6. Jackson
CHAPTER 6
JACKSON
H ailey was gone when I opened my eyes.
It didn’t surprise me. I’d felt her go. I hadn’t woken, or not all the way, but the loss of warmth had darkened my dreams. I’d gone from a sweet dream of the Grand Canyon to a bleak one where I was lost in the desert.
I knew she was gone before I opened my eyes, but I still felt a twinge when I saw it was true. It would’ve been nice to wake up with her. Or maybe not. I had nothing to feed her, no coffee even. And she’d be used to breakfast in bed. Strawberries. Waffles. Fancy lattes. And my damn bed had folded up in the middle, the mattress dug into the gap in the frame. She’d have seen that and my threadbare carpet, the cracks in the ceiling, and thought, what a dump.
We lived different lives, so yeah. This was best. One awesome night, then?—
My pants were buzzing.
I yawned and sat up.
My pants buzzed again, and I reached out to grab them. The halves of my bed frame skidded apart, dumping me all the way into the mattress. I swore and squirmed out of it and righted my bed — good thing Hailey’d left before she’d seen that . One of these days, I’d get a real bed. Some bookshelves, as well. A tchotchke or two. A few things to make it look like I lived here. Not that I did, so much, thanks to my job.
Speaking of which, I snatched up my pants. I dug out my phone, which was buzzing again, and frowned at the onslaught of missed calls and texts. I’d just come off a long gig, six months all told, heading up security for a speaking tour — Get up and GO! – the Brant Maxwell Method . From what I’d gathered, his method was shouting. Shouting at people till they got up and went. But he’d paid well, and I’d planned some time off, to find a partner and expand my business. To live here a while, at least a few weeks. So I hadn’t been putting out feelers for gigs. Yet, my inbox was hopping.
Do you do private gigs?
SECURITY FOR WEDDING!
Do you do PI work or just executive protection?
Buried in the dogpile was an email from Mom. I swiped the work texts aside and tapped on that, and smiled at her familiar greeting.
Hello, sweetheart! So, you’re famous, I guess! I was just down at Marge’s doing her nails, and who should pop up on her brand-new TV? That’s right, MY OWN SON, looking so handsome! So, is this pop star your client, or could it be? Could it be my boy’s fallen in love?
I’ll be out all day with Don and your sisters, but call me this evening! We’ll have us a chat!
She signed off with a line of Xs and Os. I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help smiling. She sounded happy, and that made me glad. It had been rough on her when she and Dad split, but she’d built a new life with Don and his girls.
I set a reminder to call her tonight, then hopped on my news app and searched for Hailey. Sure enough, I popped up, charging out of Club D. Shielding Hailey with my body as the gawkers swarmed in. I watched a short, shaky clip of us running away, me shoving onlookers out of her path. At one point, she stumbled and I stopped her from falling, catching her easily around her waist. She leaned on me for a second, then we ran on. Mom was just teasing about falling in love, but I could see where she’d think that, watching myself. I’d set her so carefully back on her feet. Bent down to make sure she was okay. It was training, long habit. Good client care. But the way she’d looked up at me?—
My phone buzzed again. An incoming call popped up, blocking out Hailey’s face. I went to decline it but my thumb was too big. My damn meaty thumb picked up the call.
“Jackson Hooper,” I said.
“Is this Hooper Security?”
I straightened up, now in work mode. “Yes, ma’am. This is Jackson. How can I help you?”
“I saw you last night with Hailey Frye.” The voice on the other end was female, all business. “That is to say, I saw you on the news. You were impressive, how you dealt with that crowd. Nobody touched her, or even got close.”
I couldn’t tell if she was a reporter or a prospective client. “Thank you, ma’am. Can I?—”
“I need a head of security for a cross-country tour. You’d be in charge of hiring your team, coordinating with in-house security at event venues, vetting hotels and restaurants?—”
I cut in. I’d heard enough. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m actually?—”
The woman on the other end hadn’t stopped talking. “—talked to Brant Maxwell, and he said you were great. So you get what I’m looking for, what my client needs. And trust me, we’ll pay you a lot more than Brant.”
I laughed, because Brant had paid stupidly high. Then she named her figure, and I nearly dropped my phone.
“Look, I know you’re probably drowning in offers. Maybe you’ve already got something lined up. But I need the best, and I’m ready to pay for it. What’ll it take to get you to the table?”
I swallowed hard. The kind of cash she was offering could change my life. Not only would it buy time to set up my business, I could help Dad out. Put a deposit on a house. He needed a place to call home, not his truck. A real place to sleep, with a bed and a shower. I could do that for him, or at least make a start. But big-money jobs often came with big risks — not just to life and limb, but reputation. I hedged with some questions to buy time to think.
“How long would this tour go?”
“Around a month.”
“And which cities?—”
“I can give you the details once you’ve signed an NDA. So, can I pencil you in? Around five o’clock?” She texted me a map pin. I frowned at it.
“Yeah.”
“So, you’ll be here? Great. I look forward to talking.” She hung up and I cursed. I hadn’t said I’d be there, only that I could be. And with a budget like hers, obviously I would be. But she could’ve waited till I’d agreed.
My phone buzzed again, an incoming text. Interview details, which floor, who to see. I texted back an acknowledgement, then sat on my bed. Dad had texted as well, around four a.m., not about my news appearance, which I doubted he’d seen. He’d texted an update like he always did, to let me know where he was and what he was doing.
JUST PULLED INTO RENO. NEXT STOP SLC.
GOOD SEEING U, SON! UR LOOKING GOOD!
I wrote back Get some sleep , hoping he already was.
He didn’t miss a beat, replying with lol , i'll sleep when i’m dead.
I huffed, annoyed, and hit the call button. Dad picked up right away, and I could hear his truck running.
“Texting and driving? What was our deal?”
“I’m not,” he said. A car honked nearby.
“I can literally hear you. The sound of your engine.”
“Shows what you know. I used voice-to-text. How do you make it do capital letters?”
I glowered at his latest texts, all lowercase. “I think you say ‘caps.’ Depends on your phone.”
“Did you call just to nag me for texting and driving?”
I kind of had, but I shook my head. “Course not. I called to say, nice seeing you too. And to remind you to take a break.”
“So you did call to nag.”
“I guess I did.” I stood up, frustrated, and started to pace. “Did you take a nap, at least, when you stopped off in Reno?”
“Sure, yeah. Of course I did. And I talked to your brother. Did he tell you he got into Stanford?” Dad always did that — he just said your brother , no matter which of my brothers he meant. But it had to be Sam, if he’d got into college.
“Good for him,” I said. “He was always the smart one.”
“You’re all smart,” said Dad. “Hey, can I call you back? Gotta weigh in.”
“Sure, Dad. Drive safe.”
“Sure will.” He hung up. I massaged my brow. Sam, Stanford-bound — that was good news. For Sam, at least. Not for Dad’s wallet. I would help, of course. But Dad had nine kids, six under eighteen. Me and Nick had both gone the Army route, but I couldn’t blame Sam for choosing college. The twins, Jake and Terence, were planning the same. As for the little ones, it was too soon to tell, but from what I’d seen of them, they seemed pretty smart.
“Damn it, Dad.” I glanced at my phone, almost ten already. I’d have to get moving if I wanted that job — take my suit to the cleaner, get a shave. A haircut. I needed that job, or at least the fat paycheck. For Dad and my brothers.
My business. My life.