49. Jackson
49
jackson
I groan as the annoying buzz wakes me up too soon and feel around for my phone, determined not to lift my head if I don’t have to. I swear to God, if Brian or Dave wants us up before checkout for whatever reason, I’m going to tell them to fuck off.
Unsuccessful, I lift my head and wince at the light shining through the crack in the curtains. It takes me a minute for my eyes to adjust, but then I see the lit-up screen in the middle of the bed.
It’s only when I see Margot’s name and photo that I feel more awake. Propping myself up on my elbow, I reach over for the phone and swipe to answer.
“Hey. Everything okay?” My voice is rough with sleep.
She’s quiet on the other end of the phone.
“Margot? What’s wrong?”
There’s another pause, and then she says, “Did something happen last night?”
“Last night?” I ask, my palm rubbing against my forehead like it will somehow clear away the fog in my brain. “We played in Lexington. ”
“Did you do anything else?” she asks, her voice quiet.
“We went out after, but you know we do that sometimes.”
“Yeah, I know.” Another hesitation. “But did anything happen while you were out?”
I frown as I try to recall the night before. “Uh, Brian wanted to celebrate, so he got everyone shots. I think it’s the first time I’ve seen Brian drunk.”
“Were you drunk?”
I frown. “I was by the end of the night, but the hotel is within walking distance. What’s with all the questions?”
“You’re staying in a hotel?”
“Yeah, I told you, Brian wanted to?—”
“Is anyone with you?”
I look around the room like she might know something I don’t. “Uh, no. Why would someone be with me?”
Margot lets out a breath on the other end of the phone, and I can’t tell if she’s growing frustrated with me or if it was a sigh of relief. “Okay.”
“Margot, can you just tell me what’s on your mind? All these questions are making my head hurt.”
She pauses for another beat. “You were with a girl last night. I thought she might still be there.”
I let out a laugh. “What?”
Margot speaks slowly. “Do you remember doing anything with a girl last night?”
I shake my head. “No, because I didn’t do anything with a girl last night.”
There’s a sniffle on the other end of the phone, and I sit up straight. “Are you crying?”
Ignoring my question, she takes a steadying breath. “Can you just look at the band’s Instagram?”
“Yeah, hold on.” What the hell could make her this upset? I put her on speaker so I can make sure she’s not actually crying while I open the app. There’s a picture of all of us sitting in the booth last night that I vaguely remember taking toward the end of the night. Amazingly, none of us look as sloppy as we probably were. “I see the picture of us from last night, but I don’t understand why you’re?—”
“Go to the tagged pictures.”
I do as she says, and the sinking realization hits me as soon as my eyes fall to Tarah’s unmistakable blonde hair and black leather jacket. Even from a distance it looks bad, but I go ahead and tap on the image to enlarge it anyway. “Fuck.”
There’s another sniffle, but her voice is surprisingly steady when she says a curt, “Yup.”
I zoom in. Goddamn it. She was all over me.
“Remember now?” Margot asks, snapping me out of my daze.
“I didn’t forget. This was nothing, Margot. I was with her for all of five minutes, and I turned her down.”
“Yeah, she looks devastated,” she says flatly. “Sounds it, too. Did you read the caption?”
My eyes jump to the blatant lie under the picture, and my anger spikes. “What the fuck? The only person she might have gotten lucky with last night was Mya.”
She forces a bitter laugh. “Right.”
Taking the phone off speaker, I hold it to my ear. “I’m serious. You can ask Mya about it if you want to.”
“I don’t want to ask Mya, Jackson. I’m asking you.”
The bite in her voice makes me freeze. It’s the first time I’ve heard her anger slip through. “Wait, wait, wait,” I say, shaking my head. “Do you really think I’d cheat on you?”
She sighs, and I hate the defeat in it. “I think most guys in your position might.”
My jaw ticks. “That’s not what I’m asking.”
She lets out a huff. “I don’t know! I never thought I’d see pictures of you like this either, but here we are. And you didn’t even think it was worth mentioning. What else hasn’t been worth mentioning?”
“Nothing!” I run a hand over my face. This can’t be fucking happening. “Look, she was a fan who got too close. I was trying to let her down easy. I never know who the fuck anyone is. I don’t know if they work for a label, and I don’t know if they have a blog with millions of subscribers. The last thing I need is for some story getting out about what an asshole I am, but I would never cheat on you.”
There’s another fucking pause, and her silence is as sharp as a blade.
“Margot.”
“Okay,” she finally says, her voice coming out raspy and whisper-like.
“I said nothing because it was nothing.”
“Okay,” she says again.
Damn it. I wish I could see her. I wish I could look her in the eyes and see what she’s feeling right now. If only I had just told her how I fucking felt when we were in New York. Maybe then she’d be more reassured. Maybe then she’d see this for what it is.
“Margot.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Jackson. I believe you. Or at the very least, I want to believe you.”
“You have to believe me.”
There’s a faint scoff on the other end of the line.
“You have to believe me because it’s the truth.”
“There’s truth in the pictures, too.” Her voice is quiet, like admitting that fact was something she didn’t want to do.
She’s going to make herself miserable over this. “Stop looking at the pictures.”
“How did you?—”
“Because you’re going to obsess over this, and it meant nothing. Nothing happened. I’ll tell Mya to remove the tag when I see her later.”
“The pictures aren’t the problem, Jackson. It’s what you’re doing in them.” Her sharp tone is back, and I know I’ve said the wrong thing.
“I’m not doing anything in them!”
“You’re not exactly doing anything to stop it either!” she throws back. “How far did it go? What did she have to do for you to stop it? Did she kiss your neck? Did she reach her hand further into your pants? How far has it gone with other fans you wanted to ‘let down easy?’”
My heart drums in my chest. I don’t think we’ve ever fought like this. We’ve bickered, sure. But we’ve never done this, and I fucking hate it. I’ve let her down and there’s nothing I can do to fix it. My head pounds.
“Margot,” I say, my voice coming out more tired than I feel. “This is the first time something like this has happened, and I promise you, the worst of it is in those photos.” She’s quiet on the other end, so I keep going. “You know, I don’t think of you less while I’m away. I think of you more. I know touring is my dream, but it doesn’t feel like my goals are just for me anymore—and it doesn’t feel like my goals are just about music anymore. You’ve made me see the bigger picture.”
Another small sniffle cracks my chest. “And where do I fit into this bigger picture?”
“Wherever you want. Take up the whole damn thing for all I care. Just be in it.”
She forces a laugh.
“I’m serious. All that matters is that you’re in it. But for the love of God, please don’t ask me to become a fucking accountant.”
She laughs again, and this one sounds more natural. “You’re a rockstar, Jackson. There’s no pencil pushing in your future. You’d die. ”
“I might.” I breathe a little more easily. “But if it made you happy, I’d give it a try.”
She sighs, and it sounds like she’s finally lying down or getting a little more comfortable. “I’d never ask you to do that.”
“I know you wouldn’t.” It’s one of the things I love about her.
There’s a pounding on the hotel door, and I wince, feeling it in my brain. Dave’s voice hollers through the cracks. “Rise and shine, motherfucker!”
I let out a groan, and there’s another light laugh from Margot on the other end of the phone.
“Duty calls,” I say as I force myself out of bed. Holding the phone in the crook of my neck, I pull on my pants. “Are we okay?”
The beat of silence that follows has me sitting on the edge of the bed.
Finally, she says, “I don’t know. I want to be, but I don’t know.”
“Please don’t let it mess with your head. I would never do something like that.”
“I’ll try.” Before I have the chance to say anything else, Dave bangs on my door again, and she adds, “Go. We’ll talk more later.”
I glare at the door wishing Dave could fuck off. “Yeah, I guess I should go before he barges in here. Text me, okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
We exchange goodbyes, and as soon as she hangs up, I fall back on the bed and let out a breath. I feel like I just dodged a bullet. I can’t believe Tarah had her friend taking pictures. Who knows, that could have been her plan all along. Maybe she just wanted to get the shot. Maybe that’s why she came on to me so fast .
Dave knocks again followed by, “Jackson, wake the fuck up.”
“I’m up. I’m up.” I get to my feet and rub both hands over my face in a desperate attempt to shake the multiple hangovers weighing me down.