Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“I’m not ensnared, whatever the hell that means. Don’t ever accuse me of being like the women fainting at his feet or freaking out because he steps onto a stage holding a guitar. That’s not me, and you damn well know it.”
“I see you look at him.”
“You don’t see shit.” She lifted her bag onto her shoulder, bearing its heavier weight after overstuffing it with her new clothes and shoes.
“Then why won’t you believe me? He killed them. His family helped cover it up. Sent him off … and I never knew where he went, but I do now. They changed his name and his image and gave him a new life. Money did that. Money buys freedom from accountability. Money buys fame. Money erases guilt … if he ever even felt any guilt.”
“No …” Jersey shook her head and turned toward him. “Eight years ago, almost nine. That’s when they were killed. Ian said he’s been performing for over ten years. What you’re saying doesn’t add up. I’m not calling you a liar. I’m just saying you’re not remembering correctly. You’re piecing things together the wrong way.”
“You’re taking his side. Wow … you’ve known him for all of twenty-four hours and you’re—”
“His side?” She gasped before laughing. “There are no sides. There can’t be sides until you can prove your point.”
“You said it yourself.” Chris jumped to his feet and paced the room. He paced more than tigers at the zoo. “You said you wanted to destroy … to kill the person who did that to Dena and Charles. Well, fate just dealt you the winning ticket, Jers. He’s so fucking untouchable to the rest of the world—bodyguards, security, a village of people keeping constant tabs on him. But by some miracle … fucking fate, Jersey … you’re in his life. A homeless girl from Newark has access to one of the world’s biggest rock stars. And not just access, you have his attention. You’ve been alone with him on more than one occasion in less than twenty-four. Fucking. Hours!”
“Chris …” She felt bad for him. The PTSD. The nightmares. The paranoia. The assholes who had made fun of him the night before. Jersey was homeless and had been homeless for over eight years, but she knew how she got there. She knew every hideous detail of her past. And her past most likely involved bigger monsters than Chris had ever encountered.
However, she couldn’t imagine losing her memory, no matter how awful some of her memories were. And for that reason, she refused to give up on Chris.
Max knocked on the door. Chris picked up his department store bags, a disappointed frown pinned to his face. She had disappointed him. Jersey didn’t feel bad about much. Years of abuse followed by years of surviving on her own left her emotionally crippled and calloused, but Chris affected her. She felt something real with him. They shared a vulnerability as much as they shared a survival instinct.
“I’ll see what I can get.”
Chris paused before opening the door. “Get?”
“Out of Ian. I’ll fish for something that tells me you’re right about him. And I’m sorry I can’t blindly trust you on this. It’s not you personally. It’s your memory I don’t know if I can totally trust. I just can’t target a man—this man—risking so much without being absolutely sure.”
After a few seconds of studying her, maybe gauging her honesty, he nodded.
“And he didn’t seem to recognize you at all. That doesn’t feel right.”
Chris’s face collapsed into a sullen expression.
Jersey shook her head. “You know what I mean. Your eyes, your voice … something about you has to be the same. Right?”
He continued to frown. Of course, he didn’t know.
“Ready?” Max greeted them with all smiles when Chris opened the door. She tapped her watch. “Let’s get out of here.”
They followed Max to the elevators.
“There’s room for you on one of the buses, after the concert tonight. Are you good with that or are you two …” Max’s gaze bounced between Jersey and Chris as the elevator descended to the lobby.
Chris ignored Jersey when she turned to him for an answer.
“No. I’m not fucking Jersey. Look at me for Christ’s sake. Only a blind woman would have sex with me, and even then … only if I paid her. The bus is fine.”
Jersey drew her head back and winced as his words pulled a bitter smile from her. Her gaze dropped to her feet until they reached the lobby. She liked Chris, finding comfort in his friendship. Not caring about his skin. She didn’t think of him like anything more than a brother. And she wanted to believe it wasn’t based on his injuries. Just like she wanted to believe the flutter in her tummy around Ian wasn’t because he looked like a god.