Ace of Spades (4 page)

Waves of
nausea crashed over him. His back and legs ached. He felt anxious and
irritable, restless in his own skin. He wanted to die. He needed another hit.

But he
also needed answers. Before he could give in to his craving and bang another
dose, he stumbled out into the living area of his suite. His friend and bass
player,
Shortie
,
laid
on the
couch there, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

“Hey,
Shortie
,” he greeted. “How’s it
goin
’?”

“Hey,
Jack! Welcome back to the land of the living.
What a night,
huh?”

Shortie
came by
his name quite honestly. He was maybe five-foot-two on a good day, but
compensated with a six-inch tall green Mohawk.  The little man was a
wicked bass player and an all around cool guy. Though he was the typical
stoner, his drug of choice was weed, so he was usually more alert than the rest
of them.

“Yeah,
it was,” Jackson agreed, stretching the ache in his back. “What happened?”

Shortie
chuckled. “What didn’t happen? You were fucked up as usual.”

“Tell me
something I don’t know,” Jackson said with a rueful smile.

“Well, the
party was off the hook, great music, hot bitches, and good shit.”

         
“I hardly consider the weed you smoke to be good
shit
,”
Jackson argued.

         
Shortie
shrugged.
“Hey, different
strokes for different folks.
You like the hard
shit,
I like to keep things more low key.”

         
“Okay, so great party,
me
fucked up, you smoking dope…”
Jackson trailed off in question.

         
“The security guys came and broke up the party. Dragged that fine piece of ass
you been
hittin
’ out of here, kicking and screaming,”
Shortie
said with a grin. “And the hottest redhead on
the planet tucked you in and kissed you goodnight.”

         
Mel
. She
was
there. He hadn’t imagined her.

         
“Hot redhead?”
Jackson asked, rubbing the stubble of
his jaw.

         
“Yeah, like Jessica Rabbit in a business suit and heels,”
Shortie
said, wiggling his eyebrows at Jackson, as he drew curves in the air with his
hands.

         
If sixteen-year old Mel could hear that now.
The
thought made Jackson smile, inwardly of course, outwardly would’ve hurt too
much. It was definitely time for another hit.

         
“Jessica Rabbit, huh?”

         
Shortie
nodded sagely.
“Legs to
here.”
Shortie
indicated his chest height.
“Tits high and tight, but more than a handful.”
Shortie
imitated cupping breasts in front of him. “And man,
that ass… the things I could do to that fine…”

         
“I get the idea,
Shortie
,” Jackson growled, feeling
moody and hostile for no reason. It’s not like he owned Mel. Hell, aside from
last night, he hadn’t seen her in eight years.

         
“Easy, Jack,”
Shortie
chuckled. “She only had eyes
for you.”

         
Jackson pictured Mel’s real reaction to his stoned state, not the hazy loving one
he’d imagined while high, and shook his head. Melody was as straight-laced as
he was broken and depraved.

         
“Nah.
I doubt that.” Jackson chewed his lower lip. “What
was she doing here?’

         
“She works here,”
Shortie
gave a hell-if-I-know
shrug. “I think she’s the boss or
somethin
’.”

         
Jackson glanced around the trashed hotel room, noting the tens of thousands of
dollars worth of damage. Great, the first time he saw Mel in eight years and
not only had he been completely wasted, he’d trashed her place of employment.
Not exactly the reunion he’d imagined for them. It was probably for the best. A
girl like Mel didn’t belong in his world, yet…

         
Tamping down another wave of nausea and breathing through the pain, Jackson
knew he’d have to wait a couple of hours to take another hit. He needed a clear
head. He had a plan to put into action. He knew it was selfish to want Mel back
in his life, but he didn’t care. He needed her more than ever.

Chapter
6

Decked
out

         
“
Fired
?
What do you mean I’m fired?” Melody squeaked. “I’ve worked for you since I was
eighteen. I’ve put blood, sweat, and tears into making this hotel the
establishment it is today. And I’ve never once put so much as a toe out of
line.”

         
“Be that as it may, I left you in charge for one week, only to come back to a
penthouse with more than thirty-thousand dollars worth of damage and a high
profile regular who will no longer patronize our hotel.” Carlos gave her an
apologetic frown and his voice softened. “I’m sorry, Melody. The decision is
out of my hands.”

         
“B-b-but, I had no control over that,” Melody stammered in disbelief. She was
out of a job, thanks to Black Jack’s reckless partying. How could Jackson’s bad
decisions still manage to hurt her after all these years?

         
“Exactly.
A good manager would have anticipated the
problem and prevented it. I’m afraid you’re just not ready for the
responsibilities of your position.”

         
“But if you’d just give me another chance,” Melody pled, desperate to grab some
sort of foot hold before she toppled end over end into unemployment. Student
loans for post graduate studies were bad enough. Such loans were even worse if
unemployed.

         
“With your education and experience, I am certain you will find the right
position for you. It’s just not at the Grand Hotel.”

         
Melody sucked in a deep breath and gave him a pained smile. It wasn’t the end
of the world.
No
, just the end of her career.
Either way, no tears.
She would accept her fate with all the
dignity and grace of a professional. Then go home and draw devil horns on
Carlos in every picture she had of them together at company social functions.
  

         
The Grand had been her second home as she’d worked her way through college. She
loved the old hotel and all the staff there. Carlos had been personally
grooming her to run the hotel after his retirement. And she would’ve made a
damn good replacement.
If not for Jackson.

         
Melody rose to her feet and smoothed her skirt. With a polite nod, she choked
out a “thank you,” and turned on her heel. She walked out of Carlos’s office
and the hotel with her head held high. Everything would be okay.

         
Moisture
brimmed
her eyes as she stepped out into the
sunlight. It couldn’t possibly be tears. No, the increased brightness made her
eyes water.  That was all. Studying her perfectly polished toes through
the little window of her peep toe pumps, Melody focused on the comforting ‘click’
of her heels on the pavement.

         
A man’s unexpected voice sent her leaping into the air. “Ms. Davis?”

         
Melody whipped her head around to see who had startled her so. A big, brawny
bear of a man with cropped red hair a few shades lighter than her own leaned up
against the stone wall of the hotel, relaxed and casual.

         
Melody tipped her head to the side, studying the stranger. “Do I know you?”

         
“No, ma’am,” the man answered, his light brown eyes laughing as his mouth
remained neutral. “But we have a mutual friend.”

         
Melody raked him with an appraising gaze. Maybe it was the tattoos or the
craggy skin that spoke of a hard life, but something about him made Mel think
he’d done hard time. She didn’t know anyone of his sort.
Except
…

         
She arched an incredulous brow at him. “I highly doubt that.” She kept walking.

         
“Jack said you were a sassy little thing, but he never mentioned you being an
uppity bitch,” the man called after her retreating back.

         
Melody wasn’t sure what bothered her more- the man calling her names or Jackson
talking about her with his loser friends. Either way, she was incensed. With a
huff, she whirled around to face him.

         
“You don’t know me and neither does he,” Melody snarled at the offensive
stranger, whirling away and stalking off. “This conversation is over.”

         
The man chuckled and called after her again. “Jack also said you were
hot-tempered and stubborn, so I guess he knows you better than you think,
Little Red.”

         
That
made Melody see
red. If there’s one thing
she hated, it was being called ‘Red.’ She whipped around to snarl at the
infuriating man. “Don’t call me ‘Red.’”

         
He held his hands out in front of him, as though he thought she might smack him
with her purse. Hey, the idea of channeling
her own
inner Porn Star Barbie had merit.

         
“Easy, I call it like I see it,” he soothed. A wicked grin spread across his
face. “In this case, it doesn’t even take one to know one. You, Little Red, are
a redhead in every sense of the word. I’ll bet the carpet even matches the
drapes. That is, if there’s even carpet…”

         
Melody’s hand twitched at her side as she repressed the urge to slap him.
Forget the purse. She wanted to hit him with her bare hands. “My ‘
carpet,’
or possible lack thereof, is none of your business.
We’re done here.”

         
Without another word, she turned on her heel and stomped off.

         
“He wants to see you.”

         
Frustrated with herself for taking the bait, Melody turned to slap him with a biting
retort. “I’ve seen enough of Jackson
Blackner
to last
me a lifetime. I don’t care if he wants to see me.
I
don’t want to see
him
.”

         
He ignored her rant.
“Noon.
Morrison’s in the Gas
Lamp. Be there.”

         
“Yeah, so not going to happen,” Melody tossed over her shoulder as she tried to
walk off again. This time she wouldn’t stop, no matter what he said.

         
“I’m Lenny, by the way, Jackson’s head of security,” he called after her,
laughter in his deep voice.

         
“I don’t really care,” she tossed back, sticking to her guns as she made her
way to her car.

         
“I’ll let Jackson know you’ll be there.”

         
“Tell him whatever you want,” Melody muttered under her breath. “I won’t be
there.”

         
So she said. Yet there Melody was at eleven fifty-five, parking down the street
from Morrison’s. Maybe she wanted to give Jackson a piece of her mind. Maybe
she wanted to see him again. But whatever the reason, she was there.

         
Lenny lounged outside the café entrance, his big arms crossed over his massive
chest like a bouncer at a club. A smirk cracked his craggy face when he saw
her. He looked ready to make some smart ass remark, but she cut him off before
he could.

         
“Not a word,” Melody growled at him.

         
Lenny’s smile widened.
“Whatever you say, Little Red.”

         
Melody rolled her eyes and stepped into the crowded restaurant. She immediately
spotted Jackson, seated at a quiet corner table. His colorful tattoos, shaggy
hair, and tattered jeans were incongruous with the upscale milieu of the
tastefully appointed café, but he didn’t seem to mind. His tired face lit up
like the Fourth of July when he saw her.

         
Melody crossed the room, drawn to his achingly familiar smile like metal to a
magnet. It was so reminiscent of the old Jackson, before his whole life went to
hell in a tour bus, her heart tightened at the sight. He rose to his feet as
she approached, pulling out a chair for her.

         
With a smile, Melody scrutinized his appearance. He looked tired, but his blue
eyes were clear and bright, albeit a bit bloodshot. No sign of the drugs that
were in his system last she saw him.
Good.

         
“Hey,
Mel,” Jackson said as he rose to help her into her chair. “I’m glad you made
it.”

         
“You’re not going to offer to sleep with me again, are you?” she asked, eyeing
him warily.

         
His blue eyes sparkled as a boyish grin spread across his face. “I would never
do a thing like that… or at least not that I remember.”

         
“Well, I remember,” Melody huffed, crossing her arms over her bosom.
“Vividly.”

         
Grinning shamelessly, Jackson shrugged, his shoulders straining the black
fabric of his t-shirt. “Hey, at least I have great taste, even when I’m snowed.”

         
“Yeah, Porn Star Barbie seemed like a real winner the other night,” Melody
jibed.

         
Jackson rubbed the dark stubble at his jaw. “Who, Candy?” he chuckled. “You can’t
blame me for that. There
are
two of her.
Mmmm
, Candy and Mandy, what were their parents thinking?”

         
“That they wanted their daughters to grow up to be strippers or prostitutes who
tag-team stoned rock stars?” Melody suggested sweetly.

         
Jackson grinned.
“Maybe.”

         
A waiter came to fill their water glasses and opened his mouth to speak, but
Jackson waved him off.

         
“Enough, J,” Melody snapped, furious with him for getting her joking and
laughing over his trashy booty calls. “Tell me what you want.”

         
“Now,
Melly
-Belly, is that any way to treat the best
friend you haven’t seen in forever?”

         
“Eight years,” she said flatly. “And it wasn’t my choice not to see you. You
shut me out of your life.
You
refused to see
me
.”

         
“Well, I want to see you now,” Jackson soothed. “Doesn’t that count for
something?”

         
“Not really. You told me to grow up and move on, so I did.”

         
“Okay, so tell me about grown up Mel? What’s she like?” Jackson asked, leaning
back in his chair and linking his hands behind his head.

         
“What do you want to know?”

         
“How you ended up like
this
, for starters,” Jackson said, raking her
appearance with an appreciative glance. “You were always beautiful, but damn,
Mel, you got hot. What did you do to my best friend?”

         
Melody rolled her eyes, waving him off with a flippant flick of her hand. “I’m
still the same old nerd, just a little more polished on the outside.”

         
One dark brow arched high over piercing baby blues.

         
“Fine.
It happened in college. I thought since it was
a new place, I could get a new start. I joined the ‘cool’ sorority on campus.
They initially accepted me just to bring their grade point average up, but
ended up taking me under their collective wings.

         
“It was like one of those bad movie make-over montages… The braces had already
come off, so they took me to get my teeth whitened. They dragged me to get
waxed, buffed, and polished. I traded in my glasses for contacts, and then
eventually Lasik. They taught me how to put on makeup and how to smooth out my
frizzy hair. They took me shopping and gave me fashion advice until I could
dress myself without them sending me back to my room.
Bippidy
-
bopiddy
-boo, here I am.”

         
“Hey, I liked your glasses,” Jackson protested with a grin.

         
“Well, you were the only one,” Melody said. “They were more effective than any
chastity belt.

         
Jackson’s brows shot straight up. “Does that mean you’re still a---”

         
“Next question.”

         
Jackson smirked at her. “Fine, be that way. Are you dating anyone?”

         
Melody smiled back.
“Actually, yes.
His name is
Richard and we’ve been going out for two years.”

         
Brows still raised, Jackson looked less than impressed. “
OMG,
has he like held your hand and everything?” he teased in a Valley-girl
falsetto.

         
“He’s done a lot more than that,” Melody blurted, scrambling for something to
wipe the amusement off his handsome face. “And for your information, he is
perfectly adequate in bed.” Heat filled her cheeks as soon as the words were
out.

         
Jackson let out a bark of laughter. “A glowing endorsement, if ever I’ve heard
one, Mel.”

         
If her cheeks were hot before, they were on fire now. “What’s wrong with that?”

         
Jackson grinned and leaned toward her, lowering his voice as though about to
tell her a secret. “Word to the wise, sweetheart,
no
man ever wants to be described as ‘adequate’ in bed. It’s emasculating.”

         
Heat filled his eyes, “And if you were in my bed, I would show you exactly how
inadequate ‘adequate’ really is.”