Changing the Key: A Detrimental Rock Star Romance (Book 1) Page 13

  Maybe that was the problem.

  We had been in our own little bubble, and it was about to burst. For the past two days, I had been the focus of Jaxon’s attention, something I wasn’t ready to give up. But, in my experience, it seemed unavoidable. The guys I had dated quickly changed once they got what they wanted: sex. The time spent together lessened, dinner dates became more infrequent, and the general amount of effort a guy put in plummeted. I usually became an afterthought, other than some time in bed together. Or I was treated like a dirty secret, brushed to the side when we were out among friends.

  To be honest, it had never bothered me much. I was too busy for anything more. Besides, none of the guys I had ever dated made me want to spend a lot of time with them anyway. Until now. I was equal parts dread and despair; waiting for Jaxon to pull away while wishing we could stay in our bubble indefinitely. The antsy feeling suddenly made sense, and I was powerless to stop it.

  Being a Monday night, the crowd was larger than I would have anticipated, filling the small bar to near capacity. The typical neon lights and speakers pumping out popular hits greeted us as we snaked our way past the bar that was three patrons deep all around. Jaxon had a firm grip on my hand and kept me tucked close behind him as he forged a path for us.

  Callie eagerly waved us over to a large corner table at the back of the room where everyone was gathered. Wrapping an arm around me, Jaxon guided us further towards the dimly lit space. We were greeted with hugs and both bent to reach Pops who sat with his foot propped up on a chair. Jaxon settled me between him and Pops as the guys caught up and discussed the local band about to take the small stage. His hand remained planted on my thigh, moving in soothing patterns, but I still couldn’t completely relax.

  A waitress arrived to drop off a few drinks and take our order, her eyes lighting with appreciation as she shamelessly flirted with Jaxon. It was unclear if she recognized him or if she just found him attractive, but I didn’t begrudge her efforts. Having a lot of experience in the service industry, I knew how much some friendly flirting could boost a customer’s tip. What surprised me was the arm Jaxon placed on the back of my chair and the scorching kiss he planted on me after she asked what he wanted, in a way that implied he wasn’t limited to what was on the menu.

  “What would you like, baby?” he asked, his gaze locked on me as he stroked a finger down my cheek.

  Stunned by the blatant PDA and endearment, it took me a moment to process his question. The only other times any terms of endearment had been directed towards me had either been customers who didn’t know my name or men I’d dated who couldn’t be bothered trying to remember who they were with. A generic name required less work and prevented any mix-ups. But with Jaxon, it felt different. It was intimate and affectionate, filling me with warmth.

  Turning to the waitress, who wore a disappointed but polite smile, I kept it simple since the bar was so backed up. “Vodka cranberry, please.”

  After Jaxon ordered a local craft beer and a round of shots, the waitress directed her charms at the rest of the guys before disappearing into the crowd.

  That seemingly simple interaction set the tone for the rest of the night. We drank and watched the band play while nestled close to each other. Jaxon remained polite but shut down any other female attention. When Callie pulled me into the crowd to dance along with a few songs, he remained nearby, protective without being controlling. It made me feel cared for and respected in a way I had never experienced before.

  As I settled into my bunk that night, Jaxon crawled in right beside me. Neither of us questioned it becoming our new normal. Each night I would read my textbook on an iPad while he watched reruns on another, using earbuds and always careful not to disturb me. Then we would make out like teenagers. With the curtain closed, we got tangled together, groping and giggling and whispering until we were both too worked up to stop. We managed as best we could in the confined space and an awareness of the proximity of everyone else’s bunks. Then, we would fall asleep in each other’s arms. It remained my favorite part of the day.

  Friday morning, I woke early and alone. My phone read just after four as I eased out of my bunk. Something was off, and it had been building for a few days. Jaxon had become increasingly rigid and tense during his media interviews but seemed fine otherwise, so I hadn’t pushed him for answers. Now, he was doing push-ups in the front lounge to work off some steam. Angry music overflowed from his earbuds into the otherwise silent space, and I ached to ease the tension radiating off of his body.

  The bus was parked, having already arrived at the scheduled venue in New York City. Closing the door to the bunk area behind me, I noticed that Woodchuck’s seat was empty and knew nobody else would be up for a few more hours. Jaxon hadn’t noticed me, so I looked my fill. He was shirtless, giving me the opportunity to openly admire him as his muscles bunched and flexed with each movement. Sweat gathered in the valley of his spine, glistening in the low light and urging me to trail my fingers through it. I didn’t know what was bothering him, but I knew of one surefire way to help him release some of the pressure.

  Walking up behind him, I carefully straddled his hips without making contact. On the next downward movement, I stroked my hands up and over his shoulders. Startled by my touch, he landed and rolled to his back. Taking advantage of his position, I sat astride him.

  “Shit! You scared me.” He yanked the earbuds from his ears and reached to anchor my hips to him. Automatically rocking into me, I could feel his length hardening.

  “What’s got you so wound up, Jax?” Grinding my hips into his, we both groaned. I leaned in to rub the side of his nose with mine as he panted from his workout. “Anything I can do to help?”

  I crawled down his body, stopping to kiss and lick the divots of his abs.

  “I’m all sweaty, baby” he whispered, attempting to nudge me off of him.

  “You’re hot and sexy and delicious,” I replied in between kisses.

  Tugging on his shorts, I freed his erection. Before Jaxon could protest, I wrapped my lips around the tip and took him in until he hit the back of my throat. His hands gripped my hair as his body curled up in reaction.

  “Holy shit, Anna.”

  I hummed but refused to release him as I sucked the length of him. My hands stroked up and down his thighs, my nails lightly scoring his skin. Shifting one hand to the base of his cock, it pumped in time with each suck of my mouth. My other hand was free to caress his balls and drift under them to the sensitive flesh there. With both hands stroking and my mouth continuing to pleasure him, it wasn’t long before he was giving me a warning.

  “Baby, I’m going to come,” he grunted but made no attempt to stop me.

  Eager to swallow him down, I increased my efforts. His release coated the back of my throat in waves, and once every drop was gone, I licked him clean. Pulling his shorts back up, I flopped onto the floor beside him.

  “Now, what else has you so wound up?” I asked, rubbing his chest as it shook with laughter.

  It took a few minutes, but thanks to a post-orgasmic haze, I was able to wring out a confession. He was scheduled in a few hours for a live interview with Spanky Spiegler, a notorious shock jock who hosted a popular morning show. Spanky was known for digging up dirt, refusing to take no for an answer if a guest didn’t want to talk about something, and just being a general shit-stirrer. Plus, a live video feed was broadcast on his website for fans to watch, making Jaxon more anxious since he was contractually obligated to play nice. Basically, his usual misery multiplied by ten.

  “Why do you put up with all of it?” I asked, treading carefully but hating the stress that the publicity shit put on him.

  Rubbing his face, he groaned. “Because I can’t stand the thought of letting anyone down. Our contract states that LGR is in charge of all publicity. I won’t risk screwing over the band and all of the people who depend on us because I don’t agree with Bianca’s strategy.”

  I thought about what he said and
could understand that his actions impacted more than just himself. His sense of responsibility was admirable. Still, something had to give. Knowing that I was about to cross a line, I sat up and folded my legs, creating a little space between us.

  “You can tell me it’s none of my business and I won’t mention it again, but I want to help.” I took a deep breath and forged ahead. “The pressure being put on you is unfair and I don’t like it. And while I understand that those are my personal feelings, I’m sure the guys would agree with me.” I waited for Jaxon to stop me, but he nodded his head in agreement. “Do they know how much it affects you?”

  “They know I hate it,” he rasped between chewing the inside of his cheek. “But there’s nothing they can do, so I try not to complain.”

  Jaxon and I were alike in that regard. “I get it. But I have to say that nothing Bianca is doing is good PR, and I’m getting worried that something is going to come back to hurt your reputation and, therefore, the band’s.”

  “I agree. I called her last week to discuss my concerns. With the cancel culture taking over, I can’t afford bad press or to offend anyone, especially over something that isn’t even true. She reluctantly agreed to make changes to the talking points but couldn’t promise that the media would follow them. Frankly, I don’t think it’s a big concern for her.”

  I took a deep breath, knowing this was the deciding moment.

  “What if another publicist was willing to help you?”

  “Who would do that?”

  “Me.”

  A few hours later, we entered the building that housed one of New York’s best-known satellite radio stations. Having lost track of time, we were running late for our scheduled check-in. Hustling into the elevator, Jaxon pressed me into the wall as it ascended.

  “I can’t believe you never told me you’re a publicist.”

  “Not officially. I’m still taking classes for my PR degree, so you can back out if you want.”

  “Hell, no. We’re going through with the plan, and I can’t wait to turn the tables on this fuckwit.” He sealed the deal with a kiss just before the elevator doors opened.

  The program manager met us and introduced us to Spanky. Jaxon introduced me as Angel, his assistant, to keep things professional and protect my identity.

  “Damn, Hartley! She’s a hot piece of ass. Please tell me you’ve tapped that.”

  I’d known going in that he was an obnoxious man whore, but it was still a shock to the system to experience him in person. Having coached Jaxon during the car ride over, he deflected beautifully.

  “She’s a beauty, but tell me about that model you were with at the Rangers game last weekend.” Jaxon rolled his eyes behind Spanky’s back as he led us to the soundproof booth and droned on about his many conquests.

  “Angel, how about joining us? Let’s give our male viewers something to look at while they beat their morning wood.” Spanky licked his lips and rubbed his hands together.

  “Sure, Spanky,” I played innocent despite the fitted, low-cut shirt I’d intentionally worn after learning that he liked to include as many people in his interviews as possible. “I’ve never done this before, so be gentle.”

  Jaxon smirked as we were both seated and given headphones.

  The first few minutes were uneventful as we were each introduced to the audience, both viewers and listeners. I said a quick hello and gave a little wave to the camera. To get the interview rolling, Jaxon answered some basic questions about the band and their current tour, while side-stepping a few others. As predicted, it wasn’t long before Spanky came out swinging.

  “Everyone still wants to know about the break-up with Krissy. Your lips have been tighter than a sexually repressed virgin on her wedding night. What’s the story?”

  “People date to see if they’re compatible. If not, they break up and move on.”

  “True. But Krissy is one hell of a catch. Any man would make themselves compatible to stay with her.”

  “I wish her every happiness and hope she finds that man. It just wasn’t me. Right now, I’m focused on my music.”

  “Okay,” he nodded, seeming to roll with the subject change. “Let’s talk music. The song ‘Hit the Bricks’ has become a break-up anthem and was released right after your split with Krissy. You claim that you wish her well, but the lyrics are pretty harsh, man.”

  “That song was written long before my split with Krissy.”

  “So you knew you were going to break up with her when you wrote the song and waited for her birthday?”

  “That’s not at all what I said. Besides, ‘Hit the Bricks’ wasn’t originally written as a break-up song.” Jaxon was getting irritated, causing a gleam to appear in Spanky’s eyes.

  “Sure it wasn’t. I suppose you’re not truly heartless, either.” Spanky piled on the sarcasm, hamming it up for the camera.

  “Would you like a stethoscope?” I asked. This was the opening we’d been waiting for and I refused to back down after seeing the way he treated Jaxon. Besides, I’d never been able to tolerate a bully, and Spanky had made an entire career out of it.

  “What’s that, Angel?”

  “Would you like a stethoscope?” I repeated, slowly as I would for a small child. “It’s an instrument for listening to a heartbeat. I can assure you he has one.”

  “Of course he does.” Spanky used his most patronizing voice and literally patted me on the head. I wanted to throat punch him. “It’s an expression based on his past behavior.”

  “No, it’s a ridiculous label based on shitty reporting and a blatant disregard for privacy. Then people like you encourage and promote those false perceptions.”

  “A celebrity’s personal life is fair game. It’s part of the business. Plus, the more dirt I dig up, the happier my listeners are.”

  “So anyone in the public eye shouldn’t expect privacy?”

  “It comes with the territory.” He shrugged it off like it was an inconsequential part of being famous.

  “What if the media twists a story just to increase sales or boost ratings?”

  “The more twisted, the better.”

  “Yourself included?”

  “I’ve got nothing to hide,” he insisted.

  “So you say. But just like the Heartless Hartley story, the more something has to be forced on me, the less likely I’m willing to believe it.”

  “Please, enlighten us.” Spanky sat back, clearly willing to play along, but in no way took me seriously.

  “For example,” I began. “You’re acting like a giant dick, but that certainly doesn’t lead me to believe that you have a giant dick. A responsible journalist would need to do more research.”

  Spanky stood, pretending to unzip his pants for me. “You can research all you want, sweetheart.” He hit some sound buttons to add audience laughter and catcalls in the background. Moron.

  “Not necessary, Spanky. There are online chat groups dedicated to people who have slept with celebrities, even a few B-listers such as yourself.” That got Spanky’s attention, though he tried not to look rattled. “I found a whole conversation thread of women who were less than thrilled by their experience with what they dubbed ‘Spanky’s Wanky Wiener’. I have it pulled up here if you want me to read some of it.”

  Silence stretched out, a death toll in the world of radio. Then Spanky cleared his throat and offered to take some calls. The phone lines lit up from fans with eager questions. Unfortunately for both men, the callers were more interested in the names of the online groups and how to access them than Jaxon’s music or Spanky’s antics. Acting quickly, before Spanky pulled my microphone plug, I announced my offer.

  “I’ll make everyone out there in radioland a deal. New York’s Liberty Harvest Food Bank needs donations to keep kids fed while school is out. For some kids, that’s the only food they get, and they need our help. If everyone out there could make a small contribution, it would make a big difference to those kids this summer. And once the current fundraisi
ng goal is met, I will post the links to the online groups.”

  Spanky looked like he was going to have an aneurysm while Jaxon sat back with his arms crossed and a huge smile on his face.

  Chapter 14

  Jaxon

  The car door was barely shut before I pounced on her. Lips locked and feverish, I pulled her to straddle my lap as the discreet driver merged us into traffic.

  “You are incredible,” I said between kisses, my hands straying under her shirt. “I’m so fucking turned on right now.”

  “No time,” she gasped. “Your interview with Dynamic Notes Magazine is only a few blocks away.”

  “Hotel. Tomorrow night,” I growled as the car came to a stop.

  Nodding her head, she returned to her seat just as the driver opened the door. Reaching for her hand, we headed into our next battle.

  The difference between the two interviews was night and day. Indigo Kelley, the lead writer for Dynamic Notes, was beyond professional. After introducing herself, she got right to business.

  “Here’s the deal,” she said. “I’m not interested in the talking points your publicist sent over.”

  “Can we see them?” Anna asked.

  Indigo handed over a printout of Bianca’s email so that Anna could read the highlighted portion. “Talking points to include the following: Must ask about break-up with Krissy Karlisle, Must reference the name Heartless Hartley in the article at least once, Must include the attached photo. What the hell? What photo?”

  Indigo passed Anna a photo of Krissy and me outside a restaurant. She’s visibly upset, holding a birthday balloon while I’m handing her a box labeled ‘Krissy’s Stuff’.

  I ran a hand through my hair. “When did Bianca send this to you?”