless and showed off the little curves she had. She liked it because it was modest and fell to her knee.

  The night was warm, the humid heat already leaching onto the bus. Effie wiped off her makeup in the small bathroom on the bus before applying a small amount of foundation and mascara. She wished the bus was running. It was so hot she felt like she was melting in the bathroom.

  She’d just escaped the confines of the little room when a knock sounded at the door. Effie figured it was one of the other women. They’d probably forgotten their keys. She opened the door and nearly fell over when standing there, hands clasped in front of his trim waist, looking for all the world like a lost, uncertain little boy, was Jordan Wall.

  CHAPTER 4

  Jordan

  Half an hour into drinks and wings with Cora, Hank and Effie, Jordan realized he’d made a terrible mistake.

  I should have known better. She asked me to come with them because she was just being polite. She didn’t really mean it.

  Cora and Hank sat across a four-person table. The restaurant was just some little diner deal off The Strip. Nothing fancy. The décor was new and modern with dim lighting overhead and soft background music, but it lacked the ritzy feel it was trying to portray. They’d gone for a walk since the night was soft and warm, the oppressive heat of the day long faded, the lights dazzling and beautiful. Cora had always wanted to see The Strip, so that’s where they’d headed.

  Effie was seated to his left. He would have been ashamed to admit he didn’t even know Cora or Hank’s name or even what they did on the tour before they’d come to collect Effie from the bus. They’d been pretty damn surprised to see him there, if Cora’s brows nearly shooting through her hairline was any indication.