6. Claire
6
CLAIRE
My thoughts are running rampant as I follow the rest of the band onto their private plane.
I had less than an hour to learn everything I could about Conrad’s son before I was tossed to the wolves.
Or wolf , rather.
What I found spiked my anxiety higher than anything else since working at Innovation Media. Thank God for Xanax.
Jonah Hendrix is a PR disaster. Drinking. Drugs. Fighting. Random and indiscreet sexual relations. The stories are endless, and while I don’t usually put much merit on gossip columns, the photo evidence was enough to make me blush. There was even a grainy photo of what I’m pretty sure was half of his ass while he screwed someone in a dark alleyway.
Curiously, the scandals have become less frequent over the last year or so. There was still the occasional “exclusive story” about sexual encounters from anonymous sources, or photos of Jonah getting wasted at clubs, but it hasn’t been a daily occurrence for a while. It almost makes what he did last night—God, how was it only last night?—seem worse.
Something tells me he was trying to clean up his act on his own, but his mother’s death derailed his progress. I can only imagine the pain he’s in, and I’m probably just adding to it by being here.
The look on his face when I introduced myself.. .
Rage.
Rage and shame .
For a moment, I hurt for him. I empathized. I wanted to apologize and reassure him that it will be okay.
But then he became a condescending asshole, and all my concerns went up in smoke.
I can’t deny that he’s intriguing. I’m drawn to him in the way I would be drawn to the storyline in a mystery or thriller book. But if the tabloids hadn’t confirmed it, the exchange in his hotel room did: Jonah Hendrix is going to be a pain in my ass, and I am in way over my head.
I don’t manage public relations for celebrities, especially not defiant, uncooperative, infuriating rock stars like this one. I do digital marketing and rebranding for companies who’ve sought out my help. That’s where my experience lies. That’s what I’m good at, and the two specialties couldn’t be more different.
Once on the plane, I take an empty seat with every intention of stewing in silence when the lead singer sits across from me with a welcoming smile.
“Hey. In all the commotion, we didn’t get a chance to introduce ourselves properly. This is Mabel, and I’m Savannah. You can call me Sav.”
Sav sticks her hand out just as Mabel plops down into the seat next to her. I give Mabel a nod, then take Sav’s hand in a light shake.
“Hi. I’m Claire. You can call me Claire.”
Sav laughs. It’s husky and contagious, coaxing a laugh of my own to the surface. Then she leans closer and lowers her voice, flicking her eyes over my shoulder quickly before returning her attention to me. I mirror her posture, readying for a private conversation. Or as private as you can get on a sixteen-passenger jet.
“We’re really grateful you’re doing this. I know it was last minute and probably overwhelming, but if you need anything, you just ask.”
Mabel nods in agreement. “Anything you need, we got you. Come to any of us. Me, Sav, Ham, or Torren. Hell, even Levi or Callie will be able to help.”
“Levi and Callie?” Torren and Hammond, I know. Levi and Callie are names I don’t recognize.
“Levi’s my boyfriend,” Sav clarifies, “and Callie is Torren’s girlfriend. We left them in Paris, but they’ll be meeting us in Stockholm.”
“They’re on tour with us, so you’ll get to know them pretty well. No worries. They’re great. We don’t hang out with dicks.” Mabel smirks at Sav. “Well, except Jonah.”
Sav laughs again and gives me a shrug. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay,” I say with a sigh. “It’s obvious that he’s not happy with my being here, and I can understand that. But I meant it when I said I’m prepared. There’s nothing he can throw at me that I can’t handle.”
My chest tightens when Sav’s brow furrows, and she exchanges a cryptic glance with Mabel. “Just remember that you can come to us about anything. He didn’t lie. It’s not going to be easy.”
“ Jonah isn’t easy,” Mable interjects. “But know that you’re appreciated and supported, and...well, as cliché as it sounds, there’s a really good guy under all the...”
She trails off, so I finish for her. “Anger?”
Sav and Mabel both nod.
“Right. Well, thanks for the support and appreciation. I’ll definitely come to you if I need anything.”
Sav gives me a soft smile, then leans back in her seat. I take it as my cue that the conversation is over, rest my head on the seatback and close my eyes.
Jonah isn’t easy , Mabel had said.
I’d gathered as much since learning that he was Conrad’s son, but hearing it from a bandmate just adds to my fraying nerves.
I wanted to turn this job assignment down, but I couldn’t do that to Conrad. He was desperate, and the promise of a promotion was too tempting. And I’ll admit, I find challenge enticing, and Jonah Hendrix will definitely be a challenge.
If I can succeed here, it will do wonders for my career.
My career, and my relationship.
The last one has my heart quickening. The idea of proving myself to Conrad, of earning his affection, is intoxicating. Succeeding in this job will prove to everyone that I’m capable of climbing the ranks at Innovation Media on my own, and then Conrad and I won’t have to keep our relationship hidden. Helping his son will show Conrad that I’m worthy of the title of girlfriend. I’m worthy of a place in the Henderson family.
I ignore the fact that Conrad doesn’t want his son to know about us. He said Jonah can’t learn of our relationship for any reason. I also ignore my own doubts about our relationship.
I push it away and tell myself that it’s necessary. I’ll sort it all out later. Right now, I have a job to do. I just have to work hard, and it will all pay off.
As the plane takes off, I mentally run through my to-do list. I sent several emails on the way to Jonah’s hotel room this morning. I contacted the firm’s lawyers, as well as non-profit organizations in every city along the tour schedule. When the plane levels out, I take out my laptop and get back to work crafting a volunteer schedule worthy of Saint Teresa.
If Jonah cooperates, I truly believe we can reverse the public’s opinion of him.
If.
I’m not na?ve. I know this man is a wild card. I know this won’t be easy. He told me as much, and Sav and Mabel confirmed it. But I’m not backing down, despite my nerves.
I won’t let him intimidate me, no matter how disarming I find him.
The hotel in Stockholm is breathtaking.
It’s a waterfront property with views of the Royal Palace and Gamla stan. The lobby itself is gorgeous, but the hotel also houses multiple five-star restaurants and a luxurious Nordic spa and fitness center. I’ve never stayed somewhere so elegant, and I get to be here for the next four days.
I must look like a starstruck child with how wide-eyed and impressed I am as we’re escorted to our rooms. It’s polar opposite from the rest of The Hometown Heartless. The band members and their entourage are unfazed. They probably stay in hotels like this all the time, and I can’t help but smile to myself because that means for the foreseeable future, I will be, too.
I follow everyone to the elevator, keeping a close eye on Jonah’s back, and wait while Hammond punches in a code. Then we glide quickly to the top floor. We all filter into the hallway, then Hammond starts handing out key cards and rattling off room numbers. Sav, Mabel, and Torren all have their own rooms, but when he gets to Jonah and me, the room number is the same. I already knew about this, but Jonah didn’t, and the way his bandmates have all halted in the hallway, I can tell they’ve been anticipating his outburst.
“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m sharing a room with her?” Jonah glares at Hammond while ignoring me. “She doesn’t have to be up my ass, Ham. I’m capable of sleeping without her acting as a watchdog.”
“ She is right here,” I say with a sigh, and he flicks his attention to me.
“ You don’t have to be up my ass,” he repeats, then gives me a sardonic grin. “I’m capable of sleeping without you acting as a watchdog.”
I roll my eyes. “I told you. Every moment you’re not on that stage, you’re with me.”
His jaw pops as he sneers at me, and then he turns his wrath back on Hammond. I fold my arms and watch with everyone else as Jonah squares off against him. When Jonah’s biceps flex, I worry that he’ll throw a punch, so I drop my eyes to his fists and find his index finger picking at his thumb. A nervous tic? I store it away in my head, then look back at their faces. Hammond, to his credit, stays relaxed and unbothered. I can’t tell if he loves his job or loathes it, but he has the patience of a saint.
“You said I’d have my own room,” Jonah grits out.
“That was before you flew to New York, got drunk, wrecked a rental car, and committed a Class E felony.”
“This is bullshit.”
“I agree. I told you in Paris. You’re the priority here, and since I can’t trust you to take care of yourself, it’s this or we call off the tour and you check yourself back into rehab.”
“We’re not calling off the tour.”
Hammond nods, then his voice drops lower. It sounds concerned, and I’m taken aback by it. He cares, really cares, about Jonah.
“I know that’s not what you want, and I’m inclined to believe it would do more harm than good right now.”
I furrow my brow at the cryptic statement. More harm than good? Does he mean because of finances? Because of the label? When I glance at Jonah, he’s lost some of his ire, and that confuses me further.
“Fine.”
Jonah punctuates his concession by holding out his hand and letting Hammond put the key card in his palm. Hammond does, and then he returns to business.
“There are no two-bedroom suites here, but I’ve called ahead and had the hotel management erect a partition in the middle of the bedroom. The beds are separated, but you’ll have to share the bathroom.”
I glance at Jonah, expecting another outburst, but he gives a curt nod and turns silently toward the door.
“Thanks, Mr. Hammond,” I say as I take my key card from him.
“You can call me Hammond, Ms. Davis.”
I smile. “You can call me Claire.”
With the show seemingly over, everyone starts to head to their rooms. I turn to Jonah, but a squeal of laughter has us both looking back down the hall, where we find Torren embraced by a woman with short red hair. It must be Callie, his girlfriend. My guess is confirmed when they start making out in the hallway, then she tugs him into the room and shuts the door. The whole scene has me wanting to laugh, but when I look back at Jonah, the humor dissipates.
He's glaring at the spot where Torren and Callie just stood, but it’s not just anger I think I see pass over his face. It’s longing, too. Jealousy. Just for a second, and then it’s gone, wiped clean of everything except irritation.
I narrow my eyes at his back while he opens the door to our room and steps inside.
Was I mistaken? Did I imagine the emotions I just saw in Jonah’s expression?
I don’t have time to ruminate on it any longer because my mind goes blank the moment we step into the large, lavish suite. My jaw drops and all I feel is awe. It’s beautiful. Larger than my apartment in Inwood. More stylishly decorated than anything I’ve ever seen before.
“Wow,” I say on an exhale.
Jonah snorts but says nothing as he stomps through the suite and pushes open the door to the bedroom. I follow him into it, and sure enough, there’s a wall of privacy glass set up between two fluffy, full beds. I don’t ask his preference as I throw my purse onto the bed closest to the door, claiming it as my own.
“Is that to make sure I don’t sneak out?”
I turn to Jonah, keeping my face blank as I shrug. “Do I need to be worried about you sneaking out? Are you sixteen now?”
His eyes narrow. “I didn’t need a babysitter when I was sixteen.”
“Hm. Regression, then.” I bat my eyelashes, professionalism waning rapidly with my increasing exhaustion. “I hear that’s normal as you age.”
I know Jonah’s only two years older than me. I learned that fact during my internet search, and while I always knew Conrad had children, it was still a shock to learn his son was my age.
Jonah doesn’t acknowledge my comment. Instead, he disappears behind the opaque glass wall, and I watch as his outline throws itself on the bed. I wonder if he can see my outline as clearly as I see his. Honestly, for privacy glass, it doesn’t feel very private, but I’m too tired to care. It takes all my strength not to fall asleep before the bellhops deliver our suitcases.
“I’m taking a shower, and then I’m going to sleep,” I announce to the room.
Jonah humphs . All I can hear is indistinguishable chatter from whatever he’s watching on his phone. I dig through my carry-on for my toiletry bag and a pair of my most modest pajamas. Then I head to the bathroom, take a Xanax, and shower for a long time. I imagine the hot water washing the stress from my muscles. Stress that has increased over the last twenty-four hours.
God, it feels like it’s been months. A year. Definitely not a single day.
I want to laugh at how drastically my life has changed since yesterday. Playing the shadow and conscience of an unruly rock star is the last place I’d ever expected to be. It wasn’t even in the realm of possibility; yet, here I am. I drop my head back and let the shower spray on my face, standing there until I start to feel a little dizzy, and then I turn the water off and step out onto the heated bathroom tiles.
I avoid the mirror as I dry and get dressed. My head is in no place to see myself right now, but I do glance around for a scale as I brush my teeth. There isn’t one, but I didn’t think there would be. I’ll check out the fitness center in the morning.
When I walk back into the bedroom, I find Jonah leaning on the wall wearing only a pair of boxer briefs.
“Took you long enough.” He grunts at me, then shoves past and slams the door.
“What a child,” I mumble to myself as I set up my phone charger and crawl into bed. “An absolute baby of a man.”
Then I sigh because this is the most comfortable mattress I’ve ever lain on. I sprawl my hands and feet out like a starfish and snuggle my head into the soft down pillow. Thank God. I’m going to need beds like this if I have to deal with that man-baby every day.
My lips curl into a tiny smile, and they stay like that until the bathroom door opens. I don’t acknowledge Jonah as he crosses the floor. I don’t even open my eyes. I just listen as his feet pad on the soft carpet, his breathing steady and even. The sound of the duvet being tugged down accompanies the sound of his bed shifting under his weight. Then, just as I hear his head hit the pillow, his deep voice rumbles in the darkness.
“If you get lonely tonight, you’re welcome to come over here. I’m told sharing a bed with me is an exhilarating experience.”
His tone is suggestive, approaching seductive, and I frown when goosebumps erupt over my skin in response. I force out a single, tired laugh.
“There isn’t a scenario in the world where I’d be desperate enough to climb into bed with you. Good night.”
I turn my back to the partition, and his low chuckle sounds from the other side. The smile returns to my lips before I can stop it, but I don’t force it away. I let it stay there, and I drift off into a dreamless sleep.