Page 19 of Jet

“I do love my job, Mom. Working with a bunch of egotistical rockstars isn’t the easiest, but I have a good bunch this time around. Promise.”

“I know you like to keep your professional life private, I understand, but after what happened last time, well, I worry about you. I don’t want to see you getting hurt again.” Ah, she’s referring to Zander but refuses to speak his name.

I’m saved by my dad when he yells, “Dinner’s ready, stop meddling!”

12

JET

The crowd is wild,and my heart’s beating to the rhythm of the mob. Security is crazy as we exit the limo, the scene tight and cramped. Not even a piece of paper would fit between us. With our heads down and the fans screaming, we do the best we can to rush the short distance between the car and the entrance. The screaming is relentless, but when someone shouts, “Jethro,” it stops me mid-stride. Impossible. There’s no way I could have picked out a random name from this screaming frenzy. I continue my way forward, and just when I’m about to walk through the double doors, I hear it again. “Jethro!”

One glance from Lucas and I think maybe, just maybe he heard it too. We don’t have time to investigate so we keep on walking. I’ve no doubt I’m as white as a ghost. That’s to be expected when you hear a voice that’s been haunting you for over thirteen years.

My legs feel like they weigh a hundred pounds as we make our way backstage. This was not my idea, but the illustrious Quinn wanted us to do a photoshoot for the benefit concerts, so here we are. I have no idea how the press found out about it. Apparently there’s a snitch somewhere in this building.

We’re led into a room with four chairs and makeup artists ready to go to town. Great, I love looking like a clown.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Now that’s a loaded question.

“A bottle of Jack would be great,” Lucas snickers. We both laugh like a bunch of teenagers. Wasn’t meant to be funny, but sure as hell came off that way.

“I can offer you coffee, tea, soda or water but that’s all we have.” We all decline since we want to get the hell outta here as soon as possible.

One long and boring hour later, we’re positioned in front of a blue screen. Apparently they can stick a pic in the background of any city they want. Which will happen when we play in that city. It was Quinn’s idea, one of her better ones.

They take a zillion pictures of the whole band, then individual ones. Then some of just me and Lucas, the list goes on and on. Four grueling hours later we’re being escorted out the door. All I want is a cold beer and to wash this shit off my face.

As we rush back to our limo, I’m dead last. The crowd has thinned out and security is grateful. I’m halfway to the limo when someone screams loud enough to be heard over the crowd. “Jethro, it’s been too long.” I bump right into Lucas as he scans the crowd. This time, I know he heard it too.

Turning around, he gets in my face. “Get in the fucking limo. Now!” I don’t have a chance to tell him he has a better chance of seeing god.

Security’s not happy when I break the line and stalk towards the crowd. Funny how they’re screaming in their little walkie-talkies as I scan the crowd. I’m oblivious to what’s going on around me as I look from left to right. I’m focused on one thing and one thing only.

Him. If he’s here, I want to see the fucker.

“Jet, get in the limo, now.” Oh, now Quinn, my boss, wants to take control again. She makes the biggest mistake she can when she grabs my arm. I lose my fucking shit.

I’m ready to jump over the damn barrier when I see him. How I can pick him out of a crowd this size is beyond me, but I do. The years haven’t been good to him, but when you’re a filthy sinner, they never are.

Instead of getting lost in the crowd, he slowly walks over to where I’m standing. No fear and no shame. The only difference is now I’m not a child but a man. Doesn’t mean my heart isn’t erratic and my palms sweating, but I’ve been waiting for this day for forever.

It’s impossible for us to see each other eye-to-eye since he’s six inches shorter than me. I like the idea that he’s the one who needs to look up to me after all these years.

He’s a predator, molester, and the bane of my existence. My ruin.

“Jethro, how’s it going?” He’s goading me because I know nothing would please him more than if I hit him with a bunch of witnesses present, so he could sue me. Not happening. I suddenly decide that it is best to ignore this piece of shit and move on.

“My name’s Jet Turner, you must have me mixed up with someone else.” I turn to walk away and everything in me wants to kill the motherfucker. Instead, I concentrate on the faces of my bandmates and make a decision that I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life.

Joseph P. Lawless doesn’t define me.

“See ya around, Jethro.” I’ve no doubt he will because after all these years, I finally have something he’s always wanted. My music.

My whole body’s trembling as I crawl into the limo. No matter how hard I try to stop it, I can’t. “Here, drink this.” I’m grateful when Lucas hands me a glass of whiskey. I don’t even care where it came from. I down two fingers in one gulp. The burn brings tears to my eyes, but my body quiets almost instantly.

“Did you know that guy?” Trevor asks. He has no clue just how well I know that asshole, but I’m not going there. Ever.

Lucas covers for me in a flash. “Nah, just another looney tunes looking for something that ain’t there.”

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