Front Man: The Complete Trilogy (6 page)

Sara read and reread the ticket in her
hand. First class? Wow. She didn't even like to think what that had
cost. Looking down at her faded skinny jeans and comfy sweatshirt,
she wished she'd dressed up a little more. With a wry grin, she
pulled her sunglasses out of her bag and put them on, checking out
her reflection in a pane of glass. There, now she could be mistaken
for an off-duty celebrity, dodging the paparazzi. Was this what
Jack's life was like all the time, she wondered? No, they probably
travelled by private jet. Hauling her weekend bag over her shoulder,
Sara made her way towards security.

Leaning back in her enormous, plush seat, Sara
felt like pinching herself. This really was the way to travel. The
first class seats were divided into little cabins, with private
televisions and fully flat beds. The friendly stewardess had provided
a glass of champagne along with a refreshing hot towel, before
pointing out her copy of the extremely extensive food menu. Compared
to her usual cramped seat on a budget airline, this felt like another
world. Sara kept wondering when someone would find her out and escort
her back to economy, and found herself scanning her ticket for the
little note that said 'First.' Her companions in paradise were mostly
fifty something guys in expensive Italian suits, who seemed to take
no pleasure in the experience whatsoever. Thirty minutes into the
flight, most of them were either tapping furiously on their laptops,
or had downed some prescription sedatives with their champagne and
passed out. It occurred to Sara that even luxury could get boring
eventually. There were a couple of interesting passengers though. One
was an elderly lady with a Russian sounding accent, whose makeup had
to be at least an inch thick, and who tottered onto the plane atop
six inch red stilettos. The other, whose cabin was separated from
Sara's by a sliding partition, was a guy in his mid-twenties who
could have stepped out of a Tommy Hilfiger ad. From his piercing blue
eyes to his strong, tan jawline, he was six feet 2 inches of
all-American hunk. The stewardesses were extremely attentive to all
the first class passengers, but they spent extra time hovering by his
cabin, batting their eyelashes as they offered refreshments. 

Sara settled in with a romantic comedy,
nibbling at a tray of assorted snacks that was perched on the small
side table. Soon the warmth of the cabin and the comfy seat took
their toll, and despite her intentions to savour the experience, she
soon drifted off to sleep. 

In
her dream, Sara was walking down an endless corridor. The thick
carpet felt soft beneath her bare feet. The walls were lined with
doors, each one numbered, but somehow she sensed that none of these
was the one she was looking for. Sara realized she was dressed only
in her favourite black lace underwear, but she didn't feel cold. As
she passed by another set of doors, they swung open, and she felt a
prickle on the back of her neck, like someone was watching her. But
the door frame was dark and empty. Sara carried on down the hallway,
picking up speed as she felt a growing sense of urgency building in
the pit of her stomach. Eventually she was running, aware only that
she had to reach the end of the corridor, not sure what she was
hurrying towards. The hall seemed to stretch as she sprinted along
it, the end always just out of sight. Then all of a sudden, the door
seemed to rush towards her, and she stopped dead. This door was
larger than the others, painted a deep shade of blood red. It didn't
have a number. Instinctively, Sara raised her hand and knocked. She
heard the sound of shuffling on the other side, as if someone was
hauling themselves up to answer her. Suddenly she was overwhelmed
with anxiety, as if something hideous might be lurking behind the
door, ready to pounce on her. Yet she remained rooted to the spot. It
was too late to go back. The handle turned, and the door swung open
agonizingly slowly. At first, there was only darkness. Then the light
came on behind Jack, who was leaning against the door frame, wearing
only his tight, faded jeans. Wordlessly, she fell into his arms,. His
hands roamed over her skin, as if he wanted to familiarize himself
with every last part of her. Winding her hands in his hair, she
pulled his lips toward her, thrusting her tongue roughly into his
mouth until she felt him respond. She started as his teeth sank into
her bottom lip, pain and pleasure mingling until her senses were on
fire. His hands were on her breasts, kneading them roughly, pinching
her nipples into hard little points. As his hard cock nudged the soft
curls of her pubic hair, she realized their garments had had somehow
melted away, but she was past the point of caring about anything
except his touch. Jack wrapped his strong arm around her waist, and
they fell together onto the carpet, sinking down into it's softness.
She relished the sensation of his weight bearing down on her,
rendering her entirely helpless. Sara gasped as the head of his stiff
member pressed against her entrance, stretching her opening as he
slid deep inside her. She felt filled, consumed by him entirely, and
already intense waves of pleasure were coursing through her. Sarah
moaned as a monumental orgasm gripped her, every muscle in her body
trembling as she came harder than she ever had before. At the same
time she heard Jack moan into her ear. Then, as the pleasure began to
subside, that moan transformed into almost a sob, a sound so filled
with pain that it brought tears to Sara's eyes. She felt him slip out
of her arms and slide, limp, to the floor, his strong frame and proud
muscles withering beneath her hands.
"Jack!"
she screamed at him, but he seemed not to hear her. His face was
ashen, all the light gone from his eyes, as if his very spirit was
slipping away. Sara tried to grab him, screaming his name, but to no
avail. He seemed to become a ghost, slipping through her fingers,
away from, back towards the darkness of that mysterious room. As she
ran towards the doorway, still calling for him, the door slammed shut
with a resounding crack

Sara jolted awake, still breathing heavily. The
cabin lights were dimmed.

"The captain has switched on the fasten
seat belt sign. Please return to your seats and have your belt
securely fastened."

With sweaty fingers, Sara fumbled for her lap
belt, the pervading sense of anxiety still causing her heart to beat
too fast.

"Hey there, are you OK?"

Sara whipped round, and saw that the handsome
guy in the next seat had lowered the divider between them. She hadn't
realized you could lock them shut. She blinked stupidly at him, still
half asleep, her mouth incapable of forming words.

"Sorry didn't mean to intrude...just, you
were making some pretty strange noises."

Sara flushed, hoping it hadn't been too obvious
what she was dreaming about. What if the rest of the plane had heard?
It didn't bear thinking about

"Oh no, was I? I'm sorry, I must have been
dreaming. I hope I didn't disturb you."

"Not at all," he replied, flashing a
killer smile. There was a hint of the South in his accent, and his
voice had a honeyed softness to it that perfectly complimented his
chiseled good looks. Wow, Sara thought, he must have to beat women
off with a stick

"I was just trying to decide what to order
for lunch," he continued, "or is it dinner? Maybe
tomorrow's breakfast for all I know, I get confused with all these
changing time zones."

Sara smiled, feeling the overwhelming sadness
of her dream start to fade away.

"You look like you need a drink," the
handsome stranger said, signalling to the stewardess as he spoke. She
looked up pointedly at the fasten seat belt sign, but just at that
moment it switched off

"Perfect timing," he said with a
grin, "a glass of champagne for the lovely lady, and I'll have a
red wine. And the steak, please." He turned back to Sara. "Steak
seems a fairly safe bet, whatever meal this turns out to be. Although
if it is breakfast, the wine might be a problem. Just don't tell my
therapist."

He
scooped the champagne flute off the proffered tray and handed it to
Sara, before clinking his glass against hers.
"Lovely
to meet you, Miss..."

"Sara. Sara Lansbury."

"Chris Gray," he said, offering his
hand. Sara couldn't help smiling as she shook it.

"Yes, I know. I've thought about changing
it ever since those darn books came out. But it's Christopher, for
starters, and I'm only a millionaire. Not hit my first billion quite
yet."

Sara couldn't be sure if he was joking or not,
and she didn't like to ask.

"I am excellent in the sack though,"
he added, with a wink. Sara almost choked on her champagne."So,
Sara, are you a member of the mile high club?” This guy wasn't
pulling any punches. Unsure how to respond, Sara merely stared, which
he apparently took as a cue to continue talking.

“There's no greater thrill, you
know...sneaking into the bathroom, the fear of being caught. You
could even do it in one of these compartments I bet...one of the
little perks of travelling First. There's quite a scene, you know.
Lots of regular business travellers who like to mix things up.
Certainly makes long haul more interesting, if you know what I mean.”
He leaned towards her, and Sara caught a whiff of the alcohol on his
breath. “Why don't you and I, uh, get to know each other a
little better?” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I'll
meet you in the right hand bathroom in ten. I'll go first, make it
less obvious.”

“I have a boyfriend.” Sara
said curtly. Even if that was only true in her dreams.

“This Jack guy? You certainly
sounded pretty mad at him just now.”

Sara blushed again. She couldn't
believe she'd been talking in her sleep, it was just so embarrassing.

“Don't worry sweetheart, he'll
never find out. What happens up here, stays up here, you know?”
He winked at her as he slid out of his seat, and Sara suppressed a
shudder. She waved down an approaching stewardess.

“Excuse me?”

“Yes madam?”

“Um, how do you lock these
dividers? I was thinking of taking a nap.”

“Just push the button to raise
the partition, then when it's fully closed, slide it forward to lock.
Would you like anything else, a blanket perhaps?”

“That would be lovely. Thank
you.”

Securely enclosed in her compartment,
safe from even the most handsome of creeps, Sara snuggled down under
the soft blanket. Still four hours to their destination. She sighed
with frustration. As comfortable as First Class was, she just wanted
to be in Paris already. Just wanted to see Jack, and make sure he was
okay. Between the desperation in his voice and the chilling images of
her dream, she was increasingly anxious to be with him. Her intuition
told her he really needed somebody, and she was happy to be there.

Despite her best efforts, and a glass
of wine, sleep refused to come. A young flight attendant came round
with a tray of coffee, and Sara gratefully accepted a cup, along with
a copy of the paper. She flicked through idly as she sipped her
drink, barely taking in any of the words. As her eyes scanned the
pictures, she stopped. There was Jack, staring out at her from the
fourth page. It was no surprise to see him in the papers, but the
headline was like a punch in the gut. “STAR'S DRUG SHAME –
Compass singer's dealing past exposed.” No, Sara thought
immediately, surely not. There had to be some sort of mistake. She
knew Jack, he wasn't capable of something like this. Desperate to
disprove the headline, she devoured the rest of the article.

“
Shocking photos have revealed
the dark past of Compass star Jack Carter. The photographs, provided
by an anonymous source, were taken at notorious druggie hangout
Delano's, which shut down following a police raid in 2009. Some of
the images were too shocking to publish, but in the picture above
Carter can clearly be seen handing drug paraphernalia to a young
girl, who experts say appears to be underage. In others, Carter
himself also appears intoxicated, although not as intensely as his
younger companions. The anonymous source reported that Carter was a
regular visitor to Delano's, and had a group of regular 'customers'
who he provided with substances including heroin and methamphetamine.
While a police spokesman declined to comment on the quality of the
evidence against Carter, he did reveal that ' authorities take such
accusations extremely seriously, especially when they involve someone
who is a role model to many vulnerable young people.' Carter's team
have refused to speak to the press, leading some to speculate that
they are unable to refute these allegations
.”

Sara flung the paper back onto the
table. She felt sick. The girl in the picture looked younger than
Sara's own teenage sister, but she was dressed more like a hooker in
hot pants and a tube top. There was a vacant smile on her face as she
accepted the pipe from Jack. In another, he was passing her a small
plastic bag filled with suspicious white powder. Sara remembered the
Delano's raid. The owners had created a drug den, where junkies
lingered and dealers paid off the management. It was only when a
sixteen year old girl had almost died of an overdose that the
authorities had been able to move in. A lot of people had gone to
jail, she remembered. Did Jack belong with them? She couldn't believe
it. He was too kind. He cared to much. Yet the camera never
lies...Why hadn't he told her what was going on? Had he hoped somehow
that she wouldn't find out? Part of Sara wished she could turn the
plane around. Though she was sure the accusations were false, she
felt like Jack had lied to her. Dragged her all the way to France on
false pretences. She didn't know what she was going to say to him.
She felt tears sting her eyes, and wiped them away on her sleeve.
Pull yourself together, she told herself silently. If this was how
she was feeling, she could only imagine how Jack felt.