CHAPTER SIX
Hendrix
To say my insides didn’t do a little flip when I walked into the upscale offices in downtown Los Angeles knowing I was about to come face-to-face with Jase again would be a lie.
They did.
And then I felt like an idiot, holding a box of decorated cookies as I walked into the conference room to find a non-disclosure agreement sitting squarely in front of the seat the receptionist directed me toward.
You don’t bring a knife to a gunfight. And you sure as shit don’t bring custom-decorated cookies to an NDA-led meeting. True class, Hendrix .
I read the NDA with its clauses, its parameters, and its warnings, and hopefully understand enough of the legal jargon to get the gist of it. Just as I sign it, the door at my back opens.
I turn to find Jase standing there in his faded black T-shirt, which is snug in all the right places, and his trademark dimples deepening. “Cookie Cutter. You showed.”
Uncertain what I should do, I rise from my seat and hold a hand out to shake his, but it’s ignored as he pulls me in for a quick hug. I’m thrown by the action—by the firmness of his chest and biceps as they close around me, by the scent of his cologne, and the murmured, “Good to see you, Hendrix,” before he lets me go.
I stand there, a little shell-shocked that he really is this normal, this warm. I’ve spent the better part of my night and morning becoming fascinated with the drummer Gizmo from BENT, but this is just Jase from the coffee shop.
“Hey.” I smile and it feels inadequate as we hold each other’s stares for a beat.
The throat clearing at our sides has me snapping my attention away from Jase and to the man standing beside him in an expensive, tailored suit. He holds his hand out. “Nathaniel Gizmodo, nice to meet you.”
The similarities hit the minute he says his name. They have the same facial structure, the same build and coloring, even the same dimples, but they’re most definitely polar opposites in style.
I take his hand and shake it. “Hendrix Wright. The pleasure is mine.”
His smile is as polite as his handshake, but curiosity owns his eyes. He studies me as he moves around the table to the other side from where I was seated. Jase follows him.
“I see you’ve signed the NDA,” Nathaniel says as he pulls the papers toward him. “Any questions?”
“Not that I know of. It seems pretty standard.”
“Oh.” He lifts his eyebrows. “You’ve signed NDAs before? Know much about them?”
No . Yes. Only the ones in romance books where the alpha hero makes the sweet, innocent heroine sign them to protect her from telling the world about his taboo and deviant desires.
But I don’t think divulging that little nugget will make me look too intelligent or sane at this point in our conversation.
“No. I meant I didn’t have any questions. It all seemed pretty straight—”
“Did you bring me cookies?” Jase asks as his eyes grow wide to match the same enthusiasm in his expression. Before I can answer, he’s opening the box and grabbing one. His eyes lift to mine. “You did these? The design? The decorating?”
“I did.” I nod as I glance down at the various cookies I designed around things I read were important to him—music notes, drum sets, album covers, and the band’s name. “Just to prove that you do, in fact, want my cookies.” I quirk a brow as Jase laughs.
A glance at Nathaniel has him angling his head to the side studying me, but I can’t quite figure out what he’s thinking. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
“When I can’t sleep, I bake.” I shrug.
“Why couldn’t you sleep?”
“Because I was busy googling everything there is to google about you.”
“Well... that’s sobering.” He laughs, and I love that he’s like this. Unaffected and carefree.
“I already confessed that I wasn’t a serial killer so—”
“So you were making sure I wasn’t,” Jase says.
“Can you blame a girl? I mean, it’s the Wild West out there these days.”
“It sure is,” Jase murmurs as the moment stretches. Smiles play at the corners of our mouths.
“So, we want you to marry him,” Nathaniel says without warning.
“What?” I bark out but then realize they’re serious. Dead serious.
No.
No again.
And what the hell. One more time—no.
I decorated cookies for hours last night. I may have played BENT’s music to get more familiar with their songs. I may have stopped and listened to a particularly difficult drumbeat and thought of Jase and his irrefutable talent. I may have also wondered why Jase wanted to see me—and why I might possibly have to sign an NDA. But this? This was most definitely not it.
Nerves have me sputtering to give a better response and then when I do, something absolutely ridiculous comes out. “Whew, and here I was worried the two of you were into some kind of brother kink where you planned to share me.”
I couldn’t get two more different responses. Nathaniel’s eyes bug out of his head with shock and discomfort. Jase runs a hand through his hair as he chuckles, his eyes suggesting he’s game for anything.
Paul’s reaction would most resemble Nathaniel’s reaction so there’s something... refreshing about the way Jase reacts.
“It’s to repair his image and show he’s settled down,” Nathaniel states as he nervously turns his wedding ring around on his finger. “To save the band’s world tour.”
“To make the world and my band, not hate me,” Jase says. We both catch Nathaniel start to but then stop the rolling of his eyes. I can’t help but presume there’s a rift between them, but that’s for another time.
Right now? I’ve just been asked to marry a man I met yesterday. A man who’s drop-dead gorgeous and everything I’ve never found sexy—arrogance, tattoos, rebellion—but do in this man. A man who’s the exact opposite of Paul and I’m not certain why that seems to be so important— enthralling —to me.
“So you’re telling me that marrying you would be doing the world a favor?” I laugh. What the hell even is that statement? And how arrogant does one have to be to make it?
“Well, when you put it that way.” Jase snorts.
“Be serious,” Nathaniel warns him.
“This is fucked up. I can’t be serious when it comes to this,” Jase says.
“Well, at least we can both agree on that,” I say as nervous laughter bubbles up and sounds partly hysterical as it bounces around the room.
This. Is. Crazy. Talk.
“Can I explain?” Nathaniel asks.
“He’s the serious one.” Jase hooks a thumb at his brother.
“Clearly.” I hold Jase’s eyes and take in the lifted brow. I surprisingly hate and love this question.
“Jase here has a history of... let’s just say, acting out.”
“I like to have a good time. Sometimes that good time ends up with me having a nice chat with our friendly police officers. Other times, they like me so much, they want me to hang with them in a holding cell for a bit. Nothing violent.” Jase holds his hands up. “A few misunderstandings here and there but nothing even remotely near the serial killer realm since that’s where it seems you draw the line.”
I bite my lip and fight the smile. It’s hard not to when it comes to him, it seems. And I know about the trouble he’s had here and there—my research last night served me well. “Marriage seems a little extreme though. Like... how is a marriage going to save a world tour? And why me when there are probably so many more qualified, carefree women fit to take the role? And how in the hell do you think anyone will buy this stunt? I mean—”
“Miss Wright—”
“She kind of babbles when she’s nervous or overthinks. Give her a second to process,” Jase says. Both Nathaniel and I look at his brother with the same dumbfounded expressions on our faces.
Why is this even a discussion, Hendrix? The answer is no. Point-blank. End of. No.
“Jase is facing a judgment in the courts.”
“I’m on probation,” Jase says.
“Which means he can’t travel abroad, and therefore can’t go on his slated world tour later this year without a judge’s permission,” Nathaniel continues, clearly irked by his brother’s continual interruptions.
“Okay, but wouldn’t you have considered this when you planned the tour in the first place?” I direct my question at Jase but don’t miss the flicker of a smile at the corners of Nathaniel’s mouth. It’s obvious I just stepped into some kind of brotherly disagreement and unknowingly took a side.
“You’re right, she is smart,” Nathaniel says to his brother before turning back to me. “The answer is yes, you’d think so, but in the past, the judge signed off without hesitation. It was a given.”
“But this time . . .?” I ask.
“New judge. Tighter set of handcuffs,” Nathaniel says.
“Figuratively,” I murmur more to myself than to the room.
“Yes.” Jase smirks as he holds up his wrists. “Figuratively.”
“And what exactly are you on probation for? I mean, you’re asking me to marry you so it’s a valid question, no?”
“Drunk and disorderly conduct. Criminal damage to property—”
“I was drunk and trashed a hotel room,” Jase says, impatiently.
“Why?” My question is a reflex that has me cringing the minute it’s past my lips.
“Good question and long story,” Jase says. “I paid my fines. I did my community service. And I was given a three-year probation term of which I’m one year into.” He shrugs. “I didn’t hurt anyone. I’m not dangerous. It was just... it was what it was. Now I’m trying to find a way around one of the consequences so I don’t fuck up my band and my commitment to our fans.” His words are apologetic but there’s anger somewhere in the mix. Shame too. And I don’t know which one is more endearing coming from a man who comes off on social media like he doesn’t give a fuck but in person clearly does.
“Okay and getting married is going to help all of this... how ?” I ask.
“The judge’s set to make the decision on whether Jase can travel or not—”
“The new judge,” Jase says.
“Yes, the new judge isn’t exactly thrilled with Jase’s behavior and has indicated that he may restrict his access to travel. You can see how that doesn’t bode well for a world tour that’s set to take place in five months.”
“Okay.” I draw the word out as I do just what Jase implied I’m trying to do—process this whole idea. I’m not. Can’t be.
“But what he did indicate was that he needed proof that Jase has settled down. That he’s changed and grown up and has no intention of repeating any of his past behavior moving forward,” Nathaniel continues.
“Oh, so he’s of the a good woman will change you crowd,” I joke and roll my eyes, but when I meet Nathaniel’s gaze, I realize I just hammered the right nail on the head. “Oh. Perfect. My favorite type.”
Jase chuckles like it’s an agreement. “The marriage wouldn’t be real but at the same time, would be real,” Jase says.
“That clarifies things exponentially,” I state sarcastically.
“I can see why you like her,” Nathaniel says.
“Like, you’re serious about this, aren’t you?” It’s rhetorical and terrifying that he is.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Jase says. Damn . “I can’t let my band or the fans down. I did it. I took the blame. My past mistakes shouldn’t ruin everything for everyone else.” The playfulness has been replaced by indisputable sincerity. “I assure you, marriage has never been in my plans, so this is just as shocking to me as it is to you. The only difference is I’ve had more time to process this.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. Jase Gizmodo of BENT is asking me —plain ol’ cookie cutter me—to marry him , the huge world-renowned star.
Pretend marry.
Marriage of convenience marry, but still marry, nonetheless.
“Miss Wright? Are you okay?” Nathaniel asks.
“How about no ? To both me being okay and to the question. Just no. On the account of the fact that one, this is crazy-pants shit that actually goes on in Hollywood and two, like, what the fuck, Jase? I just met you.” Panic laced with some weird form of excited adrenaline spreads my lips into a smile that I don’t feel like I can control.
“True on all accounts,” Nathaniel says, “but at the same time, let’s remove all emotions from it and look at what it actually is. A contractual obligation. A business agreement.”
“With one of the biggest stars on the planet. No big deal.” My words drip with sarcasm as Nathaniel nods and Jase grins.
But as our stares hold, I realize that I need to look at this through a different lens. To step back and remember what Jase asked me in his opening greeting when he called me yesterday. At the end of the day, this is about money. “Okay.” I pause and I can see Nathaniel’s defensive posture relax slightly. Clearly, he’s noticed that mine has too. “So we’re talking about a business transaction, right? I pretend marry you and in exchange you pay me a fee for this... inconvenience?”
“Inconvenience. Yes,” Nathaniel says and smiles, his eyes flickering over to taunt his brother. Clearly, big brother is enjoying torturing little brother with my lack of a ringing endorsement.
“I’d like to think of myself as more of a good time than an inconvenience,” Jase teases.
I have no doubt that he is just that.
“And you’re correct,” Nathaniel answers, getting back to business. “There would be payment.”
“For how long does this farce last? How much is the payment? What are the parameters? How the hell do you fake a wedding when it’s someone like him ?” I ask the questions as fast as my mind can think them.
“It lasts until my next meeting with the judge, which is in a little over four months. He said if he’s seen improvement, or rather proof of change, then it’ll be a done deal, permission to travel granted. As for the parameters between you and Jase? If you agree to it, then we iron those out together. There will be minimal staged public appearances, outings where you’ll need to accompany Jase, and... you’ll have to move in with him to sell the authenticity.”
Move in with him? I don’t know why that never crossed my mind.
“The media is rabid, Miss Wright. They’ll run with any reason to not believe this. For Jase’s sake and the judge’s sake, it needs to, by all intents and purposes, be real.”
“Jesus,” I mutter.
“You’re telling me,” Jase says dubiously.
“As far as a wedding, I’m thinking an elopement. Las Vegas is easy, quick, and will fly under the radar. Not too much fanfare, which shouldn’t ruin or upset you, and any real ceremony you plan to have someday with a real husband,” Nathaniel says in his all-business tone.
Real husband.
“So just pictures?” I ask.
“No. It needs to be legitimate. We’ll file for the marriage license, do a small ceremony, leak a few pictures to the press, and then have you guys act all upset that your privacy was ruined. We’ll create a backstory that you’ve been seeing each other secretly for months and that while it was a whirlwind romance, you guys are soulmates, yada, yada, yada.”
“But I had a boyfriend. Three weeks ago,” I state.
“Then you’ll have met a few months ago. We’ll paint the narrative that you were friends and once your relationship ended, Jase made a move.”
Paul will lose his shit. Top-button-fastened, belt-on-without-exception, stiff-upper-lip Paul who loves rock music, will lose his ever-loving mind.
“It’s just that easy?” I ask, surprised. “Feed lies to the press and they run with it?”
“Sadly, it is that easy,” Nathaniel says.
I stare at both men with my head nodding and my brain trying to process the ridiculousness of all of this. “And how soon would this need to happen?”
“A few days? This weekend? The sooner the better to establish a record that Jase has calmed his ways,” Nathaniel says while both Jase and I physically recoil. A few days?
“Oh,” I say.
“ Oh is much calmer than I would put it,” Jase says.
“You’re the one asking me to marry you,” I tease. And then laugh. Anything to mask the nerves jittering through my system.
“And I’m the one over here freaking out about words like wedding and ceremony and the like so you’re not alone on that. Believe me,” Jase says and scrubs a hand over his face.
“Two hundred thousand dollars,” Nathaniel says breaking the silence and knocking me out of my freak-out.
To go right back into a different, yet certifiable other freak-out.
“What?” I ask— say... screech . I then attempt to smooth over my gaffe with a cleared throat.
“Fifty thousand for each month married and most likely four months, so two hundred thousand dollars will be your compensation with a bonus of another seventy-five thousand to be deposited after one year’s time to ensure continued confidentiality.”
Did I just hear that correctly ? Two hundred seventy-five thousand dollars for a four-month fake marriage with one very hot, very charming rock star?
“What’s the catch?” It’s the thought that prevails through the shock. “Because there has to be one.”
“I’m the catch,” Jase jokes but doesn’t earn the laugh he’s working for. Instead, I’m sitting here blinking as if that’s going to help me comprehend what was just offered to me.
“Excuse me a second.” I stand abruptly, wishing the office chairs weren’t so posh so they’d make a ridiculous screeching noise across the floor—they don’t—because I swear they can hear the pounding of my heart in the silence of the room.
“Take all the time you need,” Nathaniel says. Flustered and overwhelmed, I push open the door in a desperate search for fresh air.
What. The. Hell. Just. Happened?