“From worst to best?” Britta asks, gawking at my ring.
“Worst to best ever,” Iconfirm.
“Well, you did it, Baby.” Mum and Dad throw their arms around Jett and me, preparing for that creepy unison thing. “You picked the right fucking rockstar!”
“Only one more thing to do.” Jett grins wickedly. “Got your best camera, J? And Lo, video?”
My siblings nod, andJesus,what’s next? Jett walks me to the very edge of the stage where his fans are still going mental, and I’m blowing them kisses because he’s blowing them kisses, they make him happy, and that makes me happy.
“Jett, what are we doing?”
“Same thing we did eight years ago, Baby. We’re going to jump, time to take the leap together for real!”
Clutching my hand, Jett turns our backs towards the crowd, and I’m about to worry that his fans will pull a Mean Girls and let me drop to the ground when he says, “Don’t worry, they’ve gotus.” And that word doesn’t have an expiration date; it means Idon’t have to worry about anything anymore. “Ready, set, fall, Baby!”
And since Iwasted so much time, I’malwaysready to fall for this man. Jett pushes backwards off the stage with his boots, hurdling us into the hands of his fans. And Idon’t die. And no one drops me. Their hands are supportive and firm on our backs as they carry us slowly away from the stage. They whisper scream with what voices they have left, theirIlove yousto Jett andgod damn you’re luckys to me. Jett never lets go of my hand, and the fans couldn’t be more right. Iam so god damn lucky.
Epilogue
Jett
I’m sitting in an interview on an inconspicuous Thursday afternoon in LA when the radio personalities doing the questioning start asking me about the day Imet my wife. I’m sure this seems like a normal line of questioning to bring up to just about any married, practically half-divorced already celebrity, but nothing about me is normal, especially not when it comes to my feelings for my beloved. Ihonestly can’t describe what it was like meeting her without getting completely lost in my stupid, sensitive as fuck feels. Iremember every detail of her clear as day, not to mention every insane feeling she brought up inside me.
I tell them about the party where we met, about the way Idropped down onto my knees on top of a gothically set table, knocking over a vase, scattering black roses, and spilling rose water everywhere. The sudden, desperate instinct to grovel and worship at her feet was, in her mind, just having to do with my lifelong love of my now father-in-law, Max, but that was just part of it.
I do tell them about the way my insides set on fire just from kissing her on the cheek, and the way she made me morph back to my truest self the second Imet her and every second Iwas with her from that moment forward. Couldn’t put on bravado or game, never could with her, because it was like she was under my skin the second Itouched her. That somehow, she already knew me better than Iknew myself, and there was never a point to faking a thing.
“I was bloody insecure, and Ithought she was rejecting me when she said she didn't date. Iwas scared to tell her after that, Ididn't think she'd want me around. Ithought Iwas being respectful not telling her how Ifelt. But now Isee, Iwasted so much time being afraid. Matilda was made for me, all the people we were with in those wasted eight years were simply a joke, a time filler, an unfortunate circumstance.”
I am so out of it after the interview, Istart wandering to the wrong car, and my new driver has to yank me back to his. Bryson was getting too famous to drive my arse around, but Istill miss having him by my side. Thankfully he's glued to Kel’s side now, and they live two minutes from us, that's my consolation prize. Idrop, disoriented, into the backseat and beg him to drive me to the most secluded pub in town, where Ican be completely unbothered with a pint and my thoughts. Something about that night has me triggered,hate that bloody word,and Ineed to stop and figure this shit out. Tomorrow is a big day, and a lot of my mates would likely think me a complete melt if they knew why, but it’s fucking huge for me, and Iwant it to be equally huge for my wife.
I don’t want to feel scattered and out of control like this. Irelease a relieved sigh when Isee the pub is dark and ancient and sparsely occupied, only with blokes too old to know who Iam anyway. Isit in the corner in a black, wooden booth and fuck, if the bartender doesn’t spot the cig behind my ear and bring me an ashtray.Seriously. Imust look like Ineed some pity, enough to break LA codes ’n shit, so Imake sure to order a pitcher and give him a few hundred more than Ineed to. Ilight it up with my Zippo lighter, which my wife gave me for my birthday:Leo Twins Foreveretched on one side,Married ’till We’re Buried etched on the other. Itake one puff, and it’s like the bar around me fades away, and I’m right back in that moment that altered my life forever.
* * *
That first night Imet Maddy, Idistracted myself with everyone else at that party, like they were all equally as interesting as her. Just like Ikissed everyperson at that gathering on the mouth, but kissed Mads, the only one Ireally wanted to, on the cheek. Damn, Iwanted to kiss her everywhere, but Ididn't know how to handle the feelings Ihad for her because they came on so fast, and were so much more than just lust.
Distracting myself didn't work for long and soon found myself wandering the mansion looking for her. When Ifound them on the dance floor, Mickie was giving me sexy eyes and Maddy wasn't but Iheld out hope. Itook Mads’ hand and twirled her around like she was mine, telling myself that someday, she would be. Felt like a knife across my heart when she said she didn't date and my brain was allshe's lying, you're not her type, she'd never want you!But the more Idrank, the more that hope bubbled back that Icould still make her mine, someday.
I stumbled into my LA flat somewhere between Hollywood and Beverly Hills at nearly one in the morning that night. Well,let's go ahead and say … tonight. Because that’s where my brain is fucking stuck and Ican’t get past it!Ican’t figure out the rest of my day or remember what my wife is even doing right now, filming a commercial, Ithink? I’m that in my own head.
Tonight, like every fucking night, nineteen-year-old me is too keyed up to sleep. Normally, Iwould put on music and play my guitar until at least three, or chug down a fifth and text people to come fuck me until one or two or more showed up at my doorstep to distract me from my thoughts with their holes waiting desperately to be filled. But Idon’t pick up the guitar or the phone. Istrip off my stupid costume and throw myself on my sofa, wearing only my pants. The remote is in my hand, and Elite’s Academy is on my telly in seconds.
The sweet, innocent rock ’n roll princess Imet tonight is playing the hottest, most manipulative little slut Ihave ever seen. Black eye makeup, cherry red lipstick, black mini skirt, and a cropped red corset top. Fucking pigtails. Fuck, if only the girls inmyschool had dressed like that.
Keane begs to be involved in watching this show, and Istart to panic. Iwonder what Max would think if Ipushed the envelope with his Baby. He would never forgive me, let alone accept me into his musical circle.He’s your role model, your reason for being a musician. What the fuck is wrong with you?!My brain attacks me like it’s been known to do.
Growing up as Maxwell’s biggest fan, Iremember a rumour going around that Max could read people’s thoughts and possibly the future. All I’d wanted for my whole life was to meet him, and now a spike of anxiety soars through me at the slight possibility we would soon meet, shake hands, and all he would be able to see are my impure thoughts of Matilda. Iforce them to be as pure as Ican, as long as Ican.
I grab a bottle of Jack Daniels and nearly drink half of it until the guilt subsides, and Ican focus on the goddess on my screen once again. Those pure thoughts disappear when the fresh whiskey hits my system and Isee her again, now dressed in her tiny cheerleader’s uniform. Iuse the heel of my hand to push my dick down but it's just no use, so Irelease it from my boxer briefs.
As soon as Ibegin to stroke myself, ridiculously hard just from looking at her on a screen, Iclose my eyes and let the back of my head fall back. Iimmediately picture wrapping those black pigtails around my hands as she kneels before me. My dream girl sticks out her tongue like she wants to be used, like she'smine,and Ipicture her taking all of me until I'm a panting mess. Just from the thought.
My brain works at warp speed imagining the sounds she'd make while gagging and moaning around my cock. Ispread precum down my shaft thinking that her hands would be tied behind her while she took me all, down there on her knees. As if I'm the one in control. As if Iwasn't the one on my knees groveling at her feet hours ago. She blinks her big eyes at me and Igroan, shaking as Iimagine my cum splashing across her perfectly highlighted cheeks and tinted lashes and pouty lips.
I nearly blackout at the strength of my orgasm just from the thought of her. Returning to reality, Iopen my eyes in time to see Miss Cherry in a rather compromising position. Isit up and tuck my dick away as she throws this character Tyler, a not-so-innocent football player, American football,ugh, down on his back. She straddles his hips as his hands magnetise to her arse, squeezing so hard it ruffles the fabric of her skirt. His lips attack hers while their moans fill my ears. My blood rushes scalding hot under my skin. Itmakes me itch, it makes my hands ball up into angry fists, it makes mecrazy. Ithrow the remote across the room, and it nearly dents the wall. Ihavezero claim on Matilda, and even if Idid, they’re just acting! So why … why am Ilosing my ever-loving shit?!
My fingers grope for my phone, and after the fastest Google search, suddenly I’m on a call with my manager, Cam.
