About me, about her, about thefuture.
I want to make something of myself. Maybe more than a session musician. Jax has fame and obligations, but he also has a lot of positive impact. He employed dozens of people, inspired millions, by doing what he does best. You can’t do that by playingsmall.
A noise has me jerking my head up to see Jax appear at the top of thestairs.
“You’re up late,” heobserves.
“Can’tsleep.”
“Meeither.”
Jax crosses the floor, completely at ease—he should be, this was his tour bus for the better part of a decade—but when he gets close, I see the ease is anillusion.
His jaw is tight, his eyes unsettled. “Niceguitar.”
My gut twists sharply, but I’mready.
I set the guitar down. “I’m calling Zeke back to tell him I can’t come to NewYork.”
Jax takes a seat on the opposite couch, crossing an ankle over his knee. “I assume you’re going to tell mewhy.”
I rise, the photos on the wall drawing me closer. One of me and Annie at Jax’s old label, me wearing the Ramones T-shirt she bought me, has melingering.
“Before you brought me here, you made me promisesomething.”
“To stay away from mydaughter.”
“To look out for her,” I correct. “And I have. I care about her more than anything. Maybe there’s always been some part of me that wanted more than her friendship, but I didn’t believe I could have it. Sure as hell didn’t believe I deservedit.”
I take a deep breath and turn to face him. “I know you don’t think I’m good enough forher.”
“Why do you saythat?”
My hands fist at my sides. “Come on, Jax. Don’t fuck with me. I’m only here because you feelguilty.”
He leans forward, and Icontinue.
“I know everything. That you met my dad fifteen years ago when he was stringing together whatever shitty gigs he could. Bartending to keep enough money for beer. Sometimes to keep the lightson.
“He worked at Wicked as a part-time janitor until he got fired for missing too manyshifts.
“But the highlight of all of it was meeting you. You were young like him, came from nothing, and you were a success. He wanted what you had, and you gave himadvice.”
Jax folds his arms over his chest, and the amber eyes so much like Annie’s glow. “What did I tellhim?”
“You know.” But I say it anyway. “You told him not to let anything or anyone get in his way. That in order to succeed, he had to look out forhimself.”
Emotion rises up in my throat, huge and awful andunfamiliar.
“But he had a three-year-old son at home. And he took that advice—your advice—toheart.”
My chest is tight as the memories come back, ones I’ve done everything in my power to push down. Me vying for his attention, finally realizing I’d never get it. The only time he was encouraging was when I joined the program at Wicked for troubled teens because he thought he could use my connection to thelabel.
When he realized he couldn’t, he decided to take from medirectly.
The year before I left to come here, it all spilled out one night—how his lack of success was my fault, that he’d always blamed me for holding himback.
“I know that’s not the only reason he neglected me,” I continue, my voice rough. “You gave him permission, but the idea was his. I can’t even blame you because you brought me here. You knew and you set out to make it up tome.”