Chapter Sixteen
An hour later, a band had taken over and Ms. Raye was circulating throughout the crowd. He didn’t work with jazz artists but since he knew Ridley would love it, he’d made a point to introduce himself so that Ridley could meet her.
He usually hated participating in the fake socializing that went on at these types of events but with Ridley by his side, it didn’t even faze him. As he pulled her against him for another slow dance, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“Jackson? Hey, it’s good to see you!”
Jackson turned and froze when he saw who was behind him.
“Hey, Bill. I didn’t think you were on the jazz scene?”
It had been years since he’d seen Bill, but he still looked the same. The older man had been one of his biggest supporters when he was younger and one of the most vocal opponents when he’d decided to take his career in a new direction.
He smiled tightly when his old mentor turned to Ridley.
“Hello there. I’m Bill Witherspoon. I’m an old friend of Jackson’s from before he was a superstar. I knew him when he was just another kid with a guitar.”
Ridley laughed and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. Ridley Wells.”
“I can see he still has excellent taste.” Bill laughed and slapped him on the back. “So, is there any truth to the rumor that you’re working on a solo project? You’ve heard the stuff on the charts lately. That golden voice of yours would be a welcome improvement.”
Jackson pasted a smile on his face. “No, that’s just a rumor.”
Ridley looked up at him, her eyes sparkling. “You sing, too? I didn’t know that.”
“Oh, yeah he sings. Has the kind of voice that makes me see dollar signs. I was two shakes away from signing him to a deal a few years back.”
Ridley raised her eyebrows. “A few years back?”
Jackson coughed. “Well, it was great seeing you, Bill. Tell your wife I said hi.”
Bill sobered slightly. “Of course. Take care of those adorable boys of yours. And I meant what I said. I know your label is under Shadowlight, and I don’t want to step on any toes, but Interlace Entertainment would ink a deal for you in a heartbeat if you ever decide to give a solo career another shot. That offer is always on the table.”
Jackson tugged on Ridley’s hand and steered them around the other couples on the floor. He was happy when the song changed to an upbeat number and more people crowded onto the dance floor.
Ridley put a soft hand on his cheek and he looked at her, startled. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re an artist, too?”
After a moment, he looked away. He’d never been shy. As the youngest of four brothers, he’d quickly learned how to command a room. He’d had to if he wanted any attention at all. But when Ridley looked at him, he felt like she could see everything, even the things he didn’t want her to see.
“Because I’m not. I used to be, but I let that dream go. I’m a composer and a producer. That’s more than enough for me.” Jackson held her close as they swayed to the music.
“I’d still love to hear you sing. I only wish I could sing or play an instrument.”
“I’ll teach you to play.”
“But you can’t teach me to sing,” she teased. “If I could sing I think I’d be doing it all the time. Around the house, in the shower. Just everywhere.”
“It’s not that big of a deal, Ridley. Just leave it alone.”
She cringed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean… Sorry.”
The song ended and everyone broke out into applause. He could feel Ridley’s eyes on him as they walked back to their table.
“Do you mind if we cut out a little early? I just needed to put in an appearance.” He pulled his valet ticket out of his pocket.
“Of course.” She collected her wrap and purse and trotted to keep up with him.
He could only hope he’d responded appropriately to everyone who spoke to him on the way out. Once the valet brought his car around, he helped Ridley into the passenger side and then handed the guy a bill.
“Thank you, sir!”
By the young man’s wide eyes, he’d probably over tipped by a lot but he didn’t even care. Looking for a smaller bill would have taken time. It was worth just about any price to get the hell out of there.
They rode in silence for a few minutes before Ridley said, “Thank you for inviting me tonight.”
Jackson stifled a bitter laugh. She was too polite to say what she was really thinking. She shouldn’t have been thanking him for treating her like that. It wasn’t her fault that he’d rather do almost anything than sing these days.
He was starting to understand why Matt had punched a hole in his wall. The anger inside him was an ugly, potent thing and it seemed more than happy to shred his insides in lieu of another escape route.
He sat up straighter and gripped the steering wheel tighter. It was raining and he, of all people, knew how treacherous a little water on the roads could be.
“I’m sorry if I bit your head off back there. I just don’t like talking about it.”
Ridley shrugged. Jackson looked over at her. She continued to stare out the window at the passing scenery.
“Come on, Ridley. I said I was sorry. I’m admitting I was an ass.”
“I’m not angry with you,” she said finally. “I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”
He cursed. The memories roiled around in his brain and he had a feeling they were on the verge of boiling over. It was probably best that they’d left early. It wasn’t Ridley’s fault that he was in a shitty mood and he didn’t want to take it out on her any more than he already had.
Things had started between them with a lie, but there was one thing that couldn't be faked. Their connection. They had a bond he hadn’t felt with any other woman since his wife’s death. He didn’t want to expose her to the very worst side of him there was. He didn’t ever want her to look at him with condemnation in her eyes.
“I gave up on my solo career when my wife died.”
He felt more than saw her turn. Even when he wasn’t looking at her, her eyes had the ability to slice his emotions down the middle. Right now, all he could feel was her pity. It was rolling off her in waves.
“It’s fine. I didn’t tell you so you can feel sorry for me. I just want you to understand why I can’t talk about it. It isn’t personal.”
They rode the rest of the way home in silence.
* * *