Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
JACKSON
It’s a late August morning in LA when I finally get the guts to do what Bella told me to do all those months ago.
Sound the alarm. Share my story. Mobilize my fan base.
Well, I’m hoping that last part happens. Right now, I don’t know. All I know is that I made a long, heartfelt post on every single social media account I own, and that I feel sick about it.
Now, I guess all I do is wait.
I’m just hoping the cold sweats and pervasive dread go away soon.
I waited until my fifth studio album was completed with Single Grain before I made the decision: I can’t fucking do this for another five years. We wrapped in the studio a week ago, and I told the band about my plan to blow the lid off this whole operation. They were supportive, and aghast at the terms I’d been laboring under this whole time.
What can I say? I’m great at hiding shameful secrets.
But not anymore.
Bella woke something up in me. Because she’s right—this might be my only shot at getting out of this bad deal. She might have chosen to cut me off and leave me behind, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t make my life better while she was in it.
I can’t help but maniacally refresh my social media feeds after making my posts. I chose to focus on the auto-renewal that Artie pulled on me. I called him out in a major way and absolutely did not advise him of this beforehand. I know this isn’t going to end well. But I had to do it.
After about five minutes of obsessive feed refreshing, I almost sprain my thumb. As soon as I force myself to put my phone down, it rings.
It’s Artie.
I contemplate not answering. This call can only be about the post I made. I pick up the phone just before it switches to voicemail.
“Hello?”
“What the fuck is this post about?”
So much for pleasant greetings or polite conversation.
“Was there a part that confused you?” I’m not trying to be snarky. Okay, maybe a little.
“Why on earth would you put me on blast like this?” Artie screeches. “After all I’ve done for you! Jackson, are you fucking stupid?”
There’s that word. The description I’ve been running from my entire career. Ironically, I feel like this is the one time I’m not being stupid.
“You pulled the shadiest of shady tricks this spring when you auto-renewed my contract without so much as a heads up,” I spit. “So no. I’m not fucking stupid. I’m just using a megaphone to let the world know what sort of bullshit I’m up against.”
“Quit playing the victim,” Artie grits out. “You signed the contract in good faith five years ago. You were an adult. You were fucking aware of what you were doing. Nobody forced you. Now these are the rules you agreed to. Nobody did anything wrong here.”
“I wanted out, and you knew it,” I remind him. “But you allowed the auto-renewal regardless. That’s shady. I don’t care how you spin it.”
“You’re not gonna get away with this,” he warns me. “It won’t fucking matter, you’re just gonna look like a chump. Are you ready for that?”
“I don’t fucking care,” I growl. “I’ve been a chump for the past five years. Admitting it out loud isn’t gonna change that. Call me what you want—I’m ready to let the world know how you treat your clients. I won’t shut up until you let me out of this bullshit contract.”
Artie’s snide laughter makes my stomach hurt. “Right. Right. Good luck with that. Sorry for your hurt feelings , but this is what life is like at the top. Get used to it.” And then he hangs up.
His words leave a bad taste in my mouth. The top? Maybe for him and the record label and my songs they own. But for me personally, I’m nowhere near the top.
I don’t care how it happens—I just need to get out from underneath my label’s, and Artie’s, thumbs. I’ll leave all my hits behind. All the music I poured my soul into. I don’t fucking care anymore. I’m ready to leave it all so I can get a taste of what I found in Fork Lick—freedom and real inspiration.
I spend the rest of the day pacing my apartment—a penthouse spot paid for by the record label, because they know good and well that I’d never be able to afford it on what I make off my own music. I wonder how much longer they’ll let me keep this place after the stunt I pulled, but I don’t care—I can find something else. I’ll move back to Fork Lick if I have to. I’ve always got a place at Gran’s house; or, if push comes to shove, in Baabara’s palace.
From the brief peeks I take at social media, my posts are picking up steam. Every time I check, the number of likes or reactions has increased by at least a thousand. I’m trying not to get too invested in the response, but it’s impossible not to do a little scrolling. The outrage from my fans is getting louder. I expected no less.
But what I didn’t expect was the number of shares by other musicians and celebrities.
Big names in all styles of music are sharing my post with their millions of followers. Over and over and over again. Sometimes with their own personal stories of working with this label or with Artie himself.
By nighttime, this is an official media shitstorm.
And by the next morning? It’s headline news, baby. The amount of attention, feedback, and social media tagging is absolutely staggering. My phone is blowing up with requests for interviews, a statement, anything I’m willing to give. Everyone is scandalized that America’s Sexiest Bachelor and a chart-topping rocker is barely scraping by.
It’s hard to sift through the emails, calls, messages, and more. I see a missed call from Global Entertainment, Bella’s event management company. That one I’ll return. It’s not like I expect her to be on the other end of the phone, but part of me feels slightly more connected to her this way. She’s reached out to me exactly once during her time in Australia, after I’d gone through all the stages of heartbreak, anger, and sadness. Her email came at a time I wasn’t able to respond without saying something mean, so I opted to say nothing instead.
Now, I’m stuck in limbo. She made her decision. I’m still in love with her, but 7,500 miles and two months of no contact separate us. Part of me wonders if she knows that I took her advice. It seems impossible to miss these headlines, but maybe she’s gone out of her way to erase me from her life. I’m not sure. But as time goes on, it’s not getting easier. I just want Bella more . Which makes me wonder if she’s feeling the same thing too.
When I return Global Entertainment’s call, a soft-spoken young lady spills the details.
“Hello, Jackson. We’re very interested in setting up a formal concert featuring the songs that you premiered at the Strawberry Jam in Fork Lick.”
“I appreciate that,” I tell her, “but I’m not even sure if I can set anything like that up right now. My agent?—”
“This isn’t involving your agent or your label,” she says. “In fact, we have a very capable organizer who is prepared to hash out that side of things on your behalf. We just want to get your name as a headliner as quickly as we can. Would you be willing to meet to discuss details?”
I can’t possibly see a path forward, but I’m willing to pretend this strange reality is possible, even if it’s just a fantasy. “Sure. Let’s do it.”
We hash out a date and time. Every bit of me wishes Bella could be on the other side of this meeting, but it’s a fool’s hope. She’s in Australia handling events on the other end of the world. And I’m here, treading water in Los Angeles while this headline keeps vaulting higher and higher.
The day of the meeting comes, and paparazzi follow me from my apartment to the restaurant. I need to push my way through them most days, which is different from before, when they mostly kept to the sidelines. They’re hungry for any tidbit about this unfolding scandal. Each day, new details emerge about Artie and other artists. He’s stopped threatening me, but only because he’s busy doing some serious damage control.
I’m meeting the Global Entertainment rep at Nobu Malibu. The hostess leads me to the wood-paneled patio overlooking Surfrider Beach. We’re barely four steps onto the patio when my gaze lands on her .
Bella.
She’s tucked into the white-cushioned couch looking out at the water. Her dark, silky hair is pulled into a high ponytail, her cheekbones glistening. My fingers curl, already desperate to wrap my arms around her, bury my fingers in that hair, kiss her until my lips go numb. I slow behind the hostess, because I already know. Even if Bella isn’t who I’m supposed to meet here today, that’s where I’ll be ending up.
Now that I’ve seen her again, there’s no other possible outcome.
“Mr. Bedd, your table…” the hostess gestures toward the low, square table where Bella is sitting. I nod and wave her off, crossing the distance in a few powerful steps. She looks up just as I arrive, and she inhales sharply.
“Jackson,” she breathes.
“What are you doing here?”
Her throat bobs, her cobalt gaze drinking me in. “I’m here to meet with you. To talk about…everything.”
I clench and unclench my fists, wondering if this is actually happening. “You’re supposed to be in Australia.”
“I moved back to LA.”
The news thuds like deadweight between us. I can’t decide if I’m relieved or mad. “When?”
“Yesterday. Can you sit down with me? Please.”
I sink into the armchair at the corner of the table. She looks over at me, a soft smile overtaking her pretty lips.
“I stepped down from the new position,” she says softly.
My brows draw together, and looking at her is suddenly too painful. I clear my throat, choosing instead to focus on my hands, my knuckles, my fingers snaking together. “Why would you do that?”
“It wasn’t for me,” she says with a sigh. “I thought it was going to be my dream, but…it was too far away from a certain someone who changed my life.”
My shoulders heft with a laugh. “Oh?”
“Yes. Besides, I’d much rather be in this hemisphere, working on projects on this side of the world.” She pauses, tenderness filling her gaze. “With you.”
I gnaw at the inside of my lip. There’s a clusterfuck of emotions swirling inside me, and I’m not even sure where to begin. I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, and study her for a moment.
“What kind of projects?” I ask.
“Things like…amplifying your newsbreak.” She offers a shy smile, a dimple flashing, and it’s in that moment that I know I’m a goner. I’ve got seconds of holding back left. If I’m lucky. “When Colleen gave me the heads up about your plan, I started reaching out to other musicians in my network, trying to get a feel for if anybody else had similar stories, or complaints. I found quite a few before you broke the news. I got more than a few signed on, ready to share their stories too. I knew it would be the best bet to help you get out of this contract. I still don’t know if we’ll succeed, but I’m doing whatever I can. And I’m here now, planning for the future I want, and praying that you’ll join me.”
I can only blink and absorb this woman’s greatness. She’s a mastermind, and she leveraged her enormous network for me .
“Let me get this straight,” I say softly. “You quit your new, coveted position, moved halfway around the world, and activated every single spurned musician that Artie has interacted with...for me?”
Her cheeks turn pink, and the shy smile turns sexy. “When Jackson Bedd writes you a song, it’s the only natural response. Anything else just seems sort of lackluster, don’t you think?”
My smile is growing wider by the second.
“Besides, I couldn’t lie to myself any longer.” She takes a shaky breath. “I love you, Jackson. I fell for you when we were in Fork Lick, and I haven’t been the same since.”
“And that’s just because I wrote you one song?” I tease.
“Who knows what will happen if you write me another.”
“There are very real consequences, I’m realizing.” I slide onto her cushion, our hips knocking. I slide my arm around her shoulders, and she falls against me, tilting her head to look up at me. “Is it wrong that I’m dying to find out what?”
“You better be careful.” Our faces are growing closer. She fills the space against my body like it was made for her. Soon, our lips are inches apart. “I might ask Baabara for permission to marry you or maybe demand to bear your children.”
Her gardenia scent floods me, and suddenly, everything in my life feels right. Even with the swirling drama and unknowns ahead of me, with Bella back at my side, it just makes sense.
“I might have to see how serious you are about that,” I murmur, our lips so close it’s painful. “And by the way—I fell in love with you too.”
I surge forward, capturing her lips in the kiss I’ve been dying to get since the night she walked away from me.
I don’t know what comes next, or how it will unfold.
But I don’t need to. Not with Bella here beside me.