Ace of Spades (17 page)

Authors: Elle Bright

BOOK: Ace of Spades

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“A nice girl like you shouldn’t get caught up with a guy like him. He’ll use
until it kills him and you’ll be left to pick up the pieces. I’ve seen it a
hundred times. Cut your losses and move on. He’s not worth the pain.”

Melody chewed her lower lip. Part of her knew he was right. Jackson clearly
didn’t want to change. Even if he did want to, he probably couldn’t. Instead,
he’d lied to get what he wanted. The boy she knew was long gone -- lost
in the strange man she couldn’t trust. “I used to think he was.”

Jim shrugged. “Perhaps you thought wrong.”

“I guess I did. Thank you for your help… and the advice.”

“I hope you’ll consider taking it,” Jim said as she laid a trembling hand on
the door to Jackson’s room.

Melody knew that if she had an ounce of self-preservation left in her, she
would. She nodded in acceptance and pushed through the door.

There Jackson was, looking like death plowed over him with a cement truck then
backed up and did it again, yet still alive and breathing somehow. As Jim had
said, he was restrained. With one armed tied off to his right side and the
other above his head, Jackson bucked and arched against his restraints,
rattling the hospital gurney in the process. He froze when his wild blue eyes
with dilated pupils settled on Melody.

“Melody!
Thank God you’re here. You have to save me
from that evil bitch. First she poisoned me with toxic shit that made me wish I
was dead,
then
she strapped me down to this bed and
won’t let me go.”

His voice was louder than normal, his speech frantic and keyed up. More
hyperactive than Melody had ever seen him, he vibrated with excess energy, like
he’d downed numerous shots of espresso in rapid-fire succession and now
suffered the effects. What had he taken? What the hell was he thinking?

“Exactly how stupid do you think I am?” Melody snarled at him, her anger
heightened by his amped up state and pleas for help. “No. Wait, don’t tell me.
I already know the answer to that.
Somewhere between clueless
and too dumb to tie my own shoes.”

Jackson chewed his lip as he nervously tapped the bedrail next to him. With
disjointed focus, he tried to study Melody from beneath furrowed brows, but his
attentions span only held for a matter of seconds.

Melody sighed. “What were you thinking, J? That I just wouldn’t notice?
That I wouldn’t care?”

“I wasn’t thinking, Mel. I-I-I couldn’t. All I knew was what I needed and… and…
You
asked me to do the impossible.
You
set me up for failure.
You and all your unreal expectations.
You never should’ve
asked me to quit.”

“So this,” Melody gestured to Jackson’s general situation and condition with an
angry sweep of her hand, “is
my
fault?”

Jackson looked away. “If you really loved me, you would’ve accepted me for
who
and what I was.”

“That’s not fair, Jackson, and you know it.” Melody bit her lower lip, fighting
back the tears threatening to burst through the dam of her rage. “I was only
trying to help you. I never expected this. I-I-I…”

Melody trailed off, dropping her voice to a low whisper. “All I wanted was to
help you. You didn’t have to quit cold turkey. All I asked was that you try. I
would’ve done anything to help you, but you lied to me. You didn’t trust me
enough with the truth.”

Jackson gave a sharp bark of cynical laughter. “Please, Mel. If you had known
the truth, you would’ve
ran
as fast as your shapely
legs could carry you. On the bright side, I would’ve had a great view of your
perfect ass as you made your retreat.”

His words cut like a knife. “That’s
not true, Jackson. If you’d only been honest with me, I would’ve… I could’ve…”

“Cancelled my tour? Packed me off to rehab? Dumped me on my ass?”
He shrugged, as much as his
restraints would let him. “I guess we’ll never know for sure. But, guess what?
Here’s your chance. You know the truth now. What are you going to about it?
You going
to run?”

Something inside Melody snapped. “I’m not the one who ran away, J,” she
snarled. “You want to play the blame game?
You
pushed
me
away.
Not the other way around. You are the one who runs away from his problems. I
face mine head on.”

“I had every reason to run,” Jackson defended.

“Not from me you didn’t.” Melody sighed in exasperation, raking her hands
through her hair. “Honestly, I think you use your pain as an excuse. You can’t
blame the past forever, J. At some point you have to grow up and take
responsibility for yourself.”

“That’s bullshit. I can’t change what I am. This is me. Take it or leave it.”
Jackson scowled at her,
then
turned away, as though
finished with their conversation. “My bet is -- you’ll leave it.”

“Damn it, J. Why couldn’t you try?
For me?
For yourself?”

“I’m not worth it,” Jackson grumbled, refusing to meet her probing gaze.

“I guess that means that I’m not either,” Melody said softly, willing him with
her eyes to turn his head and face her. “I’ve told you before -- I won’t watch
you throw your life away. I love you too much for that, Jackson. If you’re
going to kill yourself, it won’t be on my watch. I’m done.”

He still refused to look back at her. He just
laid
there, vibrating with pent up energy and staring off into space. Melody watched
him in silence, wishing things were different, wishing this wasn’t goodbye. But
she couldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t live with the lies. She couldn’t
watch him kill himself.

“Goodbye, J,” she whispered as she strode from the room, resisting the urge to
glance back at him through her tear-filled eyes.

Chapter
16

All my
hearts

Eight months later

The tour would’ve been drawing to a close.
If it ever
happened.
Melody tried not to think about it too much. She also tried
not to pay too much attention to the grocery store tabloids. Her sanity couldn’t
handle the implications of their outrageous speculations.

But it was impossible to ignore. He’d been gone for eight months.
Vanished.

And the theories were out there -- Jackson had died of an overdose in Las Vegas,
he was nursing a broken heart in private obscurity after she’d dumped him for
cheating with a stripper, he’d checked into a swanky celebrity rehab to conquer
his addiction… The last one was probably closest to the
truth,
at least Melody hoped that was the case.

Regardless, the tour had been cancelled. And the world was in mourning. As far
as the world was concerned, Black Jack was gone. Reps from his camp remained
tight-lipped, Sheila refusing to comment on Jackson’s condition or location,
other than to say he was taking some ‘personal time.’

But the world refused to let him go without a fight. And as much as she hated
to admit it, Melody struggled with the same thing. She wanted to go back to
living as she had before. But she couldn’t. Jackson had brought her to life,
reminded
her what
it was like to feel – to live – and
she couldn’t go back.

Damn him.
He’d made her love him. He’d made her need him. Then he’d
ripped out her heart. And as much as she hated to admit it, she loved him
still. She always would.

So she decided to start over.
A new place and a new start.
That’s all she needed. At least that’s what she’d keep telling herself.

The move from San Diego to San Francisco was by far the best decision Melody
had made in a long time. For once, life felt on the right track.

She had a great job as the director of marketing for the historic
Ashmont
Hotel. She’d chosen and even decorated her cozy,
albeit tiny, loft in the city, all on her own. And San Francisco was much
closer to her parents in Monterey, where her father taught at the military
post-graduate school and her mother owned and operated a small photography
business.

She didn’t have many friends, but she never really felt the need for them. She
had her books. And with no desire to date, Melody was perfectly content to
enjoy the single life – which for her meant curling up with a good book on her
night off. After Jackson and Richard, who could blame her? Book
boyfriends were more than enough male companionship for her.

Life was good and Melody was living it on her own terms. That was, of course,
when her mother minded her own business. Her mom held firmly to the belief that
socialization was the only way to live. Melody disagreed whole-heartedly. But
that didn’t stop her mother’s good-intentioned efforts to socialize her
antisocial daughter.

Melody feared this phone call was yet another one of those misguided attempts…

“Mom, I don’t care if Elvis came back from the dead and is playing live, I have
no
desire to go to
any
concert
ever
again,” Melody sighed
into the phone.

Arguing with her mother was futile, she knew this, yet still she tried. Mel
knew she may as well clear her schedule and pick out a killer outfit, because
she was doomed to go to the concert with her mother, whether she wanted to or
not. Whether it was the ‘I-ruined-my-body-to-bring-you-into-this-world’
or the ‘I-fed-and-clothed-you-for-eighteen-years’ bit, her mom always had an
irrefutable argument for why Melody owed it to her to be a good, obedient
daughter.

“Why do you say ‘concert’ like I’m inviting you to throw puppies off a
skyscraper or to get unnecessary dental work?”

Melody sighed. “Mom, you know why.”

“Honey, you have to get over that. It’s not like you can stop listening to
music altogether just because you and Jackson broke up.”

“We didn’t just ‘break up,’ Mom,” Melody refuted flatly. “He lied to me,
manipulated me, and then almost died on me.”

“Still, Mel, you can’t hold Jackson against music in general,” her mother
reasoned. “Besides, I have front row seats to see Sam McGrath and I know how
much you love him.”

“Still, I think I’m going to have to pass. I have to shave my legs that night,”
Mel hedged dryly.

“What if I told you I bought your ticket as part of your birthday present?” Her
mother wheedled.
Damn it all
. She had her there. It
wasn’t like Melody could turn down a birthday gift. Her mom would never forgive
her.

“Mom,” Melody whined.

“Great,” her mother said cheerfully, ignoring her complaint and accepting her
reluctant resignation as implied consent. “I’ll pick you up at
six-thirty.
Wear something pretty.”

“To a concert?”
She couldn’t help the incredulous
tone.

“Fine, just don’t be in your pajamas when I pick you up,” her mother amended.

“Deal.”

“I’m only doing this because I love you, Mel.”

“Love you too, Mom,” Melody grumbled. “But I may never forgive you for this.”

“It’s a concert, honey, not an execution.”

“I think I’d rather the execution.”

“That’s my drama queen. See you Saturday.”

The line went dead before Melody could argue that she wasn’t dramatic, merely
pessimistic.

Yet there in the front row Mel sat, wearing a trendy ‘going out’ outfit, with
her arms crossed over her chest as she tried to block out the scene around her.
The lights, the sounds, the sea of faceless fans – all of it reminded her of
Jackson. And the memory stabbed through her like a dull knife.

Though Sam McGrath’s name shone in lights on the marquee outside, though his
name appeared in black and white on her ticket stub, Mel couldn’t shake the
feeling that Jackson would step out onto that stage any minute. Melody didn’t
think she could handle that. It would hurt too much.

The opening band took the stage and Melody found herself on her feet, albeit
reluctantly, as they played. She loved how good music had always made her feel
alive. Yet she hated it, because it reminded her of Jackson.

She didn’t want to feel alive. She liked numb. She liked comfortable. And that’s
what she’d had until Jackson had come back into her life. Damn him for making
her feel. Damn
him
for making her want more.

The crowd roared as Sam McGrath took the stage. As an expert showman, Sam put on
one hell of a concert. Between the music, the lights, the dancers, the visual
effects, and the pyrotechnics, it was an elaborate affair certain to please.
Melody knew there had to another genius like Kip behind the scenes, pulling the
strings to make music industry magic.

Kip would be proud. Sam wasn’t the musical phenomenon that Jackson was, but he
didn’t disappoint. The stadium fell into darkness as the final bars of Sam’s
closing number played out. And the crowd roared in approval.

“Let’s get out of here,” Melody shouted to her mother over the cheering fans.

Her mother placed a staying hand on her bicep.
“In a minute,
honey.”

The lights came up and Sam stood center stage with a microphone in hand. “Tonight,
I have an extra surprise for you,” Sam announced into the microphone, bringing
the crowd to a muted hush.
“How about it?”

The crowd erupted with wild excitement. Sam chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Sam waited for the crowd to quiet. “Our special guest tonight is a friend of
mine. And although he may have more platinum albums and Grammys than I do,
I
have the better fans and
he
wanted to play for
you
tonight. Back
from the dead, please welcome to the stage the one and only, Black Jack!”

Looking robust and healthier than Melody had ever seen him, Jackson strode out
into the center of the stage, carrying his acoustic guitar in one hand. He and
Sam exchanged one of those awkward, shoulder-bumping guy hugs and he accepted
the microphone from Sam.

Sam disappeared backstage, leaving Jackson standing alone in the center of the
stage.
Just him, decked out in all black, beneath a white
spotlight.

“Thank you,” Jackson said into the microphone. The sound of his rich, melodic
voice turned Melody’s insides out.

She wanted to run, to scream, to cry. But she stood frozen in place, staring at
the man who had stolen her heart and given her nothing but pain in return.

Jackson strolled straight for her, seating himself smack dab in front of her on
the edge of the stage and dangling his legs off the side. Greedy hands reached
for him, but security held them back. His beautiful blue eyes burned into her
with scorching intensity as a member of the stage crew positioned a mike stand
next to him.

His lips twisted into his typical lop-sided smile and Melody’s heart revolted
in her chest. With his healthy complexion and bright, clear eyes, he looked far
different from the last time she’d seen him, but so achingly similar to the boy
she’d once known and loved.

Melody closed her eyes to the sweet, familiar sight of him. She tried to close
her heart to the pain. But it overwhelmed and consumed her, like a tidal wave
sweeping over her and destroying everything in its path.

“This song is for a very special girl,” Jackson announced, his tone smooth and
clear.
“But not just any girl --
the
girl.
The one who stole my heart when we were eight-years-old.
The one who loved my music when it was just noise.
The one who taught me to believe in myself and to chase my dreams.

“This girl believed in me when no one else did. She’s the only one who’s ever
seen me cry. She saved my life over and over again. She’s my better half and
the reason I’m eight-months clean and sober. In fact, she’s the only reason I’m
still alive today.

“I can’t change the past. Hell, I don’t think I can even begin to make up for
it. So, I don’t expect her to forgive me, but I brought her here tonight in hopes
that she would at least hear me out.”

Jackson cleared his throat, as though a thick lump of emotion had formed there.

“Mel, I would do anything to be the man you need me to be. I love you with all
my heart. This one’s for you.”

He strummed his guitar with flawless ease, creating poignant emotion with each
strike of the strings. The crowd waited in hushed silence to hear this unusual
composition from the notorious Black Jack. Jackson smiled softly at Melody and
sang, his beautiful voice wrapping itself around her heart with each note:

In
my mind…

In
my dreams…

You were
always here with me

But I
can’t… make you stay

If my
love’s not what you need

I’m down
here on my knees

Begging,
‘please come back to me’

I was
selfish, I was blind

But now
I see the light

Your
love’s the only drug I’ll ever need

You’re
my love…

You’re
my life…