Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
AINSLEY
I rush into the hospital without even waving off the black Expedition that picked me up from the airport. I approach a desk where an older woman sits, typing away on her keyboard. She smiles up at me and asks if she can help. I give her Jackson’s name to look up. Her finger points to the large sign that says emergency room, and before she can say anything else, I rush off in that direction.
I find another desk with multiple nurses sitting in front of large desktop computers.
“Hi, I’m looking for Jackson Davis’s room. He was in a car accident.” I know I’m talking fast, but being here makes me nervous. It smells sterile, and the bright lights do not help settle my nerves. A nurse asks for my name. When I give it to her, she starts looking through documents on her computer.
“You’re not listed on his HIPAA form. I’m not allowed to give out patient information if your name isn’t listed.” You have got to be kidding me! She acts like I have dubious reasons to ask for his room. I know it’s not her fault, and she's only doing her job. That doesn’t stop me from rolling my eyes at her.
“I’m his girlfriend. He called me to come here. Can you just call his room and get the okay?” I can tell she doesn’t appreciate my attitude by the scoff she gives. Lucky for me, she picks up the phone to do what I asked.
“Toots?” I turn to look at the only person that calls me that. A rush of relief floods my body when I see him.
“Jackson!” He's being wheeled out in a wheelchair. From what I can see, there's no sign of broken bones. Thank God! I run toward him, not missing the eye roll from the hospital worker who has been less than helpful.
“Toots, hey, let’s get home. I’m over this hospital.” He looks frustrated. I assume that's from the long stay in the emergency room.
“Alright, let’s go home,” I say calmly to ease his mind. It doesn’t escape my notice that we both acknowledged his place as our home. I’m not sure how I feel about calling his frat house that. I stay there all the time, but it’s definitely not a place to call home. The nurses and driver help me get him into the car that brought me here.
The ride back to his house is quiet. While I want to ask him all the questions, I decide waiting is best. To my surprise, we don’t go to his frat house; we're taken to his dad’s house. I hope his dad isn’t here.
The house is empty, thankfully. He’s able to walk, so I help him into the house and get him comfortable on a chair in the kitchen. I have no idea where anything is, so I start moseying through the cabinets, trying to find a glass to pour him some water.
“I could get used to this treatment, Toots. You, taking care of me.” He looks proud that I'm doing the basic necessities to make sure he is comfortable after a traumatic experience. That makes me sad—it shows just how neglected he was as a child.
“Okay Mr. Davis, drink this water, then it's up to bed.” He downs the water quickly, getting up faster than you would expect of someone who was just discharged from the hospital. I don’t need to put much effort into helping, he seems able to carry himself on his own. Once I get him settled into his massive California king bed, I grab the pain pills we picked up on the way here from the hospital. It’s just prescription Tylenol.
“What happened, Jackson? Walk me through it.” I sit next to him on the bed, waiting to hear.
“I was driving down Telegraph Road from one of my dad’s businesses after having an annoyingly pointless meeting. I grabbed my phone to see if you finally texted me back, and dropped it attempting to unlock it. I tried to grab it, and only took my eyes off the road for a second, but I skidded into a stop sign.”
Did he just say stop sign on Telegraph Road? If that’s the case, he couldn’t be going over thirty miles an hour.
“What did the doctor say?” I ask.
“He said it was a close call, and anything could have happened. I was lucky it wasn’t worse.” Jackson is now patting my hand to soothe worry I’m not exactly feeling. I glance at his discharge papers, then grab them to read. He attempts to take them from me, but I’m quick and move away from him to continue reading.
“The progress note says you are absolutely fine. To just take Tylenol as needed for any headache, should it occur,” I narrate a brief synopsis of what the note says.
“Jackson, I get it, you got into an accident, but did I need to fly here on a private jet for a fender bender? Why did you need to go to the emergency room?” I know I'm being insensitive, but fuck. My family hasn’t all been under one roof in months, and to think I dropped everything to be here when he dented his car into a stop sign is annoying.
“Are you kidding me, Ainsley?” Shit. He never calls me by my first name.
“Fucking forgive me for wanting my girlfriend to be there for me when I am in the hospital after a car accident. I didn’t mean to disrupt your happy family while I’m going to a house alone for the holidays.” He looks a combination of angry and hurt, and I feel like an asshole.
“No, that's not how I wanted it to come out. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean it. I'll always be here for you,” I attempt to reassure him.
“Toots, I wanted you here with me.” He covers my hand with his. I know it’s hard for him to have a family that doesn’t seem to give a shit. I don’t know his dad very well, and have never met his mom, but both of them seem very detached from his life, and compensate their lack of love with money.
“I know Jackson, and again, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come off like that. I can stay as long as you need me to.” I give him a reassuring smile.
I mean it; if he needs me to be here for the rest of break so he isn’t alone, I will. We don’t choose our parents and some of us aren’t dealt a lucky hand. I’m fortunate to have the love and support of my family, Cassie’s family, and Ace’s as well. Jackson doesn’t seem to have anyone but his teammates and me.
“It’s okay, Toots. I’m happy you’re here now.” He pulls me into his broad, muscular chest and holds me close to him. I love moments like this, when he loses his erratic, controlling behavior. I miss the Jackson I met when school started. The guy who walked with me around campus, getting to know me. He listened then and truly cared what I had to say. I’m not sure when he switched up his personality to this overbearing boyfriend, but I want the old him back.
I lean into him more, wrapping my arms around him as best I can. He clears his throat.
“Hey, the meeting with my dad sucked. He has a job he needs me to do, and I would like for you to come with me.” I feel his arms get tense as he asks me. Jackson never talks about the work he does for his dad. When I've asked him in the past, he brushed it off. I don’t think he should be working after a hospital stay, but I know his dad doesn’t give him the option to say no.
Curiosity takes over and I agree to join him, more so to know about what it is Jackson does for his dad. How aloof he is when I bring it up leads me to believe it’s not necessarily public knowledge. But Jackson’s dad is a powerful man in the city, so it can’t be illegal. Can it?
* * *
I wake to bright light shining through Jackson’s balcony doors. Looking at the large man snoring next to me, I decide my boyfriend is not the most attractive version of himself in the morning. Attempting to be as graceful and silent as I can, I sit up and head for the bathroom. I have to pee so bad. The hardwood beneath my feet creaks, and I hope I didn't wake him up. Nope, he's still snoring his life away.
Exiting the bathroom, I see Jackson awake, sitting with his back against the headboard. Now that he isn’t snoring like a truck driver that smokes two packs a day, I can appreciate the hot man in front of me.
“Hey, sexy.” He grins at my compliment, then pats the bed for me to sit next to him.
“So about tonight… We are going to a two-in-one club.” I tilt my head to the side in confusion. What the hell is a two-in-one club? He continues.
“I say two-in-one, because there's a main club open to the public, but also a connected second club that is members-only. My dad wants me to attend the masquerade party they're hosting to scope out competition. Apparently the owner is a rival of his, and he wants to get insider details.” His brow furrows, and I can sense the hesitation in his voice. I already told myself I was game for whatever this job entailed, so there's no need for convincing.
“Okay, but what makes the secondary club members-only?” I have to ask.
“It’s just a club for more elite people that want a specific type of nightlife, but don’t want to be around the basic twenty-one-year-old college crowd.” My mind eases at his explanation. It’s just wealthier, more established people not wanting to dance and drink with college kids.
“Um…Okay, but I don’t understand. If this is members-only and the owner is your dad’s rival, how are we supposed to get in?” It’s a valid question. I doubt the owner wants the son of his biggest competitor to gain access to his private club. Plus, we’re not twenty-one.
“A buddy of mine has a cousin pretty high up at a marketing firm, and he's the member. It’s a masquerade party, so our identities will be hidden.” It makes sense to me now; we're sneaking in.
“Hey, have you seen my phone? I can’t find it anywhere.” I've been looking around for it as we’ve been talking, but no such luck. I need to let my parents know that Jackson and I are okay. I didn't take it off airplane mode, so they're most likely freaking out.
“I haven’t, but it should be around here somewhere.”
“Can I use yours to text my mom and let her know everything is fine, and I'll be back in a few days?” I know the sigh that escapes his lips is likely from disappointment.
“What happened to staying the rest of break?” He’s holding the phone away from me, waiting for my response.
“Jackson, your accident was minor. I said that when I thought you’d need my help. Clearly you don’t, we’re going to a party tonight.” I can’t help my eye-roll.
“Right.” His tone is clipped. Jaw tight, his eyes stay on me for a second longer before tossing his phone on the bed, the device landing with a soft thud.
“Don’t be upset. I said in a few days, so that gives us plenty of alone time.” I wink at him, a seductive smile curving my lips. He doesn’t say more, just turns his back to me and walks into his bathroom.
I type in my mom’s number and pull up a blank text thread to give her an update, hoping my phone turns up soon.
* * *
We lounged the day away, watching old movies and binging takeout. I realized midday that I had nothing to wear to a fancy masquerade ball. Jackson said I was pretty close in size to his mom, and that I could raid her closet for a dress and heels. I was hesitant when he offered, but he reassured me that his mom is never home. Apparently she has hundreds of thousands of dollars in never-worn name-brand couture.
I skim through the most expensive walk-in closet I've ever seen. A dress catches my eye, and to my surprise, it’s not black. I pinch the dark forest green satin fabric with the tips of my fingers and loosely trail them down, admiring the buttery soft feel. The corset top will help to enhance my already large boobs. What I love the most are the off-the-shoulder cap sleeves. Now for the shoes.
Jackson knocks on the closet door as I admire myself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. I’m not typically a vain person, but damn, I look good. I can tell from the slow whistle he gives me after opening the door that Jackson approves.
“You look—Hell Toots, you look hot.” He moves in to stand behind me, pressing his groin against my lower back because of the height difference.
“Thank you.” I feel my cheeks heat from the compliment and close proximity.
He wraps his arms around my waist, then slides his hand down toward my sex.
“I want you so bad. Do you know how hot you are?” I’m going to pretend that was a rhetorical question; I don't know how to respond to that.
“Are you going to finally let me get it in tonight?” he asks cheekily. Ew. Did he just say “get it in”? He doesn’t notice the discomfort his crass words cause. I cut him some slack; he did get into a car accident last night.
“Jackson, I don’t know if I’m ready. You know I’m still a virgin. I love what we have, but I don’t know if tonight is the night.” He moans into my ear, really taking the hint. Thanks to this dress and my love for high slits, he easily moves his large hand under it, cupping me between my legs. I don’t feel any rush of excitement, but choose to let him continue. Who knows? Maybe this will be good, and I just need to get in the right headspace.
I don't get there. For five minutes, Jackson rubs the side of my labia. I know I’m not experienced, but I‘m pretty sure my clit should be receiving the attention, not the lip. I shift my legs with the hope that it helps him readjust to the correct spot, but no, he continues rubbing a place that's getting me nowhere.
I’m getting annoyed—what's the point of this? I’m not touching him anywhere, and he sure as hell won’t be giving me an orgasm with his DJ moves, rubbing me like I’m a turntable. I look at the clock on the wall, and move to stop him.
“Hey, as fun as this is, I think we need to leave for the party.” He stops his attempt to get me off, and thank God. I feel as if the side of my pussy got road rash from him rubbing where he thought my clit was. But seriously, it’s a good thing his GPS was off. My poor little bean wouldn’t have survived his aggressive movements.
“Ah…you’re right. We can pick up where we left off later.” Um, no. We won’t be doing that again.
I brush by him while adjusting my dress back into place and we head to the ordered car. He decided we both are drinking tonight and won’t be driving. I think he needs to be focused, this isn’t a night of fun. He has a job to do, and should be sober. But I don’t want to fight, so I choose to go along with the plan.
The car pulls up to the front of the club. I don’t know what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it. It looks low-key from the outside, but very similar to the abandoned building Ace took me to. Jackson gets out of the car, but makes no attempt to walk around to open my door. How chivalrous of him.
Walking inside, I admire the dark color scheme of the club. There's a large bar that takes up the entire back wall. The wall is stocked from top to bottom with expensive liquor bottles. The LED lights showcase the label of each bottle. Bar staff are dressed in all black, shaking cocktails to pour in fancy glances. You would think this being a nightclub, it would smell like booze and bad decisions, but it doesn’t. I can’t put my finger on the scent, but it reminds me of some five-star hotels we stayed at growing up.
The club-goers aren’t dressed for a fancy party like we are. The women are in trendy outfits and short dresses that hug all of their curves, while the men wear casual button-ups and dress pants. Most of them have a drink in their hand while they gyrate on one another.
A thought pops into my head. I realize Jackson has a black membership card, but I don’t. “Is this an event where you can bring a plus one?” I’m sure it has to be for me to accompany him.
“No plus one. My friend’s cousin has a girlfriend, and you'll be using her membership tonight. Here's your black card, Anna James.”