Jesse's Girl (Hundred Oaks #6) (14 page)

“I want a special guitar for my last tour,” Jesse explains with a wobbly voice.

Max greets us warmly, paying just as much attention to me as to Jesse.

“I’ve already got her set up for you,” Max says, ushering me over to the Les Paul section. “I knew you’d come play this guitar again.”

“Thank you,” I say as I throw the strap over my shoulder, running my fingers up and down the neck. My hips swaying to the beat, I begin to pluck out “Eye of the Tiger,” an eighties song that has one of my favorite guitar riffs. I pretend I’m playing this guitar in front of thousands of fans. Fans who’ve bought my single from iTunes.

Max’s face grows brighter than the first time I played here.

“Hey, hey,” Jesse calls out, cradling the new Citation. “What about me?”

I wave a hand at him. “Would you hold your horses?”

Then Jesse starts playing his new song. He closes his eyes, plucking out a beautiful melody. He sings,

Meeting
her
was
Christmas, on a sunny September day.

Her
lights, her smile, I want to celebrate her every day.

I
waited
for
her, for her twinkling voice.

Waiting
for
her, waiting for Christmas.

By the time Jesse finishes the song, a tear is rolling down my face.

“Max,” Jesse says, drumming his fingers on the bridge with one hand, touching the tuners with the other. He finds my eyes. “I think I’ll take her.”

• • •

I take a deep breath and knock. A few seconds later, Sam opens the front door.

“Hey, My, what’re you doing here?” He peers over my shoulder into the driveway. “And why are you driving Mom’s car? Where’s your bike?”

“Long story. Can I talk to you?”

He gestures for me to follow him inside to the dining room, where I find Jordan, her brother Mike, and a pretty lady sitting at the table playing the loudest game of war ever. Each time they slap down a card, the house rattles. Jordan slams down a king to beat her brother’s four, winning the game. She jumps to her feet and dances while Mike grumbles.

“Do you want in the next round?” Sam asks me. “Maybe with four of us, we might have a chance at bringing Jordan down.”

“No, thanks,” I say. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can come back tomorrow.”

“Maya wants to talk,” Sam tells Jordan.

“C’mon, we’ll talk in the living room,” Jordan rushes to say, and she pulls me and Sam out of the room and to the couch.

“Seriously, I can come back—I didn’t know you’d have company.”

“It’s totally fine,” Jordan says, and in a low whisper, she adds, “I’m trying to fix my brother up with our friend, and I want to give them some time alone. So let’s have a very long conversation about whatever you need to talk about. Please tell me it’s about Jesse Scott.”

“It better not be,” Sam warns.

“It’s not,” I say, and Jordan deflates.

“I saw in
Celebrity
Examiner
that you and Jesse were dating, but now he’s interested in a Greek shipping heiress,” Jordan says. “And now you’re heartbroken and possibly pregnant with Jesse’s triplets!”

“You’d better not be pregnant with triplets,” Sam warns.

“That’d be news to me,” I say, laughing.

“So are you dating Jesse?” Jordan asks.

“I’m not sure. We’re still figuring things out. Jesse wants to take it slow.”

“I understand that,” Jordan says.

“You do?” I ask.

“Looking back, I’m glad Sam and I took things slow, even if it drove me crazy at the time. And even though it sucked, I’m glad we spent a year apart in college.”

Sam nods. “Being single just made us realize we need to be together.”

They stare at each other, very much in love. I hope to feel that kind of love one day.

“So you wanted to talk?” Jordan asks.

I reach into my back pocket, pull out the wrinkled letter from
Wannabe
Rocker
, and pass it to Sam. He looks at the envelope for a long moment before pulling out the letter and unfolding it.

“This is amazing!” Sam shows the letter to Jordan, and then they dance around the living room like they’ve won every football game ever. My brother pulls me into a big hug.

“When do you leave?” he asks.

“I can’t go,” I say quietly.

“Why not?” Jordan asks.

“I thought I could save enough money, but it’s just not happening.”

“Pffft, money,” Jordan says, grabbing up the letter and scanning it again. My brother glares at her. With her former NFL player father, Jordan grew up with all the money in the world, and she’s never understood what it’s like to eat the free lunch at school or buy your clothes at Walmart.

“I’ll give you the money,” Jordan says, and Sam places a hand over hers. Their eyes meet and go to war.

“How much do you have?” Sam asks me.

“About eight hundred dollars. I can buy two plane tickets for that—I need to take a guardian. But I won’t have enough money left for food or a hotel. They’re just too expensive in New York. They’re even expensive in New Jersey. I check online every day, and there’s nothing cheap.”

“Did you talk to Mom and Dad?” Sam asks.

I slowly nod my head. “Dad thinks he can get me a couple hundred, but I hate to do that to him. I would drive instead of flying, but Mom says her car won’t make it, and we can’t afford to buy another carburetor and go to New York too. I wanted to see if I could borrow your truck, maybe.”

Sam clutches Jordan’s hand and stares at her again. “So you have to take a guardian?”

“That’s what the rules say, since I’m not eighteen.”

“I know somebody who lives in Hoboken, New Jersey. A guy I played ball with in college.”

I glance up at him. “You do?”

“Let me give him a call and see if he has room for us. Maybe we can stay a few days. And we’ll take my truck. Then all we’d need to do is round up money for gas and food. That’d probably run us five hundred dollars or so?” He looks at Jordan to confirm his estimate, and she nods.

“I’ve got money saved you can use,” she says quietly.

“That’s your money,” my brother says.

“It’s
our
money,” she replies, but Sam raises a hand. I guess she takes the hint, because she stays quiet for the first time in her life.

“What about your job?” I ask Sam. “Isn’t this your busiest time, with all the college games happening right now?”

“I’ll take off.”

“I don’t want to cause trouble for you.”

“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” My brother pats my back. “We’ll find a way.”

A week after our date at the Spaghetti Factory, Jesse calls and asks for “a huge favor.”

“No, I will not have sex with you,” I joke.

“No, no. This is serious,” he replies, taking a deep breath. “I’m wondering if you’ll watch Casper for me while I’m on tour.”

I let out a sigh; I’m glad he trusts me, but I’m sad he’ll be gone for six weeks. “Of course I’ll watch her, but don’t you have people who can do that?”

“She likes you, and Grace and my security guards don’t like taking care of her ’cause she always scratches and bites them. The little vixen’s been known to draw blood.”

So the day before he leaves, Jesse shows up at my house with Casper riding in a Ralph Lauren cat carrier, along with a litter box, a scratching post, enough gourmet cat food to feed all cats everywhere, and a specialized water filter for felines.

I help him carry everything to the porch, then he goes back to his truck and emerges with one of those paper crowns from Burger King. He places it right on top of my head.

“What’s the crown for?”

“You’re my QueenQueen,” he says, referring to my Twitter name. With a mischievous smile, he drops a kiss to my cheek.

Jesse follows me down the hall, peeking through doors along the way. He comes to a halt outside Anna’s room. “Is this your room, My?” he asks, tipping his head at a poster of him sitting on a tractor, shirtless.

“Of course it’s not.”

“Don’t worry, Casper. If you get lonely and miss me, just look up at Maya’s Jesse Scott shrine.”

“Oh hush, that’s my sister’s room.” He follows me to mine, where I flop down on the bed, still wearing my new crown.

After setting up Casper’s cat stuff in the corner, Jesse studies the pictures on my dresser, paying particular attention to the one of Dave and me dressed as Mario and the Princess at Halloween, the recently added picture of Jesse and me with the GranTurismo, and a photo of me, Anna, Sam, and Jordan.

Jesse touches the picture taken at Fall Creek Falls last June. Sam had just revealed he could gargle any song on demand, and Jordan cried bullshit. So he sipped some water and then gargled “Respect” by Aretha Franklin, and Anna, Jordan, and I about died laughing because it was so terrible.

Clearing his throat, Jesse pulls sheet music out of his back pocket. “Everything that’s happened to you since we met has been weird, huh?”

“Um, being in
People
magazine?
Yeah.
”

“You know my new song? ‘Waiting for Christmas’? The one I sang for you at Gibson? It’s kind of based on you and me and our first day together, and I’ve been thinking a lot about our duet on the Belle Carol. It was fun, and I liked how we sounded together.”

“Me too!”

He pulls a deep breath. “‘Waiting’ is actually a duet. Want to collaborate on it? Come record in the studio with me?”

“Me?” I stammer.

“Yes, you. Mark’s on board too.”

This must be the secret project he mentioned! “Would it, um, go on an album or on the radio or something?”

Jesse shrugs and smiles. “Nah—it would just be for fun. But you’d get some experience in the studio. It would probably be the last song I record.”

I look down at my lap, my leg shaking like a jackhammer. Nervous and excited about doing something like this. Mostly upset that he’s still planning to retire.

“I’d love to record with you, but why me?”

“I like you.”

I think back to Jesse’s face when he met that little girl at the fair, the one who said she wants to play piano because of him but can’t because she can’t afford lessons. Doesn’t he know that he could help change lives? “But you don’t want to help other people, do you?”

“I would if other people were more like you. So are you in?” He hands me the sheet music, and I bring it to my nose, smelling ink and crisp paper.

Of
course
I
am!

“Why not?” I say nonchalantly.

Jesse sits on my bed with me. “So Holly told me you never returned her call about arranging voice lessons?”

I fidget and flex my fingers nervously. “I didn’t…I can’t afford them, Jess.”

“It’s on me, okay?”

“Are you sure?” He nods once. “Thank you,” I say, and he returns my smile.

“We can record in January or so. After my tour’s over.”

“Where all are you going again?”

“All over the place. Dallas, Denver, Vegas, Kansas City, Seattle, Detroit, Cincinnati, Philly, Birmingham, Chicago, Orlando, New York. Then I’m heading over to London, Paris, and Berlin.”

“That’s amazing!” Casper jumps onto the bed and snuggles between us.

“I’m really excited about the Vegas show. I bought plane tickets for my parents to come out there. It’s close to the Grand Canyon, and they’ve always wanted to go, so I figured we could make a day trip out of it. Ride horses and stuff. And we can have Thanksgiving together too.” He grins to himself as he scratches Casper’s ears.

“I’m happy for you. So you’re still retiring?”

“Yes.”

“I wish you’d reconsider. You have such a gift.”

He lifts the Burger King crown off my head, sets it on my nightstand, and brushes my hair behind my ears. “I need to fix things with my family first.”

“Anybody who puts how they appear to their friends and coworkers before the happiness of their kid doesn’t have their priorities straight.”

“I know we have a lot to work out,” he says. “But I want to try.”

He slips his cowboy boots off and pulls me back on the bed with him. I inhale sharply as I rest my head on his shoulder. Other than that time at the Underground, I haven’t curled up with him before. I watch his eyelashes flutter and run my fingers over the stubble on his cheek.

He picks up my iPhone and earbuds, taking the right one and handing me the left. He flicks through my playlists, grimacing at all the Queen and Madonna, then settles on some old-school John Mellencamp. He folds an arm behind his head, and we listen to music with our eyes closed.

The longer we lie here, the more my body wants him. My skin is burning up, desperate for his touch.

When he gently caresses my jaw, I grab on to him and hold on tight. He studies my eyes for a few seconds, then stands to shut my bedroom door.

“This okay?” he asks.

I nod. “Dad’s at the garage and Mom’s at work.”

I hope neither will catch me with Jesse. He rejoins me on my bed, straddling my hips, wrapping an arm around my waist, pulling me against him. Not taking his eyes off mine, he slips the earbud back into his ear, so we can keep listening to music. As soon as his lips touch mine, I know the risk of getting caught is worth it. He inhales sharply when my tongue sweeps inside his mouth.

A kiss that starts out slow becomes a rhythm: hard then soft then wild. His mouth moves lower, trailing heat and shivers down my neck. He pushes the hem of my top up to my ribs. Presses his lips to my stomach. I gasp and gasp again when one of his hands cups my breast. My hips buck involuntarily.

He lifts his head. “You all right?”

I’m panting so hard it takes several seconds to get my breathing under control. I rip my earbud out. “Jess…what are we doing here?”

“What’s wrong?”

I swallow, and he brushes my hair out of my face, staring into my eyes. He slowly removes his earbud.

“Remember how you got upset on shadow day and left?” I ask. “And then at the movies, you didn’t want to hold hands or kiss or anything?”

“I remember,” he says quietly. “I also remember how, on our last date, you stopped kissing
me
.”

“I’m scared you’ll freak out again.”

“I’ve had time to think since then…I’ve figured stuff out. It won’t happen again.”

“But what if it does? I’m sick of kissing someone only to find they’ve lost interest ten minutes later.”

“Why do you think I’d do that?” he asks with a hard edge.

I decide to be honest. “You and Nate both hurt me, okay?”

He rocks back onto his knees, his eyebrows pinching together. “I’m nothing like him. I don’t ask girls out very often, you know. I thought you understood I’m serious about this. About you.”

I lean against the stiff headboard. “You haven’t told me that before, so how could I know?”

“Well, I don’t think I should have to pay for Nate’s mistake.”

“What is
that
supposed to mean?”

“I mean that you put yourself out there with him, and it didn’t pay off. I’ve apologized, and you aren’t giving me another chance because some idiot guy hurt you. I have no idea how he let you go, Maya Henry.”

I cover my face with my pillow. My voice is muffled when I speak. “You can have anybody. Why are you even interested in me?”

His calloused fingers caress my arm. “You’re true to yourself. And you get me. You treat me like I’m real.”

I move the pillow and look up at him. At this beautiful freckle-faced guy with the gorgeous voice and even sweeter heart. I bet it took a lot of courage for him to say that stuff to me. He’s right. I hated it when he compared me to his ex. It’s not fair of me to judge him for what went wrong with Nate. I’ll be alone forever if I compare every guy to Nate. Still, the thought of being in a relationship with Jesse makes me feel nervous, like when I perform a solo. I don’t know if I’ll make it through the song without messing up.

But I want to get onstage.

“What happens with us while you’re on tour?” I ask.

“I’ll be back in six weeks. It’s not forever.”

“It’s still a long time…I barely heard from you when you were gone for ten days. I don’t want to be the girl who sits by the phone waiting. I need to know if you’re going to call me.” My heart’s pounding. I can’t believe I’m putting myself out there like this.

“I can do that,” Jesse says and gently pecks my cheek. “We’ll text and Skype, and when I get back, we’ll figure out the rest.”

“I want that,” I say bravely. “I want to figure us out. I want to know what we are.”

He grins. “I know what I want.”

“Oh yeah?”

Jesse twines his fingers between mine and presses my hands above my head. I shiver as his body covers mine.

“I want another kiss.”

“You’re so demanding,” I say, smiling, giving him exactly what he asked for.

• • •

A few days later before first period, Dave dashes up with his phone. “You have to see this!” He pushes play on a
TMZ
video.

The voice-over says, “We got Jesse Scott at Miami airport.” The clip shows him making his way through the terminal, reporters circling him like buzzards. The paparazzi ask question after question about the tour and his future plans, but Jesse keeps his mouth shut. Cameras flash in his face.
Click, click, click, click.
A reporter yells, “Why isn’t Maya Henry on tour with you?”

No answer from Jesse.

“Are you dating Maya?”

No response.

“What does she think of you being seen with Natalia Naylor?”

“Can you give us
anything
on Maya?”

Jesse stops. The press circles him, and he smiles wickedly at the camera. “If you’re watching this, My, I miss you. You’re my mean, sexy punk girl.”

And when the video flicks off, Dave and I do a little dance in the hallway, chattering about how cute he is, and hope blooms inside me.

That night, I tweet Jesse a picture of me and Dave frowning with a caption that says “We miss you!” and, like, fifty thousand people favorite it. Since I started hanging out with Jesse, I’ve gained over a hundred thousand followers. I know they aren’t following me for me—they just want to see Jesse and me tweet jabs back and forth at each other, but still. It’s pretty cool.

A week into Jesse’s tour, Mom hands me a postcard from Orlando featuring a muscular man in a Speedo. Laughing, I flip it over and read:

Dear M—

Wish you were with me. As you can probably tell from this postcard, I’m having a blast. Aren’t you jealous? :) Please tell Casper I love her, and tell Anna and Dave I said hi. Talk to you tonight.

—J

Shaking my head, I smile and go hang the postcard on my bedroom mirror.

I change clothes and ride my old bicycle over to the Baptist church, where I’m meeting Holly. She’s nice enough to drive to Franklin two days a week to give me voice lessons in the church’s music room. I had to cut back on the number of hours I work down at Caldwell’s. Taking the voice lessons is worth the time. Holly says I’m getting better and better, and even though she’s preparing me to sing a duet with Jesse, I’m getting the experience I need for my auditions in New York too.

With two weeks left, I’ve saved one thousand dollars. Sam’s friend said we could stay with him for a few nights, but my brother said we need to buy him a nice dinner to say thanks. Sam’s truck isn’t new by any means—it’s a 2002 Dodge. It needs a tune-up and oil change before the trip. Sometimes I can’t believe this is really happening. I’m so close to my goal.

I still haven’t told Jesse I’m going to New York. I want to show him—want to show everybody—that I can do this on my own. And I know I can. Just me, my voice, and my guitar.

But I still have a problem: Casper.

I can’t leave her with my little sister, because she would tell the entire world that she’s caring for Jesse Scott’s cat, and
Access
Hollywood
would probably show up at our house. I can’t leave her with Jordan, because she’s allergic.

So one week before the trip, I head over to see Dr. Salter, and the office assistant with Marge Simpson hair tells me to go on in. I knock on the door and find him poring over a pile of paperwork. He invites me to sit, so I plop down on the ratty couch.

“I need to ask a favor.”

“Go ahead,” Dr. Salter says, taking a seat across from me.

“Jesse asked me to watch his cat while he’s on tour.”

“Did he?” Dr. Salter asks, leaning back and crossing his arms. “He must really trust you.”

I lift a shoulder in a shrug. “Cats can take care of themselves. It’s no big deal.”

“Did he tell you where Casper came from?” I shake my head, so Dr. Salter goes on. “When Jesse was about sixteen or so, he was on tour. One night after a show in New Orleans, he walked out the back door of the Superdome and heard Casper crying.”