Chapter Twenty-Four
Jinnie
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C HICAGO’S SKYLINE LOOMS ahead as I merge onto Lakeshore Drive. I hate driving in the city. Not that I would really know that because I’ve only ever ridden as a passenger in the city. It’s a different beast compared to the quiet roads back home.
The GPS says twelve minutes to the hotel. Twelve minutes until I see him. Twelve minutes to find out if the boy I fell for still exists under all that glitter and bravado. I hope he’s still there.
My phone buzzes in the cup holder—another news alert.
Jumping Jack Cancels Fall Tour Amid Growing Controversy.
I turn it face down. The fan forums had been buzzing all morning with rumors about the label dropping him. That’s why I’m here. Because no one else will be. I know he’s probably devastated right now. That evil bitch Liz gave a quick interview letting the world know Jack had disappointed her.
I knew damn well she was behind his downfall. My suspicions were confirmed when she used the interview to promote the new guy she’s working with. He’s younger than Jack and came from nowhere. She’s going to chew him up and spit him out as soon as she gets bored and moves onto the next one.
It should be criminal what she’s doing.
The hotel valet eyes my car with barely concealed disdain as I pull up. “Checking in, ma’am?”
“No. Visiting.” I square my shoulders, refusing to let his disgust for my car or my appearance get me down.
Once inside, I realize I’m not going to be able to ask the front desk for his room number. Given who he is, I imagine he’s in the penthouse. Now, I just need to figure out how to get up there. If it’s anything like the penthouse in Memphis—oh shit. He’s going to be homeless now! The thought makes me sad for him.
I see a housekeeping cart discreetly pushed into a corner. I take it, push the button for the elevator, and walk inside. It takes some persuading to get up to the penthouse floor, but I manage it. I’m standing outside the penthouse doors, my heart hammering against my ribs. What if he’s not alone? What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if—
I knock before I can talk myself out of it.
The silence stretches and I consider leaving. I should call him first.
Footsteps. The click of the lock.
The door swings open, and there he is.
No sequins. No stage makeup. Just Jack in wrinkled jeans and a t-shirt, his hair sticking up in all directions, his eyes bloodshot and wide.
“Jinnie?” His voice cracks.
I open my mouth to explain, but before I can get a word out, he stumbles forward and collapses against me, his face buried in my shoulder, his whole body shaking.
“I’m here,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around him. “I’ve got you.”
I hold him right there in the doorway. My heart shatters for him. He’s destroyed. I don’t know if I can fix him or the situation, but I can hold him.
After several minutes, he steps back. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “Come in.”
I walk inside and cringe. The suite is a disaster. I try not to think about the party that happened in here. Or the women.
He won’t meet my eyes as he sinks onto the couch. “How’d you find me?”
“Fan forums.” I perch beside him, careful not to touch. “They track wherever you are.”
A bitter laugh escapes him. “Of course.” He rubs his face. “You saw the video.”
“I saw a lot of things.” My fingers itch to reach for him, but I fist them in my lap instead. “That’s why I came.”
Jack finally looks at me, his expression filled with pain and regret. “It wasn’t about farmers. It was about him . My dad. Aiden. All of them.” His hands clench. “But it came out wrong, and now—”
“The label dropped you.”
His flinch tells me everything. “Liz already has a new client. They’re kicking me out today.”
I stand abruptly. “Then let’s get you packed.”
“What are you really doing here, Jinnie?”
“I’m here for you, Jack. Not Jumping Jack. Not the rockstar. You. I’m here to support you in any way I can. When I saw the scandal, I knew your new so-called friends would drop you like a hot potato.”
He stares at me, vulnerability in his eyes. His shoulders slump, and for a moment, he looks like the boy I once knew—not the glittering persona he’s become. “I don’t deserve you,” he says softly, his voice breaking. “Not after everything.”
“Stop,” I say firmly, stepping closer. “You don’t get to decide what you do or don’t deserve. I’m here because I care about you. That’s it. Now, let’s get your things together and figure out the next step.”
Jack hesitates, his gaze flickering around the room as if seeing the chaos for the first time. He exhales slowly, nodding. “Okay. Okay, let’s pack.”
We move through the suite in silence, gathering his scattered belongings. I start to pack some of the outfits he wears on stage into the open suitcase.
“No,” he says. “Leave all that shit. You know what, leave it all. I only want the clothes on my back and my guitar. All that stuff belongs to Jumping Jack.”
I smile because I can see him coming through the fog. “Good idea. We’ll get in my car and drive home.”
“No,” he shakes his head. “I’m not going to do that to you. You drove all the way here. I have a wallet...”
He looks around the room. I assume the room has a safe and find it. “Maybe someone had the insight to lock it in there.”
“Oh shit, yeah, Liz did. She’s the one that threw this fucking party. Got me drunk before that show, too.”
I nod because I suspected as much. It still doesn’t eliminate his culpability in the situation, but that’s not what he needs to hear right now. He quickly opens the safe and pulls out his wallet and passport. I watch him open his wallet and grin.
“Shit, I wasn’t sure if they took all my money.” He laughs. “I’ve got about a thousand in cash. I want to find an ATM so I can check my bank balance. Would you believe I don’t even know if I have any money?”
“I would.” I nod.
We leave the room and head downstairs. He walks up to the front desk and apologizes for the state of the room. He tells them to charge it to the card on file.
When he joins me, he’s smiling. “It’s Liz’s card on file. She says she’s not paying for the mess. But she encouraged the mess. She can pay for it.”
We get in my car while he looks up the address for another hotel. On the way, we go to an ATM. I sit in the car and wait for him. When he turns around, he gives me a thumbs up.
“I’m rich,” he says when he gets back in the car. “I thought they might have taken that, too.”
“Was it an advance?” I ask him. “Because if it is, they can still take it.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I have a lawyer. I don’t know the name, but I did meet with him once.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I say.
We get to the new hotel. I check in while Jack waits in the car. His image is mud right now. I feel like I need to protect him. We make it to the room without anyone recognizing him.
He sits down and I take another hard look at him. “I’m going to guess you haven’t eaten today,” I say.
He looks up at me with dull eyes. “I don’t remember the last time I ate.”
I take a deep breath. “As much as I would like to take you to a decent meal, we’re going to need to settle for delivery.”
“Just no burgers,” he begs. “Or pizza, please.”
I pull out my phone and scroll through the delivery options. “How about Chinese? Or maybe Thai?”
Jack’s face lights up a little at the mention of Thai. “Pad Thai. And spring rolls. And maybe something spicy.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You sure your stomach can handle that? You’ve been living on whiskey and fast food for months.”
He grins weakly. “If it kills me, at least I’ll die happy.”
Order placed; I sit down across from him on the edge of the bed. “How are you, Jack?”
He runs a hand through his messy hair, sighing deeply. “I don’t know, Jinnie. I don’t even know who I am anymore. Jumping Jack is gone, and I’m not sure what’s left.”
“The real you is still in there,” I say softly. “The guy who wrote songs by the fire, who played music because it made him feel alive, not because it made him famous. That’s the guy I came here for.”
He looks at me, his eyes searching mine like he’s trying to find something he lost. “What if he’s gone, too?”
“Then we’ll find him,” I say firmly. “But first, let’s get some food in you and figure out your next move.”
The food arrives, and for a while, we eat in silence. It’s the first real meal he’s had in days—maybe weeks—and I can see some of the tension easing from his shoulders.
“I have an idea,” I announce.
“I take my money and move to Mexico?” he jokes.
I flip open my laptop at the tiny desk. “No.”
He peers over my shoulder as I pull up his social media accounts. “What are you—”
“Fixing this.” My fingers fly across the keyboard. “First, we counter the narrative. Then we—”
“Jinnie.” His hand covers mine, stilling it. “It’s over. The label owns my name, my image, everything. I can’t just—”
I turn to face him. “Yes, you can. Because the Jack Hayes I know doesn’t need a label to make music.”
“They have all my music, Jinnie. I fucked up. I didn’t read the contract. All the songs, they’re not mine. They said I can’t perform them. They took my music.”
“Then you make new music,” I say.
“How? That was some of my best stuff.”
“Jack, you’ve barely lived. That was your good stuff. But you have so much more to write about. Experiences to have. Let them have it. You’re going to keep writing your own songs and they are going to be even better because they are yours. They’re not going to be heavily produced. Just you and your guitar like it should be.”
Something flickers in his eyes—the first spark of life I’ve seen since I arrived.
We draft posts. We dig up old photos from Aggie’s bar, from backyard bonfires, from before the sequins and stage names. At two in the morning, we go live with a simple video—just Jack on the hotel bed with his guitar, playing an acoustic version of a song he wrote about his hometown.
No pyrotechnics. No Jumping Jack.
Just him.
The comments pour in:
This is the artist I fell in love with
So much better without the label’s garbage
Who’s cutting onions??
Jack stares at the screen like he’s seeing a ghost. “Holy shit.”
I squeeze his hand. “Told you.”
By dawn, the video’s gone viral.
Jack collapses onto the bed, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t deserve you.”
I set the laptop aside. “No, you don’t.”
His head snaps up.
I crawl onto the bed beside him. “But I’m here anyway.”
His breath catches as I cup his face, my thumb brushing the stubble on his jaw. The Jack I remember stares back at me—vulnerable, real, finally here . I lean down and kiss him. His arms pull me in, wrapping me in a tight hug.
“Now, I’m going to put out the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign and you’re going to sleep for a day,” I tell him. “Then, we go home.”
“Jinnie?” he says, his eyes half-closed.
“Yeah?” I ask, pulling the blanket over him.
“I love you.”
My heart stops for just a second. I look at him and see him watching me. I lean down and give him a quick kiss. “I know. Took you long enough to say it.”
“Jinnie?”
“Yes, Jack?”
“Are you going to say it?”
I laugh. “Yes, Jack. I love you. That’s why I drove my ass into the big, cold city to save you.”
He smiles and closes his eyes. “I’m going to be okay now that you’re here.”
“I know. Now sleep.”