Chapter Seven
Jesse heard Bristol’s footfalls fade as she headed upstairs. When the door closed, he turned to Hayden with a blistering glare. “Leave her the fuck alone.”
“Or what? You’re not going to stay. And I’ll still be around.”
Hayden had him there. Jesse knew he couldn’t remain indefinitely, even if sharing a bed—hell, a kiss—with Bristol was one of the most singular pleasures he’d ever experienced.
For a well-seasoned hedonist, that was saying something.
Still, her ex was trouble, and Jesse was determined to make sure that the asshole gave Bristol a wide berth even after he was gone.
“Are you nothing but an entitled tool who thinks you should have everything you want, and fuck everyone else?”
The scrawny guy reared back as if the question shocked him—or slapped him across the face. “What does that mean?”
“I used to be one, so I know all the earmarks,” Jesse assured.
“Why else would you pursue Bristol if it’s only going to hurt her?
You left her. Now she doesn’t want you anymore.
Obviously, that makes you feel lousy, but no one gives a shit about your pride.
And young, naive Presleigh would be crushed if she had any idea you were here, sniffing around her older sister.
You either care about your fiancée enough to be faithful or you’re not ready for marriage. ”
Listen to me being all wise and shit…
“It’s none of your business,” Hayden shot back. “You might have spent last night with Bristol, but you don’t care about her.”
“And you do?” he challenged. “If you could dump her for her sister, then come back looking to get laid, I don’t think you care at all.”
Hayden managed to look indignant. “I came to check on her, not for sex.”
“But you wouldn’t turn it down, would you?”
“I-I wasn’t thinking that. I…”
Hayden’s seemingly perplexed expression was bullshit and told Jesse that sex with Bristol might not have been bobbing on the top of her ex’s frontal lobe, but it had been swimming somewhere in his brainpan.
“The hell you weren’t.”
“You don’t know me,” Hayden finally snarled. “Fuck you.”
With that, he turned and pushed out the door. The bell rang with shrill violence. The heavy glass slammed behind him.
“Good riddance,” Jesse murmured, locking up and killing the lights before flipping the sign on the door to read Closed.
But the asshole brought up some really good points, namely that in a few days, Jesse would be gone.
Right now, he didn’t dig the thought of leaving Bristol behind.
Kimber was the only woman he’d felt any actual emotion for in the past, and at the time he hadn’t cared enough about her—or himself—to fly right.
The punk he’d been years ago would probably have related to Hayden’s dilemma, still being hot for one girl while engaged to another.
In fact, Jesse vividly remembered the night he’d been in that position.
He’d chosen wrong, siding with booze and easy ass, rather than love or respect.
The decision had haunted him ever since because he knew he’d fucked up and hurt someone special.
He refused to let Hayden do the same to Bristol.
While pondering ways to make the prick keep his distance, Jesse’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it free and saw Candia’s contact pop up on the display. A quick glance told him he was still alone in the little bakery.
He pulled up a bistro chair and answered. “Hey.”
“Where are you?” She sounded frazzled.
“Did you already figure it out?” Had someone at the restaurant last night recognized him after all?
“No. You’re so quiet it’s eerie.”
With a grin, Jesse leaned back. “Told you I wouldn’t fuck it up.”
“I’m actually impressed. It’s a good thing you disappeared for a while.”
“So things are still ugly? Why aren’t the police releasing details?”
She sighed, and he heard her exhaustion. “The investigation is still ongoing. The fact that Maddy Harris died in your hotel room was bad enough. Now I’ve learned that she’d helped herself to the T-shirt you wore at that night’s concert. She was wearing it when she died.”
“Oh, shit.” He could only imagine what the press were saying about that.
“Exactly. An anonymous source leaked pictures of her body at the scene. I’m betting on a cop looking to make a quick buck.
Then some Photoshopping genius positioned an image of you singing that night and her lying dead in the same fucking shirt side by side.
It’s circulating all over social media. ET and Huff Post aren’t exactly being kind in their speculation, either.
But I have no doubt it’s helping their numbers.
” She paused. “Ryan’s funeral is scheduled for Tuesday morning in Shreveport.
His next of kin was his great-aunt. She lives there. ”
“I’ll be there.”
“Until the police conclude this investigation and some time goes by, I’m not sure you should do anything but lay low.”
“I won’t miss his services, Candia. If I did, I’d look like an unfeeling prick. And I need to say good-bye. He might have had his flaws, but he was my friend.” He shook his head and struggled against tears. “I wish to fuck I’d been able to save him.”
The rock star life looked like good-time glitz to outsiders.
Living it was something else completely.
Different countries, different hotel rooms, transient “friends.” Jesse’s schedule was never his.
Indulging in his goofy side wasn’t good for the badass sex-god image he’d cultivated over the years.
Yeah, it sold albums, but he never quite relaxed.
Music critics and a changing industry complicated everything.
And the really suck-ass part was the paparazzi hovering, just waiting to snap pictures if the temptation to dive into the ever-present girls, booze, and drugs ever became too much to resist. Not for one minute did he forget that virtually everyone around him was making a buck off his vocal cords.
If he lost his voice or died tomorrow, his fans would care.
But would any of the people he saw day in and day out give two shits?
Not so much. Candia was the closest thing he had to a friend now, and she was a career woman first and always. If she didn’t have him, she’d mourn for thirty seconds, then pick up the phone and schmooze multiple job offers before choosing one and moving on.
No wonder he’d really enjoyed his time with Bristol.
She didn’t expect him to be sexy or perfect or charming or anything except nice.
And while he suspected she was a tad gun-shy after Hayden, she had opened up to him and shared parts of herself, like the fact that she was named after her dad’s Connecticut hometown and that she watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer reruns whenever she caught one on TV.
“Ryan made his choices,” she murmured, her voice heavy.
Jesse gritted his teeth. “When he was so high, he barely knew his own damn name.”
“Sorry. I know he’d been a part of your band for years and you used to be tight.” She hesitated.
Tight? They’d shared both women and parties for years. Nothing more intimate than drinking out of the same bottle while both balls deep in the same chick. He and Ryan had grown apart after Jesse had stuck with his decision to stay sober, but that didn’t mean he’d cared about the guy less.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
“Maddy’s funeral is that afternoon in Round Rock.”
He winced. What a tragic waste. Sixteen was way too young to die.
“Did you get a hold of her parents?”
“I did. They don’t want anything to do with you, your apologies, or your money.
And they definitely don’t want you showing up to their daughter’s funeral and turning it into a media circus.
They want to grieve in peace. They don’t blame you for what happened.
Apparently, Maddy had been through some trouble with drugs in the past. But they don’t want you or any token of yours around as a reminder of all they’ve lost. If you really want to make a gesture of some sort, I think your best option is to start a scholarship fund in her name or shoot an anti-drug PSA. ”
That would cost him almost nothing. Jesse wished the girl’s parents had been more demanding…but forcing them to take from him would only serve to make himself feel better. “Done. Set it all up.”
“Will do. Beyond that, I’m still thinking about your image and how to rehab it. Give me time.” She sighed. “So where did you go after you dropped me off at the airport?”
Jesse described his road trip to see Kimber.
“But I couldn’t intrude on their domestic scene any longer, so I split.
They won’t tell anyone. Kimber understands the pressure, and Deke just wants me gone.
” He shifted in his seat. “After that, I went back to the hotel and grabbed my bike off the equipment truck, then took off. I pulled over to sleep at a park off the road. Then I rolled into Texarkana and found an old-school barbershop. No one in there was under seventy, so I doubt they had any idea who I am. I’d already rented a craptastic motel room and shaved.
I’d taken out my earrings and slid into the jeans and a comfortable tank I keep in the saddlebag.
They cut my hair without blinking. Now I’m a new man. ”
“So you’re in Texarkana?” Candia didn’t sound thrilled, and he heard her tapping on her keyboard. “Because someone there will recognize you. According to the most recent census, the city has a population of over thirty-six thousand people. Even if you’ve changed your appearance—”