Chapter 17

Jude

My head felt as though it was being split open with an axe. The taste of alcohol was thick on the back of my tongue when I stumbled blindly up to the fourth floor for a few hours of sleep. I needed a hot shower, too, and some fucking Advil. I reached for my wallet in the back pocket of my jeans but found that I was only clad in my boxers.

“Fuck,” I groaned, rubbing my face as I leaned up against the door of my hotel suite. Memories from the night bubbled back to me. The fight with Ava two nights before. The bar in the hotel restaurant along with those fans. The swimming pool. My clothes were still at the swimming pool.

A door opened down the hallway. I forced my eyes open to squint at the person approaching me with a handful of clothes in their arms. I let out a relieved breath when I realized that it was Chuck, not a reporter, or some stranger.

“Looking for your pants?” Chuck asked snidely. “You left them down at the poolside last night. I made sure that those new friends of yours didn’t take any of your credit cards or cash.”

He held out the hotel key card. I snatched it from his fingers, not in the mood to be lectured for drinking the night before an exhibition. I pushed the door to my room open but turned to glare at Chuck as he followed me in.

“I need some sleep,” I said. “Get the fuck out.”

“We’ve got problems, JJ. Big problems. All because of your stunt last night.”

“What stunt?”

“You know which stunt I’m talking about,” Chuck snapped, tossing a paper into my chest. “Here. Read this headline. It’s just one of many headlines that are going to follow you around all day.”

I peered down at the grainy image of me and that girl from the bar. Shit. That was all I could think of as I stared down at the headline. Jude Jacobs parties the night before the start of the Games.

“Shit,” I said.

“Indeed.” Chuck scowled at me as he took the paper back. “This was not what I wanted to deal with today, you know. I have to do damage control but also assure the officials that you are sober enough to get on that bike.”

“I am sober enough,” I insisted, even though my head was still swimming sideways. “Just let me get in the shower, get a few hours of sleep, and—”

“You don’t have time for a nap to nurse your hangover,” Chuck said. “We are meeting with Nike here in two hours for that endorsement contract. Remember?”

I smoothed a hand over my greasy hair with a grimace. “Fine. I’ll settle on a really strong energy drink and coffee, then. I need to shower.”

“Good idea,” Chuck replied, eyeing me with disgust. “You stink, man. You smell like chlorine, alcohol, vomit, and cigarettes.”

“That’s what I feel like, too. All of those combined.”

“Sober up. Take a shower. I’ll get the coffee for you.”

The hot blast of water against my face felt good. I spent the next twenty minutes slouched over in the shower, trying to piece the entire night back together. The memories were too fuzzy. The only thing I could think of was the fight with Ava two nights ago but I had also ended up passing out in her room. It all started and ended with her. There was no doubt about that.

I dialed the number for Ava’s room after I dressed for the day. She answered on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry about last night,” I said, rubbing a hand over my face. “I’m sorry for showing up to your room like that. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You shouldn’t have been drinking last night at all,” Ava said tersely. “You realize how stupid you were behaving yesterday?’

My bad mood worsened drastically. Given that it was Ava’s stubbornness causing all this drama, I didn’t appreciate being lectured by her for trying to get past the drama of it.

“Do you even realize what you’re doing to me?” I asked.

“What am I doing to you?”

“You’re fucking with my head with all these games that you’re playing.”

“I’m not playing games, Jude. You’re playing a game in your own head.”

“Whatever,” I snapped, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Look, there are headlines going around. I need this article to be done right because it’ll save me some bad press. I don’t even know where that picture came from.”

“Probably from one of your fans,” Ava supplied sarcastically. “Fake boob job, by the way. That blonde you were with last night looks like she’s barely over the age of eighteen, and she already has a fake boob job. That’s sad.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I like your boobs better than anybody else’s.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better at all. Inappropriate. We agreed to keep this professional.”

“I never agreed to it,” I said. “You were the one who laid those terms down. I don’t agree with any of it.”

“Have a nice exhibition, Jude. I’ll see you in the stands. That’s it.”

She hung up before I could say anything else. Chuck was waiting impatiently for me in the hallway with a couple of Advil and a large coffee. The smell of it made my stomach churn but I forced myself to take the Advil. I took a large gulp, and coffee scorched the back of my throat.

Chuck led me to the elevator, and we went down to the lobby.

“There is a large group of press outside the hotel right now,” Chuck said, texting on his phone quickly. “Don’t even stop to talk to anyone. Got it? I’ll handle all this shit. That’s what you pay me to do.”

“I’m pretty sure that I pay you to be quiet,” I snapped, resting my head against the mirror behind me. “Fuck. My head is splitting open. I’m sure of it.”

“Good lesson for you to not turn into an alcoholic the night before a show.”

“Shut the hell up.”

The elevator doors dinged open. There was a commotion of cameras flashing, followed by questions. I flipped my sunglasses down to fend off the bright flashes and to hide the fact that I wanted to smash those damn things. I climbed up into the bus without waiting for Chuck, and I collapsed on the couch next to the windows. I drew the shades down when I heard the cameras clicking outside.

“Madhouse,” I growled, tossing an arm over my eyes. “Where’s Ava?”

“She can find her own way to the arena,” Chuck replied as the bus door closed behind me. “Don’t worry about her. That’s what got you into this damn mess today.”

I didn’t even bother arguing with that. The next few hours ticked by slowly in front of cameras and representatives for different companies. Nothing from the night before was mentioned. Whether that came from Chuck’s magic or not, I had no idea. I faked smiles for fans, even though my head was throbbing. I had no idea where Ava was. By the time the evening rolled around, I was just fucking grateful to be putting on my racing clothes and gear to get the entire day over with.

My hands trembled when I wiped down the front of my helmet with a paper towel in the entrance facing the starting line. Nerves bubbled in my stomach. The intensity of the shouting didn’t help my headache any. All day long, it stuck around to torment me. It made me want to have another drink just to get rid of this shitty feeling.

Or was it Ava doing that?

I shoved the thought away as I slipped my helmet on. The announcer said my name. The crowd went ballistic with cheers as I revved up the engine. Fuck it. If she wanted to play this game, she could play it. I didn’t care if she came or not.

I drove around the arena to reach up and high-five fans as I always did. I took my spot in front of the starting line and focused on the counter above me, ticking down. I waited for the green light to flash. My eyes floated up to the booth above, and Ava sat in her reserved seat with her press pass around her neck.

A torment of emotions filled me at the sight of her but I didn’t have time to think about any of them. The green light flashed, and I revved the engine, soaring off in the direction of the first hill. I increased the throttle, and the engine vibrated between my thighs. The ground gave away beneath the tires as I guided the bike through the air while I twisted my legs around. Cheers erupted in the air.

I looked over to where Ava was sitting with her hands over her face in horror. A second later I realized the bike had fallen away from me fast. Too fast. I tumbled back down to the dirt, reaching out a hand to somewhat break the fall.

Pain shot up my wrist and arm when I landed hard. I curled up in a ball instinctively, with my head in my arms. I heard my bike crash next to me, barely missing me. Horrified cries filled the arena. My wrist throbbed painfully, and I sat up with a groan. My team rushed to my side to help me up to my feet. Chuck was at my side in an instant.

“You okay, JJ?” he asked worriedly. “Any broken bones?”

“Don’t worry,” I spat out, reaching up to take my helmet off. “Nothing that will keep me from competing in the Games.”

Chuck didn’t respond further. I knew that was all he cared about. I was money to him. I was starting to see my situation the way Ava saw it. It was no longer about the fun and the thrill. It was about money. A few medics swarmed me the second I entered a private, quiet room. They inspected my arm and wrist when the door opened.

“Excuse me—” Chuck started.

“Are you okay?” Ava asked, pushing by Chuck to my side. Tears were in her eyes. “Oh, my God. Please tell me that you are okay. That fall…”

“Just a sprained wrist,” a medic told her. “Nothing is broken. No head injuries.”

“I’m still functional,” I added.

The tears in Ava’s eyes touched me. The past twenty-four hours faded away when she swept a hand over her eyes to wipe away her tears. It occurred to me, then, that her cold facade was to protect herself from situations that reminded her of Andy’s death. I reached out to grab ahold of Ava’s hand.

“Don’t worry about me,” I said. “I’m honestly going to be fine, Ava. It’s nothing bad.”

“It was horrifying! The bike nearly landed on you.”

“I know,” I said grimly. I pulled her close to my side while the medic slid a brace on my wrist. “This is nothing compared to what happened. I’m honestly fine.”

I didn’t care that we were in a room full of people. I pressed a kiss against Ava’s hand. The fear in her eyes was motivated by her conflicting emotions toward me. I looked up to find Chuck’s narrowed eyes on us.

“Get a flight out to Las Vegas tomorrow,” I said. “For Ava and me both. We aren’t driving with you and the bus tonight. Extend my stay at the hotel, too.”

“I don’t think that’s money we should be spending,” Chuck replied tightly. “We can—”

“It’s my fucking money,” I snapped. “And I’m not going anywhere tonight. You and the bus can go. I’ll fly in to Vegas tomorrow afternoon for the next show.”

Chuck’s lips thinned, but he didn’t bother arguing with me. He left the room to do what I asked. I looked up to find Ava’s eyes fixated on the door with a frown tugging at her lips.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “He’ll get over his pissy mood.”

“I don’t think he will,” Ava said.

Something in her voice suggested she knew something, but I didn’t get a chance to ask. Both of us were swept up in conversation about my wrist and the next twenty-four hours.