Ace of Spades (5 page)

         
His gaze held hers captive and words like
toe-curling
,
earth-shattering
,
and
mind-blowing
came to mind. But Jackson was fire and she had no
desire to get burned. Adequate, was fine with her. She cleared her throat.

         
“So, you still haven’t told me what you want?”

         
“What do I want?” he repeated, cocking a dark brow at her.
“You.”

         
“Me?” Melody squeaked.

         
Jackson chuckled. “Relax, beautiful. I’m not propositioning you.” His searing
blue eyes burned a trail down her bosom. “Yet,” he added with a mischievous
grin. “I want to offer you a job. Easy work, six figures, benefits.”

         
He fished a white business card from his pocket and tossed it on the table
between them. Mel made no movement to pick it up.

         
“A job?”
She croaked. “Jackson, I’m not a prostitute.”

         
“Last I checked
,
UC San Diego didn’t have an MBA
program with an emphasis on prostitution.”

         
Melody gaped at him. He smirked back. He’d done his homework on her. “No, they
don’t,” she mumbled.

         
“So, needless to say, an MBA wouldn’t suit my needs in that department,” he
grinned. She tried to ignore the way his smile made her heart tap-dance a lively
cadence.

         
“What are you looking for then?” Melody asked, filled with skepticism. What use
could a rock star have for an MBA on his staff?

         
“A personal assistant.”

         
Melody laughed at that. “Jackson, I did NOT go to graduate school to fetch your
coffee and pick up your dry cleaning.”

         
 “Maybe personal assistant is the wrong verbiage.”  He waved his hand
in the air as though conjuring up a better phrase.
“More of a
business manager.
Someone to supervise my staff,
manage
my finances, oversee my time, and keep me out of trouble.”

         
“You don’t need a business manager, Jackson, you need a babysitter,” Melody
sighed.

         
“Then you’re perfect for the job,” he reasoned. “You used to babysit a lot as a
teenager.”

         
“Small children, not grown men who are addicted sex and drugs,” Melody
protested.

         
“And don’t forget rock and roll,” he laughed.

         
“Fine.
I have no desire to babysit a grown man who is
addicted to sex, drugs, and rock and roll.”

         
“Oh, come on, Mel,” he pled. “I need you. I need someone to take care of the
business aspect, so I can focus on my music.”

         
“And someone to hold your hair back as you
barf
, call
9-1-1 when you overdose, fish the skanky panties out of the pool, and take out
the trashy one-night stands when you’re bored with them.”

         
“Am I that transparent?” He asked with mock indignation.

         
Mel eyed him warily. “What happened to your last ‘manager’?”

         
Jackson grinned and gave her another one of his signature shrugs. “He got tired
of babysitting.”

         
“Lucky for me, right?” she snorted.

         
“Damn right, opportunity of a lifetime, right here.”

         
 “But I don’t know anything about the music industry,” Melody argued,
feeling her resolve slipping. She really needed a job, no matter how
undesirable. Plus, she’d get to spend time with Jackson again. Too bad he wasn’t
the Jackson she knew and loved anymore.

         
Yet another signature shrug, so reminiscent of the old him.
“So what?
I have an agent to handle all that and
honestly, I’m to the point where my shit sells itself. I just have to show up.
I need
you
to make sure I do.”

         
Melody scoffed. “Someone sure thinks an awful lot of himself.”

         
“It is what it is,” Jackson shrugged with a wry smile. But then his face grew
somber. “In all seriousness, Mel, I need your help. I’m drowning here.”

         
Melody studied him in silence. His eyes were so luminous and genuine, so much
like the old Jackson, the one she would do anything for. Mel sighed. “Fine, I’ll
think about it.”

         
“Really?”
Jackson beamed at her, his sapphire eyes
bright, his grin lopsided.

         
Her heart rejoiced. The boy she knew
was
still in there and she’d say
anything to make him smile like that. Melody would gladly walk through hell and
back again for that boy, but she had to know they were on the same page.

         
She held one finger up in the air in front of her. “But, only
under
one condition.”

         
“Anything,” Jackson vowed.

         
“You promise to stay sober. No more drugs.”

         
Jackson’s face fell. “I can’t do that,” he said flatly.

         
“Then I can’t take the job. I’ve watched you throw your life away once already,
I refuse to do it again.”

         
Silence filled the air between them like smoke in a burning building,
smothering everything in its path.

         
Melody drummed her perfectly manicured nails on the linen table cloth, ignoring
the tension building between the two of them as the seconds ticked by and the
implication of her words sank in like a tank in quicksand.

         
She wished Jackson had stayed tucked away neatly in the file labeled ‘people
she used to know.’ She couldn’t afford to care about him again. She couldn’t
stand by and watch him kill himself. If he wasn’t willing to help himself,
there was nothing she could do for him.

         
Uncertainty.
Regret.
Fear.
Hurt.
Desire.
When at last she thought she might
explode from the hurricane of emotions in her head, she jumped up. “I should
go,” she mumbled. Turning to leave, she whispered, “Bye, J.”

         
“Mel, wait.” Jackson’s voice stopped her in her tracks. It was so full of raw
pain and need. But what he needed, she wasn’t quite sure. “I’ll try,” he
quietly promised.

         
She turned back to him in surprise.
“Really?”

         
“Yeah, if it means that much to you, I’ll give it a try.” He held the business
card out to her in his outstretched hand.

         
Mel’s gaze drifted from his face to the card, then back again. She sighed and
accepted the card. “Alright, Jackson, I’ll think about it.”

         
“Promise?”
The hope in his voice gnawed at her heart.

         
“Promise.”

Chapter 7

Digging
deep

         
Just…
a little… bit… farther
. The old storage container wrenched free
from the stack of boxes beneath which it had been wedged for heaven only knew
how long, sending Melody tottering off balance. Her backside smacked the garage
floor and she released an indelicate
oomph.
Brushing the hair from her
eyes, Melody scrambled to her feet.

         
With
the sweep of her hand, she dusted the film of neglect from the top of the
container. Lifting the lid, she peered into the box with quiet reverence. Her
box of treasures, the storage container held everything that had ever mattered
to her. From old photos of her childhood to college mementos, if she wanted to
remember it, it was there.

         
 Gently, she sifted through her memories. Both of her college degrees,
high honor cords, sorority bid, active pin, glasses, high school diploma and
tassel, notes…
Pictures -- of college, of high school, of
Jackson -- so many of her and Jackson.
Melody paused to study a photo of
the two of them, about ten years old, huddled together on a piano bench. 
They looked so carefree and happy then. Yeah, those two kids didn’t have a
clue.

         
Magazine features on Union Jack. Newspaper clippings highlighting the murder
and Jackson’s court proceedings.  Mel’s hands trembled as she set them
aside.

She
still couldn’t understand why he’d done it. That sweet, talented boy threw his
life away. Pled guilty to a murder he couldn’t possibly have committed.
 It filled her with anger, sadness, and frustration all over again. Never
before had she felt so trapped and helpless.

Melody’s
fingers closed around one of her most prized possessions- a crumpled 5x7 card,
its orange dye splattered with tears and faded by age. With a sad smile, she
smoothed the crinkled card and studied the faded, penciled chicken-scratch,
written with the spelling of a struggling second-grader. Sixteen years had
passed, but the card’s significance remained.

‘Ugly’
had been crossed out and replaced with ‘
butiful
.’
An
angry line slashed through the word “nerd,” and the word ‘
orijinul
’
was scrawled beneath it. The corrections continued, with every nasty word wiped
out by a kind, albeit misspelled one.

Melody
lovingly stroked the card, remembering the sweet boy with his big heart and
even bigger dreams. Was he happy now? He couldn’t possibly be. Sure, it could
be argued that all his dreams came true. He
had
become one of the
greatest musicians alive. But his life was a disaster.
He
was a
disaster.

Melody
wondered if the offer of employment was a cry for help. Did he finally realize
how much trouble he was in? Or was his offer merely made out of guilt for the
part he’d played in the loss of her job? Or worse, was it an attempt to put
another notch in Black Jack’s bed post?

Melody
shuddered. She really didn’t know.

Was that
impish boy still there within the jaded man? Adult-Jackson barreled through
life in self-destruct mode, begging for the next catastrophe to strike. He’d
never live to see twenty-five if he didn’t make some major lifestyle changes.

 But
could he change?

Melody
wasn’t convinced he could, but it was worth a try.

The old
Jackson had been her best friend, protector, and confidante. He’d sheltered her
from the cruelty of their peers and showed her a world she’d never imagined. He’d
saved her from herself time and again. Through thick and thin, they’d had each
other.
Until he flushed his life and their friendship down
the toilet.

If there
was anyone in this world who could reel him in, it was her. But he had to be
willing to meet her half way. Melody knew she could save him from himself,
given the chance. But would he let her?

There
was only way to find out. 

A

         
“I am NOT having my girlfriend
gophering
for some
stone-head, bad-boy rock star,” Richard railed, his face turning red as his
temper rose.

         
“Why not?”
Melody argued. “The money is good and what
other options do I have? The hotel fired me and it’s not like there are a bunch
of other offers banging down my door. I’ve got bills to pay.”

         
Richard radiated exasperated indignity. “You know I’m perfectly capable of
supporting you.”

         
“I know you can. That’s not the point. I don’t want you to. I’m a capable,
educated, hardworking woman. I need to support myself,” Melody argued for
probably the third time that month.

Richard
had some misbegotten fantasy about her staying home and being ‘the little
woman.’ Unfortunately for him, she had a fantasy about being a successful,
productive member of society. No way would she sign up for cooking and cleaning
while he brought home the bacon. She needed to feel like a partner, not a
burden or a possession.

         
“But why Black Jack?
He’s the biggest disaster to hit
the music industry in a long time,” Richard countered through clenched teeth. “I
mean have you seen the way women throw themselves at that wasted piece of
trash?”

         
“Why, Richard, I do believe you’re jealous.” Melody said, arching her brows at
him. “Don’t be. It’s not like that with me and Jackson. Jackson has been my friend
since we were eight years old. He was like a brother to me until he…” She
trailed off. Mel still couldn’t say it, even after all these years.

         
Richard narrowed his hazel eyes at her. “Say it.”

         
“Say what?” she feigned ignorance, studying her cuticles.

         
“Until he stabbed a man seventeen times then practically got
away with murder.”

         
“That’s not fair,” Melody
protested,
her ears and
cheeks growing hot with anger.

         
“What’s not fair about it? That he’s a cold-blooded killer who got off because
of his money and celebrity status?
Or the fact that I don’t
want my girlfriend working closely with a womanizing murderer with a drug
habit?”

         
Melody sucked in a deep breath, letting it out her nose slowly. God grant her
patience.

“For the
record, I still think there’s a lot more to that story than any of us will ever
know. And he
didn’t
get away with murder. He served the minimum sentence
and paid the maximum fine for his plea. But that’s all beside the point.”

         
Wrapping her arms around Richard’s waist, Melody hugged him close. “Push comes
to shove, Richard, Jackson was my best friend and he needs me now.”

         
“I need you now,” Richard complained.

         
Melody sighed in frustration. “I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t help him
when he needed it most. Please try to understand.”

         
Richard pressed a light kiss to her forehead.
“Fine.
I
don’t like it, but if it’s what you want, I’ll allow it. I just hope you know
what you’re getting yourself into. I love to be right, but I’d hate to have to
say ‘I told you so.’”

         
“Honey, you won’t. It’s Jackson,” Melody assured him with a wavering smile, not
completely convinced
herself
. “He’s not really the bad
boy everyone makes him out to be. Everything will be fine, I promise.”

         
“Famous last words,” Richard sighed wistfully.

A

         
Melody didn’t know what she expected when she dialed the phone number hastily
scrawled beneath the exorbitant salary on the back of the white business card,
but it wasn’t Jackson picking up on the first ring.

         
“What?” Jackson grumbled.

         
“Well hello to you too, sunshine,” Melody teased, taken aback at the sound of
his voice. Perhaps she’d expected a secretary or that red bear of a security
guy, Lenny. Anyone but the grumpy Jackson she got.

         
“Mel?” His tone changed from annoyed to hopeful.

         
“Yeah, J.”
She smiled in spite of herself. “I uh, had
some time to think about your offer. And I talked to Richard about it.”

         
“Richard?”  Clearly he’d forgotten that part of their conversation. What
else happened to conveniently slip his memory?

         
“My boyfriend,” Melody offered in a combination of annoyance and amusement.

         
Jackson’s low chuckle rumbled through the phone.
‘Oh, yeah,
Mr. Adequate.
I remember now.”

         
“Don’t call him that.” Melody would reach through the phone and smack him if
she could.
Affectionately, of course.

         
 “You’re the one who said it. Would you prefer I call him Mr. Inadequate?”
Jackson offered.

         
“Don’t you dare,” Melody gasped. “He’s already upset about me taking the job.
Try not to make things worse.”

         
“Does that mean you’ll take it?” The raw hope in Jackson’s voice clawed at Mel’s
heart.

         
“Yes, J, I’ll take it. That is, if the offer still stands.”

         
“Hell yeah, it does.”

         
“Well, then, Mr.
Blackner
. I’m all yours,” she said,
her tone betraying her hesitance.

         
“Not yet, you’re not,” he countered softly.  “But you will be.”

         
The husky promise in his voice sent shivers through Melody. Yeah, he
had
to stop talking to her like that. Her list of demands was growing by the
second. No drugs. No sexy promises. Melody cleared her throat.

         
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Mel scolded, and then quickly
changed the subject. “So, um, when do you want me?”

         
Jackson gave a sharp laugh. “You just keep walking right into them, Mel. You
know that?  It’s too easy. How about you meet me at Brewster’s in
Hillcrest for coffee tomorrow morning to meet the crew and take care of the
paperwork?”

         
“Sounds great,” she agreed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, J.”

         
“Oh, and Mel?” he said before she could end the call.

         
“Yes?”

         
“The answer is
always
.”

         
Before Melody could ask him what the question was, the line went dead. Deep
down inside she knew what he meant. When would he want her?
Always.
If only she could believe that.