I want to see your fall from grace

I want to see your angel face

smashed to pieces, blown to bits

Your lies can't hurt me any more

I'm not the ones who came before

I’m not your toy, not your boy

I'm still here

I'm still here

I'm still standing

I'm still here

His voice started in growls, low and deep. He stretched his arm out into the crowd, and dozens of hands scrambled to touch his tattoo sleeves. The memory of him massaging my shoulders with those hands unwillingly came flooding back, making my heart race.

From where I stood, I could only see the first few rows—but they seemed at least as hysterical as the crowd in New York. That show had been in a bar packed almost to bursting, a room that could barely contain Jax’s seductive energy. Here, the venue was bigger. No one was having an orgasm, at least as far as I could see, but the screams were almost deafening.

"He really is incredible," a female voice said nearby. I turned to see a curly-haired venue staff member licking her lips, her eyes locked on Jax’s still silhouette.

Sweat dripped from Jax’s forehead as five thousand fans roared for more. It was hard to deny the appeal. "Yeah. I guess he is," I said, surprising myself with my response. I’d been trying to avoid him all day and yet here I was, watching him from backstage, mesmerized by his performance.

Jax, stalking across stage, came to a sudden halt as did the music. He stayed in position for a few moments, still and silent. The lights dimmed, and the crowd’s manic cheers trailed to a hush. Almost imperceptibly at first, slow, quiet notes emerged from Kev’s guitar. One at a time, then closer together, the notes began to form a haunting, lonely melody, bringing a round of quiet applause from the audience. Jax’s arms fell back to his guitar and he pulled his body inward.

A single yellow-orange light glowed warmly on him. His voice dropped almost to a whisper as he sang into the microphone.

The city moon was full

on the night I met you first

we were heading for disaster right away

We wished on falling stars above

but now I know too well

Nothing holds up to the savage light of day

You can't know who I have been

Your love can never be true

We wear masks til our faces fade out

And someday your mask becomes you.

His voice stayed quiet, but with hoarse undertones of restrained urgency that made it seem like he could cry out at any moment. The notes pierced into me, hitting something deep inside my chest. My arms hugged against my torso, tight.

I’d never seen him quite like this. At the first Hitchcocks concert, Jax had been intensely seductive, animalistic, strutting around the stage like he owned it. Now, it was like he’d melded with the music. I couldn’t deny my physical attraction to him, but now, I was finding myself strangely wanting him even more. He wasn’t just a pretty face—or a gorgeous body—or even just an incredible voice. He was a passionate soul.

I couldn’t help noticing the effect he had on the crowd here and the one that night at the Wallabee. It was so extraordinary that I decided to put a name to it: The Jax Effect. And, for the first time, I felt myself starting to truly surrender to it in spite of my best efforts.

His voice was pure sex, compressed into its most elemental form, and listening to it made me unable to think of anything else. I craved Jax’s strong hands. I ached with need for his lips on mine. I found myself wishing that I could just run onto the stage and kiss him, imagining his powerful arms encircling me, his mouth hungry and eager as our tongues twisted together.

The crowd stood at rapt attention as the chorus approached, silent, completely changed from their frenzy of a few minutes before. The sudden silence was almost a sound in itself. It was like Jax had cast a spell on the entire audience, and no one was immune.

The chorus started, and Jax tilted his head back in pure rock ecstasy. His vocal cords soared into the top of their range, screaming with passionate intensity. Fireworks lit off, one after another, exploding into fiery blossoms behind his taut form.

His hands gripped the neck of his guitar roughly, and I couldn’t help but remember his strong fingers driving me wild as they pressed into my skin. I had a sudden flash of fantasy: bound in his arms, his fingers stroking my body with the passion and precision of a guitar solo. A massive firework blast fired right behind Jax as he changed keys and went into the song’s last chorus.

Breathe, Riley, I told myself as my daydreams took over despite my best intentions. Just keep breathing.

As Kev struck the final guitar chord, Jax stood in the bright arena lights like the rock god he was: arms out, eyes closed, face relaxed. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. Butterflies cascaded through my stomach, and I felt my toes curling and clinging to the soles of my flats.

It’s just a song, Riley, I tried to tell myself. It’s nothing to get worked up over. But not everyone could sing the way Jax did. His voice had been so grief-stricken, so forlorn, that it sounded like he was experiencing heartbreak for the first time. I tried focusing on the other members of the band. If I was going to watch the show, I owed it to myself not to let the Jax Effect turn me into a brainwashed fangirl.

It only made the rest of the show a little bit easier. By the time the encore was over, I felt like I’d been put through an emotional wringer. The band stood basking in the applause, and I couldn’t help reassessing my opinion of Jax.

Maybe I’d misjudged him. Maybe he was a deep human being who didn’t only have sex on his mind.

I stepped off to the side, preparing for the band to leave the stage without noticing me back here.

As Kev, Chewie, and Sky began to walk over, Jax lingered, taking the microphone one last time. "I just want to give a final shoutout tonight. This goes out to that special girl out there who goes ‘til she’s sore. Let me tell you something, Pepper: it’s your move."

What?!

My hand flew to my open mouth. Blood rushed to my face. I couldn’t believe my ears. He was toying with me.

My head shook in disbelief. Before it had just been between the two of us, but now he was involving thousands of people into this tug of war game. All just so he could get into my pants? I began to realize that I couldn’t just avoid or ignore Jax anymore. Doing so only escalated the situation. I already had trouble focusing on my work because of him, and if he kept raising the stakes, it’d be damn near impossible.

Hiding behind another curtain, I watched the band come backstage. Chewie and Kev wasted no time getting a groupie apiece, and Sky had not one, but two hot guys fawning over her. Jax followed them, but noticeably without any groupies accompanying him. They all went into the green room together, overflowing bottles of champagne in hand. A moment after the door shut behind them, I heard through the door what sounded like a dozen people laughing.

But I wasn’t laughing. I was worried. I had to put a stop to Jax’s pursuit before things got out of hand.

Chapter Nine

ARRANGEMENTS

The next morning, the pain hit before I even opened my eyes. The muscles all around my back ached from sleeping on the hard-as-a-rock couch. I groaned, turning over onto my side for some relief. Just my luck. First the button-making, now the couch. What else was going to go wrong?

I groggily picked my phone off the floor and looked at the time. Damn it. 6:30 AM. I was hundreds of miles and a time zone away from my New York office, but my body apparently hadn’t gotten the memo. I’d slept less than four hours. Was this how it was going to be for the whole two week assignment?