The Has-Been and the Hot Mess - Isabel Jordan Page 0,8

but he was already starting to look scruffy, which meant he was one of those guys who had a five o-clock shadow at noon every day.

But all of those changes really suited him. Even the extra little laugh lines around his steel-gray eyes didn’t detract from his appeal. There was no doubt about it.

Jackson Hale was hot.

And if he really was clean and sober like he said he was, building him a new brand and a social media platform would be a walk in the park.

“Stick with me for one month and I can get you whatever you want,” she said, completely confident for the first time since she’d heard the word Montana slip out of Ray’s mouth. “What are you thinking? Reunion tour with Maelstrom? A reality show? Judge on The Voice? You name it, and I can make it happen for you.”

He looked so horrified she almost laughed. “Sweet Christ, no,” he said. “I don’t want any of that. I don’t really want to ever be famous again. Not like I was, anyway. I’m looking at something behind the scenes this time.”

Well, that was unexpected. Every client she’d ever worked with had a need for fame that bordered on desperation. “In that case, what is it you’re hoping I can help you with?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Have you read Fall from Grace?”

Of course, she had. It was a novel about addiction and fame and a rising star’s, well, fall from grace. It was a gripping and harrowing tale of the aftermath of rock bottom, and how the young star was forced to rebuild a completely different life for himself. It was pretty much exactly what had happened to Jackson.

“Oh,” she whispered.

He nodded. “Yeah. I read it and felt like someone had been filming my life from inside my head. Reading that book was pretty fucking eerie, but it was so—”

“Powerful,” she finished. “Profoundly powerful.”

His eyes locked with hers and he looked relieved that she seemed to understand. Then a horrible thought occurred to her.

“Oh shit,” she began, “they’re making that into a movie! The rights were sold months ago, and the studio is fast-tracking it, lining up directors now. You don’t want to direct, do you?”

Please say no. Please say no. Please say no.

Kendall had worked with way too many actors who thought they could direct, and nine times out of ten, they couldn’t. Expecting an actor to be a good director was like expecting someone who ate at Gordon Ramsay’s restaurant five days a week to be able to cook like him.

It just didn’t happen that way.

And musicians and models who wanted to act and direct? The list of times that ever worked out was ridiculously short.

Again, Jackson looked appalled. “No fucking way. Working with actors all day long? You couldn’t pay me enough for that shit.” He shuddered.

First of all, thank God. Second of all…what the hell? Jackson didn’t want any of the stuff her clients usually wanted. Why the fuck was she even here?

“You’re here,” he said with a hint of humor in his voice, “because I want to write the score, including the official soundtrack, for Fall from Grace. And my brother says that without your help, I’ll never be able to get an agent or even be considered for the job.”

Kendall forced herself not to cringe when she realized she must’ve asked him why the fuck she was even here out loud instead of internally as she’d intended. Yikes. She really needed to get her shit together.

But Ray wasn’t wrong. Without some serious re-branding, no agent would take Jackson on. Brand new talent was preferable to a has-been. Or, that’s how most agents saw it, anyway.

That’s when the wheels really started turning in her brain.

Jackson was a great lyricist and musician. Kendall should know. She knew every Maelstrom album backward and forward and they were all fantastic. She’d also seen every behind the scenes special ever produced about the band, and she knew Jackson was the creative force behind every song, every album. There was no doubt in her mind that he could come up with a phenomenal score for the film.

But even with a re-branding and PR push, would anyone give him the opportunity? He’d been out of the game for so long. Fifteen years might as well be a hundred in Hollywood. And as far as she knew, he was out here living completely off the radar. No social media, no new contacts in the industry,