8. Jackson
CHAPTER 8
JACKSON
I made it to my interview with ten minutes to spare, in spite of the traffic piled up downtown. I ended up parking and jogging ten blocks, keeping an easy pace so I wouldn’t sweat.
I’d been called to a stadium for my interview, and I could hear music as I headed inside. I paused for a moment, trying to place it, but though the tune seemed familiar, I couldn’t think where I’d heard it. Still, I nodded along with it as I squinted around, my eyes still adjusting to the dimness inside.
“Can I help you?”
I turned and spotted a folding table set up near the counter. A man was hunched over it, working on his laptop.
“I’m looking for Mina. Mina Brown?”
“You’re Jackson Hooper?”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
The man pointed behind him, down a narrow hall. “Third door on the right. She said go right in.”
I straightened my jacket and brushed down my pants, squared up my shoulders and headed inside. Mina was on her phone, and she held up one finger. I stood at parade rest as she finished her call.
“Thanks for waiting,” she said, when she was done. “If you’ll have a seat, I’ll be just a minute.”
I sat, and she went tap-tap-tap on her phone. I couldn’t tell if it was a power move, making me wait, or if Mina had that many balls in the air. She looked busy for sure, her desk strewn with screens — two separate laptops, two phones. A tablet. They all booped and dinged steadily, off-beat with the music.
“Mina Brown,” she said, and set down her phone. She closed one of the laptops and glanced at the other. “We’re kind of in crisis mode, had a venue fall through. I’ve got twelve hours to salvage it, or we move on. Anyway, the gig, it’s pretty full-on, four weeks, twelve cities, eighteen total shows. Your job’s half security, half babysitting. I’ve got a performer who’s kind of na?ve. This’ll be her first time getting up close with fans.”
It crossed my mind then, could it be Hailey? Could she have pushed for this after last night? But I doubted she’d think of herself as na?ve, or want someone telling her what to do. She struck me as more the I got this type, independent. Bold to a fault. Plus, it’d be awkward, the way we’d left things.
“You’ll need to be vigilant,” Mina was saying. “Make sure someone’s watching her twenty-four seven. Can you handle that?”
I straightened up. “I do mostly protection jobs. So, absolutely. I can keep her safe. You should have a text from me with my CV, and that includes references for this type of work.”
“I called them already,” said Mina, and tapped on her phone. “But the clients I spoke to were older. More savvy. Like, I wouldn’t think Bruce Glyde needed much minding.”
I suppressed a grimace, because oh, man. He had. It had taken a small army to shield him from scandal. To keep his drunken tomfoolery out of the press. But I couldn’t tell Mina that, with my NDA.
“That depends,” I said carefully. “Clients each have their needs. They have their own weaknesses, and their own blind spots. My job is to see those and patch them up. Ideally without annoying the client.”
“And that’s something you’re good at, not annoying your clients?”
I had annoyed Bruce, but I’d saved his fool ass, not just from embarrassment but from physical harm. “It’s a tightrope,” I said. “If I fall off one side, I’ll piss off the client. If I fall off the other side, they’ll get hurt or killed. I try to stay up there, but if I’ve got to fall, I’m always going to fall on the side of annoyance.”
“Good answer,” said Mina. Her phone chirped, then buzzed. “I need to take this, uh, just a sec.” She picked up the phone. “Mina Brown. Yeah? If you’ll just read through these…” She slid some papers toward me. “Sorry, not you. I’m with a new hire.” She tapped on the papers, then pointed at me. I nodded and glanced at them — contracts. NDAs. None of them mentioned the client by name, but I guessed I’d find out who it was soon enough.
“Idiots,” said Mina, when she hung up the phone. “Who the hell rents out a whole concert hall, and then it occurs to them to have it inspected?”
I laughed. “A lot of folks. You’d be surprised.”
“I used to think it’s because I’m young. Because I’m young and female, they think I’m a mark. But I’ve tried having guys call. I’ve tried everything. There’s always some moron… well, never mind.” She pointed at the contracts. “What do you think?”
I hid my surprise. Was this it? Was I hired?
“Uh, looks pretty standard. Did you have more questions for me?”
Mina sagged for a moment, and I could see she was tired, dark raccoon eyes barely covered by makeup. She pushed her hair back where it had come loose and leaned back in her flimsy stackable chair. “I could stretch this out, but why screw around? I’m busy as hell, and I hire from my gut. And my gut’s telling me you’re the right choice.”
“Thank you,” I said. I had a good feeling too. Mina was young, but she seemed competent. Straightforward, too, which I appreciated.
“I can give you the night if you need time to think. But at nine tomorrow, I’ll hire someone else. You’re my first choice, but?—”
“I’ll take the job.”
“Then I’ll need your signature at the red tabs, and your initials down by the yellows.”
I signed quickly while Mina barked into her phone. She timed her calls to line up with my signing, hanging up on the last one as I capped my pen. Then, she stood up.
“So, are you ready to meet her?”
My heart leaped again — could it be Hailey? But, no. No way.
“Ready,” I said.
Mina led the way down a warren of halls, around the back of the stadium, to a series of green rooms. The music had stopped and I could hear chatter, ripples of laughter behind closed doors. Whoever my client was didn’t travel alone.
Her band and her dancers. If it’s her. If it’s Hailey.
I could still smell her on me, her floral shampoo. That was why she kept springing to mind. Soon, that would fade, and my fantasies with it. Hailey Frye lived in her own sparkling world. I needed to focus and come back to earth.
Mina knocked on the last door at the end of the hall. A muffled voice called out for her to come in. She opened the door and I got my first glimpse of my client, stood with her back to me, wriggling out of her sweater. Her head was still hidden, but I knew anyway. I knew the curve of her hips and her strong dancer’s legs, the tight lines of muscle through her thin leotard. I knew because I’d traced those lines with my hands, then my lips. Because I’d worshiped them all through the night.
She tugged her sweater off and her red hair streamed free. Our eyes met in the mirror, and her jaw dropped.
“Jackson,” she gasped. “Mina, what?—”
“I hired him,” said Mina. “Your hero from last night.”
“But— but I…” Hailey spun on her heel. She staggered and caught herself, swaying off-balance. “Did she send you last night? To get me from the club?”
My stomach turned as it hit me how this must look, like our run-in last night had been some kind of job. Like I’d been paid to?—
“No! Not at all.”
“I just hired him,” said Mina. “After you two went viral. You need someone to watch you, and you seem to trust Jackson.”
Hailey gaped at Mina, then rounded on me. I could read all her feelings plain on her face, suspicion, outrage, surprise. Relief? Then she spun away from us and pressed her palms to her face.
“I don’t need this,” she said. “I’m not a child.”
Mina came up to her and set a hand on her arm. “You’re a star now. Stars need bodyguards.”
“So you’re saying he works for me? If I tell him to shove off, he will?”
“He works for me.” Mina shot me a narrow look. “But if you need him to back off, sure. He’ll do that. He’ll stay close enough to keep you from danger, but not so close he’ll be in your face.”
Hailey turned and scowled at me. “Back off,” she said.
I bit my cheek to hold back a smile. She was being childish, despite her protests. Understandably childish, but all the same. I made for the door, but Mina clutched at my arm.
“Not now. I need you two to get acquainted. This’ll be your last chance before the tour starts, so sit. Have a drink. I’ll be back in a bit.” She nudged Hailey toward me and strode out the door, leaving the two of us to stand and stare.
“So…” Hailey chuckled.
I pulled a face. “So.”
“She really just hired you?”
“She really just did.”
Hailey exhaled, half-laughter, half-sigh. She flopped on the couch and stretched out her legs. I saw she was shaking, breathing hard. When she took a deep breath, I heard her teeth chatter.
“Hey. You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m just tired. Could you hand me that water?” She pointed behind me and I turned around, then frowned at the sight of her reusable bottle. When I unscrewed the top, the neck was all yellowed.
“You shouldn’t drink this.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s full of bacteria. That’s what it means when your bottle goes yellow.” I went to the sink and ran her a fresh glass, making sure it was cold, but not brain-freeze frigid. She took it and dropped in a pink, fizzing pill.
“Electrolytes,” she said.
“Have you eaten?”
She scrunched up her face like she had to think about that. “I had a granola bar. I’m too tired to… haaa .” The end of her sentence dissolved in a yawn. She closed her eyes, then cracked one back open. “How about you? You get any sleep?”
“Couple of hours.” I covered a yawn of my own. “Was that you singing when I first came in?”
“Uh-huh. Rehearsal.” She gulped her water. “So, can you name even one of my songs? And don’t say ‘Night Dancing,’ because that doesn’t count.”
“That’s not fair,” I said.
Hailey chugged more water. “What’s not?”
“What you just did, it’s psych 101. You tell a subject, ‘don’t think of pink elephants,’ that’s suddenly all they’ll think. Pink elephants.”
Hailey laughed. “Just admit it. You don’t know any others.”
I did , was the thing. I gritted my teeth. “I need to de-elephant. Hold on. Don’t talk.” I closed my eyes and ran times tables to blot out ‘Night Dancing,’ harder to do than a pink elephant. Elephants didn’t come with that damn catchy beat, that earworm chorus stuck in my head.
“Admit it. I’ve got you.”
“I said don’t talk.” I pressed on my temples to jumpstart my brain. There was ‘Night Dancing,’ yeah, but there was that other one too. That kind of sad one with the weird video. What was it called again? Something with tears?
Hailey finished her water and set her glass on the floor. “It’s okay,” she said. “You don’t have to?—”
“Wait, though, I do! It goes something like, ooooo , and then there’s that chorus, like scratching your nails. I never could hear you scratching your nails. ”
Hailey stared for a moment, then she burst out laughing.
“What? What’s so funny?”
She doubled over, clutching her sides.
“What?”
“It’s I never could please you. I hate to fail. Also, never sing.” She went to her dressing table and found a hairbrush, and stood working the tangles from her long hair. “You know ‘Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me’? I thought for the longest time it was your son .”
“Don’t let your son go down on me?” I snorted laughter. “That’s terrible.”
“Right? It’s the worst. Then I heard it one day, and I was like, ohhhhh .” She set down her brush and leaned on the table. “Sorry I accused you of… being a gigolo?”
“You’ve had a long day,” I said.
“Yeah. So have you.” She covered another yawn and shook out her hair. Even tired, she was gorgeous, even without makeup. I ducked my head so I wouldn’t stare.
“This doesn’t have to be awkward,” Hailey said. “We can always pretend last night never happened.”
I should’ve been relieved, but my stomach went sour. Disappointment like acid rose up my throat. It must’ve showed on my face, because Hailey smiled in the mirror.
“It was good, though, right?”
I came up behind her, knowing I shouldn’t. Breathed in the tang of her post-workout sweat. She smelled good, kind of spicy, with a faint hint of soap. Her bare upper arms rose in gooseflesh, and it took all my self-control not to rub it away. I wanted to touch her. Pull her to me. Press my face to the warm place where her hair grazed her neck and breathe her in till I got high off her scent. I wanted to taste the salt of her sweat.
She sighed and leaned back so her hair grazed my chin. The heat of her body made my blood race. I set my hands on her hips. Let my lips brush her scalp. She made a sound, half a moan, and I bit my tongue hard.
“We can’t,” I said, pulling away.
Hailey turned to face me. “We already have.”
“I know, but it’s different now.” I cleared my throat. “We need to keep it professional while you’re my boss.”
Hailey’s frown darkened. “Mina’s your boss.”
“Even still.” I straightened my tie.
A faint flush of pink touched Hailey’s chest. She reached for her sweater to cover it up. I could see I’d embarrassed her.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s not that I wouldn’t?—”
“I get it. It’s fine.” Hailey smiled, but not her familiar smile. Not the sweet, crooked one that went up at one side. This was the smile I’d seen on her billboards, two-sided, bright. There and gone in a flash. Then she relaxed and her real smile crept back. “Really, it’s fine. You’re probably right.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I stuck out my hand. Hailey pumped it twice briskly, then turned away. I was dismissed, so I did a clumsy half-bow.
“Then I’ll be seeing you, uh, for the tour.”
Her lip twitched again. “See you.”
I let myself out.