Page 17 of For Wrath and Redemption
Jonah Hendrix is a PR disaster. Drinking. Drugs. Fighting. Random and indiscreet sexual relations. The stories are endless, and while I don’t usually put much merit on gossip columns, the photo evidence was enough to make me blush. There was even a grainy photo of what I’m pretty sure was half of his ass while he screwed someone in a dark alleyway.
Curiously, the scandals have become less frequent over the last year or so. There was still the occasional “exclusive story” about sexual encounters from anonymous sources, or photos of Jonah getting wasted at clubs, but it hasn’t been a daily occurrence for a while. It almost makes what he did last night—God, how was it only last night?—seem worse.
Something tells me he was trying to clean up his act on his own, but his mother’s death derailed his progress. I can only imagine the pain he’s in, and I’m probably just adding to it by being here.
The look on his face when I introduced myself...
Rage.
Rage andshame.
For a moment, I hurt for him. I empathized. I wanted to apologize and reassure him that it will be okay.
But then he became a condescending asshole, and all my concerns went up in smoke.
I can’t deny that he’s intriguing. I’m drawn to him in the way I would be drawn to the storyline in a mystery or thriller book. But if the tabloids hadn’t confirmed it, the exchange in his hotel room did: Jonah Hendrix is going to be a pain in my ass, and I am in way over my head.
I don’t manage public relations for celebrities, especially not defiant, uncooperative, infuriating rock stars like this one. I do digital marketing and rebranding for companies who’ve sought out my help. That’s where my experience lies. That’s what I’m good at, and the two specialties couldn’t be more different.
Once on the plane, I take an empty seat with every intention of stewing in silence when the lead singer sits across from me with a welcoming smile.
“Hey. In all the commotion, we didn’t get a chance to introduce ourselves properly. This is Mabel, and I’m Savannah. You can call me Sav.”
Sav sticks her hand out just as Mabel plops down into the seat next to her. I give Mabel a nod, then take Sav’s hand in a light shake.
“Hi. I’m Claire. You can call me Claire.”
Sav laughs. It’s husky and contagious, coaxing a laugh of my own to the surface. Then she leans closer and lowers her voice, flicking her eyes over my shoulder quickly before returning her attention to me. I mirror her posture, readying for a private conversation. Or as private as you can get on a sixteen-passenger jet.
“We’re really grateful you’re doing this. I know it was last minute and probably overwhelming, but if you need anything, you just ask.”
Mabel nods in agreement. “Anything you need, we got you. Come to any of us. Me, Sav, Ham, or Torren. Hell, even Levi or Callie will be able to help.”
“Levi and Callie?” Torren and Hammond, I know. Levi and Callie are names I don’t recognize.
“Levi’s my boyfriend,” Sav clarifies, “and Callie is Torren’sgirlfriend. We left them in Paris, but they’ll be meeting us in Stockholm.”
“They’re on tour with us, so you’ll get to know them pretty well. No worries. They’re great. We don’t hang out with dicks.” Mabel smirks at Sav. “Well, except Jonah.”
Sav laughs again and gives me a shrug. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay,” I say with a sigh. “It’s obvious that he’s not happy with my being here, and I can understand that. But I meant it when I said I’m prepared. There’s nothing he can throw at me that I can’t handle.”
My chest tightens when Sav’s brow furrows, and she exchanges a cryptic glance with Mabel. “Just remember that you can come to us about anything. He didn’t lie. It’s not going to be easy.”
“Jonahisn’t easy,” Mable interjects. “But know that you’re appreciated and supported, and...well, as cliché as it sounds, there’s a really good guy under all the...”
She trails off, so I finish for her. “Anger?”
Sav and Mabel both nod.
“Right. Well, thanks for the support and appreciation. I’ll definitely come to you if I need anything.”
Sav gives me a soft smile, then leans back in her seat. I take it as my cue that the conversation is over, rest my head on the seatback and close my eyes.
Jonah isn’t easy, Mabel had said.
I’d gathered as much since learning that he was Conrad’s son, but hearing it from a bandmate just adds to my fraying nerves.
