9781618857958KissMeLikeYouMeanItLeveyNC Read online

  Her cell phone rang in her pocket. She sniffled and glanced at the screen. She couldn’t deal with anything else right now. Far beyond the breaking point, she sent the call from her twin to voicemail. Once she figured out a game plan she’d call home. But not a single solitary second before she was ready to deal.

  With over three-fourths of her belongings permanently damaged, she packed her scrapbook and zipped up her luggage. After one final glance, she wheeled her one sad suitcase to the door.

  “There’s time to file a report.” The guard pressed her to do the right thing.

  “I’m good. They didn’t ruin what meant the world to me. Clothes are replaceable.”

  “I’m also talking about what is written here and all over campus. No one here condones this type of behavior. You have rights even though you’re leaving. We will still prosecute after your departure.”

  “Can we drop it please?” she asked as they left the house.

  The guard nodded and secured the door behind them.

  “I’ll wait for you to get in your car and follow you to the gate.”

  Carlie jogged down the steps to her vehicle thankful her baby wasn’t defaced. Seemed the gaggle of frenemies were choosy about what to vandalize. She stowed her suitcase in the trunk and slid into the driver’s seat. Taking a deep breath, she left without a destination in mind.

  How could I have ever thought they were not backstabbing bitches?

  Dance With My Father by Luther Vandross blared from her phone. Carlie sent the call to voicemail. Her dad called again. But she wasn’t ready to talk to anyone in her family. She drove with the security tail on her and didn’t even care, not anymore. Really how much worse could the situation get? Her tail dropped off as she hit the security gate leading her off campus. She signaled with a thank you wave and swerved to avoid crashing into a van popping out of nowhere. Incensed, she flipped off the man hanging out the window hovering like a vulture and maneuvered herself away from the idiot snapping her picture. She found a hidey spot in thick traffic away from the zealous paparazzi and sighed for small miracles.

  Her phone went off. She stopped for a red light and flicked her screen to her incoming text.

  Carlie girl. Your voicemail is full. Answer your damn phone. Don’t make me have to come and find you. Expelled? Bring your ass home. I don’t care if you’re a legal adult. What were you thinking? Never mind we can deal with the shitstorm once you are here.

  The magazine and other tabloids just released, how did he find out so damn fast? She took a steadying breath.

  “Okay, Dad, that’s going to make me pick up my phone and talk to you or come home. Really? Who gets a lecture in a text message? Someone needs a time out,” she mumbled to herself. To say he sounded pissed was an understatement. Her parents spent an ungodly amount of tuition on her. She understood his anger and wondered if the emotions stirring in her were what Carrie felt when she upset him. Her stomach rolled as her anxiety raised a notch higher. She hit the steering wheel with the palm of her hand and shrieked.

  Carlie moved in and out of traffic. The assholes got the images they wanted, giving her room to drop her guard. She needed time to gather her thoughts. Spying a gas station, she stopped to fill up.

  Gym Class Heroes’ Take A Look At My Girlfriend played another incoming call. Jordan’s name flashed across her screen.

  “Hey, little brother.” She tried to hide her runny nose sniffle.

  “Hey yourself, not so picture perfect.” Jordan laughed making her smile. He always called her picture perfect, now he’d need to find a new nickname for her.

  “Not funny. What’s up?”

  “Got into my first fight and suspended. Dad’s anger is through the roof, just wanted to make sure you don’t let him bully you into coming home today. I wouldn’t if I was you.”

  “I’ve never really pissed him off like this before. What would Carrie do?”

  “Man, I think she is in shock. Everyone expects her to do socially damaging things, not you.”

  “I know, right?” She sighed and pushed the car in park. “I don’t know what to do. I’m thinking of getting a hotel for the night. My eyes are swollen from crying and I can’t seem to stop.”

  “If it makes you feel better, I kicked this jock’s ass for making a comment about you.”

  “No, that doesn’t make me feel better. Fighting goes on transcripts so do suspensions. You have a great college career ahead of you.”

  “Yeah well, you’re my sister, my family, and that tool got what he deserved. Been wanting to plant a fist in his face since sixth grade. Thanks for giving me a reason to, it’s worth being on punishment.”

  “Dad?”

  “Said, son, there are times when a man just walks away. Takes more courage to walk away than to duke it out. But then he winked, so I think the words were for Ma’s benefit.”

  “Can you do a search for some hotels in New York? I think I’ll stay away from home for now. New York isn’t far from me.

  “I can do you one better. Jackson has a house in New York not too far from you.”

  “So you want to add felon to the list of my transgressions?” Carlie snorted. Jackson. She hadn’t even thought of him or what he’d think of this mess. Hell, the manwhore would probably love it.

  “You know I’m in charge of making sure the local houses are locked up tight and that housekeeping comes through when they go on tour once a week. I have his codes.”

  “I can’t ask you to betray his confidence. Without his permission, being there would be so wrong.”

  “Well you can’t come home. I can guarantee you with Garrick out of the country you don’t have a buffer here to be a voice of reason. My mediating skills won’t work since I’m in the shitter right along with you. Besides, if you go to a hotel Dad will find you. Jackson is chill like that, and this is an urgent situation.”

  “God, I love you, little brother.”

  “I get that from all the ladies in my life.” His casual tone brought another fleeting smile to her face.

  “Where does he stay at?”

  “His house is in upper Westchester. I’ll text you the codes. He should be stocked up on bare necessities. I’d stop off and get some fresh food and things you might need. He’s only spent enough time there to update the place in the past year or so.”

  “How do you know about this side of his life? He’s never been much of a talker.” Jordan intrigued her curiosity in the complex bass guitarist.

  “I spent last summer with them on the tour bus remember. He’s a great guy and since I helped out so much they all trust me to keep their places squared away.”

  “I guess after all these years, I don’t know as much as I thought, about his family at least. I remember his visits during summer vacations, and his mom passing. After he came to live with his dad but that’s about all. Then the guys created the band and he was always at our house. I was too involved in studying to get into college to fawn over him like everyone else. He never talks about New York or his life there. I guess I just figured he didn’t want to think about that part of his past. I don’t remember hearing he had a home out on this coast.”

  “Yeah, well he has restaurants too. A whole fleet of them. French ones. Do an Internet search on Debuque, his mom’s side is pretty well off. Man, can he cook. I guess that talent runs in his family too.”

  “Look at you, secret spiller.”

  “Shit. Gotta go, Dad’s on the prowl. Keep in touch. I’ll delete any texts I sent and keep my mouth shut for you. Drive safe. Love you, sis.”

  “Love you too.” Carlie ended the call and breathed a sigh of relief. In Mexico she’d spent an ungodly amount of money that she had yet to pay on. Staying at a hotel for an indefinite period of time would’ve cost her more than she had. Her phone buzzed in her hand.

  38 Sackett Landing, Rye, NY, 10580.

  Two hundred thirty-nine miles or three hours and forty-eight minutes later, Carlie pulled into the private two mile road. She r
olled her window down, the breeze pushed the crisp Atlantic Ocean air into her car. Jackson’s home sat along the south shore of Long Island.

  “Breath-fucking-taking.” Nothing but lush green surrounded her. “Who needs a college when you can do all your courses online from a house like this? I never want to leave,” she muttered to no one but herself and came to a slow halt, rolled her window down and pressed in the code. The wrought iron gates swung open. Carlie eased her foot on the gas. She barely made it through before the gate sprang back, closing just after she cleared the opening. “I bet that’s to keep out the paparazzi.” She made out the house in the distance. As she closed in, Carlie realized Jackson didn’t grow up in a home, he grew up in a multimillion dollar mansion. Her breath left her when she got her first full view of the sprawling Colonial style, reminding her of Tara from Gone with The Wind.

  Maybe I should go home. She dropped her head onto the steering wheel. Mentally exhausted, she slipped out, grabbed her purse, laptop bag and rolling suitcase, then walked up to her new residence. She’d make the best of staying here until either the master came home or she grew enough balls to face her father, siblings, and mother.

  This isn’t really breaking and entering since I have the code. He’s practically family, so he really won’t mind. Well, not really family since I want him, in the worst possible way, to do dirty things to me that I’d never admit to anyone but my twin, Nev, and Jazz.

  Carlie talked herself into motivation. Putting one foot forward, she made the short trek to the front door and pressed in the second set of characters Jordan sent. The door locking mechanism clicked allowing her to turn the knob and enter.

  Entering a formal sitting room, the warmness of the décor welcomed her, bidding her to come in and make herself at home. For a man like Jackson, she hadn’t expected the warm swatches of color. Through gigantic bay windows she had a perfect view of the peaceful water.

  She walked by pictures of Jackson from birth to current. “He was such a cute kid.” In one picture he held a guitar four times bigger than him with a huge smile. She passed by one of him on a piano bench with a young woman and another one where he held an acoustic guitar fit for his size. She noticed how very young he began playing. Feeling too intrusive, she stepped away from memories that didn’t belong to her and lugged her items up the stairs, careful not to scuff them with her suitcase.

  In the back of her mind, she worried about Jackson’s reaction to her being unannounced in his home. In the front of her mind, dealing with his irritation or anger didn’t compare to dealing with that of her family’s.

  He’ll get over it. I bet my life on it.

  On the next floor, she moved to her left down the hallway. She peeked into a few bedrooms, finding them unfinished and without any furnishings. Jordan did tell her Jackson was revamping, maybe he hadn’t gotten to all of the guest rooms. Carlie opened the door to a third room and walked into a giant walk-in closet filled with dress clothes, shoes, and racks of sunglasses. She turned and stepped back out. The next two rooms had new painted walls and dressers but no beds. Pressing on, she turned the corner and passed a bathroom. At the end of the slender hallway large mahogany double doors took up the remaining space. Curious, she turned the knob, finding it locked.

  “I’m so not sleeping on the floor or the couch downstairs.” Hissing out a breath, she checked one last room with a set of mahogany double doors and found Jackson’s bedroom. Just what the doctor ordered, a California king bed.

  Carlie toed off her shoes and climbed onto the huge bed. She sank into the comfortable mattress and sighed in absolute pleasure as her muscles unwound. This was the life. His pillow felt like a cloud. God, his bed even smelled like him in his long absence. Maybe his scent came in laundry soap form. Relaxed, the day’s events caught up to her. Too exhausted to fight sleep, she closed her eyes, for just a second.

  Chapter Two

  “Hey, you guys are awesome. I'd comment on the weather but I have to say…” Garrick looked away from the audience over at his bandmates. “We have to say, non-alcoholic beer? What the hell is up with that? Some hinky bullshit if you ask me. You warriors deserve a nice cold cup of ale. Being in a war zone sucks bad enough, I feel your pain. Even my taste buds revolted, until a soldier handed me the sweetest treat ever—a big white chocolate chip macadamia nut cookie and fuck it was like a little piece of Heaven. Ya know, I went on a journey to find me one, but apparently someone forgot to put in supply order. What's up with the out of stock items? How can ya'll live without these fantastic fucking cookies?”

  “Guys what do you think?”

  “Garrick man, at least they still have rock and roll.”

  “Fuck yeah they do, Jackson. Ya’ll warriors ready to rock this place down? We heard you couldn’t come home to pay us a visit, so we brought the visit to you.”

  Garrick stepped across the stage, engaging the crowd with more conversation.

  “Bro’s can you believe we only have one more meet and greet after this? Damn depressing, we’ve enjoyed rocking out with these brave men and women for the past ten days. I don’t know how they do this day in and day out. Man, I don’t know what I thought…but damn it is fuckin’ cold in the desert at night. Ball freezing cold.”

  “Hooah.”

  “That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Love that in unison shit. Give it to me one more time?” Garrick held the mic out to the crowd.

  “Hooah.” The excited soldiers gave Crimson Rage what they wanted to hear. Jackson stepped on the pedal board. The unison chanting for them to begin their signature song grew louder. He turned to see Shea’s shit-eating grin and the kick-start drum fill to start their show. Jimmy brought his late brother Miles’ dog tags out from under his shirt and kissed them, a signature sign of respect before each show. Never forgotten.

  While Garrick belted out the lyrics to Depraved Indifference, Jackson moved across the stage to join Jimmy as his boy played the intro. His gaze connected with a few female soldiers. He loved women, didn’t have a discriminating bone in his body when it came to the female form. Seeing their sexy shapes rocking with the beat made his dick hard. Damn if it wasn’t hot as hell they were out here protecting their country.

  Garrick belted out the lyrics for the first verse. During the second he held his ear out to the crowd and the mic to them.

  The highlight of playing a gig was the fans screaming out the words and the sound they created, the ultimate homage. The rush, the high of playing for thousands in a huge arena didn't come close to playing for selfless individuals a world away from home. He lost himself in the music, enjoying playing the low end and bringing shit back to the basics. Keeping it simple.

  Garrick moved from center stage, giving Jackson room to stand in front of new faces. While Shea screamed into the mic, he banged his head in time with the drum beat performing his solo next to Jimmy.

  “We’ve heard what the fellas wanted to hear. How about the ladies, have any requests? I’m a taken man but half of my boys aren’t. I have to admit seeing you women out here in uniform is sexy as fuck.”

  “Garrick. You know we have to keep Jackson and Jimmy here on a short leash.”

  “Damn, Shea, you’re right.” Garrick turned to face him. “Behave. These women are pure gold. Not the easy groupies ya’ll are used to back home.”

  “Well then, I’m aimin’ to find me a pot o’ gold or two to dip my shillelagh in.” Jimmy winked at the crowd and Jackson busted out laughing.

  “Shut up, you Irish fuck and let these beautiful women here pick a song. They’re too much woman for you to handle, bro.” Jackson spoke into his mic.

  “Play Rhapsody.” A pretty brunette in the middle of the crowd belted out.

  Improvising with his fret board, Jackson flipped Jimmy off while Garrick addressed their audience.

  “How did I know you lovely ladies would request a love song?” Ever the charmer, Garrick flashed the women his dimpled smile. Cockblocking bastard was stealing the hotties for himsel
f and he had no use for them. Jackson didn’t miss the smirk his friend aimed his way, a direct hit. He grabbed his crotch in response and bent to take a swig of water.

  The crowd chanted the beginning of Rhapsody. Impressed, he slipped his guitar off the strap and took a stool from a stage hand.

  While Jimmy played the beginning to the ballad without the band, each member watched the crowd eat up the private song written for Garrick’s fiancé to prove he was ready for a permanent commitment.

  “How about a new song tonight? A new one no one has heard. This song happens to be one Jackson wrote. This shit for brains can actually compose, surprising huh.” The crowd applauded. “I know—yeah, the man is worth more than fucking and playin’ guitar and piano. Bet ya’ll didn’t know that we have a fuckin’ musical prodigy in our midst.”

  “Sing for us, Jackson.” A chorus broke out among them.

  “Come on, bro, quit blushing and take your skinny ass to the front and belt out this song you made us all learn last week in one fucking day.” Jackson flipped Shea off and met up with Garrick on front stage.

  “Nothing about me is skinny, bro.” He set his guitar on the stand. “I’m so kicking your ass for this bullshit move. I hate singing for crowds, man,” he said the last for Garrick’s ears only.

  “I know. This is fun for me.” Garrick handed him the mic, then picked up his guitar.

  “This song is about a boy and a girl, a missed opportunity—Ya’ll know I’m not much of a crooner. I leave that shit to Garrick.”

  “We want Jackson,” the crowd chanted.

  Jackson chuckled into the mic and began Last Chance. A song he’d composed about a girl back home who was off limits, out of his league, and basically too perfect for his bad boy persona. The lyrics resonated with him, told of a sweet affection harbored for a beautiful girl. A girl he shouldn’t love, a chance he shouldn’t take, a body he shouldn’t burn to take. He locked eyes with one of the women in the audience and sang to her. Years of watching Garrick do the same taught him a thing or two. When the final strains subsided, he saluted the crowd and shoved the mic back in Garrick’s hand ready to get back to playing guitar like he did best. The ‘We love you Jackson’ chorus felt a bit surreal, if only the one he wrote the song for heard it.