beginning, which means my questions have to be more pointed than they’d like. But if you’re willing to talk, there’s no reason why this has to be painful.”
Jackson’s answering smile was equally sharp, calculating. It made her decidedly edgy. “Tell you what,” he began, “I’ll answer anything you want to know. I’ll be totally open and honest, no matter what you ask. But for everything you ask me, I get to ask you something in return.”
She blinked at him. “But…why?”
He shrugged. “We’re here, we’re alone, you’re my brother’s best friend, and we’re going to be working together closely. Why shouldn’t we get to know each other?”
Valid points. But for the life of her, Kendall couldn’t remember a single one of her clients who’d ever given a crap about getting to know her. Most of them barely even greeted her when they called. And when they did call, their sentences almost always started with the words I need.
She couldn’t see any reason why letting him know more about her was a bad idea, though. He’d already seen her at her worst (she hoped). What possible damage could a quick game of twenty questions cause?
“OK, but I go first,” she said.
“Fair enough.”
Kendall rubbed her hands together gleefully. Getting to know clients wasn’t usually this fun, but getting to know a new client she used to idolize? This was a rare opportunity, and she intended to cherish every second of it.
“Tell me about what made you quit Maelstrom after the Hale Storm tour.”
His eyes widened a tiny bit. “Wow, you weren’t kidding, were you? No ‘what’s your favorite color’ type question to start with, huh?”
She gave him a palms-up gesture. “I don’t see the point of beating around the bush.”
He let out a deep breath. “Fair enough. OK. I passed out on stage during the last show of that tour. Pneumonia. I was so strung out that I never really considered seeing a doctor for my 103-degree fever or hacking cough that I’d probably had for a month. None of the other guys in the band thought much of it, either. They were all too drunk to care. I was in a hospital in Prague, and the tour manager flew my mom and Ray in to see me. The look on my brother’s face when he walked into that room…”
He trailed off for a moment, obviously lost in thought, before clearing his throat and adding, “The look on his face, the disappointment and fear—it was more than I could handle. I had no doubt, based on nothing but the look on Ray’s face, that I was going to die if I kept going the way I was. So, I let them check me out of the hospital as soon as I was able, and I went immediately into rehab. Haven’t touched a drug stronger than Advil since. Never considered touring again, either. The temptation is always there, and as far as I know, the guys from Maelstrom aren’t any different these days.”
Kendall shook her head. “I never heard anything about your hospitalization, and there was never a press conference to announce your retirement. How is that possible?”
He chuckled without humor. “Payoffs. So, so many payoffs. Hospital staff, everyone from janitors to nurses to case workers all got payoffs to keep their mouths shut and forget they ever saw me. So did everyone on the tour. Everyone got a check and an NDA, including my agent and PR manager at the time. They weren’t doing anything to help me, that much was certain. Ray oversaw everything after that. I owe him…well, pretty much everything.”
The love and admiration in his voice tugged at her heartstrings. Seeing a man who’d toured the world, who’d made millions of dollars on songs he’d plucked from his imagination, have that much pride in his brother, an accountant, made Kendall a little jealous. She was pretty sure her sister, a high school algebra teacher, thought Kendall was the biggest fuck-up on the planet.
“I know your parents had some trouble accepting it when Ray came out to them,” Kendall said. “It didn’t bother you?”
“It was my dad who had a problem with Ray being gay,” Jackson answered, shaking his head. “Dad was a dick. A racist, homophobic, abusive dick. No one shed any tears when the old bastard dropped dead. Mom was OK, but always a little distant. Detached. Probably because of all the abuse she suffered over the years. But for whatever reason, she wasn’t there for us, emotionally speaking.