Bad Boy Redemption (Bad Boy Rock Star #3)

by Candy J. Starr

  He looked at Jack and they both laughed.

  “Oh, Spud. He was a crazy guy. He’d act first, think later.”

  “Sometimes, he’d not think at all.”

  The two of them sighed and looked at each other.

  “I can’t believe he’s gone.” Jack swigged on his beer.

  That night, Jack held me tight while he slept. His body melded into mine, as though trying to press the words he couldn’t say into me. We both wanted the reassurance of a warm body next to us. The world seemed like a harsh and random place, scary beyond all reason. Jack’s head rested on my shoulder so that I felt his breath in my ear. I was scared to move in case he woke.

  I fell asleep like that.

  I woke to the shout of Jack screaming. No coherent words, but screams of crazy desperation. I tried not to move because I didn’t want to scare him or provoke him, but he kept yelling. So I pulled him to me, hoping the contact would help him to settle down. I spoke to him in a soft, low tone. That did nothing, though.

  I sat up and reached for his hand but he swung away, swiping me across the cheek and knocking my head into the wall. My head throbbed as I tried to get away from him and give him some space. He couldn’t be comforted; he couldn’t be reached. He was in a place far away from me and I couldn’t pull him back.

  The sadness in his cries wracked my heart. I’d rather go through hell myself than see him like that, but I had to leave the room. That’s what he’d told me to do. I should’ve slept on the couch in the first place, but I hadn’t been able to leave Jack alone with his sadness.

  The rage inside him became so primal and wild, as though everything he held inside had waited for him to go to sleep so it could escape his body.

  I sunk down low and made it to the edge of the bed, then made a dash for the landing outside the door. Eric and Angie were out there, both open mouthed.

  “It’s never been this bad before,” said Eric.

  “He’s in a lot of pain.”

  The two of us looked at each other, and I could tell he was as much at a loss as I was as to what to do.

  “Maybe he’ll settle soon.”

  “Maybe.”

  Then Angie looked at us both and said she was going down for a cigarette, because she sure as hell couldn’t sleep any more.

  “I’ll make tea,” Eric said.

  I went with Angie, wanting to shake off the unease. She touched my shoulder.

  “Hannah, are you okay? I heard a thud…”

  I nodded and touched my head where it still throbbed.

  “He doesn’t know what he’s doing.” I didn’t want to explain, but she had to know that Jack would never hurt me on purpose.

  “Still, he needs to get help. He can’t do shit like this. You are putting yourself in danger.”

  “He won’t go to a doctor, and I can’t sleep on the couch every night. I don’t know what to do, Angie.” It was a relief to actually say it.

  Angie patted my arm. “Maybe you should talk to him about that apartment. At least that’d be a short term solution.”

  “I don’t think he’ll want to think about that at the moment.”

  “Well you know if you need somewhere, you can always come to my place.”

  “Thanks Ange. And, hey, light up your cigarette if you are going to smoke it. It’s damn cold out here.”

  She looked at the unlit cigarette in her hand. “Oops,” she laughed. “It feels wrong to laugh, doesn’t it?”

  “I told him to die, Angie. I told him to die and he died. That is freaky. I wish I’d never said those words. I feel like I put some kind of weird-arsed voodoo on him or something.”

  “He was Spud. People were always saying things like that to him. He’s always being a dick. Well he was always being a dick. I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but you can’t make him out to be an angel now.” She took a drag on her cigarette, the end glowing brighter for a second. “We’ll have to go to the funeral. How do you act in that kind of situation? He wasn’t our friend.” Angie butted out her cigarette and folded her arms.

  “Yeah, I don’t want to say anything to the guys. It’s far too soon. But we’ll need to find a replacement drummer. We don’t have unlimited funds for the recording, and we can’t take a break for too long. We have such a momentum going. Is it horrible to think of these things?”

  “Someone has to. Life goes on.”

  We got up to go back in. Eric sat alone in the dark living room.

  “I don’t think any of us will get back to sleep now,” he said.

  Upstairs, I could hear Jack alone with his pain.

  Chapter 13

  The funeral was even worse than I’d expected. Jack and Eric were pallbearers, so Jack had given me his car to drive to the church after we dropped them off.

  “Let’s get a coffee,” said Angie. “We don’t want to get there too early. We’ll be standing around like shags on a rock having to make polite conversation with Spud’s old aunties or something.”

  We found a cafe and ordered.

  “I wish this place was licenced. How are we going to do deal with this? We shoulda brought a hip flask.”

  I wasn’t sure if drinking would make it easier or harder.

  Angie looked up at me.

  “You know, I’m angry. Spud is gone and everyone’s going to be sad about that but he was rotten wasted. He could’ve taken other people out with him. It’s a miracle no one else was hurt. It could’ve been another car, not a tree. A car with family in it.”

  I nodded. “He was in no state to drive even when he left our place and that was before the party.”

  “Everyone’s going to talk about him like he’s the greatest guy that ever lived. I don’t even know if Spud would’ve liked that.”

  “I’m even mad that he hit that innocent tree. The next time I see anyone getting in a car drunk or wasted, I’m going to punch them. That’ll be my tribute to Spud.”

  “We do have to go, don’t we?”

  “I guess…” I could so easily be tempted to miss it. “If I don’t turn up with Jack’s car though, he’ll freak though.”

  “Yeah, Jack and Eric need us. We’ve gotta do it for them.”

  We lingered too long over our coffees and were late heading to the church. We couldn’t find anywhere to park. We giggled nervously, both unsure of what we should do.

  “Just park anywhere. It’s not like they’ll give us a ticket at a funeral.”

  I pulled over on a grassy verge, hoping Angie was right. I had to protect this car with my life. I’m pretty sure Jack loved it more than me.

  “Nice day for a funeral,” said Angie, looking up at the dismal grey sky. She held out her hand. It wasn’t properly raining, but there was a constant drizzle.

  We both tottered in our heels along the steep, gravel road.

  At the church, we slipped into the back pew.

  “Good turn out,” said Angie.

  I looked around the church at the people gathered. I didn’t know any of these people but they were all wrapped up in their grief. I felt sorry for them, but I couldn’t feel the loss in the same way they did. It was a shame and it hurt, but I wasn’t drowning the way they were.

  Our clothes were damp from the walk and we sat right in the draft from the open door behind us. I wrapped my arms around myself and sat forward, hoping to stay as warm as I could when a wail filled the church, a mournful sound filled with loss and sorrow.

  “Denise,” Angie whispered to me.

  I might be cynical, but I thought she was being overly dramatic considering they’d only been going out for a few weeks.

  I listened to people talk about a Spud I never knew. A guy who’d been a sports hero at school, who’d been kind and helpful to his family, who’d been there for his friends. Stories about the young Spud who’d had crazy adventures. It made me wish I’d known this Spud they were talking about.

  At the cemetery, Denise became even worse with her mournful howls. My shoes sunk into the m
ud on the walk to the gravesite and the rain got heavier. As we stood there, an old lady standing beside us offered up her spare umbrella. I shared it with Angie but it only just covered our heads, leaving our shoulders in the rain.

  When the burial was over, I felt arms around me and a head resting on my shoulder. Jack had finished his duties and had come around to find us. His body’s warmth spread through mine. He was solid and real. I reached for his hand.

  “His mother wants to meet you,” he said.

  Hell, why would she want to meet me? I wondered what she’d say. Something like “What are you doing here? You never liked my son. You told him to die.” I only wanted to go home, to change out of my damp clothes and put on my warm pyjamas, then lie down beside Jack and feel the comfort of him.

  He took me by the hand and led me to her.

  It was awkward being confronted by her tear-stained face and the sorrow in her eyes. I didn’t want to intrude on her pain.

  She took my hand between hers, holding it tight.

  “I wanted to thank you. You made my boy so happy. The past few weeks were some of the best days of his life. All he could talk about was how you’d got him this wonderful recording deal, and what a great manager you were. He had so much admiration for you. He’d always dreamed of being a famous drummer, but we used to laugh at him. I mean, he was just a normal guy, but when he went on that tour he was so proud. He never stopped talking about it. He said you could do anything.”

  I gulped to hide my shock. Spud had actually said that? Surely she was lying. Or maybe she just knew a different Spud to the one I’d known.

  “So thank you, thank you so much. You made his dreams come true.”

  I bowed my head, a tear in my eye. I wasn’t sure who I was crying for.

  Chapter 14

  “Jack, we have to talk about this.”

  “Huh?”

  Jack had been avoiding talking to me for the past week, as though he didn’t want to think about getting things back to normal. I had to stop being his girlfriend and act like his manager, so I’d gone to the garage where he was working on his car. He leaned over the engine, with a rag hanging out of his back pocket, and grease stains over his singlet. He looked damn hot. I had to remind myself I was in manager mode.

  “You have to get back into the recording studio.”

  “Yeah, I know…”

  “When? When do you think you’ll get back to it? I’ve been ringing around and found a session drummer who can fill in for the recording. He’s meant to be damn good, but I need to work out the timing with him.”

  “Sure. Can you just get in the car and click the engine over? I want to test this.”

  I sat in the car and turned on the key. The engine purred.

  Jack lit up a cigarette.

  “Sounds fine,” he said.

  I turned the engine off and got out. If Jack wanted to bury his head under the bonnet, he could at least hear me out.

  “You’re avoiding me, Jack. I know it’s hard to discuss and I know it’s hard to get back to normal, but it’s got to be done. If you don’t talk to me about these things, how can we deal with them?”

  He threw his cigarette down and ground it into the concrete floor with his foot, then went back under the bonnet of the car.

  “Jack? Jack? Think about your career. This is what you want to do; it’s what you worked for. You heard Spud’s mum at the funeral. It was his dream, too. He’d want you to get back in the studio.”

  Jack swung around with the spanner in his hand.

  “How do you know what he’d want? You never liked him anyway.”

  He turned his back on me and got back to the car.

  I walked out. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe I shouldn’t be pressuring him to get back to work, but this was all I could do. Still, he could tell me what he was feeling, instead of freezing me out. We were a couple, not two people sharing the same space but he made me feel like that sometimes.

  I went back inside. If he wanted space, I’d give him that and I had study to do.

  When I looked up later, it had gotten dark and Jack still hadn’t come in. I figured I’d make dinner then call him. He kept telling me he wanted me to cook. I’d surprise him for once.

  I really didn’t know how to cook much. I’d taken classes in gourmet cooking and knew how to make finger foods. I hadn’t been that into it though. I’d just done it because it was the thing at the time. We could have those for dinner. I’d just throw a few things together. I looked through the cupboards to find the ingredients I needed.

  I could make some stuffed tomatoes if I cut the rotten bits out. That wouldn’t be too hard.

  I soon had some delicious morsels baking in the oven. I was better at cooking than I’d thought. I just needed more practice. I could just scoop the oozing bits up and stuff them back in.

  When the food was ready, I went out to call Jack in. The garage was empty—both Jack and the car were gone.

  Chapter 15

  I got to Frank’s office building, ready for work, with my heart pounding. I was determined to find out what he had locked in his filing cabinet but I didn’t want to see Frank or talk to him. I had no idea even where the keys were. Luckily I got to spend most of the days filing stuff, alone in the filing rooms. That meant I had no access to Frank’s office though.

  At the end of the day, Frank came into the filing room. He stood beside me and I took a few steps back, trying to put some distance between us.

  “We’re going out for drinks after work. Do you want to join us?”

  “Sorry, I want to get this finished up. It’s going to take me a few more hours, but if I leave it like this I’ll never get things organised again.”

  Frank rubbed my arm, and I recoiled from him then tried to smile, although the bile rose in my throat.

  “Ah, that’s the dedication I like to see. Most of the interns here don’t want to get their hands dirty, but you know how to work hard. I knew I could count on you. Oh well, give me a call and join us once you finish up.”

  I nodded. “Sure thing.”

  It took a while for everyone to get organised and leave the office. I kept filing, waiting for the stragglers. Finally, the floor became quiet so I stuffed the rest of the files in a dusty cupboard.

  I could get into Frank’s office without interference. I tiptoed down the hallway, not sure why I was tiptoeing when the coast was clear.

  “Hannah?”

  I jumped out of my skin.

  “Hannah? Why are you still here? You should be joining the others at Mac’s leaving drinks. I’d be there, if I didn’t have a ton of reports to copy and compile for tomorrow’s meeting.” The woman sighed. I couldn’t remember her name, but she was one of the personal assistants. She stood, blocking the hallway with a bundle of papers cradled in her arms.

  “Show me what needs doing and I’ll do it for you. You shouldn’t have to miss out.”

  “Oh, honey, I couldn’t let you do that. I can do it.”

  Damn. That wasn’t working. I plastered on my sweetest smile. “Sure, I can do it. I didn’t even know the guy, so there’s no point me going along to his farewell. And I don’t mind, really. You look like you could do with a bit of relaxation.”

  She grinned. “Well, if you are absolutely sure…” Then she showed me the papers that needed to be complied into the reports. It looked easy enough. Then it got even better.

  “Here are the keys to Frank’s office. Can you leave the reports on his desk and put the keys back in my drawer when you’re done?”

  “No problem. You go off and have fun.”

  I watched her walk to the elevator and waited until the numbers ticked down.

  I took the papers to the photocopier and programmed it to auto-copy the reports. Seriously, it was a few buttons to program and it did all the work for you. I don’t know why the personal assistant hadn’t realised that. The staff at this place still acted like the calculator was a hot new invention.

  That left
me clear for snooping.

  I unlocked Frank’s office, tiptoeing again. I just had to get that cabinet open. Where would Frank hide the key? I hoped it was actually in the office somewhere, and not on his person.

  I figured the desk drawers were too obvious but gave them a check anyway. Nothing there but boring stationery and a heap of business cards. I ran my hand over the bottom of the drawers but they were clean. The rest of the office was sparse. I looked under the plants, but figured someone else would water them so that wouldn’t be secure. I wasn’t sure that Frank would be too clever though. I ran my hands along the back of the cabinet and bingo! Taped to the back was a tiny key.

  I turned the key in the cabinet, trying not to leave fingerprints The top drawer contained a bunch of files. I flipped through them, but nothing made obvious sense. It wasn’t like it was a detailed account of Frank’s wrongdoings, or anything like that. One of them had a heap of financial statements but with nothing that I could figure out. It actually looked like it could’ve been written in code.

  The other files had a heap of stuff that didn’t make sense to me either. I couldn’t spend all night in the office trying to figure things out, but I could make a copy and take them home. Too easy.

  I opened the bottom drawer. No files, just a bunch of photos. I picked them up, shocked at what I was seeing—Jack at different ages.

  The first photos were of a young Jack playing in the yard of a house. It was an older style weatherboard house with a long veranda at the front. In some of them, an older woman played with him. He’d said he’d spent a lot of time with his grandmother as a child. In one of them, he looked up at her with a cheeky grin while she bent down. I put that in my pocket.

  Then there were some of a teenage Jack, looking sullen. Some of him walking into a schoolyard, a few of him waiting at a bus stop. He looked awkward and gangly until the later ones, where he’d grown into his body.

  The next bunch showed Jack looking homeless, some of him sleeping on a train-station bench or in a park. One of the photos showed a bunch of older guys beating Jack up. The photographer had obviously watched on, taking photos without thinking to help him.