Bad Boy Redemption (Bad Boy Rock Star #3) Read online

  “I think we should move this somewhere more comfortable,” Jack said. “We’re under a mighty bright light here, and I think I’ve got a splinter.”

  We got up, his arm still wrapped around me. We looked for a cab but there were none around. He kissed me again.

  “Do you have your phone?” he asked.

  I rang for a cab, but I had no idea of the address. Jack pulled me along, back into the city, the two of us giggling, stopping to kiss and to hug. I couldn’t get enough of him.

  “I need you, Hannah. Even when I’m being a dick, I need you.”

  And just as he was about to kiss me again, a cab pulled up.

  Chapter 17

  It wasn’t like that night had created some kind of magical cure for Jack. It’d take him a long time to get over his grief, but he did head back to the studio to finish the recording. I’d gotten the session drummer in as a fill-in, and Tucker had said he could find some time for them. It meant long hours though.

  I got up to go to class as Jack got home from an all-night session.

  “I’m fucked, Hannah. Totally fucked. I feel like every bit of music has been left behind in that studio.”

  I took a good look at him, realising his face had become gaunt since the funeral. He was all angles.

  “Do you want me to make you something to eat or do you want to go straight to bed?”

  “Food… food…”

  He followed me into the kitchen, resting his head on my shoulder as I made him some toast.

  “Eggs and bacon would be good,” he said.

  “Yeah, it’d be good if we had some in the fridge. I can’t magically pluck eggs and bacon out of the air. You want eggs and bacon, you make sure you do some grocery shopping. It’s either toast or beer, because that’s all we have in the fridge.”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll just have toast. With peanut butter.”

  I gave him a death stare.

  “I’ll have whatever’s in the cupboard then.”

  I flicked him with the tea towel and chased him out of the kitchen. Then I buttered the toast and scraped the last bit of peanut butter out of the jar.

  “Thanks, peanut butter is the best.”

  “Yeah, well, we really need to buy more food. And arrange some schedule where we aren’t just passing each other leaving the house. Maybe go on a date, or something.”

  His wonky smile tore at my heart.

  He picked up one of my uni books off the counter and looked at it.

  “Corporate law, not very exciting,” I said, as Jack flipped through it. I couldn’t imagine there’d be much in there he’d care about; not unless you wanted to find a cure for insomnia.

  “It doesn’t look too bad,” he said, taking a bite of his toast. “Maybe I should I try this university lark sometime.”

  He laughed. A lot.

  “What’s funny about it?” I asked him. “If that’s what you wanted to do, I’m sure you could do it. It might have to be part-time around the band stuff the way things are going, though. It’s only going to get busier from here on in.”

  Jack stared at me with a weird expression on his face. I thought of the usual array of Jack expressions—angry, amused, hungry, horny—it wasn’t any of those.

  “What? What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “What you said—like I could just go off and study if I wanted…”

  “It’d just be arranging your schedule, nothing too major.”

  Jack shook his head. “Nobody’s ever said anything like to me before. If I’d had even mentioned going to uni or shit like that, they’d have laughed at me. But for you, it’s just a case of finding time in my schedule. All I’ve ever been good at is playing guitar and getting into fights.”

  The look he gave me twisted my heart. “It’s not rocket science… well, unless you’re studying rocket science… You don’t have to be a genius or anything to go to uni. God, half of my class are morons, and you’re not stupid, Jack. If you wanted to, why not? You could study music or sound engineering.”

  My heart leapt. If Jack wanted to study or do anything, I’d totally support him. I’d rather see him passionate about something than walking around half-dead like he had been.

  He grinned at me. “Sound engineering, that’d be something. I’ll think about it. Right now, all I want to study are my eyelids. God, it was a hard night, but we are getting some really good stuff done. This album is going to be something.”

  I had to rush off, but I wanted to stay and curl up beside him. Maybe skipping class wouldn’t be such a bad thing, except I had a test and I needed to be there for it, or I’d end up failing the subject. I had to be a sensible, responsible person, even if it meant delaying my fun. I reminded myself it was just a delay. Jack would be there when I got home, and tomorrow, and the day after. This was a forever thing.

  When he kissed me goodbye, the touch of his hand on my back was almost enough to tempt me to stay. Desire coursed through my body in an indecent way. I could feel him in the very structure of my cells as my pulse quickened, and my skin broke out in goosebumps.

  “Hurry home,” he whispered in my ear. “Sorry we can’t spend more time together.”

  “That’s okay. The most important thing is getting the recording done. No recording means no money, and no money means you can’t take me anywhere.” I smiled at him and he kissed me on the cheek.

  “Tucker says we are almost done, especially my part. It’s been a bit tricky getting the drum parts to sound consistent across the tracks, though. This guy is good, really good, but he lacks the fire that Spud had.”

  That was the truth. No one had Spud’s fire.

  I held him tight for a moment before letting go.

  A strange expression flickered over his face.

  “I’ll make you dinner.” He smiled. “I’ll have it ready when you get home. That will be romantic. Chicks dig that stuff.”

  I kissed him one more time then left.

  -o-

  I could smell the food cooking before I even opened the door. Damn, that made my stomach rumble. Jack obviously had hidden skills in the kitchen. And he was always telling me to cook.

  While I wasn’t really expecting flowers and candlelight—it’d be nice but I wasn’t expecting it—I’d spent all day anticipating this dinner, wondering if we’d even be able to make it through one course before ripping each other’s clothes off. Of course, we’d have to clear the plates off the table before we got too carried away. We’d ruined enough crockery already.

  I don’t think I’d taken in a single word of my lectures all day and I’d only managed to hold my dirty thoughts back long enough to make sure I didn’t fail the class test.

  When I got inside, it wasn’t Jack in the kitchen, though. It was Angie. I hadn’t known she’d be here.

  “Where’s Jack?” I asked.

  “Upstairs.” She gestured with her head.

  My heart sank. So much for the romantic dinner. So much for him cooking for me.

  I said hi to Eric and went upstairs.

  Jack sat on the bed, strumming his guitar. I walked around the room, picking up his dirty clothes and putting them in the basket. I tried to keep our room nice. I didn’t want to live in squalor, but Jack had no qualms about squalor. In fact, he seemed to revel in the squalor. I’m pretty sure he actually tried to re-squalor the room when I wasn’t around.

  I didn’t ask him why he wasn’t cooking dinner. He looked up and smiled at me, but went back to playing his guitar without talking. I could hear Angie talking downstairs, and a piece of me shrivelled inside. I loved Angie. I really did. If I was a guy, or a lesbian, I’d go out with her in heartbeat. She was one of my favourite people in the whole world, but I had really been looking forward to getting home and having some quiet time with Jack before he went out again. I’d expected Eric to be in the studio until late, and then for Jack to go in and do some more vocals. Eric had obviously finished early though.

  I took the basket of laundry d
ownstairs.

  “Oh, you wanted to do laundry?” Eric asked. “Sorry, I’ve just put a load on.”

  I sat the basket down in the laundry, figuring I’d do it some time later.

  Meanwhile, Angie pottered around in the kitchen. I don’t even know why she was cooking in my kitchen. Sure, I rarely used it, but that didn’t mean I wanted anyone else using it. She’d made a helluva mess too. I hoped she didn’t leave all those dishes and pans just sitting around. I wasn’t going to be the one washing up her mess.

  If it’d been any other night then I’d have been glad to see her but this was supposed to be our romantic dinner night. Surely Jack could’ve explained things to Eric. Unless he’d been bullshitting me all along.

  I set my laptop up on the table, figuring I’d at least get some work done before dinner. I’d have loved a coffee though, and there was no chance of that with Angie in there cooking.

  She and Eric talked about their days. Angie filled him in on her current project. She hadn’t told me about it, but apparently Eric knew everything. I wondered if I should put my headphones on to give them some privacy.

  I didn’t want to go back upstairs and disturb Jack. He’d seemed like he was in the zone—working on something which, I guess, was more important than cooking me dinner. There was nowhere I could go in this house.

  Angie left the food simmering in the kitchen and sat with Eric. Within minutes the two of them started laughing and getting all touchy-feely. Angie snuggled up really close to Eric, and kept whispering in his ear then playing with his hair. My chest tightened. I resented them so much. It should’ve been Jack and I getting up to no good on that couch, not them. Instead I felt like I was some kind of creeper listening in. That reminded me of those creepy photos. I still hadn’t got curtains, and I couldn’t say anything to Jack or Eric without telling them the whole story.

  I got up to make a coffee.

  “You making coffee?” Angie asked.

  I did NOT want to make three coffees. I wanted to make one. But I couldn’t say that. That would be just too petty and mean. I smiled. I should not be this horrible, resentful person. Angie had always been on my side, no matter what.

  I made the coffees.

  “Thanks, Hannah.”

  The two of them went back to their groping, and I tried to be the better person. I tried to have sunshine in my heart. But I really hated being positive and nice.

  I read the same sentence over and over, and still it didn’t make sense. Studying was not happening.

  Then I smelt something bad.

  “Angie, is your food burning?”

  “Shit!” She jumped up and rescued the pot from the stove.

  At least now I could eat. Maybe if I wasn’t so hungry, this bad mood would go away.

  Finally, Angie finished… and walked over to the couch with two bowls of food. Two. I looked around for mine, but there was nothing for me.

  “Jack,” she yelled. “You can use the kitchen now.”

  What the hell? I had to wait longer for dinner? Great. Why couldn’t Jack have cooked dinner already? I could smell the curry Angie had cooked and watched them eating it while my stomach rumbled. I could pick out every spicy flavour. I wanted to steal the bowls off them and eat it all up.

  Jack came stumbling down the stairs, looking like he didn’t have all his wits about him. He rubbed my shoulder as he walked behind me.

  “Ready for dinner?” he asked.

  I hoped he’d cook something just as good as Angie, but anything would do me. It would hardly be a romantic dinner with Eric and Angie there.

  “What time are you going back to the studio?” I asked him. We might be able to salvage something from this night.

  “Not sure yet,” he answered. “Tucker’s going to message me when it’s time.”

  I huffed. It really did seem like I was on the bottom of a long list of priorities. Was a couple of hours together to much to ask? It felt like he’d organised his studio time to avoid me.

  I went back to reading the same paragraph again, and it still didn’t stick in my brain. I’d gotten my subject exemptions sorted out for university. At least that was working out. I had to contact Frank as well, to resign. I couldn’t stand the thought of going back to that office. If I saw him again, I think I’d freak out knowing he’d paid someone to take those photos.

  In the kitchen, Jack opened a packet of pasta and plonked it into a saucepan. I wasn’t sure what he was planning to cook, but I would eat just about anything. Maybe I should offer to help him, because I sure wasn’t getting any studying done but, as I got up, my phone rang.

  There was no number on the display, but I answered it.

  “Hannah? Hannah? Listen, I don’t have much time. I need you to transfer some money to me. I can’t explain but I’ll send you the details—if you get a weird email, don’t delete it. It’s of the utmost importance.”

  I gulped, my pulse racing. I didn’t not want to deal with Dad’s shit. Not now, not ever.

  “You got that?”

  “Yes but—”

  “Fine. I’ve got to go.”

  “Where are you? What’s happening? I need you to tell me, Dad.” I knew this call would be traced, that my phone records would be searched, but they wouldn’t know the details of the conversation, just that he’d called me. If I told him would it make me an accomplice? Surely he’d known that they’d be on to him, but I guess he assumed he’d be safe calling me, that I wouldn’t rat him out.

  “Just follow the instructions in the email.”

  With that, he hung up. I sat back down, reeling from the call. Just hearing him like that made my head spin. I thought I’d have to explain, but Angie and Eric were laughing over some TV show, and Jack was engrossed in his cooking. How can people be in the same room with you, close enough to hear you on the phone, and not even notice you are having a life crisis?

  Jack sat a plate down in front of me—some pasta with sauce from a jar sprinkled with some bits of cheese.

  “Told you I’d make you dinner,” he said.

  I tried to smile. I guess he’d made an effort. It didn’t look very appealing though. He sat opposite me, twirling the pasta around his fork and stuffing great mouthfuls into him. Jack had cooked for me before, and it had been much better than this. Maybe he’d cared more about impressing me then.

  “It’s pretty good, isn’t it?”

  I nodded and tried to eat a bit, but it was as tasteless as it looked. Bits of the pasta were undercooked and still crunchy, and the sauce tasted like fake tomato. I wasn’t expecting gourmet food, but I did think he could’ve actually cooked something edible.

  “What’s up?” Jack said.

  I shrugged. “Nothing.”

  I wanted him to say more, not just to accept what I said at face value, but to probe. Instead, he kept on eating. I’d hoped to have some time alone to talk to him, but Eric and Angie still watched TV. I really didn’t know where to start, anyway. I couldn’t get snarky with him for being a bad cook, and I couldn’t say I didn’t want Angie coming over. I mean, she had every right to be there with Eric, but it felt like I had nothing of my own. Maybe later they’d go upstairs and we’d have some time alone. Meanwhile, I’d try to eat something.

  I couldn’t eat it. I pushed the plate away.

  “’What’s wrong? Are you dieting?”

  I shook my head. “It’s not what I feel like…”

  I went into the kitchen and tidied up, rinsing out pots and stacking them in the dishwasher and putting things away. I slammed the cupboards as I worked. I don’t know why everyone else was eating while I had to do this. There wasn’t even anything else in the fridge I could eat.

  Jack finished his pasta and brought the plate into the kitchen, sitting it on the sink.

  “You could put that in the dishwasher, you know.”

  He opened the dishwasher and put the plate in.

  “Happy now?”

  I raised my eyebrow. “I shouldn’t even need t
o say anything. It just makes sense. It’s not like it’s my job to clean up after you.”

  I folded my arms and glared at him

  “Okay.”

  Even though I knew I was not handling this well, I couldn’t stop myself. I sounded naggy and awful.

  Then Jack’s phone beeped.

  “That’s Tucker,” he said and, grabbing his jacket, headed out the door.

  Chapter 18

  I finished my coffee and left the cafe, hoping to get in a nap before Jack got back from the recording studio. I’d had stressful morning, after ringing Frank to quit my job—and getting a lecture from him on being responsible—then getting the accounts up to date. Tucker had NOT given me an update on the session for a while. I’d need to follow that up with him.

  As I walked back down the street, someone tugged on my arm.

  “What ya doing?” When I turned, Shirley stood beside me, grinning.

  “Hey, I wanted to talk to you.”

  She flinched as though I’d hit her and started to back away.

  “It’s okay,” I told her. “I just need to know more about what you said the other day. Come with me, I’ll buy you a coffee.”

  She shook her head.

  “I don’t wanna go to that cafe. Come back to my place.”

  She twitched her head and took off before I could answer her, leaving me to follow.

  “Down here,” she said, grabbing my arm. We headed down a side alley then another one. She looked back, as though worried she might be followed. I wasn’t sure where she was taking me, as she cut through gaps between houses and even more laneways. The further from the cafe we got, the dirtier the laneways became, the ground covered in fast food wrappers and abandoned car parts.

  We got to a block of flats with a bunch of guys sitting around outside. As we approached, they started catcalling and making obscene gestures. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go near them.