Weathering Jack Storm (Silver Strings G Series) (37 page)

“Holy shit Tristan. You scared Momma. So bad...” The tears freely flowed now that the crisis was over.

The warmth of his tiny body against her heart was a life line in the waves of madness threatening to engulf her soul. For once, Tristan didn’t correct the bad words.

“I’m sorry, Momma...”

“I know, honey. Why did you go with her? You know. We’ve been through this. If someone takes you, or tells you things–”

“She’s not a stranger.”

“I know, honey...”

“Tristan...Son...” In a flash of a second, Jack was through the door and hugged up with her and Tristan. She felt the slight movement as he rocked him in his arms, and her tears brimmed again.

“Daddy, I’m sorry. I didn’t know I wasn’t s’posed to go with the lady.”

A muffle of voices filtered through the door along with the impatient rattle of the knob, but no one came inside.

Jack drew back only a few inches, and over Tristan’s head he asked, “What lady? What the hell is he talking about?”

A dangerous look glittered his gaze, and his jaw was so tightly clenched that it twitched.

The door swung open, and a middle-aged man in jeans and a Jackal shirt stopped just inside. “You need to take stage.” When Jack didn’t acknowledge, he insisted, “Now, Jack.”

“Fuck you man, I’m done for tonight.”

Marissa recognized the man as one of the managers that had been in and out of the house pre-tour. He heaved a sigh and tried again.

“Jack,”

“Someone took my kid–”

James stepped in to try his managerial skills. “Jack, dude we will get it sorted. I will make the calls, get things started. But you need to wind that show up now that things are okay here–”

“Someone walked in here and took my kid. Does that sound like things are okay here? How does that happen?”

The manager’s astonishment showed, but he did not deviate. “Jack, dude, we will get it sorted. I will make the calls, take care of things on this end. But you need to be on that end for the next few minutes.”

“No. Fucking no.” Jack reached for his hip, looked confused for a second when he found a mic box. Regaining his bearings, he then looked to her. “I need your phone, honey.”

As she obliged, James edged closer cautiously asking, “What are you doing? Who are you calling?”

“Have you not heard a word I said? My son was kidnapped.”

“Your son is right here.”

“He was taken without my permission by some woman and that is–”

When his manager snatched the phone, a scuffle ensued. Her breath stopped when Jack balled up his fist and then whooshed out when he relaxed his fingers and stepped back.

“Jack, listen to me. Emma Chandler had your boy. She came in here and he was alone. She entertained him for a bit and called me to see where she should bring him.”

“Em? I don’t understand. Mariss was in the bathroom for three seconds. Why would she take him off somewhere? Why is she even here?” With each question, Jack’s voice hued from confounded to fury.

Without the emotional attachment of knowing Emma for years, Marissa’s boiling point was immediately reached. There was no cloud of confusion, or doubting fugue state. Her hands slid from Tristan as she surged to her feet.

“She had no right to do that. That is kidnapping. Give me my phone! Please.”

“I do not know what that evil bitch’s problem is, but she has crossed a line–” Jack raged.

“Just calm down. It was a misunderstanding and—” James still tried to reach peace.

“He was gone for twenty-two minutes! She has my phone number! She is trying to–” Her eyes fell on Tristan, remembering the morning she had automatically removed him from the vicinity of the witch, the morning Emma had informed her that she wouldn’t be coming on tour. “She is trying to do something...”

In surprise, she felt the wet stream on her face, and when she moved her hand up to the tears, Jack pulled her into a hug.

“Where is she?” he demanded. “I want to see her now.”

“Probably not a good idea until you calm down, Jack. And you have a show waiting—”

“I am not playing. And if she doesn’t explain this to me face to face, right now, I will see her arrested.”

The rest of the night passed in a haze, but one in which she did not let Tristan out of her sight. Even now, at the hotel, he slept in the bed between them.

Emma had apologized stubbornly sticking to the story that she had found him alone and had taken him to look for Marissa. A story that didn’t make sense. Even James and the other manager quickly wiped the doubt from their faces. Somehow, and Marissa still could not believe she had agreed to it, charges were not pressed. It was however, understood by all, Emma included, that she had cost herself her job.

Leaning up in the bed enough to reach one of Tristan’s leftover chicken strips, she resumed her recline on the headboard as she munched it and watched one of the late shows. Jack was in an exhausted sleep, his arm curved around his mini doppelganger.

He had not finished the performance that night which caused a huge stir with the label and the fans. The next day, he released a public apology to Music Muse magazine, as well as a few other publications and online outlets.

“I had a bug, and it slammed me hard in the last minutes. I cannot say how sorry I am. I want to make it up in some way. If you will send copies of your ticket transaction to...”

The venue did not sue for breach of contract, as they were in breach also for not having constant security outside the door.

There were a couple of random cryptic texts in the weeks to come from Emma.

To Marissa’s phone,
‘You never understood, but you will’

Jack promptly called, and when Emma didn’t answer, he left an intimidating voicemail warning against any future contact. He also blocked the number to Marissa’s phone.

The next text arrived a few days later to Jack’s phone,
‘We had a good thing. We had a future’

Jack blocked the number to his phone and endured Marissa’s inquisition.

“Did you and Emma have a thing?”

“No.”

“Ever?”

“Never. Nothing. I would never be that dumb. Not that I knew she was a psycho, but we were in a business where I would have to see her every day.”

“Nothing at all?”

Reluctantly, her eyes dropped specifically to the crotch of his jeans, to the something that a lot of rock stars might consider nothing when it was consistently offered up with no strings. ‘
I was much more used to getting.
’ The words from a few nights ago echoed

“Nothing, Mariss. No. Thing.” Those dark eyes avowed what his lips swore. “She wanted to move labels. To my family’s label when I moved. That is what she is speaking of.”

They were sitting in the back of the bus watching Tristan nap, and he leaned slightly toward her with his next revelation, “You know what else? I know you like Randi, so I want you to know, and I swear I am not just saying it…I don’t think anything happened with her. The nights I thought that something happened with her are actually a blur, and I think I misunderstood.”

“Why do you think that you misunderstood?” It was a little evil, but she wanted to hear his side. And when he told it, it was virtually the same as Randi’s version.

“What were you so upset about that night?”

“I had broken up with someone after just a couple of months. Meg introduced me to her, so as it ended up, Meg and I got into it. Stupid stuff, looking back on it.”

“My past relationships are all stupid stuff too, looking back on it,” she admitted.

He pulled her into a hug.

“
THANK YOU FOR COMING
on tour,” Jack whispered, and she savored the feel of the husky words breathed over her ear. “I know you didn’t want to. And then all that crap happened. Just thank you.”

Jackal had finished their last show in the states only hours ago. They both had balked at the thought of leaving Tristan in their room with a hotel sitter, but the after party was mandatory. In a flash of inspiration, they had brought the sitter with them. It was not something she wanted to make a habit of, but in a back room of the suite used for the party, Tristan had played on his tablet with his headphones on, and had eventually fallen asleep while the middle-aged woman remained vigilantly reading in a chair near the bed.

Marissa and Jack had checked in three or four times an hour. Jack had fulfilled the press obligations, and after a few drinks with the rest of the band, they had tipped the sitter, and Jack had carried Tristan as they relocated down the hall to their suite.

Now, she scooted back closer to him, feeling secure. “I’m glad I came.” The admission was truthful and heartfelt. Images of him on stage filled her mind, and she tightened her hold on the arm around her waist.

The sling of his hair. The intense look on his face while working the guitar into the sounds he wanted and while singing those god-awful songs. The ripple of the muscles in his decorative arms.

“You’re so hot on stage. I wish I had stayed that night, at the Hang Fest to see you.”

“You didn’t?”

“No. You didn’t look for me?”

“I did, but it’s hard to see, especially at night with the lights in your eyes.” His fingers moved, caressing against her ribs. “I should have texted you back. I was going to ask if you wanted to watch from the stage, but something came up at that second, one thing led to another and the show began. Or if I had followed my gut and called you more than the once. Things would have gone so different.”

In a wild turnabout, he had gone from blaming her for the wasted four years to blaming himself, and it hurt her heart to see the guilt in his eyes and hear the self-recrimination in his voice.

“Maybe,” she returned. Maybe not. Maybe you didn’t need a complication as bad as you think you did. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked out. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Until now.”

“I don’t know. I do know I’m ready to be done with touring. So we can settle down.” The warmth of one of his legs nestled between hers. “The week I was at your house. That was the best time I can remember in my life. Even though we were in a fight through half of it, it was us, as a family, without all the outside BS that comes with my life. That has always come with my life.”

“Did you go on tour with your dad?”

“Yeah. We did. Until I was twelve. And it was alright. But the times I liked best, growing up, were at our house when dad wasn’t on tour. Now, I see why. Even though on tour me and Meg were living it up in a different swimming pool every day, and ordering whatever we wanted to eat every meal, there was probably always an undercurrent of stress between my parents.”

His voice was far away in his past, and afraid to make a sound or movement that would take away this rare glimpse of Jack Loren, she only squeezed her legs tighter around his.

“There was this woman who would sometimes show up at the shows. Because she was a musician too, I guess. My mom would greet her like they were best friends. But the second we were back at the hotel, or wherever, my mom would be going ape shit, yelling at us about every little thing—oh it was that one at the airport, you saw her, Tracey Teague. And Dad. He was always Mr. Chill, you know? But you could just see this look in his eyes when any guy looked at Mom.”

Coming out of this reverie, his humble gaze sought hers, and his fingers slowed their calming movements. So far, she had been lucky enough or someone had run interference enough that she had not had to come face to face with a past fling of Jack's. Or had not realized it. With practice, she pushed that thought away as he continued.

“I don’t want that life for us. I’m not saying it was a bad life. I just want to wake up in my own bed next to you. With our kids down the hall. And to not be constantly barraged by the rest of the world.” His fingers forked in her hair to rest on her scalp, and the pad of his thumb made a warm trail down her cheekbone. “What do you want, Mariss?”

“I just want to be with you.” The answer came from her heart. “And if I have to put up with a little crap to make that happen, then that’s fine.”

His lips pressed to hers, hungrily devouring her answer, and within seconds he pulled fractionally away. “I just want to be with you too. Only, you don’t make me put up with crap. And that’s not right. For it to be so one sided...”

“So you want me to come up with some crap? Is that what you are wanting?”

His husky laugh rumbled against her, and his thumb moved to her lips. “I know it’s medieval. But I want to watch our kids grow inside of you—and outside too.” The last part was humorously added because of whatever he saw in her face.

Wanting the same scenario with all of her heart and soul, she curved a smile, but reality kept her heart from sharing that smile.

“I have crap. And it’s mega crap.” Sliding a hand down Jack’s arm, she coaxed the remote from his hand and muted the television. “I need to tell you something that I should have a long time ago.”

Gnawing the inside of her lip, she looked away from his attentive, inquisitive gaze as she sought the courage to begin and insight about how. She had kept her secret contained for too long, and now it exploded inside her every time he said such things.