all odds, you, a boy who came from the least supportive parents on the planet, fought to become a rock god. Then, you fought your way out of addiction that would’ve killed a lesser man. And then, as if that wasn’t impressive enough, you fought your way out of obscurity into the limelight again to win a job that, I understand, can most likely be yours without you even putting much effort forth. But when the woman you love walked away, you let her go without putting up any kind of fight. Why do you suppose that is?”
Well…shit.
He dropped the cookie dough and laid the guitar down next to him. Ray was right. He had let her go without putting up a fight.
What the hell had he been thinking? Maybe he’d let his wounded pride hold him back. Or maybe he’d been too afraid of another rejection to try and hold on to her. But at the end of the day, did any of that really matter?
No. It most certainly did not.
He’d fucked up big time. Now he had to fix it. But how?
To make it in Hollywood, you need to use every asset you have.
He sat up and ran his hands through his hair. “Ray, you’ve been managing my social media and watching the news for stories about me since Kendall quit, right?”
He narrowed his eyes on him. “Yeah. Why?”
“Am I famous again?”
Ray looked confused by the question, but said, “Maybe even more famous than you were with Maelstrom. Everyone is dying for whatever info they can get about you. At least fifteen high-powered agents would kill to work with you, and you have a meeting with the movie execs about Fall from Grace next week.”
Jackson’s brain was moving faster than it had all week, and he was starting to feel something he hadn’t felt since Kendall walked out on him.
Hope.
And he had an idea. A crazy idea. Kendall would most assuredly advise against it. But he didn’t see any other way.
“Am I famous enough to survive a huge scandal?” he asked Ray.
Ray’s eyes widened comically. “What kind of scandal? I mean, on a scale of failure to pay taxes to gay porn and sex tapes, what are we talking about?”
Jackson thought it over. “Um…more than taxes, but less than gay porn and sex tapes?”
Ray looked like he was doing math in his head for a minute before he said, “Yes. You’re famous enough to survive that kind of scandal.”
Excellent. That opened up quite a few possibilities. “In that case, do you know if any of those fifteen high-powered agents have beef with Kyle?”
Ray’s answering smile was very Cheshire cat-like. “I used to date one of them. He’s a shark, but only fights dirty in service of his clients. And he hated Kyle with the heat of a nova.”
Even more excellent. “Will you call him for me and set up a meeting?”
“Sure. But what are you going to do in the meantime?”
“I’ve got to get ready for my meeting with the studio. Then, I’m going to make a lot of noise.”
Ray actually bounced up and down and clapped his hands like a little kid before doing a fist pump. “About fucking time!”
And with that, Ray pulled his phone from his back pocket and started making calls.
Jackson felt a hot puff of air on his cheek and turned, surprised to find Howard Hughes right next to him.
“What do you say, pal?” he asked the massive, solemn-eyed dog. “Want to help me get our girl back?”
Howard’s tail immediately starting thumping against the ground, stirring up a cloud of dust. Jackson laughed.
“Well, then, let’s go, buddy. I’ve got work to do, and you’re going to help.”
Chapter 32
Kendall’s week had been a shit show, too.
All she’d wanted to do was wallow in heartbreak and self-pity, then eat a roll of cookie dough (and not the edible kind, either. The dangerous kind). But she’d left her roll of cookie dough in Jackson’s fridge, and she hadn’t had time to go to the grocery store to pick up more.
Packing up her entire life into boxes and preparing to abandon the townhouse like a rat fleeing a sinking ship didn’t leave nearly enough time for shopping and wallowing.
It’d taken all week, but she’d managed to line up a cheaper apartment (it was also way smaller and in a part of town she didn’t love—but hey, beggars can’t be choosy) and get everything ready for the movers. So now, here she sat, on a metal folding chair