4. Chapter Four - Jackson
Jackson
Another day of little to no sleep for me. It’s becoming a pattern I don’t think I like.
During the day, I can barely keep my eyes open, slipping into micro-naps in my makeup chair or on set. Yet as soon as I lay down, the weight of the world seems to crash over me and I'm harshly reminded that I’m an ocean away from my family and several time zones apart.
I’ve never been the most social of my siblings. No time for friends when you have a bunch of siblings counting on you, no energy and emotions left for outsiders.
I feel that hole in my life louder and clearer than ever.
It’s rough, especially now. I can’t exactly call up Reed, Tanner or Zoey and unload about how challenging it was to care for them. And it’s not like I’m rolling in coworkers I’m friendly with either. I go to set, do my job, and I’m off.
And it’s even worse on that set. Everyday, the tension on set is palpable, and everybody is walking on eggshells, especially Elena.
Which confuses me. Her reputation precedes her, media calling her high-maintenance, hard to please and an overall bitch. Yet incompetence was never a part of that reputation. I just don’t get what Rob is so displeased with in her acting, because behavior on set aside, she’s a pro at what she does. Even an amateur could tell.
Yet, again and again, Rob pushes her to a point where she’ll fumble her lines and get so frustrated she runs off set at one point or lays into Rob the way she did last time. Only Rob doesn’t always back off.
It’s a vicious dance between the two that repeats several times every single day.
And to be honest, I don’t care if they want to dance it, but it’s keeping everyone else back as well. Staff are growing frustrated and make mistakes, which delays everything even further.
I don’t mind staying in until midnight, but then again, I barely have a life outside of work and chances are I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. What does affect me are pissed off staff members and an atmosphere that makes me dread going in.
The only part of my day I don’t dread is my morning walks, enjoying London before it wakes up and yes, maybe a fiery redhead I share a coffee with along the way.
Some might claim that the people are what makes London and that it’s boring to walk these streets with nobody crossing your path, not even cars driving by.
But I think the opposite.
I love the quiet. I love that I don’t have to be cautious about anyone recognizing me and sneaking a picture that I know very well they’re taking or shouting my name across the street to alert everyone that a celebrity is close by.
If Adam were here, he’d scold me for being out and about this early, all on my own. I can almost hear his voice in my head.
"It’s the damn streets where Jack the Ripper killed people. Don’t you have any self-preservation?"
And the answer is no. I probably don’t.
Currently, I couldn’t be bothered with self-preservation. I’m just trying to make it through my days without another panic attack or falling asleep in the middle of a scene.
Turning the corner, I start to smile when I see the familiar glow of Books and Bake and a sudden calmness washes over me.
Of course, Books and Bake would already be up and about, yet whenever I’m about to round the corner to their street, the tiniest sliver of doubt sparks inside me. Five in the morning might be a weird time for an actor or most other professions to be awake, but of course, for a bakery, it’s the middle of their workday.
It’s become a fixed part of my morning routine to walk by here. At first, I only wanted to show my face to assure Lexie I’m alright now, but she’d waved me right in and next thing I know, a silent coffee date became part of my morning walk as well.
As I get closer, I notice her sitting on the steps in front of the bakery. The closer I get, the clearer I see fiery red hair tamed by a hair clip at her neck, with some unruly strands making their way out of her updo.
The smile on my face widens. She just has that effect on me. It’s the way she exudes calmness and happiness that’s drawing me to her. And it’s the silver band on her finger that’s telling me to stay away. Yet my feet keep on carrying me towards her until I come to a stop in front of her.
“Hey,” I greet her, softly to not startle her, but when she looks up, I freeze in my tracks.
There is such a profound sadness in her eyes that it sends a shiver through me.
“Hi,” she replies weakly, forcing a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
Without a word, I sit down next to her. “You totally don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to, but is everything okay?”
She stays silent for a while, wringing her hands and picking at the skin next to her fingernails.
“No,” she finally admits with a soft sigh, her shoulders sagging as if weighted down by sadness. “Nothing is alright.”
To my shock, a sob escapes her, and her whole body starts shaking. Her shoulders tighten, and she hides her face in her hands as she cries.
Oh, fuck. I’ve never been good with tears.
Not at our parents’ funeral, not when Zoey fell off her bike when she was six, and not when we all started bawling as Zoey graduated high school.
When Zoey was small, all of us would start dancing or otherwise make a fool of ourselves to distract her and make her stop crying. Not exactly the move to pull here.
Tentatively, I lay my hand on her shoulder and give it a reassuring squeeze, but it only makes her sob harder.
Damn. Whenever I saw her before, she seemed so happy, so content, so carefree . Like a butterfly, bouncing from flower to flower.
I don’t know how else to describe her right now except broken. Wings clipped and stomped into the ground.
“He cheated on me,” she finally presses out between sobs and my heart breaks for her.
“Your fiancé?”
“Ex-fiancé,” she sobs, holding up her hand, still adorned with a little silver band around her ring finger that I’ve watched her fix to her necklace more than once. She sniffles and angrily wipes at her face.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell her. “What an asshole.” I don’t even know what else to say.
“Right?” she asks, looking at me through wet eyelashes. “I mean, I moved here for that asshole. I left my whole life in the States behind. Goddamnit, I thought he had family here. All the while he wanted to move here for his mistress.”
She spits the words and jumps up, angrily pacing in front of the stairs, her arms wrapped around her shoulders.
“Do you need my help with anything? Moving out?” After all, how else will I use these muscles my job demands I have?
“I moved out as soon as I knew,” she says and glances at me. “But I’m so. Fucking. Angry.”
She crosses her arms in front of her chest as she stomps back and forth, kicking a pebble in her way, then watching it dance down the street.
“And now I don’t know what to do. I want to make him pay, but at the same time, I never want to see him again, you know? I don’t want to waste another single tear on that motherfucker, but I also want to grab him and kick him and demand to know why.”
She stops and looks at me, anger shining through her tears.
“There are so many things I want to do, but I can’t even think straight enough to decide on my next step. And that’s what everybody keeps saying, ‘one step at a time’, but I’m like paralyzed.”
All at once, she deflates and sits down again, burying her face in her hands.
“I’m so sorry,” she mumbles through the gaps of her fingers. “That’s probably way too much information. Fuck. We don’t even know each other well enough for you to listen to such a rant.”
“I beg to differ,” I tell her with a chuckle and gently bump her shoulder with mine. “I know you work as a baker, I know you have an ex-fiancé, and I know you’re great at helping people through panic attacks. I’d say we’re almost besties now.”
“This is the second time we’ve actually talked instead of silently drinking coffee,” she points out, her eyebrows furrowing.
“True, but I think a panic attack puts us a bit over ‘two conversations’. Now we’ve both seen each other at low points, so ‘Hi, new bestie.’”
She shakes her head with a weak laugh, exhaustion evident in her expression as she lowers her hands.
She looks so exhausted—dark bags under her eyes, a little bit of mascara smudged under her waterline, and eyes red and swollen from crying.
“You’ve got something…” I gesture at her eye for the smudged mascara, and she quickly lifts her hand to wipe it away, but she doesn’t quite get it. “Hold on.”
I reach out and gently smudge it away with my thumb. Her breath flutters over the back of my hand, and she closes her eyes as I wipe away the speck of makeup. “There you go.”
“Thank you,” she says and takes a deep breath. “Thank you for listening. I feel a bit better now.”
“Glad to be of help.” I shoot her a quick grin, then my head whips around when I suddenly hear another voice, shouting from the end of the street.
“Lexie!”
All of a sudden, she completely freezes in shock. Then she shoots me a helpless look and jumps up at once. “Good to see you, I gotta go.”
“Lexie!”
The voice becomes louder, and when I follow its direction with my eyes, I see a man running up the street, full of determination.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Lexie mutters under her breath as she pulls at the door. “Why is it locked? Alan!” she shouts, continuing to rattle the door.
“Is that him?” I ask, nodding toward the approaching man. “Your ex?”
She keeps rattling the door but shoots me a quick glance, her face pale as she nods.
“Lexie, let me explain!”
“Fuck,” she mutters under her breath and her shoulders sag as she gives in.
The guy has reached the bakery steps, trying to catch his breath, and I can’t help but size him up. He’s not quite as tall as me, and if worse comes to worse, I think I could take him.
I get up and lean my hip against the railing, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
“Where have you been? I’ve been worried!” he shouts, looking past me at Lexie, but when he moves to start climbing the steps, I stop him with my hand on his chest.
“It’s none of your business where I’ve been,” Lexie snaps, a relieved sigh falling from her lips when she finally sees her boss approach. “And I have nothing to say to you. Nor is there anything I want to hear.”
“Lexie, please. It was one mistake.”
“One mistake?” If looks could kill, this guy would be a puddle on the sidewalk. Judging by the fury in her eyes, she would peel his body apart muscle string by muscle string, making sure he feels every bit of pain for as long as possible.
The door clicks open and her boss steps out, positioning himself right next to her, arms crossed in front of his chest. And oh boy, he looks like an angry pit bull, ready to pounce at a single word from Lexie.
“One fucking mistake?” Her voice is low and sharp, and I can see it cut through her ex-fiancé’s resolve like a knife. “Was it a mistake when you slid into her DMs? Was it a mistake when you convinced me to move to London? Was it a mistake to spend a whole fucking weekend with her while you told me you were with your family? Every single, countless time you touched, were those mistakes?”
“Lexie, I—”
“I count way more than one mistake, Derek. And not a single one of those is forgivable in my book. So kindly fuck off.”
“Lexie, please!”
“No.” She walks right past Alan, but just before she disappears inside, she turns around once more. “Leave me the fuck alone, Derek. You’re dead to me.”
“Lexie!” he shouts again, his voice breaking as he watches her disappear around the corner to the kitchen.
Derek makes a motion to climb the stairs and go after her, but quickly stops when he sees Alan’s expression.
“I beg of you.” Alan’s smile spreads, downright evilness tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Give me a reason to hit you. Please.”
With that, Derek retracts his foot and finally leaves. Alan and I stay right where we are though, watching him walk away.
“Sorry about that,” Alan says once Derek is out of earshot.
“No need to apologize,” I say, shaking my head. “It made for an eventful morning.”
“That it did,” Alan says gruffly, giving me a nod before turning back to the bakery. “Thanks for sticking around for that. Can I get you breakfast as a thank you?”
“Not today,” I reply with a small smile, giving him a polite nod. It’s about time I get back home and hopefully catch an hour or two of sleep after all. “Another day.”
“Another day,” he agrees with a nod before the door falls closed behind him.
I shake my head and climb down the stairs, walking in the opposite direction of Lexie’s ex.
That was… a morning. Not quite sure I need one like that again, but it’s definitely a way to start a day.
Still, I can’t get the image of Lexie, looking at me through wet eyelashes, eyes red from crying, out of my mind. Fuck, I’m so angry at her ex on her behalf.
When I finally reach my home and wait for the elevator, I pull out my phone. Tears remind me of Zoey, I can’t help it.
Jackson : Hey, Zoey. Everything good?
Life’s been hectic, and I haven’t checked in as much as I wanted to. Neither has she but as the youngest, I’m cutting her some slack.
She answers almost immediately, just before I get on the elevator, and I shake my head when I realize what time it is back home. Zoey’s never been one to listen to any of us when we tell her going to bed late isn’t good for her, and I mean, who am I to talk? Right now, though, I’m thankful for it.
Zoey : What’s up?
I look at her message for a moment, acutely aware she never answered my question. With a sigh, I pinch the bridge of my nose, swallowing down my emotions. She's a big girl now. Sometimes I forget that. She has her own friends, her whole new life at campus. There's nothing I have the right to be frustrated about.
Jackson : I have a question for you.
I type as the elevator stops on my floor.
Jackson : A friend of mine got cheated on. Any ideas on how to cheer her up?
Zoey : Throwing money at her should do the trick.
I see the message for only a second before she goes back in and deletes it. I almost missed it. What the hell is that about?
I stare at the little bubble with three dots as she types something else, and suddenly anxiety washes over me. She never used to be this catty. She also never used to avoid us; not a day went by we didn’t hear from her, and now?
What did we do wrong?
I glance down when my phone buzzes with her corrected message.
Zoey : Be a friend. Listen when she wants to rant. Or distract her. That’s what I’d appreciate.
I roll my eyes. She knows as well as I do, if anyone ever cheated on her, the guy would have all four of us brothers to deal with. Still, it’s good to know that distracting her seems like a good idea.
For now, though, I should probably try to finally catch some sleep. I have a full day of scenes with Elena ahead and I just know that Rob will make it a living hell for all of us.