Jax (A Bastard Novel)

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Books By J. L. Perry

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Epilogue

  Preview of Bastard

  Hachette Australia

  Copyright

  This book is dedicated to Anna and Mellena –

  the Twisted Sisters.

  Thank you for inspiring me to write Jax’s story.

  I hope I do him justice.

  To Candy, Rachel and Sophia, from the bottom of

  my heart, thank you! I’d be lost without you.

  BOOKS BY J. L. PERRY

  My Destiny – Book 1

  My Forever – Book 2

  Damaged – Jacinta’s Story – Book 3

  Against All Odds – Angel’s Story – Book 4

  •

  Bastard – Book 1

  Luckiest Bastard – The Novella – Book 2

  Jax – Book 3

  •

  Hooker

  Nineteen Letters (coming soon)

  Sometimes the one thing you need to feel

  complete is right there in front of you

  … just waiting for you to realise.

  JAX

  The past …

  ‘WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?’ MY FATHER SNAPS AS I walk down the stairs, heading for the front door.

  ‘Out.’ I’m nineteen and an adult. I don’t have to tell him jackshit.

  ‘Not dressed like that you aren’t.’ He waves his hand up and down at me in disgust.

  Here we go a-fuckin’-gain. Is this man ever going to let up? I’ve lived my entire life doing what he’s asked, and I’m tired. I can’t be the person he wants me to be anymore, I just can’t. I’m not cut out to be a politician. That shit may be running through his veins, but it sure as hell ain’t running through mine.

  I scoop up my skateboard from beside the front door, tucking it under my arm. Out of the corner of my eye I see him storming towards me. I know exactly what he’s going to do, he’s done it a million times in the past, and that shit is getting old.

  ‘Get that fucking thing off your head!’ he screams, reaching for my baseball cap.

  I manoeuvre my head to the right and then back to the left, avoiding his attempts to snatch it. There’s a murderous glare in his eyes as he tries one last time.

  ‘You’re an Albright, not some common thug. I won’t have my son walking the streets dressed like that.’

  ‘It’s just a hat. Get the fuck over it.’ I’ve never spoken to my father like that before, I’ve always managed to bite my tongue. When I reach for the doorhandle, he roughly latches onto my arm, tugging me back.

  I think the fact my father’s long awaited plan is finally coming to fruition is the reason for my bad attitude. In two days, I’ll be heading to university. Of course he’s making me study politics, which is the last thing I want. I don’t know why I crave their acceptance so much, but I do. I feel trapped in a world I hate, far removed from the person I want to be. The only plus is I’ll be getting out of this godforsaken town and away from him—away from my whole family. My mother and brother aren’t much better. Sometimes I swear I’m adopted. How can we have the same blood in our veins, yet be nothing alike? Why can’t my father see I’m nothing like him, and no matter how hard he tries, I’ll never be?

  I hate my life.

  ‘You’re an adult now, when are you going to start acting like one?’ he sneers. His fingers dig painfully into my arm.

  ‘One day … maybe.’ I snatch my arm away.

  ‘I’m not finished with you, boy.’

  He may not be finished with me, but I’m sure as hell finished with him. I make a hasty retreat out the door and down the front steps. I drop my skateboard onto the concrete and place my foot on it.

  ‘I don’t know why I wasted my money on that damn car!’ he yells as I skate away.

  When I graduated high school last year, my father asked me what type of car I’d like. All my parents’ friends were buying their kids cars, so naturally we had to keep up with the Joneses. He was persistent, so I told him I wanted a classic, something cool like a 1967 Mustang. I don’t know why he even bothered asking, because he bought me a brand new Alfa-fucking-Romeo. I don’t drive it because it’s the same type of car he has, the type made specifically for pole-stuck-up-their-arse showponies. It just screams, Look at me, I’m a pretentious dickhead. That’s not who I am. Give me my skateboard any day.

  I don’t mean to sound like an ungrateful prick, but material things have never meant much to me. I’d prefer my parents’ love and affection any day. Regardless of what they believe, you can’t buy your kids’ love, or their respect. It needs to be earnt.

  Without even thinking I head to the one place I don’t have to try to be someone I’m not: Candice’s house. She’s not only my Candylicious, blonde, blue-eyed bombshell, she’s my best friend, the only person on this earth who truly gets me. We’re kindred spirits. Like me, she’s a social outcast, and the daughter of a single mother.

  I’ve had a secret crush on Candice since the first day we met. Keeping my hands to myself has been a constant struggle, but I’m not the commitment type. She deserves someone better than me, we’d never last. I’d rather have a life-long friend than a fleeting good time. I’d never want to lose what we have. Candice is the only one who keeps me sane in the fucked-up world I exist in. I honestly don’t know how I’m going to survive the next few years at uni without her.

  ‘Jesus Christ, Sophia, give it a rest. It’s only hair. It’s not the end of the world!’ I hear Candice yell after I knock on her front door. Sounds like she’s having a similar day to me. Who invented parents anyway?

  ‘Whoa!’ I blurt the second she appears in the doorway.

  ‘Great. Not you too.’ Her shoulders slump.

  ‘Hey. I like it,’ I say as my eyes move down the length of her long, very pink hair.

  ‘You do?’

  ‘It’s very Candylicious. Very … you.’ I smile when I see her face light up. I love seeing that look. It never gets old.

  ‘Come in, you dork,’ she says with a light-hearted laugh, reaching for my arm and dragging me into the foyer, ‘and stop calling me that.’

  ‘What, Candylicious?’ I chuckle when she playfully elbows me in the ribs. I’m the only one who’s ever gotten away with calling her by that name. I watched on in amusement when one of the preppy guys at school groped her arse and called her Candylicious: she swung around and grabbed hold of his crotch, hard. I almost pissed myself laughing when his eyes rolled back into his head as he fell to his knees in agony. She’s a top chick, just don’t mess with her.

  ‘Jax. Thank God you’re here.’ Sophia sighs as she rushes into th
e foyer. ‘Look what she’s gone and done.’ I see tears glistening in her eyes as she points to Candice’s hair. Since Sophia is a model, appearance is extremely high on her agenda. She’s constantly having work done to maintain her beauty as she ages. So much so, she could easily pass as Candice’s sister, instead of her mother.

  ‘I like it,’ I say, winking at Candice before looking back to Sophia.

  ‘Great. Of course you would,’ she cries, throwing her arms in the air in defeat. ‘I should’ve known you’d stick up for her. You always do.’

  And that will never change. I’ll always have her back, just like I know she’ll always have mine.

  ‘It’s just hair.’

  ‘Fucking pink hair!’ Sophia screams before covering her face and sobbing. She’s a little on the dramatic side, but she has a good heart. She’s also a great mum. I wish my own mother was more like her.

  ‘I honestly don’t see what the big deal is.’

  Candice shakes her head, giving me a look that has me closing my mouth and not speaking another word. When Sophia lets out a howl, I’m glad I stopped.

  ‘Come,’ Candice says, reaching for my hand and dragging me towards the staircase. ‘I’ll show you what the big deal is.’

  ‘I’m making a hair appointment for you tomorrow, young lady,’ Sophia says as Candice pulls me up the stairs.

  ‘Fine. Make an appointment,’ Candice replies, sarcasm lining her voice, ‘good luck getting me to go.’ Candice not only inherited her mother’s beauty, she also inherited her pig-headedness. They have a fantastic mother–daughter relationship on the whole, but when they have a disagreement—well, let’s just say, it’s explosive.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ Usually we hang out in the games room, or by the pool. An image of Candice’s body in one of those tiny bikinis she wears enters my mind. Do you know how hard it is to be best friends with someone you carry a permanent boner for? Torture is the first word that springs to mind.

  ‘To my room,’ she replies.

  ‘Hell no,’ I say, tugging my hand out of hers. That’s dangerous territory. Me in Candice’s bedroom? Not happening.

  ‘Get over yourself. I just want to show you something. You’re delusional if you think I’m going to attack you or anything.’

  When she puts her finger in her mouth and fakes a gag, I lunge for her, throwing her over my shoulder.

  ‘Jax, put me down!’ she squeals.

  ‘Not until you take that back.’

  ‘Take what back?’ She laughs as I run up the stairs with her.

  ‘That gag.’

  ‘Never,’ she says through her laughter.

  ‘Take it back,’ I demand, bringing my hand down on her arse. It only seems to make her laugh harder. When I get to the top of the landing, I slide her down my body before pinning her to the wall. ‘Take it back.’

  ‘Make me.’ She has that stubborn look in her eyes, and I already know I’ve lost.

  Growling, I bring my face close to hers. Big mistake. We always muck around with each other, but never this up close and personal. Her intoxicating apple scent envelops me, and I can feel her sweet breath on my skin. My heart starts to race. We’re both breathless, and the moment my eyes lock with hers, something shifts between us. The mood goes from playful to serious in a millisecond.

  My face involuntarily moves towards hers. I hear her breath hitch just before our lips connect. Christ, hers are just as soft and sweet as I’d imagined they’d be.

  Reality hits like a bolt of lightning. What in the hell am I doing? Pushing off the wall, I take a step back.

  ‘Fuck. I’m sorry,’ I whisper. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’

  I swear I see hurt flash through her eyes, but it’s gone as quickly as it comes. ‘Don’t be,’ she says with a shrug as she walks away, heading to her bedroom. ‘Are you coming or what?’

  I pause. This is a bad idea, but I don’t want things to be weird between us. That’s the closest we’ve ever come to crossing the line. We can’t cross that line. It’s too risky. And if I walk away now, that’s exactly what it will be—weird. Sighing, I follow her. I don’t have a choice.

  ‘What the?’ I say the second she opens her door. Her bedroom is very pink, just like her hair. But that’s not what surprises me: it’s the huge display cabinets running the entire length of the far wall. Rows and rows of trophies line the shelves. ‘Did you do a ram-raid on a trophy factory?’

  ‘Very funny,’ she says, nudging my shoulder. ‘No, I won them.’

  ‘What? How?’ I approach the cabinet closest to me and read the inscription on one of the trophies. Fuck me. ‘You’re a beauty queen?’ I ask in amazement, swinging around to face her. How did I not know this? That’s when I spot all the sashes proudly displayed along the wall above her bed.

  ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘My mum wants me to enter the Miss Australia pageant, but I’m not cut out for this kind of thing, Jax. I hate it.’

  ‘Then why do you do it?’

  ‘Sophia,’ is all she says, letting out a deflated breath. I still find it weird that she calls her mother by her first name. Apparently, being called ‘Mum’ makes Sophia feel old.

  ‘Oh.’ I get that. My dad has been controlling my life for as long as I can remember.

  ‘This is why she freaked out about my hair,’ she says, gesturing around the room. ‘The Miss Australia pageant is only weeks away. This crap means everything to her. It’s what skyrocketed her modelling career, but it’s not for me, Jax.’

  ‘To be honest, it’s not something I ever imagined you doing.’ I’m shocked by her revelation. My Candylicious is a beauty queen. Sure, she’s got the looks for it, she’s a babe, but the Candice I know is far from that type of girl.

  ‘Exactly. You know me better than anyone. This is not who I am.’

  She’s always so bubbly and outgoing, so I hate seeing her so deflated. I want to pull her into my arms, but I can’t—dangerous territory.

  ‘Did you tell Sophia?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve been telling her for years. I don’t know,’ she says, ‘I guess she misses her old life, so she’s trying to live vicariously through me.’

  ‘That’s fucked up.’

  ‘I know, right? Welcome to my life.’

  ‘You know, mine’s not much better. I wish our parents would just let us live our lives the way we want.’

  ‘I’ll drink to that.’

  She crosses the room and my eyes follow. Her sweet apple scent lingers in the air as she breezes past me. I’m addicted to the way she smells. On any other occasion, I’d probably be checking out her arse, but our little encounter in the corridor has me spooked. When she bends over to retrieve something out of a drawer, I quickly divert my gaze to the ceiling.

  ‘So how long have you been doing this beauty thing?’ I ask, trying to pull my thoughts out of the gutter.

  ‘Since I was four,’ she replies with a roll of her eyes.

  ‘I can’t believe you never mentioned it.’

  ‘It’s not something I’m proud of.’ The sadness in her voice tears at my heart. ‘Here.’

  When she passes me a shot glass, I raise it to my nose, inhaling. The strong scent of aniseed invades my senses. Sambuca. Nice.

  ‘Bottoms up,’ she says, holding her glass in the air. ‘Or should I say, penises up.’

  My face screws up at her comment, then I look at the glass in my hand. Why did I not see that before? It has a tiny penis handle, and the words I Love Peckers written in bold letters across the front.

  ‘No fucking way.’ I shove the shot glass into her hand before frantically wiping my fingers down the front of my jeans to remove any trace of the pecker germs. ‘What the hell is wrong with you? I’m not drinking out of a cock cup.’

  Candice throws her head back and laughs. I’m glad she finds this amusing. ‘It’s just a glass, Jax, get over it.’

  ‘A glass with a cock on it. Would you drink out of a vagina cup?’ I ask, smugly.

  ‘Um, ye
ah. It’s just a damn cup. The shape or design holds no significance.’

  How did we go from talking about beauty queens to genitals? I rub my hands over my face. Christ, I really need to get out of her room before I do something I’m going to regret for the rest of my life.

  ‘It does if you’re male and it’s shaped like a cock,’ I say.

  ‘Fine. More for me.’ She downs her shot, quickly followed by mine. Clenching her eyes shut, she shakes her head slightly as she swallows the liquid. I grin as I watch her. She’s like no other girl I know. I think that’s the thing I love most about her. When her eyes spring open, she looks at me sceptically.

  ‘When did you become a homophobe?’

  ‘I’m not a damn homophobe. I have no problem with a guy drinking out of a cock cup, as long as it’s not me.’

  When she laughs again, I swear I hear her mumble ‘pussy’ under her breath.

  I’ll give her pussy.

  Stalking across the room, I grab the open bottle of Sambuca off her dresser and bring it to my lips.

  ••••

  Two hours and an empty bottle of Sambuca later, it’s safe to say we’re both drunk. We’re sprawled out on her bed, lying side by side and staring at the ceiling. Being on the bed with her is a bad idea, but the alcohol seems to have robbed me of my common sense.

  ‘I’m going to miss you while you’re away,’ Candice whispers, reaching for my hand. I’m gonna miss her too. My chest aches just thinking about it. ‘Oh, that reminds me, I got you a present.’ Sitting up, she leaps off the bed.

  ‘It’s not cock paraphernalia is it?’

  ‘No, you dork.’ She laughs, coming back to sit down on the edge of the mattress. ‘Here.’

  I look at the parcel in her hand. ‘You shouldn’t have,’ I say, rolling onto my side and propping myself onto one elbow.

  ‘I wanted to. I hope you like it.’

  I’ll like it just because it’s from her. When she extends her hand, I take the present before pushing myself into a sitting position.

  ‘Candice,’ I whisper when I see what’s inside.

  ‘I know you’re not studying art at uni, but one day you’ll get to fulfil your dream. In the meantime, you can keep all your sketches in there.’