The Trouble with Rock Stars: Jackson's Story (Access All Areas 3)

The teddy bear that Drew won for me at the games center sat on my sofa. I picked it up and punched it in the stomach.

“Why are you messing with my mind, you bastard?’ I yelled at it. “Why are you doing this to me?”

I punched that teddy bear again. I punched it hard. It still didn’t answer me.

“Why can’t you just take me in your arms and hold me forever.”

Teddy’s sewn on mouth just kept on half-smiling in the same grim way.

I wandered aimlessly through the apartment, not able to settle. Sleep would be impossible. I couldn’t settle to watch a movie or read a book.

Finally, I sat down at the computer. I went online to investigate nerve damage. I had no idea what the actual issue was but he’d been holding stuff back when he’d mentioned the surgery, I could tell that much. I could understand that surgery was a huge step, terrifying even, but if it would restore the use of his hand, surely it was worth trying. All the work and rehabilitation would have to be better than just sitting in the bar, feeling so lousy and defeated.

He hadn’t said how it had happened in the first place and I’d felt that subject was off-limits.

There were so many options available. The chances of recovery lessened over time but there was still hope that he could be fixed up. If it were me, I’d definitely take that chance.

Before tonight, I’d not realized how much it worried him. But now I realized how that feeling of weakness hit.

That song they’d played, I wanted to hear it. I went online and found an old clip on YouTube. Jackson’s band, Vireal, were so young. It was just over ten years ago, the first song they’d ever released, but he seemed like such a baby. Watching him play reminded me a bit of Drew. So naive and eager. The song was fantastic. As soon as it finished, I’d put it on repeat.

In most bands, the one you look at is the singer. They’re usually the charismatic one, the one who takes the limelight. Maybe I was biased but in Vireal, it wasn’t the singer you noticed at all. It wasn’t just that he wasn’t good-looking, he seemed to lack something important. His lanky frame jumped around the stage, all nervous energy and pent-up emotion. He wasn’t bad, he just wasn’t Jackson. Meanwhile, Jackson exuded a calmness, as though he knew exactly what he was doing and knew he did it well.

I was definitely biased.

I wanted to learn more about the band. I put on the kettle and made a coffee, then settled down to read more.

I don’t know why I’d never googled Jackson before

. I guess, I’d always thought of him as Jackson from the bar, not as this once-famous guitarist.

Even though people talked about him, calling him a guitar legend and genius and all that, I’d actually had no idea of just how famous he was. Around the time his band was at their peak, I wasn’t even that into rock.

That was one of the secrets I wanted to hide. Sometimes, at the club, people would talk about bands as though everyone should know who they were but they were unknown to me, so I’d go home and look them up online.

The Jackson on the internet was not the Jackson I knew, that’s for sure. He’d changed and there was some mystery to his past other than just the injury.

On the outside, he looked pretty much the same as he did now. Messy hair and a slightly too big nose. He had the same broad shoulders and solid body, the same sardonic smile. But there was something about him in those photos that was missing now.

There was a ton of information and I read through it all. Even the stuff about Jackson’s alleged girlfriends. I mean, it was in his past and obviously, none of them were around anymore so there was no reason to get jealous, but the lead weight in my belly got heavier, the more I read.

There’d been a lot of women.

I listened to some more of their songs. I even knew a couple of them, although I’d not made the connection. Songs I’d heard on the radio without focusing.

Part of me wished I’d known that Jackson. The one who still had some faith in the world. Maybe, if I’d known him then, he’d have not given me the time of day though. Not with all those hot groupies hanging around.

There were a ton of articles on Jackson leaving the band. At first, the reason was unknown but the press must’ve found out and there was stuff on the injury. Some medical details that I wrote down so I could learn more about it.

I’d been at the computer so long, the sun came up but I kept at it. I read through a forum where people had conspiracy theories. A lot of them thought he lied about the nerve damage and it was something else.

A couple of people talked about him having depression and suggested that he’d tried to suicide. I’d believed him when he’d said it wasn’t that, though.

They’d even posted photos to back up their theories. Early ones of the whole band clowning around and all laughing. Jackson had a glow in his eyes I’d never seen. Then, the later ones with Jackson standing slightly apart from his bandmates.

That could mean anything. If you sifted through enough photos, you’d find ones that backed up your theories. I did wonder. If it’d been just an injury, why was he so bitter? Why had he cut off all contact with his bandmates? Surely, he’d still keep in touch or have some contact?

So many questions and it seemed people on the internet had no more answers than I did.