Starstruck, p.26
Starstruck, page 26
After a breakfast of tea and toast, she sorted through her mail from the past three weeks. She couldn’t avoid the task any longer. There were the usual bills and she tossed the junk mail without even looking through it.
The last item was a small padded bag that contained something hard—the return address New York City.
She stared at it for a long time before flipping the parcel over. She didn’t recognize the name on the customs label. She left it on the table and finished her breakfast before indulging in a long shower.
Afterward, she unpacked her new phone and inserted her old SIM card before charging the battery. She’d spent a lot of her week at the studio answering personal calls from friends and family regarding the claims of her being a heroin junkie. No one close to her believed the gossip. They just wanted to check she was okay, and then invariably asked lots of questions about the infamous Jesse Maurello.
Deleting all the calls on her answering machine, most of them from reporters, she filled Saturday with housework to keep her mind occupied.
When her new phone was fully charged, she listened to the messages stored since she’d smashed the last one. She had to give Jesse credit. He was proving to be very persistent. Once her voicemails and texts were cleared, she went back into the kitchen, picked up the small package and ripped it open.
What fell into her hands was the wooden box containing her emerald and diamond necklace…and with it a small card.
My dear Sam,
No matter what happens, this will always belong to you.
Love,
Jess xxx
She lost track of how long she sat in her kitchen, crying into her hands.
* * * * *
Sunday morning Sam rang Daniel at home and requested an emergency leave. She wasn’t up to concentrating on anything and considering the substantial business she’d just produced for the company, she deserved some R and R. Daniel agreed. He thought she could use a break as well and volunteered his houseboat moored on the central coast for a small getaway.
She gladly accepted and invited Caitlin to join her. A week’s worth of girl time was just what the doctor ordered. Unfortunately Caitlin could only take a few days off work, but at least Sam would have company for part of her vacation.
She and Caitlin drove up the coast that afternoon, stopping to buy supplies on the way. Sam had her boat license and since she had used her boss’s boat on many occasions, had just the right spot in mind to anchor before they got settled for their first night on the calm lake.
They stayed up all night, talking and drinking tequila shots, and slept most of Monday away, lulled by the soft sounds of the water licking the sides of the boat.
Chapter Eighteen
Jesse and Rick spent the evening rehearsing Jerico’s first single in preparation for tomorrow night’s exclusive performance on national television, which would be followed by six straight days of TV and radio interviews.
All throughout, Jesse nursed the hangover from hell. He’d attempted to drown his heartache, but no amount of alcohol would wash away his sorrow. Tylenol and bottled water were his current best friends.
“Why don’t you try her again? She should have landed by now,” Rick said as Jesse quietly strummed the chorus of Destiny.
“Yeah…maybe I will.” He put down his guitar, grabbed his phone and left the music room, heading for the kitchen while dialing her number.
The call went straight to voicemail. “Sam, it’s me again. Please call me back. We need to sort this out. I’m flying to Chicago tomorrow, but I’ll have my cell on whenever I can. I…I really need to talk to you.”
Why were three little words so hard to say?
* * * * *
“Come on, man. Get up!” Rick banged on the bedroom door.
Jesse groaned and raised his head off the pillow. They’d stayed up late rehearsing—Rick insisted on adding Destiny to the album and Jesse hadn’t put up much of a fight. Playing it after failing to get ahold of Sam, he’d never heard such honesty, such longing in his own voice before. He couldn’t deny the song would be a hit—maybe their biggest yet.
He finally got out of bed when Rick almost broke down the door. After Jesse shoved some clothes into a suitcase, they made a pit stop so Rick could pack, and then headed to the private airstrip where the band’s jet was waiting.
Jesse checked his messages every chance he got, but Sam never called. By the time they touched down in Chicago, the rest of the band steered clear. They had dealt with his wrath before and made the wise decision to leave him alone. He was generally a fairly quiet and peaceful man away from the cameras, but when he was pissed he was a different person entirely. His temper didn’t rise often—maybe that’s why it scared his friends when it did.
He coasted through the week as best he could, wearing his stage face during the many interviews and performances of their new single. His thoughts were never far from Sam though. He called her at least twice a day, always diverted straight to voicemail. She didn’t return any of his calls. He rang her studio, but her secretary kept putting him off, saying she was either in meetings or not in the building.
Exactly nine days after Sam had left New York, Vince called Jesse to say he’d received the artwork and wanted the band to meet the following day for final approval.
Jesse hung up and looked around the living room of his house. He used to love this room, but now it only reminded him of what he’d lost. Finding her singing with his guitar, sketching on the lounge—the armchair where she’d thanked him for writing her song. Everywhere he looked there was Sam.
I’ll have to move if this keeps up.
He had five days off before they flew out again, this time to LA, but before he could relax he and Rick had to do Up Late with Quincy Ray. A limo would be picking him up soon.
He stared at the phone before dialing Sam’s number once again. “Sam, how many messages do I have to leave before you’ll call me back? Yell at me if you want…but please just call me. I miss you.”
* * * * *
His ride arrived promptly at eight, Rick already in the backseat. They rode to the television studio in silence, Jesse’s mind calculating how long it would take to fly to Sydney and back.
They signed autographs for the crowd out front before being ushered inside for hair and makeup. They were Quincy’s first guests and would also close the show with an acoustic version of their charity single. Jack already had plans for the night, so Rick was stepping into his shoes on guitar.
Relaxing in the green room, they waited to go on.
“You okay, man? You’re a bit jumpy.”
Jesse stopped pacing a track in the floor to look at his friend. “Yeah, just thinkin’ about a few things. That’s all.”
A small, anxious man talking into his headpiece entered the room and indicated it was time to go on.
He and Rick answered the usual run-of-the-mill questions they’d grown accustomed to with every album. Quincy and Rick traded drummer jokes and the audience lapped it up.
Things went well until the subject of Jesse’s impending engagement to Becky Sampson came up.
He shared a knowing look with Rick before pasting a smile on his face. “I’d actually like to take this opportunity to set the record straight on that evil rumor. You see, Ms. Sampson and I broke up two and a half months ago. We have not been together since, nor will I ever be with her again in the future…distant or otherwise.
“And I agree with you, Quincy. The photos you’re referring to do look really incriminating…that is to anyone who doesn’t know the truth. That woman’s damn lucky I don’t have her charged with sexual assault. I was unwittingly coerced into the production of those photos and I firmly deny having any kind of relationship with her since we broke up. And I gotta say, the people who write this kinda junk really need to get their facts straight. I wasn’t available for comment so it seems they thought they had license to make up whatever they liked regardless of who got hurt by their lies.
“It’s not right. Someone…someone I care about deeply read and believed that headline. These people are playin’ games with my life. What they print doesn’t just affect me, it affects people close to me. Honest people are payin’ for the mistakes of some clown in an office somewhere who didn’t do their job and confirm the facts. The only truth to that article was the spelling of my name.”
Quincy frowned. “The woman who was allegedly rushed to hospital that night. Can you tell us anything about her? Was she a friend of yours?”
“Actually, she’s more than a friend. Much more. She’s someone very special and close to my heart. I can’t go into any details because the incident is still under investigation, but that beautiful innocent woman is the biggest victim in all this. My only hope is that the person responsible for putting her in the hospital will be caught and brought to justice.”
After the interview, Jesse and Rick returned to the green room to wait for the show to end. On cue, they followed the same small man from earlier to a location at the other side of the stage. A set of guitars, microphones and stools were set up for their closing number.
At the last moment, as the lights dimmed and Quincy introduced them, Jesse whispered to Rick that he wanted to play Destiny instead of the song they’d planned. Rick nodded, letting Jesse lead the way.
The audience soaked up the new song and its taste was bittersweet on his tongue. When he peered out into the darkened crowd, two women in the front row were shedding tears and he wasn’t far from joining them. He sang with everything he had, his emotions exposed for all to see, passion permeating from every word.
Finished for the night, finally back in the waiting limo, he told the driver to take them both back to his place.
“Shit, Jess! Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna out Becky tonight? She is gonna freak when she sees the show.” Rick chuckled.
“She deserves everything she gets though I’ll probably get my ass chewed off by Vinnie,” he said, wearing his first genuine smile since Sam had left.
“Nice to have you back, man.” Rick slapped Jesse’s knee with a huge grin.
Back at Jesse’s, Rick opened a bottle of wine while Jesse bolted upstairs to his room. The first thing he did was ring his PA to find him a flight to Sydney that night, and then he hurriedly packed a bag.
Within minutes, his cell rang. The earliest flight to Australia—on any commercial airline—was tomorrow afternoon with a few connections along the way.
“Call Mannie and see if he can get the jet ready tonight then call me straight back. Tell him I’ll double his usual fee if he’ll do it.” He hung up, doing a final check that he had his essentials.
He carted his bag downstairs and passed Rick in the kitchen, swiping the glass of red wine out of his hand as he went to the music room. He stared at his collection of beloved guitars, picked a blue Ovation from the stand and put it inside a hard case.
He strolled back into the kitchen, put his wineglass on the counter and pointed at it. Rick poured a refill as Jesse placed his guitar case next to his bag.
“I was wondering how long it was gonna take ya.” Rick sat on a stool and Jesse joined him across the counter.
“Well, if she’s not gonna take my calls, what else am I s’posed to do?”
“You really do love her, huh?”
Jesse avoided eye contact, circling the rim of his glass with his fingertip. “Maybe I do.”
“What are ya gonna do when you get there?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ve got her address. I’ll start there, I guess.”
“When’s your flight?”
“I’m waitin’ to hear back. I’m hoping Mannie can take me. Commercial flights are fully booked until later tomorrow and I don’t wanna wait that long. I’ll be cuttin’ it close as it is with all the shit we’ve got booked.” He downed his wine.
“We fly out to LA in six days. You have to be back by then. And Vince won’t like you taking the jet on such short notice. Are you gonna even tell him you’re goin’?”
“Fuck Vinnie. It’s our plane, not his. He doesn’t run every friggin’ aspect of my life.” He poured them each another glass, finishing the bottle.
“How ’bout I come with ya?” Rick smiled.
“What? You hate long flights. Why would ya wanna do that?”
“Hot babes, bikinis, sun, surf…what do ya think? I haven’t got any real plans for the next few days. I had a few parties I was gonna check out, but that’s no big loss. Besides, you need someone to keep you out of trouble. I’ve never seen you this fucked up over a woman before. And I can give you some charm lessons on the way. Maybe that’s your problem,” Rick said, squeezing another laugh out of Jesse.
“All right, but it’s your funeral. She’s probably gonna kill me and you’ll get death by association.” Another small chuckle escaped him.
“You’ve got a point. Got any ball protectors handy? I don’t wanna meet the fate of Travis, do you?”
* * * * *
Sarah was ready for stage two—albeit majorly pissed off due to recent complications. She sat at JFK Airport, waiting for the next flight to Sydney. Being on standby was a bitch and patience wasn’t her best virtue.
She’d thought Samantha Raven was out of the way for good, but the quest was proving to be more challenging than she had first thought. She’d missed her chance at the show tonight but had followed the limousine back to Jesse’s house.
While sitting in the car across the street, she’d decided to call it a night just when his front gates reopened. She’d dropped low in her seat as the headlights flashed across her window, and then waited a few seconds before starting the rental and trailing behind.
She hadn’t been able to follow Jesse and Ricky when they turned down the private road that led to the hidden airstrip.
Where the hell are they going?
They weren’t scheduled to be anywhere for the next few days.
Fuck!
She didn’t like surprises. Not unless she was giving them.
She drove past the exit and doubled back shortly after, pulling out her phone. By the time she reached the city limits she knew exactly where the boys were headed.
Lesson number four—stay one step ahead.
Chapter Nineteen
By the time the jet was inspected, fueled and their flight plan logged, the early hours of Tuesday morning had arrived. Once they touched the skies, Mannie’s usual co-pilot George announced their expected arrival time would be approximately 3:00 p.m. Wednesday, Australian Eastern Standard Time.
Jesse and Rick divided the long flight by talking, eating and sleeping, though Jesse didn’t do much of any of those things. He was nervous as hell.
He’d asked his PA to arrange a rental car for when they landed and to call Vince and let him know they wouldn’t be available for the meeting the next day. Regardless, he wanted Vince to go ahead with Sam’s artwork and start the printing immediately—finished product unseen.
Jesse and Rick arrived in Sydney on a beautiful summer’s day, but soon realized if they stood too long in the heat they risked their blood being boiled.
Their rental waited in a discreet location and they were able to get out of public view without being noticed. Only Jesse’s PA, Vince and Jesse’s housekeeper in New York knew where they were. With a little luck, they had at least an hour’s head start before the Australian paparazzi clued in to their arrival. Someone working for an airline always wanted to make a quick buck so the media was bound to be alerted soon—if they hadn’t already.
Jesse and Rick made every attempt to disguise their identities physically, but the huge “Jerico” painted on the side of the jet just might have given them away.
Dodging through peak-hour traffic, Rick drove while Jesse flicked through the Sydney Street Directory looking for Sam’s address. The cars were lined up bumper-to-bumper.
“Ah, just like home.” Rick nudged the small blue hatch forward an inch at a time.
Jesse couldn’t get used to driving on the left side of the road—the reason why he always used a driver in England and gladly let Rick take the wheel.
Finally they pulled into Sam’s driveway. Her house was no palace, but quaint and cute, reminding him of an old English cottage. The garden was small and packed with color, tall lavender bordering the side fences. For an old home, it was tastefully revitalized, the wooden front gate finished in cream to match the house with complimentary navy blue and gray accents. A loveseat perched on the verandah swung gently in the breeze and painted a perfect picture of Sam’s artful taste.
Jesse breathed in the ocean breeze, inhaling deeply a few times to calm his nerves. He knocked on the front door. There was no answer. He’d tried calling her when they’d left the airport, not wanting to totally surprise her with his presence, but his calls had gone to voicemail every time.
“What now? Do we wait?” Rick turned off the car radio.
“No, we’ll try her studio in the city. If we hurry, we should be able to make it before they close.”
He retrieved her business card from his wallet and looked up the address.
* * * * *
Caitlin did well keeping Sam’s mind occupied with constant chatter and jokes.
Monday was a complete loss due to the recovery needed after waking with killer hangovers. They had some fun on Tuesday with a dip in the lake, and later drove the houseboat’s small aluminum runabout closer to shore to hunt for bait in the sand. Catching fresh fish for dinner, they were proud at being able to provide their own meal without a man in sight.
Summers together as kids had been full of adventure and mystery. There was at least one funny story to be told from each of Sam’s visits and Caitlin reminded her of some of those times to cheer her mood. She prattled like an Energizer bunny to keep Sam’s mind off Jesse, and Sam appreciated her attempts. But in truth, she hadn’t stopped thinking about him since walking out on him ten days ago. Even while laughing and reminiscing, a part of her was still with him, still inhaling his scent, still reveling in his touch.
