Page 69 of Reckless and Rooted
Her comment is directed at Jax, and his hand squeezes mine tighter. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”
Jeanette sighs, letting her irritation be known. “It would be better for your darling girlfriend if you didn’t get seen. It will mess with the image we’ve so carefully curated.”
Jax takes a step forward right as I open my mouth, and I look at him to see a scowl on his face I’ve never seen before.Jax is pissed. “First, you need to find some respect for her when speaking about her.” Jeanette sticks up her nose just slightly, looking miffed. “Second, wherever she goes, I go. This is not a negotiation.”
For a moment they stare each other down, and for the first time in my career, I don’t have to be the one sticking up for me and telling my manager—who was supposed to care about me at least a little—the way I want things to be. But Jax just did it without even a breath of thought.
“Fine.” She finally relents, turning on her heel and leading us down the long hallway. Ezra coughs, and I turn to my right to see him covering a smile.
I look at Jax, who has a hard, determined look on his face, and I squeeze his hand. “You okay?”
We’re rushing down the hallway so fast that even my insanely hair-sprayed hair moves as the air rushes past us.
Jax looks at me and grins. “I’m good.”
I tilt my head, giving him a disbelieving look. “Jax, you’re not good.”
“I am perfectly fine and happy to be here with you,” he replies, lowering his voice before continuing. “I’m pissed about the way she spoke.”
I feel my face contort, mad at how she treated him. I was used to it, the demanding tone, the being pushed around and told what to do, being treated like a puppet. It was part of this whole thing. “I’m sorry for the way she spoke to you.”
Jax stops, causing a parade of other people to stop too.
Jeanette notices and looks back. “Come on. We’re on a tight schedule.”
My boyfriend cuts her a look, and I see her take a step back. “She’ll be there in a minute, when she’s ready.”
I open my mouth to say I’m ready when Jax turns to me and cups the sides of my face. “Just so we’re clear, that woman couldcall me an asshole every day of the week, and I wouldn’t give two shits.” He rubs a thumb over my cheekbone, “But if she talks disrespectfully to you one more time, I’m going to have serious problems.”
“Jax.” I sigh, melting into the weirdly sexy possessiveness. “I’m used to it. It’s kind of par for the course with this career.”
He shakes his head, his eyes lighting up with what I can only guess is anger. “Well, not anymore. Not for you.”
We turn then, making our way underground toward where I step up onto the stage. I don’t know what Jax means by that, but if I had to bet, I would guess he wants me to fire the manager I’ve had for the last ten years.
I push that all aside as we approach the stage. Security is everywhere, flashing flashlights so I can see where to step. Jax holds tight to my hand as we ascend the stairs. Ezra is in front of me, holding my other hand. Not one person says anything about Jax following me up the stairs.
I hear the crowd long before I see them, and the screams are deafening. I am sure they aren’t all for me, but when I pop my head above enough to see the stage, it is completely dark on the stage with no one else talking, singing, or introducing anyone.
“They’ve already introduced you,” Jeanette says loudly. “You’re late.”
I nod my head, maneuvering myself around on the side of the stage with the monstrous dress. “Well, I’ll give them something worth waiting for.”
Jax kisses my hand and steps back, allowing my security and my band to get through. “That’s my girl.”
I watch where he goes, seeing him find a small space on what would be considered the side stage, and then my brain switches gears, and I put on my stage face.
The New Year’s crowds are some of the best in the world to play for, and hearing them scream at the opening notes of one of my top songs gives me a rush that I forgot I love so much.
A spotlight finds me, and I stride onto the stage, trying my best not to trip over the dress and smile at the waiting crowd. Phil nods at me, a giant sparkly hat on his head, and I laugh at the costume before we launch into a song we’ve sung a million times together.
The crowd eats it up, screaming and jumping along to the lyrics and music. Every few minutes, my gaze meets Jax’s, and he grins broadly, seeing me in my element—my real element—for the first time.
I don’t mind doing this. I love connecting with the crowd and seeing them love the music, but there is still a large part of me that wants to slow this down, to make more intimate, meaningful music, and enjoy a slower life. I still want to perform, to make albums, and spread my love of music.
But maybe not at this level.
The song ends, as does my performance, and the ball starts to drop as the crowd counts down to the new year. And even though I know Jeannette might hate me for it, I look over at Jax, reach out a hand, and wait for him to come to me on the stage.
