JACK: Las Vegas Bad Boys (8 page)

“Hey, girls,” Claire says, and comes in with JoJo in tow.

“You got here fast,” Emmy says. “Sit. You want mimosas? Ricky just brought the stuff out.”

The coffee table has champagne and OJ ready for us. I didn’t even notice.

“Sure,” JoJo says. “Hope you don’t mind that I tagged along. I saw Claire at kindergarten drop-off. I’ve been helping Mary with the kids a bunch this week. And Lucy has the baby.”

“What’s Mary off doing?” Emmy asks.

“Actually, she and Connor are at this marriage counseling thing in Los Angeles. Which is sort of insane.”

“Good for them,” Emmy says. “I wish you’d brought the baby though; she’s so cute.”

“Emmy has baby-fever,” Claire says, smirking, and fills a glass with equal parts orange juice and champagne.

“Haven’t you only been married a few months?” JoJo asks.

“Right?” Claire laughs. “She has no idea what she’s hoping for.”

“Hey,” Emmy says defensively, “there are worse things than getting knocked up by the man you love.”

With that, all three of them turn to look at me.

Because apparently I am the worst thing.

“So,” Claire begins. “What’s the crisis?”

I roll my eyes, looking at Emmy. Hating that she’s spinning my story out of control.

“Look, I don’t want to talk about it. Jack and I had a really good time together—”

“Sounds like it, by the way he stormed out of here,” Emmy says.

“Wait, Jack was here and then left? This morning?” Claire asks.

“Yeah, apparently they had a sleepover, then they came here for free food and got in some weird code-word-fight and he left.”

“You guys already have code words?” JoJo asks, seeming impressed.

But impressed, I am not. “You guys, I love you, tons. But whatever is going on between Jack and me, is private.”

“Are you kidding me with that?” Emmy asks, pouring a glass of just champagne and handing it to me. “Drink. Then tell us the actual truth. Remember my horrible past? Claire’s secret daughter? JoJo and her arranged marriage? Honey, I think your privacy got thrown out the window the moment Ashley started stirring Jack’s pot.”

“Eww, is that a sex thing? Stirring pots?” Claire asks.

“No,” Emmy says, smacking Claire on the back of her head. “It’s the actual thing that Ashley did to get a rise out of Jack and then upset Tess—and honestly,” she says, turning to me. “I think you’re overreacting, honey. Did Jack show you the photos? They just aren’t that bad.”

JoJo frowns. “The ones this morning are more than a little bad.”

“This morning is still happening, what do you mean?” I ask, another wave of dread crashing through me.

JoJo pulls out her phone, tapping on the screen. “It’s not like a verified news source. It’s just people on Periscope.”

I look at her blankly.

“The app,” she explains. “It gives live broadcasts of whatever you film. And it’s linked to all your social media.”

“What did you see?”

JoJo grimaces. “You really haven’t seen it? Honey, that’s why I thought you were having this pow-wow. I mean … a live sex tape is pretty serious.”

“What the hell!” I grab the phone from her and tap the
Play
button.

For the next ten minutes we watch with our mouths covered in shock, as a video of Jack and me in the limo—just, what, thirty minutes ago?—is filmed through the driver’s window.

The footage is dark, but there are unmistakable gasps and moans. And cries. Me repeating, “Jack, give it to me harder.”

“Oh, my God.” I cover my face. “Delete that.”

“You can’t delete Periscope videos. Obviously, we’ll report it and it will get pulled down,” JoJo says.

“But by now it’s probably already been downloaded on other sites,” Claire says.

“I’m so sorry, Tess. I really thought you guys knew,” JoJo says.

“Let me call Ace,”Emmy says. “Whoever that driver is, he’s gonna get fired.”

“How are you going to find the driver? There are thousands of them,” Claire says. “And okay, say they find him: how does this help Tess, right now?”

“Can I see the glamour.com articles?” I ask, trying not to hyperventilate, trying to get a solid assessment on this entire situation.

JoJo nods and quickly pulls them up. “This, and then scroll down and you can see some more. But don’t look at the comments.”

There I am, leaving Jack’s place, frame by frame. And there I am, entering my apartment shot by shot.

“Why does anyone care who Jack sleeps with?” I ask.

“The only person who cares is Ashley,” Emmy assures me. “Seriously, no one else on the planet cares who leaves whose apartment.”

“You think it’s obvious that girl is me?” I ask.

“Well, yeah,” Claire says apologetically.

“Even if my hair was normally blonde and to my waist? And if I was wearing a lot of make-up? Would you still think that might be me?”

“I think your eyes give you away, and your lips are so full it would be hard to miss you, even if you looked different,” Claire says, giving me a hard, assessing look.

“What are you getting at, Tess?” Emmy asks.

“Never mind.”

JoJo nods, and in an instant I know she’s following along with me. “You’re running from someone, aren’t you?”

“I gotta go,” I tell them, standing up, setting the champagne on the coffee table. I should never have stayed this long. And not just this morning—I mean in this city in general.

I should never have become so close to these people, people who are all a few steps from fame themselves. Landon and his Fortune 500 Company, Ace and his casino brand—every A-List celebrity stays here and is their new friend. Even JoJo is on the cusp of fame, with her MMA career.

I can’t stay close to any of them.

I may care for all of them, a hell of a lot. But I care more about having a chance at freedom.

I need to leave. Now.

“I’ll call you girls later, okay? I’m tired. Exhausted by the sex scandal.” I give them a fake laugh, hoping like hell they buy it. “If anyone at my apartment looks suspicious, I’ll be sure to give you a call. Maybe Ace or Landon—or even your family, JoJo—could help with security.”

They all say that of course they’ll help, and ask me to stay, to tell them what’s really going on.

“I really can’t. I need to be alone right now, okay?”

I lean over and give them each a hug goodbye.

I don’t linger, don’t say anything else, because anything else is going to make me lose my nerve, make me break down and drag them into this.

And right now I just need to start over.

L
ook
, I pride myself on not being a complete asshole—but, standing there in the kitchen at Emmy and Ace’s, I was losing my cool.

My childhood may have been cushy compared to hers, but that doesn’t mean she should be lying to her friends about her past.

I don’t get that. What could be so bad she’s hiding it from the people who have let her into their lives so willingly?

And there was the whole crap in the elevator where she decided that she and I were nothing more than a hook-up. Why the hell is she so determined to push me away?

I’ve never been some pussy-whipped guy … but, fuck, her pussy seems to have done a motherfucking number on me.

I sent the limo away when Tess and I arrived, and I need to get a new ride back to my place. Walking thought the casino lobby, all I want to do is get a car and go.

Of course, Ashley decides this is the perfect moment to stop me.

I’m nearing the exit, and she grabs my hand, pulling me aside.

“Seriously, this isn’t the time.”

“Oh, really?” She purses her lips at me. “I think this is the perfect time. You happen to be the one person I am looking for.”

“Honestly, it’s been a long morning. I just need to go home.”

“We know all about how long your morning has been.”

“Who’s we? And what the hell are you talking about?” I shrug out of her hold, not having any patience for this shit.

“You must know about the video.”

I look at her blankly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She smirks. “Oh, boy, this is gonna get ugly. But I don’t think you’ll want to be in public when I break the news.”

“Seriously?” I look at my phone; it’s blowing up. I’ve missed half a dozen calls from Kirby, a few from McQueen and Landon. What the fuck?

Just then I see Ace walking toward Ashley and me.

“What’s going on, Ash? Did you do something stupid?”

She swallows, and I see a look of fear cross her face.

“Fuck. What did you do?”

“I’m really sorry, Jack. I was just trying to get back at you. I never really thought it was going to get so ugly, so fast. I never would have given the guy I hired the okay to broadcast that. You have to believe me.”

Ace comes up to our little pow-wow and gives Ashley the once-over.

“I hired you to be a performer at my casino, not to fuck with my friends.”

“I thought we were friends, too, Ace,” she says, crossing her arms defensively.

“We’ve never been friends. We’ve tolerated one another. Now, what the hell is going on?”

“You don’t know, either?” Ashley asks, her face going white.

When Ace doesn’t answer, she looks for an out. “Like I said, Jack, I’m sorry. For everything. I never meant to let things get this out of hand. I swear.” She squeezes my arm before walking away.

“Do you know what she’s talking about?” I ask Ace.

“No fucking clue.”

“My agent has been calling. Give me a sec, okay?”

Ace nods, and looks down at his phone while I make the call.

“What’s up, Kirby? Ashley just freaked out on me.”

“You doing okay, Jack? How you holding up?”

“What, with the Tess thing? I’m fine but she’s a mess. And I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with Ash.”

“You haven’t seen the video?” Kirby asks, desperation in his voice.

“What video?”

Ace shoves his phone screen in my face. He presses
Play
on the Periscope app, revealing a poorly shot video of Tess and me this morning in the limousine.

“Holy shit,” I say, under my breath, as the screen is filled with Tess going down on me.

“I’m working with Lola and the rest of the PR team right now. They’re creating a press release. I suggest you get home if you aren’t there now, and keep Tess with you. If her apartment isn’t as secure as yours, cameras are going to be lining up, shoving this in her face for a comment.”

“Shit. Okay. I’m at Spades now; I think Tess is here, too.”

Ace nods at me, and takes back his phone to make a call—hopefully getting Tess on the line.

“Okay,” Kirby says. “You know this woman, Tess? She’s from the other night, correct?”

“Yeah, she’s a close friend of mine.”

Kirby keeps it professional, which I appreciate. “Good. I’m glad she’s someone you trust. When you talk to Lola, I’ll be in on the call—but, Jack, as your agent, listen to me for a second. If there is anything on this girl, you need to tell me the second you know. We need to be ahead of this story.”

“Got it.”

“I really hope this doesn’t fuck up the deal with Kendrick Music Group.”

“Me too, Kirby,” I tell him, realizing how deep in shit this video is putting me.

Ashley did this to me, and now it might ruin everything she wanted to have.

I hang up the phone and shake my head.

“Fuck, man. I’m really sorry,” Ace says. “Tess was just leaving the apartment, but Emmy caught her in time. We’re gonna go around back, okay? Thousands of people are looking at you out here in the open.”

I follow him to the back of the casino, where his driver is ready to take Tess and me away.

Emmy and Tess are waiting for us, and neither look happy.

“I’m so sorry, Tess.”

Ignoring me, she looks at Ace. “Can you tell Carla that I won’t be at work today? She’s my shift manager. Maybe ask her to call me?”

“Don’t worry about it, Tess,” Ace tells her. “Not to be intense, but are you going to be okay together? If you’d rather, Tess, you can stay here, with Emmy and me.”

“No, I’ll be fine.” She gives them each a hug, and gets in the limo.

“Thanks, guys.” With Tess in the car, I add, “Is she okay, Emmy?”

“No, something is seriously wrong.”

“It’s the video, Emmy,” Ace says. “Of course she’s freaked out. A sex tape of her just streamed across the entire world.”

“I don’t think that’s it, babe.” Emmy crosses her arms, leaning in to whisper. “I honestly think she was more upset about the photos. She was going on about blonde hair, and if people would recognize her. And then she insisted on leaving.”

I swallow, knowing this is more about her past than it is about me.

“Thanks for telling me, Emmy. And I’ll be sure to call later.”

I slide into the car, next to Tess, but she just moves farther away.

Fuck. Whatever was between us a few hours ago is really fucking far away.

And this video isn’t helping a damn thing.

* * *

I blink back tears as the limo rolls down the strip. I can’t look at Jack, and I’m only in this car with him because it’s my best chance of getting away. If I’d stayed with Emmy, she and the crew would have watched me too closely and not let me out of their sight.

With Jack, though, I think he’s more likely to let me do what I want. And what I want is to stick to my initial plan.

This whole sex video just amplifies that. I need to take my money and run.

Jack seems to know better than to push me with a slew of questions right now; instead, he keeps his eyes on his phone screen.

Thinking past my own emotions, I realize that this video is worst-case scenario for his career. How do you put a good spin on an early morning sex tape, on the heels of breaking up with a music star?

The fact that I’m a no-name waitress just adds to the sketchiness of the whole thing. I can’t decide if I hope they connect me with the Emmy and Claire circle, or if I would rather just be viewed as a club girl, wanting five minutes of fame.

When we get to his apartment, Jack speaks for the first time.

“We can go through the rear entrance; Ace’s security men are here, getting the press to back off.”

I nod, and follow his lead. Stepping out of the limo, I hear cameras going off, but security is with us, flanking me as we enter the complex. I keep my head down, and the shock of the intrusion is enough to keep my tears at bay.

Once we’re upstairs, behind the doors of the apartment, I stand in the foyer and listen as Jack speaks with the head of security.

“Just make sure someone is here at all times, and we need someone at Tess’s home address too, to make sure no one is getting into her things in an attempt to get information on her. Those guys are ruthless.”

My mind spins. Dizzy, I ask, “You really think security at my studio is necessary?” I need to get back to my place, undiscovered, so I can get away.

“No doubt,” says a man who looks a little too much like The Rock. “Remember that Celine Dion scandal? Dudes busted into her bathroom, started writing down her prescriptions to sell the information to the press.”

“I’m not Celine Dion. I’m nobody.”

“Not anymore, you ain’t,” The Rock says. “It’s all good, though. We got your back.”

“Great,” I tell him, smiling tightly, but also completely claustrophobic. I never should have kept my money in a freaking moneybox in the closet. If my savings were in a proper account, I could go. Now.

“Thanks guys. I’ll call you later to check in,” Jack tells them, locking the door after they leave.

With them gone, Jack’s loft is silent. There are a million things I want to ask him, but I don’t trust myself to go anywhere near him.

Because what if he answers me honestly? What if he asks me to walk into uncharted territory with him? Territory I’ve never walked in with anyone?

What then?

This morning—after we fucked in the limo, when we walked into the elevator—he wanted me to say that what we have between us is some form of love. Didn’t he say that to me? Didn’t he want me to validate what he was scared to say?

Well, I’m not giving him what he wants. If I give him that, there will be nothing left for me.

I tell myself not to look at him. So we stand here, five feet apart, and I keep my eyes on the ground.

Finally, he speaks.

“Want some tea, Tess?” he asks.

Tea. Jack is asking me if I want tea.

I didn’t cry over the sex tape, because that’s stupid bullshit and I honestly couldn’t care less about people seeing that. We were in a dark limousine, and Jack was calling my fake name in the back seat.

I didn’t cry over the fact that I have to skip town. Maybe because, deep down, I always knew this was going to happen at some point. Ever since I left Arkansas, with blood on my hands, I’ve known my past would eventually come back to haunt me.

But now, tears fill my eyes, splash down my cheeks.

“You want to make me tea, Jack?”

“I do,” he says, stepping toward me. “I don’t know how to make you feel better, but you said tea always helps. Let’s start there.”

He leads me to the couch, drapes a blanket over my shoulders. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

I hear him rooting around in the kitchen, and my shoulders relax for the first time all day at the realization that someone is choosing to take care of me.

I can’t think of when that’s happened before.

I’ve always taken care of myself.

Except … I remember, once, far back in my memory, being tucked into bed. I remember a warm washcloth placed on my forehead, hands rubbing eucalyptus oil on my chest to ease my cough. I must have been maybe four years old, but I remember the smell, the feeling of safety.

But that memory sticks out because it’s like a diamond in the rough.

I don’t need to go all the way back to when I was four, but I know Jack deserves to hear a bit more about me.

I still have to leave town, but a man like Jack, who holds my hand and makes me tea, deserves to understand why.

Now I just need some time to figure out where to begin.