“I’M HOME!” I announce as I open the front door. “Daddy? Mom?” I call out, dropping my bags in the foyer. The house is unusually quiet for the middle of the afternoon, and that has me feeling a little uneasy. A few seconds later, Bass—pronounced ‘Base’—my bodyguard, comes through the door with the rest of my bags. “How’s he doing, B?”
“He’s hanging in there, Princess.” He jerks his chin toward the stairs. “They’re upstairs.”
I race up to my parents’ room and find them on their king-size bed. My mom is lying on her side with her head resting on my dad’s chest, arm curled around his waist, and leg hooked over both of his thighs, holding onto him as if he’s being pulled away from her. My dad croons their favorite love song, “I Love You,” while running his fingers through her hair.
This right here is what true love looks like.
It’s beautiful. And heartbreaking.
Most kids would probably be horrified at the sight of their parents being affectionate with one another, but I’m not most kids. I think it’s amazing that, after twenty years of marriage, they’re still in love.
Maybe it’s because I’m still swooning over Zach, my longtime childhood crush. The same boy I just spent two of the most amazing weeks of my life with in St. Thomas.
Maybe it’s because I believe in fairy tales and that every princess gets her prince… or princess.
Hey, I don’t judge.
But if I’ve learned one thing in the past two years, it’s that fairy tales don’t always end with a happily ever after. Because, in this particular real-life fairy tale, Emerson’s prince—my dad—is dying.
It’s been two years since the doctors discovered my father’s inoperable brain tumor. My parents have accepted his fate. I, on the other hand, have not.
“Hey,” I say, pulling their attention to me before pushing off the doorframe and making my way over to their bed. Bending down, I give both a kiss and perch on the edge of the bed.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, running my fingers through my father’s short, dark hair.
He reaches for my hand and brings it to his chest, placing it over his heart, and covering it with his other hand. “Just a little tired,” he answers with a wink.
My father, Marcus King, lead singer of the rock band, Royal Mayhem, is loved by all because he’s charismatic and talented. His Latin charm, handsome features, and tattoos give him that bad-boy rock star image, making him popular with the females. He’s my dad, but I’m not blind; he’s a good-looking man. But he’s no bad-boy.
As a celebrity, he’s one of the most down-to-earth and genuine people in the industry. He’s even earned the nickname “The Gentleman of Rock ‘n’ Roll” in the tabloids. As the front man of Royal Mayhem, and America’s favorite judge on America’s Voice, he has a wide fan base.
However, his number one fan is and will always be me.
“Did you have a good time?”
I always have a good time in St. Thomas, and recently, it’s become one of my favorite places. “You’re my girl, Jay,” Zach’s whispered words have been on constant replay in my head since I boarded the plane back to California.
I was just a few months shy of turning six, the first time I met Zach and his brother, Logan. It was the beginning of an annual summer tradition, and my first vacation, with my grandparents and cousins, Dylan and Cole. Zach and Logan, came with their grandparents, who happen to be my grandparents’ closest friends.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t go every summer because my life revolved around concerts, tours, interviews, award shows, and all the other fun stuff that comes with being the child of a rock star.
However, I looked forward to those vacations where I got to be a normal kid, and hang out with my grandparents, cousins, and their friends. No bodyguard. No looking over my shoulder for cameras. Not that there would be cameras since no one really knows who I am, but still….
Just normal.
Turns out this summer, it was just Zach and me. My cousins, Dylan, Cole, and Aiden, stayed in Heritage Bay, and Zach’s brother, Logan, was wrapped up in summer college classes. Our vacation couldn’t have been more perfect. For two whole weeks, our days were spent either lying on the beach, swimming, fishing, sailing, snorkeling, shopping, golfing, or just exploring the island. And our nights were spent sneaking into each other’s rooms and doing things my parents would not approve of.
“Of course, Daddy,” I say with a smile. “You know how much I love it there.” I pull my phone from my back pocket and tap on the photos app before passing it to him.
Of course, I made sure to delete anything questionable.
Now, Marcus King, my dad, is as overprotective as they come. And for most of my life, he’s kept me on a short leash. Wherever he goes, Mom and I go. And if my parents go somewhere without me, I hang with Bass. My mom has been homeschooling me since day one, and when I’m not studying, I’m writing music or practicing. My friends are limited to the few I grew up with. And boys? Out of the question until I’m thirty.
Mom reaches for my phone. “Is that Zach?”
“Yes.” I smile. I can’t help it.
“Wow. I can’t believe how much he looks like his father.” She looks over at me. “He’s gorgeous, Jayla.” She winks.
Zach is gorgeous with his dark blond hair, bright blue eyes, and perfect smile.
He’s perfect.
My parents know I’ve had a crush on Zach for like ever, but as far as they know, it’s innocent—just like me. And we’ll leave it at that because it would crush me to see them disappointed. Luckily, having a mom in PR, I’ve learned to keep my facial expressions neutral.
When my dad’s eyebrows skyrocket to his hairline, I know it’s because he’s found the picture of me kissing Zach on the cheek. And yeah, he’s not happy.
“Daddy, stop,” I say softly. “I’m sixteen, not six. And it’s just a kiss on the cheek.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He narrows his eyes. “It doesn’t matter if you’re six, sixteen, or twenty-six. You’re beautiful and sweet and I worry about boys taking advantage of you. I was his age once, and I know exactly what I was thinking and doing.” Gross. “Tell me he kept his hands to himself.”
“Oh my God! Daddy, it wasn’t like that,” I lie.
He smirks, giving me that “you’re so full of shit” look. “There isn’t a boy in this world good enough for you. Not even Zach.”
“Stop it, Marcus,” Mom says, playfully smacking him on the chest. “My dad said the same thing to me about you after we eloped. You proved yourself and now I’m pretty sure they like you more than me.”
My dad chuckles. “They do.”
Taking my phone back, I say, “You guys never gave me this much crap about Zach before.”
“You didn’t have boobs before,” Mom teases.
I hold up my hand. “Please stop.”
Dad groans. “Yes, Em. For the love of God, please stop. My heart can’t take it.”
“Get over it, Marcus. And Jayla, stop lying. You have the same love-struck look on your face every time you come home after spending time with Zach.” My mother’s bullshit meter is on point today. “You’re in love. It’s written all over your face,” Mom says with a laugh.
My dad jerks his face down to hers. “She better not be.”
“I am not!” I lie again. I totally love him. “Yes, he’s gorgeous.” I roll my eyes. “I’m not blind. But we’re friends.” That is the truth. Being anything more than friends right now isn’t an option. “Zach and I were talking, and we were wondering what happened between you and his mom, Elizabeth?”
Mom’s smile disappears. “Why?” she snaps.
Wow. Okay.
“Because the Parkers are family,” I explain. It’s true.
My Mimi and Zach’s grandma, Kate have been friends for nearly sixty years. The Parkers are not only my grandparents’ closest friends, but they’re godparents to my mom and her two brothers, Max and Liam.
Growing up, my mom and Zach’s mom, Elizabeth, were best friends all the way through high school until they got into a fight and ended their friendship. Even after twenty years, neither of them will say what their fight was about.
However, my mom’s youngest brother, Liam, and the Parker’s youngest son, Cam, have been inseparable since they were babies and somehow ended up on the same MLB team. How does that even happen?
“Settle down, Em.” Dad chuckles. “It’s a valid question. I’m surprised it hasn’t come up sooner.”
Mom blows out a breath. “Sorry. I try not to think about my life before I moved to California and married your dad. Elizabeth and I were best friends—sisters, basically. We had a misunderstanding, and it turned out that she wasn’t the person I thought she was. Elizabeth got pregnant with Logan right after we graduated high school, married Mike, Logan and Zach’s father, and started her family. I moved to California for college and a fresh start.” She shrugs. “We both moved on with our lives and never looked back. It’s been over twenty years and nothing’s changed. She still hates me. She’s never wanted me around her boys, which is why I’ve never met them and why your father and I don’t come with you on vacation. It’s also the reason why the Parkers have never brought Zach and Logan to our home. If your grandparents and the Parkers hadn’t kept their friendship going all these years, you probably would have never met Zach and Logan.”
Thank God for long-lasting friendships.
“I’m sure Mimi and Grandma Kate would’ve helped you and Elizabeth work it out. Maybe if you had, we’d all be spending our summer vacations together.”
Mom shakes her head. “I love my mother, and Kate, but it was between Liz and me. I’d never let our drama cause a rift in their friendship. Too many people would be hurt by that. Besides….” She tilts her head and smiles up at my dad. “If Mimi and Kate had gotten involved, I never would’ve met this guy.”
True story.
My parents met on the plane the day my mom left Heritage Bay for California. They spent the whole flight talking, and, it wasn’t until they landed at LAX that she realized she’d been talking to the Marcus King the entire time. My dad said it was fate that brought them together, and he knew, without a doubt, he was going to marry her. And less than a week later, he did.
My grandparents were pissed that their only daughter had run off with a rock star and eloped. Luckily, things worked out because my grandparents absolutely love my father. Not because of his celebrity status, but because he’s a good man, and he loves the hell out of my mother. And me.
I shift my gaze to my dad. “I told Zach about you,” I admit. His brows pull inward, and a confused expression crosses his face. “Not about the cancer,” I quickly clarify. “He told me his dad was a lawyer and wanted to know about you.” I shrug. “I told him you were a rock star.” I snort, remembering the look on Zach’s face. “He thought I was kidding. You should’ve seen the look on his face when he realized my dad was the Marcus King of Royal Mayhem.”
“I assumed he already knew.”
I shake my head. “You told me I wasn’t allowed to talk about our family.”
Dad laughs. “I meant to the media.”
“It probably would’ve never come up if the other boys had been there. All they talk about is football and girls.”
“It’s fine, Jay,” Mom cuts in. “It’s not like people don’t know who you are. The media just hasn’t figured it out yet. Hell, for the first three years of our marriage, everyone thought I was just your dad’s PR rep. They had no idea we were a couple until the paparazzi snapped a photo of us holding hands while I was pregnant.”
That’s when my dad hired Bass as his head of security. Mom and Bass met freshman year at UCLA, and after he was injured playing football, which took him out of the game, Dad hired him as a bodyguard for Mom. He’s been with us ever since. Bass has always been more than just a bodyguard; he’s my mom’s best friend, and my dad’s right-hand man. He’s family.
“I’m gonna go unpack.” I lean over and kiss my dad once more before standing up from the bed and heading for the door. “Weenie’s on her way over.”
“Evangeline,” he chides. “You two are too old to be using those ridiculous nicknames.” Ha! Never. I’ve been calling Evangeline, my best friend, “Weenie” since I was seven because I had a hard time pronouncing Evangeline. My dad hates it. Obviously. I do it more out of habit now than anything.
“Jaybird,” my dad calls. I pause at the door and turn around. “Before I forget, I scheduled an interview for you next month with Miles Townsend from Rhythm & Riffs magazine.”
“Why?”
“The album,” he drawls out slowly like a smartass, as if I’d forgotten.
Off the top of my head, I can name six things I inherited from my dad: his height, his eyes, his olive skin, his talent, his sense of humor, and his quick wittedness, which sometimes borders on the side of smartass.
Did I mention he’s a smartass?
Like I’d ever forget. The new Royal Mayhem album, Jaybird, which I co-wrote with my dad, and named after me, is expected to release sometime in the early spring of next year. We spent the last year and a half working on that album. I’m still recovering from the long, agonizing hours working in the studio.
“I figured that much, but why are you letting him? I thought I wasn’t allowed to talk to reporters.”
“You’re not. Miles is a writer, and he interviews all my new artists at King Records. He’s also an old friend. I trust him with you.”
“Okay.” I shrug. “If you trust him, then so do I.”
“And we’re not done talking about Zach,” he quickly adds.
I scoff. “Yes, we are. Bye. Love you. Mean it.”