The hard reality of having a relationship with a Hollywood superstar didn’t take long to reveal itself, but I was committed. I put up with the unrelenting intrusions into our privacy. Into my privacy.
My weight, my hair, my skin, my clothes, my work, my routine, my friendships, my fucking trash. It was all up for grabs. It was all examined, inspected, scrutinised. I was found lacking in so many ways. They didn’t think a girl from Australia who carried a little more weight than Hollywood girls, and who didn’t get her hair styled daily was good enough for their heartthrob.
I didn’t give them the satisfaction of buying into any of it. Not even when it all got to me. And it did get to me. Often. However, I held my head high and trusted in our love. I trusted that Jack loved me to the ends of the earth and would always look after me.
When it all came crashing down, I cried, and I screamed, and I collapsed into a heap. But in a way, I breathed a sigh of relief that the invasion of my privacy was over.
“Christ,” Jack mutters as we exit his property out onto the road.
There doesn’t seem to be any less paparazzi here today. More maybe. They’re ready for us, probably because the security presence alerted them to the fact we were on our way out. However, they don’t get too close because Axe’s men have the situation under control.
Jack and I fall in line behind the SUV that leads the way. Jack gave them our running route and Axe put one SUV out front and one at the back. Two guys run behind us.
“You good?” Jack asks a few minutes into the run.
“Yes, but I’m unsure why you’re running next to me.”
He arches a brow at me. “We’re done with that,” he says in a very bossy tone, and it more than annoys me that I let him get away with it, but I do. I blame my lack of sleep.
“Do you think that six security men is a little excessive?”
“No.”
“Seriously, anyone would think we’ve got precious cargo or something here.”
He looks at me, holding my gaze for a long moment. “We do.”
When Jack says things like this to me, with that look in his eyes—the one that says he loves me and never stopped loving me—it does one of two things to me. It either softens my hard edges or it causes them to fortify. Today, with all these memories bewildering me, and with my stance on not accepting his friendship request, my heart goes with option two.
I don’t respond to what he says. I want to. I want to tell him there’s no precious cargo in sight, and that he should stop looking at me like that, but I don’t. It will only encourage him. So I stay quiet, and I lose myself in the steady rhythm of running.
Jack doesn’t push me to talk, which is a very smart move on his behalf.
We run for an hour and a half, and when we get back to his place I don’t bother stopping outside to stretch. I head straight into my bathroom and stretch there before showering.
I then eat breakfast and set myself up for work at his dining table again after making sure he’s aware that he should not stay inside with me.
Jack doesn’t argue with any of this.
He gives me what I request.
But even I know that him doing this doesn’t signal his retreat.
No, Jack’s one of the smartest men I know.
He might not be as loud about it as Ashton is when he takes charge, but I know not to mistake any of his current moves as anything but him assuming control.
I just need to survive three more days of him. After that, I’ll put all the distance between me and his moves.
12
Jack
“If you tell me I need to do an interview, we’re done,” I say to Rose after breakfast when we discuss the plan forward for my PR.
“No, no interview. You sit tight and do your thing. The mystery of it all will work in our favour. I’ll organise some well-placed stories that will help you. Now, let’s discuss the next couple of years. What’s your goal?”
“I don’t know. And I’m aware that’s unhelpful, but it’s the most honest answer I have for you right now.”
“Honest is my favourite type of answer. Would it be a correct assumption that you’re questioning life right now? Questioning which direction you want to take your career?”
I stare out over the river my property sits on and breathe in the calm it always instils in me. The river was the selling point for me. Whenever my mind is a racing, dark mess, water helps quiet it. The ocean is my preference, but any body of water is good.
I rake my fingers through my hair. “You and I are going to get on well, Rose.”
“Because?”
“Because you’re the first publicist who hasn’t ordered me to do a fucking interview. And who prefers my honesty.” I exhale a breath. “I don’t know if I have it in me to do the bullshit that’s required to have this career anymore. At the same time, I don’t want to do anything but act, so I find myself in the middle of a fucking crisis.”
“It’s only a crisis if you let it be a crisis.”
“Fuck, my therapist would like you.”
“My job is to help you navigate this stuff, Jack.”
“I’ve never known a publicist to do anything but tell me to get my shit together and stop causing them headaches.”
“I might tell you that one day, but my view is that if I can help my clients get their shit together, I won’t ever have to actually tell them to do just that. Now, while we ride this storm out, I want you to do some digging and draw up a list of dream projects. Think about the kind of work you might be interested in. I won’t hold you to any of it, but the point is to brainstorm and question yourself. It’ll be our starting point for when we get together in a month.”
“Get together in a month?” Nothing has been mentioned about this.
“Yes. We can meet earlier if you want, but I’m putting an end date on this part of our journey together.”
“I may need to retract my earlier statement about us getting on well. I’m not following a word of what you’re saying now. This part of our journey together?”
“The part where I give you space to get your head around working with me. After that, I don’t care what you tell me you’ve decided to do with your career, I only care that you tell me something and we begin working towards it. If we’re not working towards something, Jack, there’s no point to this relationship.”
My personality rejects rules, guidelines, orders. However, for some reason that’s always unknown to me, the right person issuing those orders has a shot at getting me to listen. It turns out Rose might be one of those people.
“I’ll bring my list,” I say.
“Good. Now, we need to discuss your management. What are your plans there?”
“Fuck,” I mutter. I liked not having a manager for a week. “No plans yet.”
“I’ll send you a shortlist. I don’t care if you ignore it, but if you don’t have a manager by the time we meet, well there’s no point meeting.”
“Right.” I’m not convinced we’ll be meeting after all.
“Jack,” she says, her tone a little less stern than a moment ago, “I get it. You need a time out. And you should take it. But I’ve watched clients come and go over the years because they couldn’t manage the spotlight. You’ve managed it for over a decade, while navigating your mental health and addictions. Most wouldn’t last anywhere near as long as you have if they had to deal with what you’ve dealt with. You have talent, but most importantly, you have grit and resilience. It’s time to draw on those things and figure this out. Your happiness depends on it. And so does your career if that’s what you decide you want to keep.”