Jahleel (8 page)

Ferbie, hearing his name, pulled his gaze away from the window and remarked, “Aye. JK’s real cool, no? I’m thinking about taking some lessons. What do you think, Ma?”

“I think it’s great,” I told him. “I’m glad you’ve found something you like.”

He smiled contentedly and looked back out the window.

Amanda’s fingers drummed across her knee and I knew she wanted to say something but was biting her tongue.

“Manda, what is it?”

She gave me a hesitant look before she queried, “Why not Chad instead of JK? I mean, yeah, JK’s like a million times hotter than Chad, but he’s a bloody wanker. Now, Chad, you can just feel sexual healing oozing out of him. I swear the room heated up when he walked in. Whew…Plus, he fancies you and he wasn’t afraid to show it. I, for one, was bowled over with the way he came on to you at full force without even an hint of uncertainty, knowing you are, well,
you,
and that your guards could’ve drop-kicked him in a millisecond. He just put it all out there, no beating around the bush, you know.” She sighed dreamily. “Swear it, I’ve never been so turned on in my life. If he had asked me to shag him right there in front of everyone, I would’ve done it without a thought.”

“That was more than obvious, Manda,” I agreed, laughing. “I
was
turned on by him, too. Jumping in ma’ knickers enough that I probably
would
let him shag me…if he asked politely.”

We both cackled.

“But that’s all it was. Just sexual. I was turned on by him, and that’s where it ended. With JK, it’s…different. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like…just being near him sucks away bits and pieces of me, and those bits and pieces
stay
in his possession. He doesn’t just make my nostrils flare. No. He makes me breathless, senseless, scatter-brained. He makes me want, he makes me need, he makes me crave, he makes me desire, dream, drenched. He dominates my mind, my emotions, every part of me…only by existing.”

Amanda watched me with a concerned expression, and I knew she didn’t understand. She never would. No one would. That’s the main reason I never talked about it, because people would just think I’m losing it. They would question why someone in my position would bother chasing after some guy who isn’t even on my level.

But I fell in love with him before I reached this level. And even reaching this level, my feelings for him waxed instead of waned.

Turning from Amanda’s concerned eyes, I looked out the window. “I do wish it wasn’t like this. I do wish there was something I could do to make this obsession go away. But…I can’t. I’ve tried and I’ve failed. Numerous times.” Sighing, I let the side of my head rest on the window. “I’m subservient to him. Bound and ensnared. Captured and captivated. Taken and held. It is what it is: Jahleel Kingston
owns
me, and he doesn’t even know it.”

Chapter Five

O
n a grunt of pure frustration, I withdrew my hand from my knickers. Not quite sure how it worked for most people, but self-induced pleasure usually sucked for me. Very rarely do I ever manage to get myself there. I’d created a dozen different scenes in my head, which would work for about a minute, then all of a sudden the scene just melted and the sensation disappeared. Fuck it.

Last time I got laid was over a year ago, not since my last break-up with Oscar holding actor Rick Reese—hot, sexy heartthrob, small dick, undue arrogance, and useless billions that couldn’t buy him another inch to his useless dick.

Of the few rich and famous I’d been set up with, none had been able to satisfy me enough to keep me. But then,
I
couldn’t even satisfy me. So, I guess the problem was me then, yeah? I wouldn’t be able to give anyone a chance until Jahleel Kingston gave me one.

To check the time, I glanced over at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Minutes to eight. Today wouldn’t be as flexible as yesterday was. Yesterday I had time to dally with, but today I had a radio interview at eleven, a charity event appearance at one, two hour training at Kingston’s Dance Studios, then studio time to start working on my new album.

My cellphone buzzed on the nightstand and I contemplated telling the world a big ole ‘fuck you’. Sometimes I wished I could just lock up and hide like a vampire until I felt ready for the light.

Alas, I was Saskia Day.

Reaching over for the phone on the nightstand, I checked the screen. Timberly.
Oh dear.

Curious nerd that Timberly was, she and a couple of her other nerd friends took some time off from college to conduct their own modern day voyage, to see every crevice and corner of the world. That Christopher Columbus kind of thing.

I was against her going because, well, whenever she got back—
if
she got back without dying from some disease like malaria, or falling off a giraffe’s neck, being trampled by elephants, falling off a kayak and being eaten by piranhas, or getting captured by some extinct caveman, etcetera etcetera—then she would talk three times as much as she talked before. Which was
a lot
—never-ending. No joke.

“Hey, Timber.”

“Hi, Ma!” she twittered on the line, ever gleeful.

“How’s it going?”

“Great! I know I haven’t rung you in a while but it’s just that I’ve been so caught up in this experience. I just settled in with ma’ mates to nab a kip and thought I’d ring you to let you know I love you and miss you. And Ferbie. Oh, and Lydia!”

“Ah, we miss you, too, Timber. Especially Ferbie,” I told her, my heart warming. “Where in the world are you now, by the way?” I winced after asking that question, realizing it was a catalyst to a ceaseless conversation.

“Oh, Hungary. It’s awesome here, Ma. I wish you could be here with us!”

“Glad to know tha—” I started to say, but Chatty Timber’s fur had just been stroked.

“Did you know it’s one of the oldest countries in Europe?”

I didn’t get a chance to answer since her questions were usually rhetorical, as she just blabbered on, answering her own questions. “Yes, yes it is! Founded in 896 even before France and Germany were found and separated. And in around 1000 C.E, they were also the largest kingdom, bigger than France! And the language they speak is so ace, Ma! It’s called Magyar.
Mag-yahr
.” She pronounced, as if I were a high school student who gave a crap. “It was derived from the language spoken by the Huns. And did you know the Rubiks cube was invented by a Hungarian?”

By this time I was rubbing my forehead, feeling a headache approaching. Why did I answer the phone?

“Yes, yes it was! Invented by Erno Rubik…” —A beep sounded over her chatting and I pulled the phone from my ear to check the screen. Stacey, my assistant. Saved by the beep.—”…and did you know Hungarians also invented ballpoint pens—”

“Timber, I gotta go,” I said, cutting her off. “Work calls. Love you!”

Unable to take another syllable from her, I clicked her off and connected Stacey’s call. “Stace. Shoot.”

“Hello, Saskia. Good morning,” she answered, ever polite. “Two things, Lion T’mar asks that you phone him. He says he knows you are purposely avoiding his calls, but he’s not calling for what you think.”

I winced. True, I was avoiding Lion’s calls because he had the uncanny ability to tell when I was lying. He would know instantly that I went to see Jahleel even though he advised me not to.

“What else?”

“Jahleel Kingston’s assistant called an hour ago to apprise you that payments for his services have been refunded, as your hire has been cancelled.”

No. Not again!

“Did he say why?” I barely got the question out.

“Just that he doesn’t think he’s suitable to assist you. He did, however, provide a list of recommendations. I will email it to you in a bit.”

I goddamn hated him for making me feel dysfunctional and incapable of sanity and completeness. “That all?”

“Yes.”

I disconnected the call. Biting hard on my lip until I drew blood, I reared back and hurled the phone across the room, and watched it bust into pieces.

I fucking
hated
Jahleel Kingston!

At 3:05pm, Amanda, Ferbie, Thomas and I strolled into KnockBack Recording Studios. As it was, Amy and Jamie seemed to know my schedule better than I did; Amanda informed me they were already at the studio waiting for us. With the knowledge of Jahleel shagging one of them the night before he cancelled on me, I wasn’t in the mood to see those two.

Why didn’t I just give them the boot if I hated them so much, you ask? Because I didn’t
hate
them, hate them. I just didn’t particularly like them. They were ace companions at times, but more often than not, they annoyed the bejesus out of me. Plus the problem might’ve just been
me
. Because I had issues. Issues unfathomable even to me. Let’s just leave it at that.

Why punish them for loving me?

Ferbie’s phone rang as we shuffled into the lift, and my eyebrows shot up in surprise because, well, no one really called Ferbie unless it was me, Lydia or Timberly. He had zero friends, zero associates, zero girlfriends, along with his zero senses. In spite of that, he was quite content with his life, but he was content because I was sure he didn’t know any better. Maybe I should’ve been a little bit easier on him and let him go out on his own sometimes, but I was too afraid of ending up having to murder someone for fucking with my impeded brother.

“Aye,” he answered. He listened and his grin broadened. “Ah, ah, life’s good…I’m heading to the studio with Ma…No, my sister, Kia…Now?…Why, of course!…okay then. See you.”

By the time Ferbie hung up, everyone was staring at him, gobsmacked.

“That was JK,” he said to me. “He wants me to stop by his studio to test my dancing skills more. He thinks I got talent, yeah?”

Amanda slowly turned her head to look at me and cleared her throat, but stayed quiet.

“Do you like to dance?” I asked him.

Ferbie frowned and looked perplexed as he answered, “You know I’ve always liked dancing, Ma.”

The hell? Since when?

Not wanting to offend him, I asked, “And you want to practice with
JK
? He cancelled on me, you know.”

Ferbie suddenly looked frustrated, which shocked me even more. This guy rarely showed any expression of emotion except for a giddy grin.

“So what, Ma? He dumps you, he wants me. Yes, I want to go because…” He paused and stuffed his hands in his coat pockets, turning away from me with a solemn look on his face. “He makes me feel normal. He doesn’t see in me what everyone else sees. He sees talent and purpose and worth. And if that makes someone an arsehole, then, aye, I would love to be an arsehole, too.”

Amanda’s eyes met mine, wide as saucers. Two chats with Grade-A arsehole Jahleel Kingston and now, all of a sudden he could verbalize his feelings? I’d never heard him speak so sensibly before. Was he just playing fool before or what?

“Okay, you may go,” I reluctantly agreed. To Thomas, “You, go with him. And if anyone so much as breathes too harshly in his face, knock them the fuck out and bring my brother home.”