The Mighty Storm
Page 14

I let my eyes roam over the cakes. They look fresh and delicious, and I literally don’t know which one to try first. I just want to take a bite of each one.
Jake laughs at my staring. “You look like a kid in a candy store. You always did have a sweet tooth.”
“There’s just so many too choose from, and they are just so damn cute. Where did you get them from?” I ask.
“Just a little place I know.”
Unable to resist anymore, I nick a bit of cream from the cream filled muffin closest to me, and lick it off my finger.
“Oh my god,” I groan. “This is gorgeous, I think I may have died and gone to cream heaven.”
“So does this win me back my best friend status?”
“I think I might be proposing marriage to you soon, if you keep this up.”
Oh God. It just slipped out. And I can’t take it back.
I know my face is bright red.
Jake grins at me obviously enjoying my discomfort.
“Shall I pour?” I say gesturing to the coffee, anything to change the subject.
“I got it,” he says taking hold of the pot.
Jake pours me a coffee. He looks so funny, sitting there in rock star clothes, covered in tattoos pouring me coffee, while we have afternoon tea together.
“You know Jake afternoon tea isn’t very rock and roll. You’re kind of killing your rock star image.”
“Ssh.” He puts his finger to his lips, doing a comical glance around. “We’ll just have to keep it our little secret.” He grins and hands me over my coffee. “And shouldn’t it be afternoon coffee?” he adds.
I furrow my brow in thought. “Is there such a thing?”
He shrugs, smiling, “If not, then there is now.”
“Jake and Tru’s afternoon coffee, rock star style.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely!” he laughs.
Laughing, I pick the milk up and add some to my coffee, and then help myself to the cream filled muffin I’d already started on.
I pick it up and take a bite.
“Holy creaming Jesus,” I mumble with my mouthful. “This is amazing.”
If I thought that little taste of cream was heaven I was sorely mistaken, because the whole thing; sponge and chocolate-chip and cream, together is bliss. If I die today, then I will die a very happy lady indeed.
“Seriously, Jake, you have to give me the name of this place because I’m going to have to set up a credit account with them.”
He smiles at me, but I detect a hint of nervousness. I’m instantly curious. “Delivery might be a bit of a problem.”
“Why?” I say taking another bite.
“Because the delicatessen is in Paris.”
I pause mid-bite, staring at him.
“I had them flown in this morning,” he adds.
“Oh.” I put the cake down.
“It’s one of my favourite places, I always go there whenever I’m in Paris, and I knew you’d love them so…”
“Wow, Jake … um … wow, that is so nice and incredibly thoughtful of you, but you didn’t have to go to any trouble for me.”
“I didn’t. I pay other people to go to the trouble for me, Tru.”
“Oh.”
Shit, I am so way out of my league here.
He pulls his cigarettes out. “You mind if I smoke?”
I shake my head and watch as he lights a cigarette up.
I can’t exactly complain about his smoking around the food, when he’s just had said food flown in on an aeroplane. From Paris.
Jesus Christ. This is me getting a little glimpse into just how much pull Jake Wethers actually has.
But he’s just so erratic.
He takes me for a simple dinner to Pizza Hut – well maybe not simple, as he did hire the place out – but still, it was Pizza Hut. And now today, he’s flown in mini cakes from Paris.
I feel like my head is spinning from just being around him. I don’t remember him been this confusing when we were younger.
Straight talking, yes. Confusing, no.
“So what does your boyfriend think of you coming on the tour?” he asks out of the blue, taking a sip of his coffee.
And there’s the straight talking.
“Um … I … um … he doesn’t think anything yet, because I haven’t had a chance to tell him.”
That’s a lie. I’ve had all morning to ring Will and tell him, but I’m not sure how he’ll take it, so I’m putting it off until tonight when I’ve fed him and seduced him, then I’ll tell him.
Suddenly the idea of seducing Will while here with Jake, doesn’t feel alluring at all. It actually makes me feel quite unwell.
“I’m going to tell him tonight when I see him,” I add.
He puts his coffee down and takes a drag of his cigarette. Then reaches down and picks up an ashtray from off the floor beside his chair, placing it on his thigh, he taps the ash into it.
“Are you doing anything nice?”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“Oh, um, no, Will’s just coming round to my flat to have some dinner.”
He’s staring at my face, his own impassive.
“How did you meet him?”
“I knew him from uni and we bumped into each other on a night out a few years ago. He asked me out and we’ve been together since.”
“But you don’t live together.”
“No.”
“Do you think you’ll marry him?”
What? Personal much.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I hate it when he starts being direct like this.
I feel like I’m up for a job interview, I’m just not actually sure of the job. Unless he has another one lined up for me that he’s also not told me about.
For want of something to do with my fidgety hands, I dip my finger in the cream of my half-eaten bun again and pop it in my mouth.
I notice Jake staring at my mouth.
I quickly pull my finger out, and dry it on a napkin. “Well I was proposing marriage to you a few minutes ago,” I laugh. He doesn’t.
“I don’t know,” I shrug, turning serious. “It’s not something I’ve thought about. I guess I don’t really see myself ever getting married.”
He has another drag of his cigarette and slowly blows the smoke out from between his lips, tapping his ash into the ashtray.
“Why?”
I shrug again, looking down.
I’m not going to tell him that I don’t think any guy would ever ask me.
“I always figured you’d end up with a musician,” he says, in a low voice.
I look up at him surprised.
Surprised that he even considered that about me.
“So how long are you in the UK for?” I ask, for want of a subject change.
“I’m flying back to LA first thing in the morning.”
“Oh,” I say, disappointed he’s leaving so soon. “Do you have a private jet?” I ask, being nosey.
“Yeah. It’s the label’s.”
“You mean the label which you own.”
“Hmm.”
Bloody hell, he’s got his own private jet.
“So the next time I see you will be at the tour.”
“Yes.”
I feel quite sad that I’m not going to see him for two weeks.
“Some best-friend you are,” I pout, jokingly. “You do remember that in the contract for being my best friend it has a beck-and-call clause in it don’t you. I mean what if I need … I don’t know – chocolates from Belgium, who’s gonna get them while you’re off in LA. I don’t know Jake, I might have to seriously consider trading you in,” I grin.
He chuckles, amused. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t miss me.”
“I never said I’d miss you.”
“You never said you wouldn’t.”
God, he’s so bloody quick. I’m getting whip-lash just sitting here with him.
“I just want you for your cupcakes,” I say jesting. “And talking of cakes, will you help me eat some of them before I scoff them all and get seriously fat … and while you’re at it tell me about the tour too?”
“I can’t ever imagine you’d get fat, Tru … but your wish is my command.”
And he grins in that sexy way he does; the one where I definitely know there’s something going on behind it, I’m just not entirely sure what, as he leans forward and picks up one of the cakes.
Chapter Eight
Will’s at the door with a bottle of wine in his hand, looking as handsome as always.
“Hey,” he says pulling me into his arms, he kisses me firmly on the mouth.
“Hey yourself,” I smile up at him.
He releases me and I walk back down the hall and into our living room. Simone’s out with her work colleagues tonight so it’s just me and Will, and I have big plans of seduction for him, and then to tell him about working for Jake and the tour.
“Are you ready to eat now? Dinner’s ready.”
“Definitely, I’m starving .What are we having?”
“Lasagne,” I answer heading for the kitchen.
Will follows me into the kitchen and sets about opening the wine, while I dish up the lasagne.
I carry both our plates through to the living room, putting them down on the coffee table, while Will brings through the wine.
I sit down on the floor and Will sits opposite me.
I take a sip of my wine, watching Will as he tucks into the lasagne.
“This is good,” he says. “You make the best lasagne ever.”
“Thank you, baby.”
Seeing as though he’s happy with my culinary skills I decide to tell him about the tour now.
I spoke to him this afternoon on the phone, he’d called when I was out at lunch so I called him back. For some reason I didn’t tell him I’d had lunch with Jake. I think mainly it was because I would have had to tell him about the tour and I wanted to do that tonight. He did quiz me about my night with Jake though, naturally, which I also downplayed quite a lot.
He scoffed when I said we’d been to Pizza Hut. It really annoyed me to be honest, he can be such a snob at times, so I didn’t even bother to explain the relevance of it to Jake and me.
“So I was … um … offered this amazing opportunity at work today.”
“Oh yes?” he says, forking lasagne into his mouth.
“Well … Jake … Wethers has asked the magazine to cover his official biography … and well … he’s asked me to write the bio.”
“Really? That’s wonderful news,” he says.
“Yes it is. But … um … the other thing is that to do so I’ll have to go on tour with the band, you know to follow Jake around, write about the tour and the band. Especially as it’s their first tour without Jonny.”
Will’s brows knit together. “So you’re going on tour with Jake Wethers?”
“Yes, and the rest of the band.”
“So my girlfriend – my very beautiful girlfriend is going on tour with a bunch of musicians, one of whom is Jake Wethers, the notorious womaniser.”