She had zero doubt that Kyle was telling the truth this time. He would make sure Jackson didn’t get the job. And unfortunately, he had enough contacts that he could also blackball Jackson going forward.
So, her choices were clear. She could stay with the man she only recently figured out she loved and cost him his career. Or, she could walk away, and hand him his hopes and dreams as a parting gift.
Fuck.
Whoever said that having choices was a good thing had never stared down the barrel of her choices.
Chapter 30
Jackson took one look at Kendall, sitting there on the bed, fully dressed with her packed suitcase at her feet, and knew his day was about to go from best ever to complete shit in less than half a second flat.
He never should’ve gotten out of that bed. If he’d stayed in that bed with her naked underneath him, everything would’ve been fine. But no. He had to go workout to maintain the stupid abs everyone on Instagram loved so damn much.
Stupid fucking exercise. Stupid fucking Instagram.
With a sigh, he set his coffee and hers on the little table by the door and took a seat next to her. She wouldn’t look at him. She was too busy studying her hands, which were clasped so tightly in her lap her knuckles were white.
“Talk to me,” he said gently.
It took her a while, but finally she made eye contact. And he almost wished she hadn’t. The pain and conflict in her eyes was like a gut punch. If he’d been standing, it probably would’ve driven him to his knees.
“Kyle was here,” she said in a near whisper.
His blood pressure shot up so fast he got lightheaded. “What the fuck was he doing here? Did he hurt you? I swear to God, I’ll—”
“No,” she interrupted. “He didn’t hurt me.” Kendall grabbed his hand. “He just made it clear that as long as you are my client and not a client of his agency, you wouldn’t have a shot at scoring Fall from Grace.”
The instant relief he felt was so overwhelming he let out a huge breath. “Oh. Is that all? Can he really do that?”
Her brow furrowed. “Yes, he can do that. And what do you mean ‘is that all’? That job is all you wanted! It was your dream! The only reason you did any of this.”
Jackson ran a hand through his hair. “Well, I mean, sure, it sucks. But I’m not going to fire you because of some stupid job. The only reason I ever had a shot at it to begin with was because of you. And I’m certainly not going to work with that douchebag. Not ever. I’ll just write the music I wanted to write for the movie, and maybe I’ll release it as a solo album or something.” He shrugged. “No big deal.”
She sputtered. “It’s a very big deal, Jackson! I can’t be the reason you lose your dream job.”
He squeezed her hand. “It’s only a job.”
She looked down at their joined hands and swallowed hard. “Kyle says that you wouldn’t have to work with him. You could work with any one of his agents. He actually has some really good ones, and I could set you up with one of them. And you’d be working with one of his PR managers from that point on. That would ensure you got the job.”
He gently tipped his head down to look her in the eye. “Why does it sound like that’s what you want me to do?”
“It’s the only way you’ll get the job.”
“And I’ve already said that I won’t throw you under the bus to get that job, or any other job. You’ve done too much to get me here. I’m not going to let someone else take credit for everything you did.”
Her lower lip trembled a little, and he wanted more than anything to kiss her. But the look in her eyes stopped him. She looked fragile. Breakable. Like if he moved too fast, she’d shatter into a million pieces.
“There’s more,” she said. “He made it clear that while you’re a client of his agency, we can’t be together.”
Well, that settled it. Kyle had to die. But he couldn’t do it himself. He’d probably get caught and then Kendall would be left with the resulting PR mess. Professional hitman? Maybe.
But that was a problem for another day.
This time he couldn’t stop himself. He kissed her. Hooked a hand around the nape of her neck, yanked her up against his chest, and kissed the hell out of her. She tasted like tears and kissed him back with a desperation that was scary as hell.
When they broke apart, gasping for air, he laid his cheek against hers. “I’m not going to let your asshole ex keep us apart,” he whispered in her ear. “He can take the job and shove it up his ass.”
She pulled back and impatiently swiped at her red eyes. “I can’t let you walk away from this. Not for me.”
Why was she still crying? Where the hell was she going with this? “If it means I can’t have you, then I don’t want it.”
Kendall stood up and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. He could almost see the walls she was quickly erecting all around her. “Look, if you pass on this opportunity because of me, you’ll eventually start to resent me. I can’t let that happen.”
He laughed. He couldn’t help it. What she was saying was just that ridiculous. “I’m not going to just let you go because you have some crazy notion that I’ll resent you someday over some lost job. What kind of bullshit is that? I’m making a choice here. I choose not to give in to the demands of an emotional terrorist. I’m not going to abandon the woman I love for a stupid job.”
She flinched at the word “love.” He hadn’t even meant to just blurt it out like that, but this whole situation was seriously pissing him off, and when he was pissed off, the filter between his brain and mouth short circuited.
“Jackson,” she said on a long, shaky sigh. “My romantic track record is complete crap. I’ve gone from one shitty relationship to another my whole life—and each time, I never saw how awful my judgment was.”
He stood up, too, crowding into her space. “Are you trying to tell me I’m just another example of your shitty judgment? That what we have is no different than what you had with motherfucking Kyle?”
She threw her hands up in frustration. “How am I supposed to know? You’re a client, I know that. I never should’ve had sex with a client. That was bad judgment. And letting you walk away from a career-making opportunity because of a brand new relationship with someone like me?” She shook her head. “That sounds wrong on just about every level.”
“I don’t fucking care,” he said, his voice rising right along with his temper. “I get that you don’t trust your judgment, and I’m sorry. But I’m not like any of those losers you’ve been with, and you damn well know it. You’re scared, and this whole thing is really starting to sound like a cop-out. You’re just running away.” He grabbed her shoulders and yanked her closer. “Well, let me be perfectly clear with you. I’m. Not. Going. To. Resent. You. Not ever. What am I going to have to do to make you believe me?”
“Take the job,” she whispered. “Sign with Debra Leadingham. She’s one of Kyle’s best agents, and she’s a wonderful woman. She’ll take care of you and negotiate a great deal. When you’re done with the work, if you still want me, call me then. But if you don’t, I’ll always wonder when you’re going to start hating me for ruining your career.”
His teeth ground together so hard it hurt. “This kind of work can take years. You’re saying you want me to stay away from you for years?” Just the thought gave him chest pains. “No. I won’t do it.”
She pulled away from him. “You don’t have a choice. I’m sorry, Jackson. This is the way it has to be. I’d wish you good luck, but you’re not going to need it. Your score is going to be brilliant.”
And with that, she picked up her suitcase and left him standing there, alone in their hotel room, staring like a fucking idiot at the door she closed behind her.
What the fuck was he going to do now?
Chapter 31
Treating depression while he was an addict had been way easier than treating depression now that he was sober.
So, instead of wallowing in despair in a
vat of vodka and cocaine, Jackson was lying on his back in the middle of Howard Hugh’s pen, well after midnight, wearing sweat pants he couldn’t remember changing in several days.
He was also intermittently eating a roll of cookie dough (Not the edible kind, either. The kind that could give you Salmonella, because why the fuck not at this point?) and one-handedly plucking random, melancholy notes on the guitar that was splayed across his chest.
In other words, if pathetic had a poster child, it would be Jackson Hale.
“Howard, I get why you’re a loner, man. Less chance of getting hurt and ending up on your back in a dog pen wearing last week’s clothes, eating shit that can kill you.”
He took another huge bite of cookie dough, because fuck you, fate!
“Oh, holy filet o’fuck mignon, I was expecting you to be a mess, but this is just…wrong.”
Jackson closed his eyes on a world-weary sigh. “Go away, Ray. I’m not in the mood for a heart-to-heart.”
“No shit,” Ray muttered. “You’re too busy grieving like a fifteen-year-old girl who just learned her crush asked someone else to the big dance.”
Jackson glanced over at his brother, who had the nerve to stand there all tall, clean-cut, and perfectly put together. Not at all heartbroken. Bastard. “Fuck off. It’s not like I can get drunk like a normal person.”
“Some people work through their pain instead of sleeping in a dog kennel,” Ray said, wrinkling his nose.
He scoffed. “I didn’t sleep out here.”
Today at least. Yesterday…well, he just nodded off for a minute, OK?
Ray sighed. “I just came out here to tell you that I’m heading back to LA. I need to check in on Kenny. Are you going to be OK, or are you going to lay out here until the elements—or diabetes—kills you?”
Jackson frowned. “Your empathy is truly remarkable. But I’ll live. Go check on Kendall.”
The only thing that hurt more than his stupid heart and pride at this moment was the fear that she might be hurting. For all his sarcastic smugness, Ray was a good friend. If Jackson couldn’t take care of Kendall himself, Ray was the next best thing.
“Will you let me know how she’s doing?” he asked quietly.
Now it was Ray’s turn to let out a big sigh. “Yes, of course I will.” Then he raked his hands through his hair and growled. “This is so stupid! You two are so in love it’s disgusting, and you’re both being idiots. How is it possible that two people I love can be such dumbasses?”
“What the fuck did I do? I said I didn’t want the stupid job if it meant giving her up. She’s the one who left anyway.”
“And you let her.”
“She made it clear I had no choice.”
Ray cocked his head and gave him a hard look. “You’re Jackson-fucking-Hale. Against all odds, you, a boy who came from the least supportive parents on the planet, fought to become a rock god. Then, you fought your way out of addiction that would’ve killed a lesser man. And then, as if that wasn’t impressive enough, you fought your way out of obscurity into the limelight again to win a job that, I understand, can most likely be yours without you even putting much effort forth. But when the woman you love walked away, you let her go without putting up any kind of fight. Why do you suppose that is?”
Well…shit.
He dropped the cookie dough and laid the guitar down next to him. Ray was right. He had let her go without putting up a fight.
What the hell had he been thinking? Maybe he’d let his wounded pride hold him back. Or maybe he’d been too afraid of another rejection to try and hold on to her. But at the end of the day, did any of that really matter?
No. It most certainly did not.
He’d fucked up big time. Now he had to fix it. But how?
To make it in Hollywood, you need to use every asset you have.
He sat up and ran his hands through his hair. “Ray, you’ve been managing my social media and watching the news for stories about me since Kendall quit, right?”
He narrowed his eyes on him. “Yeah. Why?”
“Am I famous again?”
Ray looked confused by the question, but said, “Maybe even more famous than you were with Maelstrom. Everyone is dying for whatever info they can get about you. At least fifteen high-powered agents would kill to work with you, and you have a meeting with the movie execs about Fall from Grace next week.”
Jackson’s brain was moving faster than it had all week, and he was starting to feel something he hadn’t felt since Kendall walked out on him.
Hope.
And he had an idea. A crazy idea. Kendall would most assuredly advise against it. But he didn’t see any other way.
“Am I famous enough to survive a huge scandal?” he asked Ray.
Ray’s eyes widened comically. “What kind of scandal? I mean, on a scale of failure to pay taxes to gay porn and sex tapes, what are we talking about?”
Jackson thought it over. “Um…more than taxes, but less than gay porn and sex tapes?”
Ray looked like he was doing math in his head for a minute before he said, “Yes. You’re famous enough to survive that kind of scandal.”
Excellent. That opened up quite a few possibilities. “In that case, do you know if any of those fifteen high-powered agents have beef with Kyle?”
Ray’s answering smile was very Cheshire cat-like. “I used to date one of them. He’s a shark, but only fights dirty in service of his clients. And he hated Kyle with the heat of a nova.”
Even more excellent. “Will you call him for me and set up a meeting?”
“Sure. But what are you going to do in the meantime?”
“I’ve got to get ready for my meeting with the studio. Then, I’m going to make a lot of noise.”
Ray actually bounced up and down and clapped his hands like a little kid before doing a fist pump. “About fucking time!”
And with that, Ray pulled his phone from his back pocket and started making calls.
Jackson felt a hot puff of air on his cheek and turned, surprised to find Howard Hughes right next to him.
“What do you say, pal?” he asked the massive, solemn-eyed dog. “Want to help me get our girl back?”
Howard’s tail immediately starting thumping against the ground, stirring up a cloud of dust. Jackson laughed.
“Well, then, let’s go, buddy. I’ve got work to do, and you’re going to help.”
Chapter 32
Kendall’s week had been a shit show, too.
All she’d wanted to do was wallow in heartbreak and self-pity, then eat a roll of cookie dough (and not the edible kind, either. The dangerous kind). But she’d left her roll of cookie dough in Jackson’s fridge, and she hadn’t had time to go to the grocery store to pick up more.
Packing up her entire life into boxes and preparing to abandon the townhouse like a rat fleeing a sinking ship didn’t leave nearly enough time for shopping and wallowing.
It’d taken all week, but she’d managed to line up a cheaper apartment (it was also way smaller and in a part of town she didn’t love—but hey, beggars can’t be choosy) and get everything ready for the movers. So now, here she sat, on a metal folding chair (aka: the only furniture not currently on a truck) in her empty living room, with a bottle of cheap wine on the floor at her feet, and a pint of Chunky Monkey clasped in her hands like a security blanket.
Time to party like only the completely lovelorn could.
And she was most certainly not going to stalk Jackson’s social media. No way, no siree.
Not again, anyway.
Grudgingly, she was willing to admit that Ray was doing a nice job of keeping the social media machine churning. Jackson was popping up everywhere and trending almost every day. To anyone who didn’t know him, Jackson looked happy, too.
But Kendall did know him.
She knew the difference between his real smile and his let’s-just-take-the-picture-so-I-can-go-back-and-hide-in-the-background smile. His real smile lit up the room.
The smile he was wearing in last week’s Instagram photos, and the one he sported while visiting a shelter in Cheyenne to pick up a van full of new strays?
Fake. Totally, utterly fake. And he had shadows under his eyes that suggested he wasn’t sleeping any better than Kendall was.
But she was doing the right thing, she told herself over and over again. It had to be this way. If he passed on that job because of her, it would come up every time they fought or disagreed about anything for years to come. She couldn’t let him give up something so important because of her.
Better that they go through a little misery now, then wait until they were married—or, God forbid, had kids—to decide their love wasn’t worth salvaging. And maybe someday, if she was really, really lucky, long after he’d won an Oscar for his score and soundtrack work, he’d come back to her.
Kendall grabbed the wine and took a deep swallow to wash down her mouthful of ice cream.
She’d done the right thing when she’d walked away from the best man she’d ever known.
And apparently, the way you knew you were doing the right thing was if you were completely and utterly miserable.
A knock on her door startled her so badly she almost dropped the wine and ice cream. Thankfully, she managed to clutch the Chunky Monkey between her knees to keep it from hitting the floor. She needed that ice cream. No way was she going to spill even one drop.
Kendall was ready to tell whoever it was to piss off when Ray let himself into her soon-to-be ex townhouse.
His gaze traveled from the roots of her dirty hair that was pinned up in a half-assed bun, down the length of her Strawberry Shortcake flannel pajama pants (they were comfortable, OK?), then back up to the pizza stain on her white T-shirt.
Ray’s nose wrinkled up. “You know when the news interviews a tragic natural disaster survivor? You’d have to take two showers before you could even aspire to look that good.”
She held up her wine bottle in a mock toast. “Thanks. You look pretty, too.”
The Has-Been and the Hot Mess Page 14