BlackJack (A Standish Bay Romance Book 1) (20 page)

He found Ted
and Brad in the suite next to his room. The puzzled expressions on their faces
had Cole stopping dead in his tracks. Also present was Ward, who Cole glared
at. Did he really think they wanted him here? What did he hope to gain by
latching onto them? It wasn’t as though they could help him with his destroyed
career, nor was Lindsey alive for him to have an affair with? Oh, shit. Was he
having an affair with Ted or Brad’s wife? He’d think about Ward later, right
now he needed to help AJ.

“What’s wrong,”
he queried.

Ted and Brad
exchanged looks, then Ted began to talk and what he had to say didn’t sound
good. “AJ’s acting weird man. He won’t come out of his room.”

“What do you
mean he won’t come out of his room?” Cole said as his skin prickled.

Brad
interrupted, “Just that, he refuses to leave his room. He orders room service
and won’t let anyone else inside.”

Cole’s stomach
churned as he remembered AJ’s strange phone call from the night before. Something
had to be seriously wrong for him to act this way. AJ happened to be the most
reliable, down-to-earth, head-on-straight person he knew. This behavior was so
not like him. Could there be a problem with his wife and kids back in Scotland?
Cole ran his hands through his hair in total panic and frustration. Jesus, all AJ
had to do was come to him if he had any problems. Cole went to AJ with his
problems all the time, so did everyone else in the band, didn’t he know he
could do the same?

“Hey Ted, how
much time before we have to leave for the show?” Cole asked anxiously.

Ted glanced at
his wristwatch. “Two hours at the latest and that’s pushing it.”

Cole grunted a
reply and went out into the hall and knocked on AJ’s door. By this time his
heart vibrated in his chest and his hands shook from worry. Didn’t he think
earlier in the day that things were going too smoothly? Now he knew why? This
behavior was so totally not AJ, not like him at all. He was everybody’s rock,
everybody’s anchor in a storm.

He raised his
hand and rapped his knuckles on the door. The door with the
do not disturb
sign
hanging on the knob
.
An unintelligible muffled answer came from the
other side.

“AJ, it’s me
Cole. Let me in.”

Still no reply
came forth that Cole could fully comprehend.

“Hey man. You’re
scaring me. Let me in or I’ll get housekeeping to do it.”

Finally he
heard AJ answer.

“She won’t let
you in. Ah paid her big bucks tae keep her key tae herself.”

That wasn’t
good and he sounded like crap. In fact he sounded drunk or high or both. Cole
leaned his weary body against the wall and exhaled loudly. Think man, think. AJ
called last night talking about Lindsey. Hell, maybe he missed her, but come
on, enough to push everyone away? It didn’t make sense? But shit, what did make
sense in this world lately?
Absofuckinglutely
nothing made sense, that’s
what.

“Come on AJ,
talk to me. Tell me what’s bugging you?”

No answer.

“Come on. It’s
me. We can tell each other anything. We’re like brothers man.”

Cole waited, feeling
more and more unsettled with every unanswered question. So unsettled his body
shivered from the inside out and his knees threatened to buckle.

“AJ shit, talk
to me. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me?”

“I can’t,” came
through the door in what sounded to Cole like a sob.

“You’re scaring
me here. I don’t do scare well and you know that. Do you want to do the show
tonight?”

“Aye, go
without me. Ah promise tae be there on time.”

Cole tapped his
head against the wall numerous times in frustration at being unable to help his
friend. A friend who never needed his help before now, and he really didn’t
know what to do. It scared the shit out of him to hear AJ like this.

“AJ are you
sure.”

“Go,” he growled
out. “Ah’m fine. Leave me be.”

Cole hated to
leave him to his own devices, but what could he do? He swallowed the lump in
his throat and went to his own room to prepare. Christ, as this tour continued
on and on he found himself less liking it and wanting to go home. But where did
he call home?

Ten minutes
before the show was to begin, AJ showed up looking like he crawled out of a
cave after a three-day bender. His clothes were dirty. His hair looked in
desperate need of a wash and comb. His eyes were bloodshot and sunken and his
hands, Cole noticed when he went to pick up his guitar, trembled.

Damn, he looked
like hell and Cole wondered how he would make it through the concert. Somehow
he did. He never spoke to him, or to anyone else. He played like a machine,
inhuman. AJ played like a man dead in his soul and in his heart, but his body
was very much alive and going through the motions, just like a well-oiled robot.
Cole didn’t know what to think about it or what to do?

And when Cole
had gotten a good look at AJ’s eyes, they looked glazed over and void of life
as though there was nobody home. Shit. Something had a hold on him and it was
squeezing the life out of him. Cole could relate. He’d probably looked like
that fifteen years ago.

When the
concert ended, AJ fled without a word. A chill swept up Cole’s spine and he
once again felt weary, worried and unsettled. Something in his gut told him a
violent storm brewed inside AJ and nothing good would come of it. A major
catastrophe threatened him, and Cole was damned because he didn’t know how to
help him or how to reach him and snap him out of his trance.

And then a
selfish thought occurred to him. Who would deal with the radio DJ’s and
television reporters backstage if AJ didn’t? Shit. It looked like he would be. Whether
he liked it or not, he was going to be the band’s spokesperson tonight.

A wave crashed
inside him, threatening to take him under and never release him. That was how
terrified of reporters he was, and it embarrassed him to no end to admit it. But
it was the truth.

After he
showered in his dressing room and changed into clean jeans and a T-shirt, he
looked at himself in the mirror and gave himself a pep talk. Whether it helped
or not remained to be seen. He just had to focus and block out the words,
murder,
wife
and
Lindsey
and he’d be fine.
Yeah right, keep telling yourself
that and maybe you won’t puke your guts up
.

Pausing outside
the door, he took a deep breath, clenched his teeth shut and walked inside. His
first thought was who the hell were all these people? His eyes darted around
and it wasn’t long before people recognized him and began to crowd his personal
space. And Cole considered anything within ten feet of himself his personal
space.

He tried to be
pleasant and answer questions and sign autographs for fans. All in all it went
okay until this guy shoved a microphone in his face and asked the question.

“Did you kill
your wife?”

Just like that
he asked it, like it was no big deal, like he asked it all the time, as though
it was nothing more than casual conversation. Cole froze on the spot, his pulse
soared and the room began to tilt as black spots flashed in his eyes. He
mumbled something even he couldn’t understand. Thankfully, someone grabbed his
arm tightly and led him out of the room, down the hall and into a deserted
unlocked room.

Whoever rescued
him pushed him gently onto a sofa, forced his head down between his knees and
held him in that position. Then he heard the woman’s voice.

Chapter
Fifteen

“Better?”

“Hell no,” Cole
spat out.

“Sometimes it
takes a few minutes to get your bearings back,” said the woman in a calm, soft,
comforting and strangely familiar voice.

“You can take
your hand away. I’m okay now.”

“Oh, sorry.” She
snatched it away.”

Once her hand
left his head, Cole reclined back on the couch and looked at his savior. It was
none other than Marlene Simpson. The talk show host he’d met when she’d
interviewed Shannon. His body tensed and his guard went up. What could she
possibly want? As if he didn’t know?

“If you’re
hoping for an interview I already told...”

Her hand rose
up, palm out. “No. I respect what you told me before. But I suppose you’re
wondering why I’m here?”

Cole raised a
brow and when Marlene smiled at him he relaxed, and for some unknown reason he
suddenly felt as though he could trust her.

“I came for the
concert. My daughter and her friend are backstage waiting for me. I told them I
could possibly introduce them to you, but I saw you panic at something the
reporter said, and the next thing I knew we were in here.”

Cole slid
across the couch and invited her to sit down. It was the least he could do
after she saved him from embarrassing himself in front of all those people by
having an anxiety attack or worse, hitting the floor from fainting. He studied
her and assessed her. She appeared to be in her mid-forties, average height,
nicely built and attractive in many ways. Not that he was the least bit interested,
but she was nicely put together. Cole cleared his throat.

“I owe you a thanks.
I almost lost it. I was convinced I was going to pass out in there,” he snorted
and put his hands up. “I can see the headlines. ‘Cole Jackson, after having
drunk himself into a stupor, collapses after a concert.’” He pulled the leather
strap out of his hair and combed his fingers through it. “I’m nobody. Why does
everybody bother me?”

“Cole?”

He felt her
warm hand on his knee, and he knew it rested there purely for comfort and
nothing else.

“You are
somebody. You’re a talented, handsome man who happens to pique the interest of
everyone around you because of your past. You’re an enigma, which only makes
people push harder to know the person behind the screen. And I speak from
experience when I say it’s not going to stop until you tell your story. And
even then there are no guarantees it will stop.”

Cole knew what
she referred to. Even though he’d been in prison at the time, he remembered
Marlene making headlines a few years back. Her second husband had been arrested
and convicted of statutory rape, among other things. He had sexually assaulted
her daughter and some of her daughter’s friends. He supplied them with alcohol
and drugs then had sex with them. It took a longtime for the media to stop
hounding her about it. Finally she’d gone public with her side of the story. But
Cole didn’t know if he could?

“I can’t give
an interview.” The words struggled to come out of his mouth because he felt so
deflated of energy.

“Why?”

“That’s a damn
good question.” Cole looked over at Marlene and was shocked to see genuine
concern for him reflected in her eyes. He didn’t even know this woman, so why?

“I can’t give
an interview. You saw what just happened. The bastard asked if I killed my wife
and I lost it. It would be one thing if I got angry, but I nearly blacked out. I
would have blacked out if you hadn’t come to my rescue.” He paused and looked
right at her. “By the way.” His face softened and he smiled. “Thank you again.”

“What if you
did the interview with...say...me?”

He narrowed his
eyes at her, his guard back up. He should’ve known it would come up.

She put up her
hand, the concerned look still there. “Hear me out. It’s just a suggestion. Say
I interview you and promise not to bring up Lindsey. We chat about your life
now. Your music now, and only, and I mean only, if you bring it up do we
discuss it.”

She appeared so
sincere Cole almost wanted to agree. He smiled at her. “You’re a nice person
Marlene.” He shook his head, disgusted in himself. “I’m thirty-eight, a big
guy, a tough guy, you’d think I could handle it?”

Everything she
said about reporters hounding him rang true. He’d been out of prison for more
than a year and still he couldn’t shake the press or his past. It was probably
better to go public with his story once and for all. And Marlene would be the
only one he’d go public with. What he said next clearly shocked her and he
liked that.

“I have another
concert tomorrow night, how about tomorrow, early afternoon?”

It took her a
moment to find her voice. “Perfect.”

“I want it to
be informal, and I want to see the questions you’re going to ask me ahead of
time.”

“No problem.”

He figured
she’d agree to just about anything to get her interview. “And you promise not
to ask me if I killed Lindsey?”

She put her
hand on her heart. “You have my word.”

“Good enough,” he
resigned. “I’ll do it tomorrow at your studio and oh, one more thing, no
questions from the audience.”

“We won’t have
an audience. It’ll just be the two of us.”

“Even better,”
he murmured.

Cole sent
Marlene to get her daughter and her friend and they enjoyed a bite to eat at a
small out of the way diner that served breakfast all day and night long. Cole
indulged himself with eggs, bacon and home fried potatoes. He couldn’t remember
the last time a meal went down so smoothly. Well, actually he could remember,
the last time he’d been with Shannon. But as not to spoil the night, he pushed
all thoughts of Shannon out of his head until later when he relaxed in the
privacy of his hotel room.

***

“Lindsey, ye
don’t mean that?”

“Yes I do. It’s
over. I want to go back to Cole. He needs me and I really do love him.”

“Ah can’t
accept that. Ah love you. Ah know it’s not Cole ye love. There’s someone else,
isn’t there?”

“Get out.”

“Lindsey, please?”

He found
himself begging. It was the most humiliating thing he’d ever done, and for
what, a woman who’d suck any man’s dick that struck her fancy? But he loved
her, God damn it, he loved her. Something inside him snapped.

Hating
himself, hating her, he slapped her, then he saw something metal in her hands
and there was a struggle for control.

***

AJ flew out of
bed in the middle of the night, ran into the bathroom and dry-heaved again. It
seemed to be all he did lately. Sitting on the cold tile floor, he hugged
himself as he rocked back and forth and hummed. Had he lost his mind? The truth
was he probably lost it the night Lindsey died, the night he killed her. How
else could he explain never having remembered it, until now? His dreams and
memories had progressed so he knew most of what happened, most, but not all. Some
of it seemed a little sketchy, like the actual stabbing part. He didn’t
remember that at all. Nor did he remember seeing her dead body. Why were those
memories lost to him?

Christ. He
killed her. He’d killed Cole’s wife, Lindsey Jackson, his lover. How could he
have done it? Never mind not remembering it until now? He didn’t even know what
he’d done with the knife or his clothes. There must have been blood?

“Oh God, Lindsey,”
he sobbed out. “Forgive me. Please, please, please forgive me for taking yer
beautiful life.”

He couldn’t go
on like this. AJ couldn’t go on living a lie, living in hell on earth. The
guilt, the pain, the realization of the unimaginable. He found himself perched
tenuously at the edge of a stone cliff, and the stones and dirt were giving way
beneath his feet. Did he dive to the ground and save himself? Or throw himself
off the cliff into the raging river below and end his torture?

What would
happen to his wife, Elizabeth and his children? He moaned louder and louder as
his insides twisted in silent agony for the pain and shame this would cause
them. Oh God. He managed to rise up off the floor and stumble to his bed. He’d
not eaten in so long. The lining of his stomach was in the toilet, and he was
so weak he collapsed onto the bed. “Please God.” he mumbled. “Let me die. Let
me die. It’s what ah deserve. Please take my life.”

When AJ woke
and saw the sun the next morning, he cursed out at God as his heart pierced
with pain. “Why didn’t ye take me?” he yelled out as he fell to his knees and
pleaded with God once again.

“Ah dinnae
deserve tae live, tae breathe.

Ah dinnae
deserve tae see the sun, or the moon, or the stars.

Why dinnae ye
take me?”

***

Cameron had
trouble sleeping on the bus after Amber asked him to have sex with her. On the
bus, was she serious? He couldn’t do it on the bus, and to her disappointment
he told her so. But he’d also mentioned getting off at the next stop and
renting a motel room for a day or two. He still didn’t feel all that great and needed—no
wanted solid ground beneath his feet.

So here they
stood in front of a rundown roadside motel in the middle of nowhere. The only
other building in sight was a roadside café with its parking lot jam packed
with eighteen wheelers. Besides that there wasn’t anything around but miles and
miles of mundane blacktop twisting and turning with beautiful mountains all
around them. He had to admit, the mountains took his breath away.

His stomach
still felt like shit from being sick, and now it also ached with nervousness. He’d
never actually rented a motel room before and didn’t know what to expect. He
hoped he didn’t have to show a license or something because all he had on him
was his school ID.

The door to the
office squeaked when he opened it, and he stepped inside and found himself
facing an ancient lady with wrinkled skin. She wore the ugliest purple dress,
or bathrobe, he’d ever seen and purple fuzzy slippers. Her eyes were glued to
the television and she never heard him enter. He cleared his throat.

“Excuse me.”

“Rooms are sixty
dollars a night. Cash only.” And still she didn’t look at him.

“Okay, I’ll
take one for two nights.” He slid the exact amount over the dirty, sticky
counter, and still she didn’t look at him.

“Room four. Sign
the register and if you break anything you pay for it.”

Cameron
scribbled his name on the register, and then realized too late he’d signed his
real name.
Good going moron, you’re supposed to be incognito
.

Before the lady
looked at him, he grabbed the key and left. He signaled Amber and held up four
fingers then pointed toward the room.

After they were
inside, Cameron lay on the bed looking around and became nervous as hell
because, oh shit, he was on the only bed in the room. While Amber took a
shower, he curled up on his side and was nearly asleep when she came out of the
bathroom. He swallowed the lump in his throat as his eyes followed her across
the room. Amber’s died black hair hung long and dripping wet. The T-shirt she
wore clung to every curve and Cameron felt himself harden as he stared at the
puckered nipples straining against the thin cotton. His heart began to pound as
his eyes roamed lower to where the shirt barely covered her ... his breath came
faster as he glimpsed her curly pubic hairs.

Christ. He’d
never seen a naked girl, except of course in dirty magazines and some “R” rated
movies, but never up close and in person, and how humiliated he felt suddenly
for still being a virgin.

“I...um...I’m
going to shower.” He slid off the bed, grabbed his backpack and locked himself
in the bathroom. Before he got in the shower he sat on the closed toilet seat
and willed his pulse to slow down. Once it had, he stepped in the shower and paid
meticulous attention, soaping up every speck of his body. After he washed his
hair, dried off, threw on shorts, he brushed his teeth and placed his shaky
hand on the doorknob. Shit! He was about to have sex for the first time and he
felt like throwing up.
Not good Cameron, not good at all.
He released
the knob, went to the sink and splashed cold water on his face and stared at
his reflection in the mirror. The person staring back at him was someone he saw
all the time, yet something appeared different. He looked different. He shook
it off and before he chickened out and curled up on the bathroom floor for the
night, he opened the door and found Amber sitting up in bed watching television.
Maybe he was wrong and she didn’t want sex after all? He didn’t honesty know if
he felt relieved or disappointed. As he walked toward the bed, his knees wobbled
and his heart hammered triple time inside his chest.

He nonchalantly,
and boy was that hard to pull off, stretched out on the bed, flat on his back,
his arms behind his head and he asked, “Anything good on?” Like he didn’t have
a care in the world.

Amber replied,
“Soap Operas and talk shows. What’s your poison?”

“Whatever, I’m
going to sleep anyway.”

Amber scooted
closer to his body and snuggled against him, one leg thrown over his legs, and
he hardened instantly as he felt her warm vagina make contact with his thigh.

“Amber?” Christ
he sounded nervous.

“Hmm,” she
mumbled.

Cameron took a
deep breath and blurted it out before he lost his courage. “I’ve never done
this before.”

She raised her
body and looked at him with a smile curving her lips, and he felt his face burn
up.

“Sex, are you
telling me you’ve never had sex?” she asked, her expression one of surprise.

 His stomach
knotted and then dropped as he shook his head.

“Oral sex,” she
questioned.

Again he shook
his head and suddenly felt so out of the loop. Most of his friends had had sex
already and it wasn’t as though Cameron hadn’t wanted to, he just never had the
opportunity to—until now.

He knew oral
sex was like, the thing to do these days. He’d heard about these parties where
the guys line up and the girls go down the line giving blow jobs. It was called
a train or something like that. He’d always been too busy with his schoolwork,
his music and shuffling between his mom’s house and his dad’s to go. But now he
wished he’d been to one of those parties so he’d, like, have some experience.

“We need a
condom,” she blurted out as she rolled off the bed. Cameron sucked in his
breath as he got a good look at her naked butt when her shirt rode up to her
waist. He gawked as his pulse roared. Amber fished inside her bag, turned to
him holding up a foil-wrapped condom with a shy smile plastered across her
pretty face.

“We have one. Actually,
I have a whole box.”

Cameron
physically felt his blood pumping through his body and settling in his dick as
she climbed back onto the bed, onto her knees and peeled off her shirt. Christ,
she was stacked was all he could think about as he reached out with his
trembling hands and cupped her heavy breasts.

For the rest of
the afternoon, Amber proceeded to show Cameron just what he’d been missing. And
by the day’s end, there wasn’t much in the way of sex, oral or otherwise, Cameron
hadn’t experienced firsthand.