True for You (19 page)
Now we’re in a
snooty lingerie shop. Okay, so the shop isn’t snooty, but the
sales girl that shadows our every step sure is.
“What’s
your good news?” I ask, trying to distract him from the table
of bras. “You never told me.”
“I
have a new agent and a new record label.” He flashes me a grin
and holds up a pair of thongs. “What do you think of these?”
The
salesgirl gives him the eye. “I know what she thinks of them.”
“I
don’t care what she thinks.”
The
salesgirl sashays over, pale hair perfectly smooth. My hair will
never be that straight and smooth. Ever. Then she runs a hand down
the front of her outfit, outlining how toned she is. I’ll also
never be that skinny. Ever.
Funny
how the best friend I ever had was tiny and blond, everything Jackson
wanted and yet, I never felt a tenth of the jealousy this salesgirl
inspires. I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.
“Can
I help you?” she asks, looking directly at Jackson.
“Yeah,
you can convince this sexy woman to try on these for me.”
Jackson winks at me, and I want to die. In a good way.
She
smiles. “I can start a dressing room for you, and bring you
whatever size you need.”
While
she waits out here, flirting with my husband. I don’t think so.
“No, thank you.”
“If
you don’t, then I’ll pick out everything I like, and
you’ll be stuck modeling it for me at home.” Jackson
holds up a barely there teddy, in black. “This will be outfit
number one.”
The
salesgirl crosses her arms and casts a glance at me. “You
better try something on. Or else you’ll end up looking like
slutty Barbie’s equally slutty brunette friend that no one can
ever remember her name.”
But
I can, because in a sea of pale skin and blond hair, she actually
looked like me. Well, now that I’m older, she looks like me,
but when I was little, she looked like my
mami
.
“Her name is
Teresa, and she’s not slutty. She’s classy and likes to
look good for her man.”
I
march over to the table, grabbing about ten pairs of panties and
matching bras, each more transparent than the next, and practically
throw them in her arms while she stares at me, at a loss for words.
“We’ll
take these and anything else my
husband
wants me to wear.” Then I toss my head and march over the sofa
usually reserved for the guys that come in here and sit down,
crossing my arms and my legs.
Jackson
doesn’t miss a beat. He hands her a see-through teddy and
starts going to all the tables, picking up everything. “I want
her to wear this and this.” He actually bites his knuckles at
one point, groaning, and I stifle a giggle. “Definitely this
one. Do you have another one like it in pink? And where in the hell
are the matching thigh highs?”
Obviously
realizing that Jackson doesn’t give a rat’s tail about
what she thinks, and I’m sure the money he was about to drop
doesn’t hurt, she starts gathering everything he points at.
Pretty soon, another sales girl joins us, then the manager comes by
and offers me something to drink and eat.
I
sink into the cushions, eating shortbread cookies and drinking hot
tea, while feeling exactly like Julia Roberts in
Pretty
Woman
.
Jackson
After
the best shopping trip of my life, I’m heading to the one place
I’d rather not go. In fact, I’d rather be back at that
lingerie shop, making sure I didn’t miss anything for Bliss to
wear.
However,
I have to get this over with. I have to take control of my life back
from my dad. There’s no way in hell I can do to Bliss what I
did to Violet. I’m not that guy anymore, and I’m praying
Bliss is right about my mother.
“Wait
in the car,” I say to Bliss as we pull up to my parents’
house. “This won’t take long at all.”
“Are
you sure about this?” she asks, leaning toward me. Her lemony
scent steals over me, simultaneously calming me and giving me courage
to be the man I so desperately want to be.
“I’m
sure about you.” I kiss her, wanting a few more minutes before
I go inside and make all hell break loose.
“I
can come inside with you, be your backup?”
Pulling
the flash drive out of my coat pocket, I hold it up. “I have
all the backup I need.” There’s a copy of it in my safe
at home, too. And a third in a security box at Nashville Credit
Union.
“What’s
that?” she asks.
“Our
guarantee to be left alone.”
“You
can do it, Jackson. I have faith in you.”
“I’ll
make you proud, baby doll.” Cutting the engine, I open the door
and make my way to the front of the house. To be honest, I’m
actually nervous. The last time I stood up to my dad, he choked me so
hard that I almost passed out. That was barely a month ago.
Ringing
the doorbell, I wait for Kathy or Everett to answer. The door opens,
and Everett steps back.
“Took
you long enough.”
I
don’t bother to answer him. Instead, I draw my fist back and
hit him in the jaw, sending him crashing to the ground. “Listen
to me, old man. I have your flash drive, lots of copies of it, in
places you can’t get. If you want those pictures to stay
private, here’s what’s going to happen—one, you’ll
make this Tara Flowers thing go away. I don’t care how you do
it. Just make it happen and make sure she’s well taken care of,
from your bank account,
not
mine. Two, leave Bliss the hell alone. Three, don’t call me,
don’t text me, or even email me. Forget that I’m your
son, because I’ll be doing exactly that.”
“Some
son you are, sending your mother to an early grave,” he says,
but I notice he doesn’t get up. Maybe the element of surprise
got him. Maybe I finally had enough anger and righteousness on my
side to take him down.
I
shake my head. “Not anymore. That’s all on you. I’m
done.”
Then
I take one last look at the house I grew up in and walk out the front
door.
Bliss
is waiting for me by the car, not in it, but I don’t care. She
runs up to me, hugging me tight.
“I’m
so proud of you,” she whispers.
“But
you weren’t there; you don’t know what I said or did.”
I smooth her hair down her back.
“I
heard what you said, all the way out here.” Tears fill her
eyes, but she’s smiling. “You chose us. You chose
me
.”
I
breathe in her lemon and flower scent. “I’d choose you
every time. Now let’s get the hell out of here, before Everett
has me arrested for assault.”
*** *** ***
Bliss
The
next day I go with Jackson to the recording studio. We’re
introduced to Patrick and Bean. Why Bean is called Bean, I have no
idea, but they both seem professional and knowledgeable.
Inside,
it’s darker than I expected, and without any frills, just a
soundproof room, with a stool, some chairs, a piano, and a couple of
guitars. A few mics hang from the ceiling and there’s one in
the center, by the stool.
I
stand in the booth, watching as Jackson practices with a tall woman,
with dark hair and even darker skin.
“If
Winona doesn’t love him, then he’s sunk,” Patrick
says, pressing buttons. There are about a thousand of them, all
lighting up at different times.
I
cross my fingers and my toes, hoping that this Winona loves the crap
out of him. They stop singing, and Winona nods.
“Looks
like we’re in business,” Bean says.
I
clap, smiling so big that I think my face will crack. Finally,
Jackson can get on the path to being free, and he’s doing it
all on his own.
“Ready
to get started?” Bean asks, holding down a button.
“Ready
when you are.”
Jackson
picks up his guitar and straps it on. He’s wearing dark jeans,
brown boots, and a graphic tee with a beanie covering his strawberry
blond hair.
The
door swings open and a girl walks in, tiny and blond as can be.
Jackson does a double take, and so do I. It’s like she’s
Violet’s doppelganger.
I
swallow, my face growing hot, while my body runs cold.
“Hi,
I’m June Carson.” She holds out her hand, and I watch as
the man I love takes it, his eyes never leaving her face.
“Jackson
Morgan.”
She
smiles. “I know who you are. “
He
scratches at his jaw. “That makes one of us.”
“We’ll
be collaborating on your first single. I’m not a name like you,
but I want to be.” She flutters her lashes at him.
“Let’s
see what you got,” he says, like she’s a challenge.
Bean
and Patrick look at each other. “Score.” They high five
each other, while I want to cry. I want to scream.
Jackson
winks at June and she smiles, and then turns to look at the booth,
piercing my heart with her confident gaze.
They
start singing together, their voices winding. “No,” I
whisper. They sound better than he ever did with Violet or Callie.
Jackson
plays to her, singing a love song that makes my insides constrict and
my stomach turn.
When
he’s done, he comes out of the studio, grinning like crazy and
grabbing me up in a hug. “That felt so good, baby doll,”
he whispers in my ear. “Let’s go home and you can put on
one of those see-through teddys I bought you.”
I
don’t know what to say, so I say nothing at all and kiss him on
the cheek. He sets me down and we say our good-byes to Patrick and
Bean.
As
soon as we get home, Jackson is all over me, stripping away my
clothes and my ability to remember why I’d gotten so upset
earlier. He kisses me everywhere, hands following his lips, and I
give in to him.
“What
about the lingerie?” I whisper, when he’s deep inside of
me.
“Next
time.” He covers my mouth with his, his fingers lace with mine,
his hips drive hard against me, and I’m lost.
***
Over
the next couple of weeks, a pattern sets in—one that I’m
not sure I like or dislike.
Jackson
goes to business meetings, to photo-shoots, interviews, and the
studio to record. I go with him everywhere, but the business
meetings, even though he swears it would be no problem for me to sit
in on them.
Whenever
he’s not in one of those, or at the studio, he’s making
love to me. In bed, on the floor, the shower… on the kitchen
table. I’m helpless to stop him, unable to say no, because I
don’t want to stop him or say no. I want to be with him, making
love every chance we get.
But
I can’t get it out of my head that something special is
happening with June Carson. What
Jackson
has been looking for all this time, he’s found with her. And
there’s nothing I can do about it.
Exhaling,
I settle against the leather seat in the sound booth of the studio.
We’ve been here for a couple of hours and that
something-bad-is-about-to-happen feeling won’t leave me alone.
I
watch my husband sing to June as he plays his guitar. It’s a
song about first loves, old loves, and new ones. She sits beside him
on a tall stool, waiting for her turn to croon right back at him.
It
seems like every song they perform has to do with love, and with
every song they sing, they look more and more like a couple in love.
My
heart pinches and I grimace.
Patrick
glances back at me, and I quickly paste on a smile. “Usually
this kind of stuff takes years.”
“What
kind of stuff?”
“Chemistry.
It’s off the chart.”
“That’s
good.”
“I
never did get your name.”
Actually he had, but
who am I to argue? “Bliss Morgan.”
“Oh,
you’re related to Jackson?”
“I’m
his wife.”
Patrick
frowns, then Jackson and June’s voices get all tangled up in
one another, in a way that makes the hair on my arms stand on end,
and he turns his attention back to them.
When
they finish, Jackson jumps up, swinging his guitar around and giving
June a hug. “Where have you been all my life?”
She
hugs him back, and I just sit there, like a bump on a log. “Waiting
for my big break.”
“So
I’m your big break, huh?” he asks. Is he flirting with
her? I can’t tell, and I certainly can’t ask. “Ready
to go again?”
She
raises a shoulder, casting him a sexy smile. “I can go as long
as you can.”
I swallow. There’s
no doubt in my mind that she’s flirting with him. Unable to
take anymore, I stand. “I’m… I need to go
outside.”
Bean
and Patrick don’t say a word. They’re too caught up with
in the chemistry of the other couple.
When
I slip out the booth and head down the hall, no one stops me, and an
hour later, when I’m home, pacing the floor, no one calls me.
Not
even Jackson.