Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“Oh!” Max jumped back with her fist ready to knock on Ian’s door as Jersey opened it. “I wondered where you went.” She craned her neck to see past Jersey to Ian.
Jersey returned a tight-lipped smile. “Might want to get me a pregnancy test and some condoms and an STD test for your rock star.”
Max’s jaw fell open as her eyes bulged from her head. Bumping Max’s shoulder, Jersey returned to their hotel room.
Ian turned up the volume to the basketball game as Max let the heavy door slam shut behind her.
“I was coming over here to apologize for crossing some invisible line with you earlier, but if I need to get that girl a pregnancy test, then you need to get your shit together and tell me what’s going on with you.”
“She’s not pregnant.” Ian kept his attention on the game.
“Did you use a condom?”
“None of your business, Max.” He shot her a quick glance.
She curled her hair behind her right ear and planted herself at the end of his bed, blocking his view of the television. “Did you cancel your appearances for today?”
When he didn’t answer her, she crossed her arms over her chest and twisted her lips for a few seconds. “Hmm … oh, that’s right. I did that. I do everything but wipe your ass, but you knocking up a homeless girl who works for you … that’s none of my business? Really? That’s how you want to play this?”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he shook his head. “We didn’t have sex.”
“Then why would she say that to me?”
“I don’t know.”
Max coughed a laugh. “You don’t know? So there’s a zero percent chance that she’s pregnant with your baby? A zero percent chance that you’ve contracted an STD from her?”
“Correct.”
“Then fire her, Ian. Fire her before she walks out of this hotel to a crowd of paparazzi and tells them she’s pregnant with your baby. This isn’t you. If it’s sex, Ian, we’ll find someone to meet your needs without the—”
“Jesus, Max …” He shook his head, eyes squinted. “No. I don’t need you to hire someone to have sex with me. But thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Ian …” Max exhaled, releasing her posture into a slump of defeat. “Why this girl? Don’t get me wrong, I like her. She’s a hard worker. She’s feisty. Refreshingly uncensored at times. And I catch glimpses of her looking at you like your hand personally hung the moon in her favorite bedtime story. But I don’t see the appeal from your lenses. Out of millions of women … why her?”
The answer should have been simple, and when he saw Jersey at the hot dog stand in Newark, it felt simple.
Fated.
A chance to right wrongs.
As the weeks passed by, the answers became more complicated. Motives blurred. Reality twisted and tangled good intentions into a mess.
A dangerous mess.
“I know what I’m doing.”
“You do?” Max’s head canted to the side.
Ian nodded.
He had no idea what he was doing. But he felt no need to burden Max with that truth. She was right.
“Do I need to talk to her?”
Ian shook his head.
“Do I need to get her pregnancy tests? Condoms and a STD test for you?”
Another headshake.
“Did you donate a kidney to this girl?”
Ian tilted his head, refocusing on the television as a tiny grin stole his lips. Max grumbled and pivoted on an eye roll before leaving his hotel room.
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
Jersey sat in on a few meals with Ian, Max, and Shane while Ian healed from their little dispute. Other than the occasional prolonged, expressionless glance, Ian never spoke to her. Max kept the conversation focused on business.
After the Chicago concert, Chris found Jersey and tugged the back of her shirt. She whipped around, not fond of anyone touching her. He gave her a sad smile. She mirrored his sadness, and after a minute or so, she stepped into his embrace.
If revenge could be intimate, then separation felt torturous.
“Cash. I got paid in cash because I don’t have a real identity,” he mumbled, resting his cheek on her head.
Jersey nodded. She, too, received an envelope of cash earlier that day after Max confirmed that Jersey didn’t know her social security number or have a bank account.
“What are we doing?” Chris pulled back and met her eyes.
She knew what he meant. Were they just working because that was the only job they had, or was there a purpose to the coincidence—to Chris’s claims about Ian?
“It might have been him.” Jersey frowned. “He’s too …” She shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain, but he’s hiding something from me. I can feel it. I can see it in his eyes. It’s guilt and something else I can’t quite figure out. Anger? Resentment? I don’t know. But I’m afraid to mention Dena’s and Charles’s names, and—” She watched some of the crew squeeze past them.