by Kira Blakely
I spent the next few hours getting lost in Charleston. It provided a great distraction from the fact that I would eventually have to return to the bus and face Jude after our fight earlier. Why couldn’t he just let it be? Because it was Jude. When he got an idea in his head, there was no swaying it.
My phone buzzed from inside my purse. I pulled it out to glance down at the caller ID.
Great. Do I answer, or do I let my mom’s call go straight to voicemail? Again.
I let it ring one more time before hitting the answer button with a sigh. “I’m a bit busy, Mom. What’s up?”
“I’ve tried calling you four times,” she said. “Where have you been for the past few days?”
“I’ve been working.” Lies. Horrid lies. “I’m in Charleston, South Carolina right now.”
“That’s nowhere near New York. Does he plan on dropping you off back in Gypsum?”
“I’ll catch a flight back to the city,” I said, rolling my eyes. “That’s the plan so far, at least. Why do you ask?”
“I’m just curious, is all. I’m your mother, and I worry about you traipsing all over the United States with that man who claims to be a superstar.”
“He has a horde of fans who follow him everywhere he goes. It’s safe to say that he is famous and a superstar.”
My mother snorted indelicately into the phone. “Anyone can do what he does. There’s nothing special about it.”
I waited for it. My mother was bursting for information. She hated secrets and not being in the loop. I could practically hear the wheels in her brain turning as she waited for me to give her something to chew on.
“Just ask me how it’s going, Mom. I’ll tell you the truth. No need to beat around the bush over it.”
“Your father and I are concerned about you, Ava. This is the guy who’s responsible for your brother’s death. You can’t blame us for being a bit worried that you are falling back under his spell.”
“I’m not falling back under his spell.”
Another lie. I had kissed Jude back three times now. Those lips were sinful. They could unravel me easily if I let them. Which was why I had pulled away the previous night before things go too far again.
“You don’t sound very confident in that. I know how it is with bad boys, Ava. I dated one before your father, years ago.”
I sipped at the small lemonade I had purchased in the café a few blocks away. “Well, it’s nice to know that Dad was your second pick over the bad boy.”
“That’s not funny, Ava. I’m being serious. I know how it must be charming to see all this wealth and fame surrounding Jude, but you remember what he has done.”
“There isn’t anything charming about this life he lives.” A shudder went through me at the memory of the stunts from the exhibition. “Trust me on that. Everything is fine, so don’t worry about me.”
“I wish it was that easy, Ava. I really do.”
“I already told you two that this has nothing to do with my feelings for Jude,” I said. “My lack of feelings,” I corrected before my mother could point out the obvious. “This is business. This is the key that could get me into a lot of publishers’ sights.”
“Is your career really worth all of this heartache right now?”
“Yes,” I said tersely. “It is, Mom. I have to pay my bills somehow.”
“We already told you that we could help you find a nice job here in Gypsum. You could stay home rent free until you earn enough—”
My phone beeped, signaling an incoming call. Not even sparing a second glance to see who was calling, I cut my mother off gently as possible. “Mom, my boss is calling. I’ll make sure to call you later once things settle down. I love you. Bye.”
“Wait, Ava. I—”
I switched over before she could say anything else.
“This is Ava James,” I said crisply. “How can I help you?”
“Hi, Ava James. My name is Jude Jacobs.”
I rolled my eyes at Jude’s imperious tone. The silent treatment was over, apparently. He was up to something now if he was calling me after our fight earlier this morning.
“I thought you weren’t talking to me,” I pointed out darkly. “What do you want?”
“Do you have plans for dinner tonight?”
“No. Why?”
“Because Chuck made reservations for the two of us at a restaurant in downtown Charleston at seven o’clock. It’s called Grits, or some shit like that. It’s a high-end fancy restaurant with good food.”
“You don’t sound very enthused over this,” I said.
“Neither do you,” he replied snidely. “We have to talk at some point about this piece. I’m not going to pay you to write a shitty article about me. Chuck thinks it’s a good idea if we sit down to talk about shit privately.”
I gritted my teeth as I stared across the bustling street in front of me. Hot sunlight bore down on my bare shoulders. That was the thing about talking privately with Jude. It ended up going places that had nothing to do with the article. He was right, though. I had a deadline to make if I wanted to stay employed.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll be there at seven to talk. That’s it, though. We’re only talking about your career.”
“Suits me fine. I don’t want to hash out the past, either.”
He hung up. I stared down at my phone before placing it back in my purse. I didn’t like this feeling of not being in control when it came to my career and personal life. Jude had that effect on me because he skirted the edge of danger all the time. This time, however, he was dragging me along behind him.
Chapter 11
Jude
The fancy restaurant Chuck had made reservations at was on a small corner in Charleston’s historic downtown. Twinkling lights hung all around the place as I settled down in a small booth near a room full of massive windows that was secluded from the other part of the restaurant. A stream of people walked by the windows. A few stopped to glance in at me curiously before continuing on.
I sat back in my seat with an impatient sigh. I really didn’t want to do this tonight but Chuck had insisted that the two of us needed to stop the petty bullshit. High school was over. The past was in the past. Both of us needed to move forward, do this article, and go about our lives the way we had been going about them.
At least, for me. I got the feeling that Ava’s grief intermingled with the past still. Her parents were the cause of that. I couldn’t count how many lawsuits I’d fought off over the years because of them. Responsibility. They wanted someone to be responsible for their son’s death.
I downed the last bit of whiskey in my glass, and I caught sight of Ava strolling by the window. She was wearing a simple white dress with lace trimming, and a pair of small, strappy heels. Her dark curls bounced lightly as she walked. The dress hugged her in all the right places, even though nothing was exposed. I liked the change in my life for once. Ava had respect for herself. She never dressed skimpily to catch my attention. She didn’t need to do it. I found her attractive, no matter what she wore.
I stood up from the table as the waiter led Ava into the small room. I smoothed the wrinkles out of the white button-up shirt I had picked for this occasion. She glanced at me nervously while she ordered a glass of wine.
“I’m glad you came,” I said as we sat down at the table. “I didn’t think you would want to come out to eat with me.”
“It’s not a date,” Ava pointed out.
I did my best to not let the comment get under my skin. It wasn’t a date. It was about the article.
She pulled out her notepad, which had a few questions scribbled down. “I just have a few questions that Chuck and I started with. Good headway for this article.”
“Right,” I said moodily. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Ava looked up from the notepad with a frown. “Look, I know you’re still angry with me but you were the one who made a deal about this article. I’m here because you asked me to be here.”
“You don’t even want to be here,” I remarked icily. “Fuck. I don’t even want to be here because you aren’t interested in hearing a word that I have to say.”
“Try me.” She pulled out her phone to push record. “I’m all ears, Jude. What got you into freestyle motocross?”
I stared across the table at Ava. She leaned back in her chair with an earnest expression that I had a feeling was to appease me.
“My father,” I said. Her eyes widened in surprise at that. “I’m serious. He was the one who got me into this type of sport.”
“How did that happen?”
“He hit the bottle pretty hard all the time, so I used to see how fast I could get away from him on a bike.”
Ava paused the recording. “Please tell me you are shitting me when you’re saying that. I thought it was for other reasons.”
“I’m not shitting you,” I said, sipping at my drink. “I’m serious. That’s how I got into this sport.”
“Do you want me to include that in your piece?’
“It’s my story. Include it.”
“All right then.” She hit the record button once more. “So, your father was the main inspiration behind your career choice?”
“He was a good motivator to do things differently with my life,” I continued, my eyes slipping closed with all those fucked up memories of my childhood on repeat.
My mother screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night. Bottles being thrown everywhere, including at me. I remembered hopping onto my bike one night to get away from my father who was in a drunk, black rage over spilled beer in the kitchen. My legs had burned with adrenaline as I raced down the street to detour off on a grassy knoll. I’d never forget the sensation of being lifted in the air for a brief moment before I crashed back down.
I brought myself back to the present. “I mean, aren’t parents supposed to make you realize how you want to live your life? I didn’t want to live the way my parents did, so I decided to stick with the bikes because they were the only good thing in my life for a period of time. I just got better over the years.”
“And how is fame to you?” she asked.
I opened my eyes to gaze at Ava, who was studying my face intently as I talked. “I like the fans. They are what made me a huge name here in this circuit. I feel like I’m sharing a piece of myself with them, and I like having someone look up to me as a role model. Even if you think I’m not the best role model, at least I keep myself out of trouble with the law and shit.”
“I never said you weren’t a good role model,” she replied quietly. “Is there a downside to being famous?”
I snorted at that. “Fuck, yeah. People always ask you for money and shit. There are contracts you have to honor because if you don’t, you lose the endorsements. I just like being able to ride and communicate with my fans. That’s it.”
“You didn’t get famous right away,” Ava stated, sipping at her glass of wine. I watched those luscious lips press up against the glass, and a stab of desire went through me. “How did you manage yourself after eighteen?”
“I showed up to exhibitions,” I said, shrugging. “I stayed in shelters if I had to. I just kept traveling around until I started earning enough money to hire people around me. There were a few times that I slept outside in a tent with my bike chained to me.”
“Chained to you?”
“Yes,” I said with a grin, and Ava burst out giggling. “I’m serious. I used to chain that fucker to my ankle so no one would steal it in the middle of the night.”
Ava dabbed at her mouth with a napkin as she laughed. “I can’t say that I’m surprised at that. I know how much those bikes mean to you.”
“I’ve beaten the shit out of people trying to steal them from me. My bikes are my babies, and I work hard to make sure they are in top shape. Which sometimes gains a little bit of attention from other people.”
“Other racers?”
“Mainly my family,” I said darkly. “They are always the ones telling me that if I can provide for myself and the bikes, then I could provide for them.”
“You don’t provide for them, though,” Ava replied, and the anger in her voice surprised me. “It’s not your job. They don’t deserve any of your success because of what they did to you as a kid. Remember that, okay?”
I smiled thinly in response. “I’m glad someone agrees that I’m not just a piece of shit son who doesn’t want to take care of his parents.”
“Is that why you want me to do this article?” Ava reached over to turn her phone off, placing it in her purse. “Are you worried that they are going to try and slander your image with your fans?’
“The thought occurred to me more than once,” I replied honestly. I doubted that my father would ever be sober enough to pull a stunt like that, but my mother was an entirely different story. She had a mean and vindictive streak in her. “I don’t think anyone would pay attention to it, but it can have some backlash.”
“You’re smart to do this, then,” Ava said, nodding. “You could’ve told me that you wanted this as a favor, Jude. It would’ve made things a bit easier.”
“I didn’t think you would even consider doing me a favor,” I said. “There were other reasons why I wanted you to be the one to write this article, too. My parents blackmailing me for money is a very small reason why I asked for you to come along.”
“What are the other reasons?”
“I wanted to talk about Andy,” I said.
Just as I expected, Ava recoiled visibly at the mention of her brother’s name. She looked down at the table as the waiter returned with our plates of food. Neither one of us reached for our cutlery.
“I don’t want to include Andy in the article,” she whispered. “Please don’t make me mention that as a motivator for you.”
“No, I wouldn’t ask for that,” I said, shaking my head. “I just wanted to give you my side of it, you know? I never got the chance to talk to you about that night.”
Ava traced a finger along the table top. She refused to look up at me, but I could feel her defenses caving in. She needed this. She needed the closure like I had needed it years ago.
“What is there to talk about?” she asked. “I remember you and the boys egging him on. All of you with a beer in hand.”
“I tried to tell him not to do it,” I blurted out passionately. “Jesus, Ava. I tried to tell him not to do it but he told me he could do it. What was I supposed to do? Yank him off the bike?”
“Yes!” Ava exclaimed, looking up at me with tears in her eyes. “My brother would still be alive if you had! Your crew—”
“My crew,” I spat out. “They aren’t here, Ava. Look around us.”
“You were the one who could’ve talked him out of it. You and I both know that.”
“I tried to talk him out of it. He wouldn’t listen to me.”
Ava rose from the table to grab her purse from the back of her chair. Her hands were trembling as she slipped the strap over her shoulder. Tears slipped out from the corner of her eyes as she looked at me.
“Where are you going now?” I asked.
“I can’t do this,” she said. “I can’t do it. Seeing you out there, doing the same stunt that killed Andy. It’s too much.”
“Ava—”
She slipped out of the room before I could say anything else. I threw down my napkin in frustration before rising out of my own chair to pursue her through the dining area. Heads turned in our direction as I strode past the tables to finally catch up to her in the restaurant. I managed to grab her by the elbow before she could dart out into the night.
“Where are you going?” I asked, tugging her out of view as onlookers turned to look in our direction curiously. I pulled her into a private hallway, away from everyone’s eyes. “You don’t even know where you’re going to stay tonight, Ava. Where are you going?”
“Back to the bus,” she said flatly. “I can’t be here any longer. This was a mistake.”
It was sheer impulse and lust that drove me forward to press her up against the wall. I pinned her hands up above her head before crushing my lips to hers for a sweeping and thorough kiss that left her breathless and hot beneath me. Her lips were swollen when she jerked back to look up at me with darkened eyes the color of the forest at night.
“It’s not a mistake,” I said, passionately. “It’s stupid that you’re staying in the bus. Come stay in my room. No strings attached. I’ll even stay on the couch.”
“No strings attached?”
I let go of her wrists when she tugged at them. I took a step back to hold up my hand in the universal sign of scout’s honor.
“My word,” I said, even though I had no intention of honoring it. “It’s hotter than hell out there, too. I can’t let you sleep on the bus. It doesn’t have air conditioning if it’s not running.”
Ava chewed on her bottom lip as she weighed out my words and her options.
“Fine,” she said. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 12
Ava
I had no idea what I was I thinking when I followed Jude off the tour bus to walk across the quiet parking lot in the direction of the hotel lobby. This wouldn’t lead to anything good. I knew that, deep down, as we crossed through the lavish hotel lobby. The staff seated at the front counter didn’t even bat an eyelash as we walked by them to the elevators.
They were paid to keep quiet. I was confident about that as they all twisted away to give us privacy when Jude hit the elevator button. His shoulder brushed against mine as he leaned in to whisper, “Don’t worry about them. They aren’t going to risk their jobs by talking about us in the paper.”
“I’m not worried about that,” I replied, watching the lights above the elevator doors. “You were the one who said rumors are rumors.”
“Most of the time, they are.”
“And the rest of the time?”
The doors slid open. Jude stepped inside to push the fourth-floor button. The doors closed shut but he didn’t bother replying to the question. I didn’t push it any further, either. There were things that I didn’t need to know about. Everything about Jude was harsh truths. He never sugarcoated anything, and while I admired that honesty, there were times it was too much to take.