by Kira Blakely
“I want to know if there is going to be a problem,” he hissed quietly. “If Ava is going to be an issue, I have no fucking problem leaving her ass here in Austin.”
“Don’t do that,” I snapped, shaking my head. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I just need to get upstairs, have a drink, and just take a breather, is all.”
“I’ve never seen you like this, JJ. All the years that I’ve had you as my client, not once have you ever let someone sink into you the way that Ava is.”
I turned to look out the window at the tour bus where Ava remained. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Where’s my hotel key?”
“There are four keys here,” Chuck said, handing me one with a frown. “Where’s the extra key coming from?”
“It’s for Ava,” I said. “You get to tell her that she has a hotel room for the night. No more sleeping on that damn bus. Lock her out if you have to.”
My suite was on the very top floor. A security guard stood outside my door, even though I didn’t find it comforting or necessary. Fighting had been the other skill set I developed in my youth. I could pummel anyone’s ass if they messed with me. It was that simple.
I tossed my bag onto the king-sized bed that I had no intention of sleeping in. I stalked up to the window that overlooked the hotel parking lot to watch as Chuck and Ava exchanged heated words down below in the parking lot. She threw up her hands in frustration as he locked the bus door.
She wanted heartbreak. The damn woman was stuck in a cycle of heartbreak. I was damn tired of letting the past control our future. That was why I poured every ounce of my life into my career. I thrived off the pain and thrill of moving forward into the unknown. There was only one place in the past that I would return to, but she was firm on keeping that door locked and closed.
I raided the minibar over the course of the next few hours, until there was nothing left besides empty bottles. My fingers tingled pleasantly as I wobbled out the door of my suite with the intention of raiding the bar down below in the hotel restaurant.
“JJ?”
I gritted my teeth in aggravation at the sound of Chuck’s voice floating down the hallway. Using the wall to steady myself, I turned to look back over my shoulder at him as he entered the hallway dressed in a robe.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he hissed, taking in my disheveled clothes and face. “Have you been drinking?”
“Don’t lecture me,” I replied, surly. “I can do whatever I want. Excuse me but I have to—”
“Hold on a minute! Where the hell are you going?”
“To the bar,” I snapped and pushed the elevator button. “I ran out of alcohol in my room, so I’m going to enjoy it down there.”
Chuck placed a hand on my shoulder. “Look, JJ, this isn’t a good idea. We have a big day tomorrow. Tons of press. More interviews. You can’t afford to look like a drunk douchebag.”
The elevator doors pinged open. I pushed Chuck’s hand off my shoulder and stepped inside. Hitting the lobby button, I ignored Chuck’s angry face.
“I already am a drunk douchebag,” I said. “That’s my image, remember?”
“No,” Chuck said flatly. “That isn’t your image, JJ. It’s—”
The doors slid shut. I rested my head up against the mirrored elevator wall and looked at myself through blurry and bloodshot eyes. My hair looked wild and sleepless. A shadow covered my jaw. There were dark circles underneath my eyes.
“Shit,” I grumbled, running a hand over my jaw. “I do look like a drunk tool bag.”
A crowd of people surrounded the bar when I entered the restaurant. I sat down on a barstool next to a group of young women and men in their early twenties. They all turned to look at me with wide eyes.
“Are you Jude Jackson? As in JJ?”
“Yep,” I said and motioned for the bartender to come forward. “Can I have a shot of whatever you have that is strong?”
“Sure thing, sir.”
“We’re going to your show here in Austin,” a blonde chick told me. “I think it’s great what you do up there.”
“Most people don’t think it’s great,” I replied, downing the shot without hesitation when the bartender set it down. “Another one, please. What are you all drinking? Give them whatever the fuck they want.”
The next few hours passed in a haze of beers and shots at the bar with a crowd surrounding me. I followed the group out to the poolside when the hotel staff and security told us that the restaurant was closed. I tossed a credit card at the hotel manager’s face when he tried to explain why none of us should be swimming so late.
“Put it on my bill,” I slurred, pulling my shirt off to a chorus of cheers behind me. “I don’t give a fuck if I drown. I won’t sue you. I can buy this damn hotel if I want to.”
“Mr. Jacobs—”
I kicked out of my pants to jump into the cool pool water without waiting to hear the rest of his reply. I surfaced with a relieved sigh, feeling the cool water against my hot skin. A pair of delicate hands grabbed my waist. I turned to find that same blonde from the bar, wrapping her arms around my body. A pair of hard tits pressed up against my back. Boob job. I didn’t bother hiding my displeasure, and I tried to loosen her hands from around my waist. She didn’t let up, though, and I fell back into the pool stairs.
My head spun wildly, and I felt her swim her way around to wrap her legs around my waist. She nestled against me while grinding suggestively.
“I like a little danger,” she whispered, nipping at my neck. “And you’re just bleeding the stuff.”
I put my hands on her thighs with every intention to push her the fuck away. I hated chicks like this. They were too easy. And they weren’t Ava.
“I’ve been trying to get him out of the pool,” the manager said from somewhere behind me. “They won’t leave. I know that you checked in with him so…”
I twisted around in the water to see Ava standing at the edge of the pool in a pair of sweat pants and a sleeping shirt with her feet bare. I squinted up to look up at her face, but it was too dark for me to see her expression. I shook my head, and instead of pushing the blonde away, I pulled her flush against me.
“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 still 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 Ju
de 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.”