39. Jackson
JACKSON
Terrence waggles his eyebrows when I meet him and Cruz at the blackjack table that night. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Five Million Views.”
I blow on my fingernails. “Is that all?”
As I grab a seat, Terrence laughs. “Seems like a lot to me. Melody said it was, at least on YouTube.” He furrows his brow as he checks his cards. “But now that I think about it, hell if I know what that means. Is that a lot, Cruz?”
Our buddy shrugs. “Don’t ask me. I can’t even remember my password for Instagram,” Cruz offers, studying his cards.
The dealer clears her throat and shoots us a lip-glossed smile. “That’s a lot. There were seven hundred thousand views on Facebook, two million on Insta, and about the same on Twitter.” The blonde giggles like she’s in on a secret. “That was something, all right.”
“It sure was,” Terrence chimes in.
“I was hoping I’d catch a glimpse of you,” the dealer says to me, a little shyly.
“Want to ask him for his autograph?” Cruz asks, like he’s my publicist now. “If you have a pizza box somewhere, that’d be worth a ton of money.”
I roll my eyes. “Ignore him.”
The woman smiles and shakes her head, a little amazed. “Everyone’s been talking about it. It’s one of those ‘I was there’ moments.”
Cruz punches my shoulder. “Aww. Can we make you the spokesperson for our new company?”
Terrence’s dark eyes twinkle with delight. “Yes. Let’s say ‘Founded by . . . The Guy in the Picture.’”
Both of those assholes break into song, crooning the lines to Stone’s new hit. The one he’s recording right now for a quick release, with a backup bodyguard watching over him.
“All of these pictures . . .” Terrence sings.
“Pictures of you . . .” Cruz weighs in.
And the dealer harmonizes with “That’s when it started . . .”
“C’mon, guy. Sing with us,” Cruz says with a smirk.
I wave a hand dismissively. “I’m outta here.”
My buds crack up, slapping down their cards. “Man, we are going to have so much fun giving you hell.”
“It’s going to be the best. Every single day we can give this guy a hard time for being Pattie Boyd,” Terrence adds. “This song could be the next ‘Layla.’”
Cruz nudges me. “Hey, if it becomes Stone’s next big hit, you need to get in on the royalties.”
I laugh it off as they finish their hand. “Don’t need royalties. I’m all good.” But that’s not true yet. I do need to get the motorcycle monkey off my back. That’ll happen in due time though.
We’re starting our company as soon as possible, and once these guys finish their hand, we’re going to grab some grub and discuss the next steps.
Funny, how that familiar knot of tension doesn’t appear in my neck anymore as I think about paying the bills, either for the credit card company or our new venture.
Who knows when we’ll start making money? But I’ll figure it out. I’m not going to let the past stop me from enjoying every second of my present.
“Want to play a round?” the dealer asks.
“No, thanks. You need me to give up my seat?”
She laughs, shaking her head. “You can stay here all night. You’re half of Jackstone.”
Terrence huffs, faux annoyed. “Can’t believe we’re going to have to put up with your big head.”
“You are, because I’m the brains and the brawn,” I say coolly.
“You wish,” Cruz says, but our conversation is cut short when his phone beeps.
Mine does too.
So does Terrence’s.
“Simultaneous beeps,” he muses.
We all grab our phones like we’re drawing weapons.
I slide my thumb across the screen.
An envelope icon pops up at the top of my notifications.
From . . . Stone.
The email is titled: Candy and Puppies Included in This Email.
I laugh quietly, as Terrence murmurs, “Candy.”
What the hell? Stone is emailing him too?
I thought it was just to me.
Turns out the note includes everyone on the team—Candi, Zane, Terrence, Cruz, Veronica, me, and countless others.
Dear peeps,
Congrats on a kick-ass concert series! We are talking best ever in the history of concerts. And I couldn’t have done any of this without all of you.
You are wonderful, beautiful, and talented, every single one of you, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
But there are other ways to thank the people who make you look good, keep you safe, and help you put on a show.
You’ve all been bonused for your work on the show. It should be in your accounts now, or so the bank says.
THANK YOU.
Xo
Stone Zenith
With a burst of excitement, I click over to my bank app. When I steal a glance at Cruz and Terrence, they’re doing the same.
And when I open it, my jaw falls to the floor.
Cruz’s drops to the basement.
Terrence’s hits the center of the earth.
“Shit, your boyfriend is generous,” Terrence says slowly, awestruck.
I stare at my bank account. I can barely move. This feels so unreal. The hair on my arms stands on end. My throat is dry. Cruz’s eyes are the size of a cartoon character’s. Terrence is frozen, still hasn’t moved. So, I can’t be reading this wrong.
I look back at my phone.
At the number.
Fifty thousand dollars.
“Holy shit,” Cruz whispers. “Fifty grand.”
“Fifty flipping grand,” Terrence echoes.
A grin spreads like wildfire across my face.
I can’t believe what my boyfriend did.
But then again, I absolutely can.
I stalk into his suite that night, off duty and loving it. The second I see him, I grab the neck of his T-shirt, jerk him against me, and growl, “I know what you did.”
He grins like a cat. “Whatever did I do?”
“You made it impossible for me to turn down your offer.”
His eyebrows wiggle. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
I haul him closer still, yanking on his hair. With his head tugged back, I kiss his neck. I’m breathing hard, already turned on. “You know what you did with those bonuses.”
“Thanked everyone?”
I hum doubtfully as I blaze a trail of kisses along his flesh, letting go of his hair and biting his earlobe. “And paid off my debt.”
“Oh. That. I’d nearly forgotten,” he says, all breezy.
“Yeah, right,” I say, licking the shell of his ear.
He melts against me. “I just wanted to thank everyone for a great show. Can’t believe you doubt my intentions.” His voice turns husky as I smother his neck with kisses.
“I don’t doubt you. I love your intentions. I love your mind. I love your heart.” I drag my lips over his jaw, kissing his stubble, inhaling his sexy, sinful scent. I stop when I reach his lips, then pull back to meet his eyes. “Did you do that for me?”
“I did it for all of you,” Stone says, then slides his fingers through mine.
His touch is so tender—like his voice is right now.
“And for you. I don’t want you to worry about anything, J.
Well, except for helping me find a new bodyguard who won’t give a shit that I’m the kind of guy who likes to have his paws all over his boyfriend in public. ”
I laugh, sliding my hands up his back. “And in private too.”
He rolls his eyes. “Duh. That goes without saying.”
I turn intensely serious for a few seconds, holding his face.
“Thank you. I paid off the motorcycle. I feel like I’m free,” I say with relief coursing through me.
“And the rest will go to starting the new company. Cruz and Terrence are going to put some of theirs to our new venture too. You’re fucking amazing. ”
His lips curve into a crooked grin. “And I’m amazing at fucking. But if you want to be sure, you can just bend me over the couch and remind yourself how good it feels to slide your cock inside me.”
I curl a hand around his ass. “You are filthy, and I love it.”
“Right back atcha, big guy,” he says, slipping away from me, stripping off his tee, unzipping his jeans, and then working open the buttons on my shirt.
And when we’re both down to nothing, when he’s ready and open, I do as he requested.
I fuck him.
Having him.
And loving him something fierce.
The next day, we head to the airport together. He heads up the steps to his Gulfstream first, his hand in mine. He lets go when he steps on the plane, fist-bumping the pilot.
I stop at the door, take a beat, and look around, swinging my gaze behind me to the tarmac, in front of me to the galley.
Is this my life?
I’ve been on this plane many times before, but never like this—as his boyfriend.
A rock star is my boyfriend.
But that’s hardly what’s so surreal about this moment, surrounded by the trappings of the lifestyle.
It’s not the fame.
It’s the luck.
That here I am after heartbreak, after loss, after my heart was shattered, and I’ve found something new.
Something wonderful.
Someone I want to love for the rest of my life.
My heart thunders in my chest.
I join Stone in the back of the plane, wrapping an arm around him, emotion clogging my throat.
“Hey,” I say softly.
“What is it?” A crease knits his brow.
“You know I don’t love you for your plane, right?”
He laughs, his green eyes flickering with mischief. “Don’t worry, J. I know you love me for my dick.”
I’m undeterred though. I wrap my hand tighter around his bicep, my thumb sliding over his ink.
“Know this. It’s you. It’s not anything else.
It’s not anything you have. I’d get on a tiny plane, a commuter train, a beat-up car, or an old rowboat with you.
We could stay in a motel on the side of the highway.
I’d come home to you in a studio apartment.
” My hand travels to his heart, and I spread my palm over it. “This is why I love you. For this .”
He swallows roughly, his eyes shining. “And you wonder why I write songs about you.”
Our lips crash together, and we kiss—a long, slow, deep kiss that feels like a promise.
Later, as we’re cruising over the country, he takes me to a private room in the back of the plane. It’s small, like a sleeper cabin on a train.
But it does the trick.
I might love him for his heart, but he’s right—his dick is definitely an attractive part of the deal.
I show him how much I love the whole damn package of Stone Zenith.