The Accidental Life of Jessie Jefferson (26 page)

My heart skips a beat.

‘Annie is drawing up a press release,’ he tells me quietly.

I swallow.

‘We’ll wait until we get back to LA before putting it out. OK?’ he asks.

‘Yes.’ My voice comes out as a whisper.
Finally
! I wish I could be a fly on the wall when Natalie, Em and Libby see the news. And Tom! What will he think?

Johnny reaches over and rubs my tears away. His fingers are rough, as always. ‘I know it’s going to change things for you. I know it’s going to be hard.’

He’s wrong, that’s not what’s going through my mind. I
want
the world to know he’s my dad. I’m sick of the pretence. I’m proud he’s my dad and I want to shout it through a megaphone.

‘But it’s ridiculous that people are going around thinking you’re my nanny,’ he continues darkly.

I smile at him. ‘I’m ready,’ I say. ‘Really. I want people to know. I hate pretending.’

He smiles and squeezes my shoulder. ‘Good.’

Chapter 23

It’s early August by the time I return to LA, relaxed and bonded with my new family. It’s been a blissful two weeks, having proper quality time together, and it’s exactly what I needed. I feel full of fight and determination and much more like my old self. If Jack isn’t interested, bollocks to him. If he was only into me because I was leaving, like Lissa said, then I’ll find out soon enough. But I’m not going to let him get to me. I send him a text on the day we get back, keeping it casual.

I’m back in LA if you want to catch up sometime?

That’s not to say I don’t check my phone incessantly until he replies, nearly driving Annie mad when she finally nabs it to swap my contacts over from my old cheapo phone. He replies just as I’m going to sleep and trying not to get myself all worked up about him again. ‘Keep your cool’ is my new mantra.

I’ve got a gig Wednesday night. Come?

I think twice about replying so quickly, but I can’t be bothered to play games, so I type out another message.

Sounds good. Where and what time?

To my relief, he texts me back straight away with the venue and the time. He says he’ll leave a ticket on the door, but he doesn’t offer to come and collect me. I guess he’ll be busy setting up. Either that, or maybe Jack Mitchell has gone cold on me. But he still invited me to his gig and I’ve got nothing better to do for the next two weeks. Anyway, I can give as good as I get.

When I tell Meg and Johnny about my plans, they ask Annie to hold off putting out the press release about me until the end of the week, giving me a couple more days of anonymity so I can go to the gig without being harassed. I’m disappointed to have the news postponed, especially when it feels like I’ve waited an age for it to come out, but I guess it makes sense.

On Wednesday afternoon, while I’m trying to pass the time before I can sensibly start to get ready, I walk past the music studio and hear voices coming from inside. I tentatively push open the door and see Christian sitting at the control desk and Johnny behind the glass screen, hanging his guitar from a strap around his neck. He leans forward to talk into the microphone suspended from the ceiling in front of him.

‘Can you—’ he starts, then he looks past Christian to see me. ‘Jessie, you want to come in? I’m just about to show Christian something I’ve been working on.’

‘Yeah,’ I say enthusiastically, smiling brightly at Christian.

He arrived last night – a tall, broad, good-looking man with shaggy dark hair and warm brown eyes. I liked him instantly, although he seemed a bit taken aback by me.

‘Jesus Christ, she looks like you,’ he exclaimed to Johnny. Meg smacked him on his bum and berated him for swearing.

‘I didn’t say the F-word,’ he says.

‘Shh!’ she warns, but it’s clear he’s only teasing her. It’s unbelievable, looking at the three of them, to think about what they went through. I can’t comprehend that they’re still friends considering their past and everything I know about Barney, yet here they are.

Christian pats the chair next to him so I go inside and sit down. I’m filled with a growing sense of excitement as I watch Johnny tune his guitar. He asks Christian to adjust a couple of dials, then bends down and picks up a long lead from somewhere, plugging it into his guitar. He starts to strum a slow, gentle tune: a lullaby. I’m rapt. How I wish I could play the guitar like that. And then he steps up to the mic and starts to sing, his deep, soulful voice filling the room and filling up my senses as I watch, transfixed.

It hits me again. That’s my dad, right there. That,
there
. . . That
Johnny Jefferson
, right
there
behind
that
glass, is
my
dad. MY dad. How can my life have taken such a turn?

I don’t know about Christian, but all of my hairs are standing on end. This song is full of emotion and it’s truly beautiful – a love song. The lyrics say something about a girl with a warm smile who became a teacher and her unconditional love for her subject, and then it hits me like a tonne of bricks that this is not a song about an
actual
teacher, it’s a song about Johnny’s mum. Maybe even
my
mum. Didn’t Meg say Christian’s mum died not so long ago, too? I look across at Christian and see that his eyes are shining. Mine immediately fog up and I struggle to hold myself together as I watch Johnny through the glass.

When he’s singing, his eyes are downcast, and when the instrumental kicks in, he steps back and looks down at his guitar, giving himself up to the music. When he plays out the final few chords, Christian and I furtively wipe away our tears. Christian gives Johnny the thumbs up. I know why. I’m too choked to speak, too.

‘You like it?’ Johnny asks him, looking a little lost, almost boylike.

‘Yeah.’ Christian says gruffly. ‘Yeah, I do.’

Johnny smiles sadly and starts to lift his guitar strap over his head, but he pauses, glancing back out at us. He presses his mouth to the mic. ‘Something more upbeat?’

Christian gives him the thumbs up again.

‘Yes!’ I nod eagerly.

And then he kicks off with a jaunty melody, an acoustic version of one of his more recent hit singles. I can’t help it – I start to sing along.

Johnny’s eyes dart up to meet mine and he grins as he sings, raising one eyebrow. Then he stops singing and playing suddenly and jerks his head backwards. ‘Get in here,’ he says.

‘What?’ I shake my head, confused.

‘Get in here and sing with me.’

‘Go on!’ Christian urges, shoving my chair. The wheels underneath my chair roll me about a foot closer to the studio door.

‘I . . . I can’t do that!’ I erupt, putting my feet down to stop the motion.

Johnny’s shoulders slump, but he’s not giving up. ‘Get. In. Here,’ he says firmly.

‘No!’

‘Jessie.’ Hmm, that’s a very no nonsense tone.

‘Forget it.’ I shake my head determinedly. ‘I don’t sing in public, remember?’

‘What about
Thomas The Tank Engine
?’ Johnny asks with amusement.

‘Eh?’ Christian chips in. We’ve lost him.

‘Come on,’ he beckons me inside again.

‘You’ll regret it if you don’t,’ Christian points out.

Something twinges inside me and I realise that he’s right. I will regret it if I don’t. And I don’t want to have any more regrets. Johnny waits patiently, staring at me with those very green eyes of his. Bugger it. I stand up and saunter into the studio, pursing my lips as Christian claps and cheers in a completely OTT manner.

Johnny grins at me and pulls another mic down from above our heads. He says something into the first mic to Christian. ‘You’ll have to press that . . . Blah, blah, blah . . .’ I don’t know what he’s talking about, but Christian seems to know what to do, as he twiddles some dials and knobs on the control desk in front of him. Johnny leans past me and says, ‘Testing, testing, testing,’ into the spare mic and then Christian’s voice comes into the room, sounding like he’s on speakerphone, and he tells us we’re good to go.

Johnny turns to look at me as he starts to play the same song. I grin down at his fingers strumming the guitar, truly wishing I could play too, and then the first verse kicks off and Johnny starts to sing. I know this song like the back of my hand – it’s one of his biggest hits – and I nod my head along for a bit, then step forward and start to add little bits of harmony to the occasional lyric. Johnny raises his eyebrows at Christian and I glance at him to see him looking impressed. When the chorus kicks in, I sing along to the whole thing, still doing the occasional harmony, and before I know it, we’re singing the rest of the song together.

Johnny strums the last note and throws his arm around my neck, pressing a kiss to my forehead while I blush furiously. Christian claps and cheers, but this time he’s being genuine – I can tell that he’s blown away – and I’m bursting with pride.

‘Isn’t she amazing?’ Johnny exclaims, looking out of the glass.

‘Properly un-bloody-believeable,’ Christian replies, shaking his head while I continue to blush. ‘Jessie Jefferson is a great stage name,’ Christian says and I laugh because I think he’s joking. ‘Seriously,’ he adds.

I glance at Johnny, who shrugs. ‘It’s got a good ring to it.’

‘No,’ I say shortly, my smile falling from my face. ‘My name is Jessie Pickerill.’

Christian leans back in his chair. ‘Johnny’s mother’s name was Sneeden, but he changed it to Jefferson.’

‘Leave it, Christian.’ Johnny cuts off his friend. He shakes his head quickly, abruptly, as he lifts his guitar strap over his head. ‘It’s too soon.’

‘It will always be too soon,’ I point out firmly, trying not to get upset. ‘My mother’s name was Pickerill.’ I’m not going to choose Johnny over her, like she feared.

‘You could be double-barrelled,’ Christian presses on, not realising how touchy I’m feeling.

‘Christian!’ Johnny snaps. ‘Let it go.’

Christian looks taken aback and I feel bad for him, but at least Johnny understands.

‘Sorry,’ Christian says a little defensively.

‘It’s OK,’ I brush him off, keen to change the subject. ‘Hey, what’s the time?’

He checks his watch. ‘Getting on for five o’clock.’

Is it too early? Nah. ‘I might go and get ready,’ I tell them.

‘Ready for what?’ Christian asks, as Johnny and I walk out of the studio.

‘She’s going to see a band tonight. You might’ve heard of them – All Hype? They’re Billy Mitchell’s kid’s band?’

Christian’s brow furrows, thinking. ‘They sound kind of familiar.’ I remember Johnny telling me Christian used to be a music journo. ‘Where are they playing?’ he asks me.

‘A place called The Rider, near Melrose Avenue.’

He nods. ‘That’s a good venue.’ He turns back to Johnny. ‘We should go?’

What? I don’t want my dad gatecrashing my date. Is it a date?

Johnny glances at me and scratches the stubble on his jaw.

‘Why don’t we?’ Christian presses.

‘And cramp Jessie’s style?’ Johnny asks with a grin.

Then again, Johnny turning up at Jack’s gig would be amazing press for his band . . .

‘You could come,’ I say with a shrug.

‘Great,’ Christian enthuses. ‘I love checking out new bands.’

‘Aren’t you jet-lagged?’ Johnny asks wryly. ‘You usually are,’ he adds.

‘We don’t have to have a late one,’ Christian replies. Pause. ‘Do we?’ He sounds slightly worried now.

‘I don’t do late ones any more,’ Johnny says cynically, then, ‘Sure, we can go if you want. I don’t know whether Nutmeg’ll fancy it.’

‘Shall I ask Jack to put aside a couple more tickets?’ I ask.

‘Nah, don’t trouble him. Annie’ll sort it.’

‘Cool!’ He is going to
love
me for this!

Chapter 24

Earlier this afternoon, Annie prompted me to send out a message to everyone in my contacts book, alerting them to my new mobile number. I don’t hear from anyone for hours, and I begin to think that none of them care about me, but then I remember the time difference and realise it’s the middle of the night in England. My first text comes through to me when I’m in the limo on the way to Jack’s gig. I pull my phone out of my purse and see that the message is from Natalie. I smile as I read it.

What the hell? You’ve gone to see your dad? Who the hell is he? I’m assuming he is NOT Johnny Jefferson ;-)

I giggle out loud and type out a reply, while Johnny and Christian ignore me. Christian is drinking a beer, while Johnny and I sip lemonades. I declined to have a glass of champagne after Christian told me how expensive Perrier Jouet actually is – over a hundred pounds a bottle! I nearly had a heart attack. Stu would be proud of the fact I’m not drinking. Meg opted not to come with us – she’s more of a pop girl, she said to my surprise and Johnny’s joke disgust.

Good to hear from you! Sorry I’ve been awol. I’ll call you tomorrow for a proper chat?

I feel a pang of homesickness for her. I miss her. I wish she were here. To my delight, she replies straight away.
You’d better xxxxxxxx

We leave it at that. But I will tell her the truth tomorrow before the press release goes out, and if she still doesn’t believe me, she will soon.

While I have my phone out, I decide to send Jack a quick text, too.

Johnny & his friend, a music journo, are coming to your gig tonight with me. Good luck!

Seconds later another message comes in and it’s like my phone has given me an electric shock, the way I whip it back out of my purse. But it’s not from Jack. It’s from Tom. My heart jumps as I read it.

Hey you! In Ibiza. Have proper bad hangover. Been thinking of you a bit. Back next week if you want to do something?

I feel a bit dazed. I’ve been trying to put Tom out of my mind since I’ve met Jack, but now I see him in my head so clearly, crouching in front of me at Natalie’s party, after coming to find me when I bolted.

I stare down at the text. Tom’s been thinking of me. That makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I put my phone back into my bag, confusion muddling my brain.