The Mighty Storm
Page 66

So yeah, I’m absolutely fan-fucking-tastic.
I wonder why she came? Probably forced to by her editor.
I feel like such a dumbass. I’ve been here freaking out like a fucking idiot over her, and she’s just indifferent to me.
“I’ve followed your music career,” she says out of the blue.
“You have?”
Now I am surprised. I wouldn’t have thought she cared to.
“Of course I have. Music is my job.”
Of course it is. So it’s not because it was me, but because of who I am.
“But that’s not just why,” she adds. “I wanted to see how you were doing. And you’ve just achieved so much. I was really proud watching you on TV and reading the articles about your music, and when you set up your own label – I was like, ‘Wow’ … and I’ve got bought all your albums, of course and they’re really brilliant.”
What?
I don’t get her. One minute she’s acting like she couldn’t give a shit about seeing me. The next she’s tripping over her words, trying to give me the impression she does.
Easiest way to find out – ask her. I’ve always been in the mind-set that you should say what you think. What’s the point in sitting on shit trying to figure it out for yourself when the answer to your question is sitting right in front of you.
“Why didn’t you get in touch with me, Tru?”
She stares at me for a long moment. I see what I think is confusion flicker over her face.
“Um… you’re not exactly easy to get in touch with – Mr Famous Rock Star.”
I hear the hard edge clear in her voice.
Yep, she’s pissed that I cut contact with her. That I can work with.
Indifferent, no. But angry, yes.
And angry makes her so very fucking hot right now. Even hotter if that’s possible.
“Yeah, that’s me – one of the most accessibly, inaccessible people on the planet,” I say staring at her.
I’m totally giving her edge, because right now all I want to do is piss her off further.
I want her to get her issue off her hot chest, so we can get to the good stuff. And also I can imagine an angry Tru, is a very hot Tru.
I keep my eyes on her, but she’s not saying anything. What the fuck! Why isn’t she kicking my ass right now?
The Tru I knew would have torn a strip off me.
Maybe she’s not the same girl she used to be.
She seemed the same, but maybe not.
I need a smoke. Fuck waiting.
I get them out of my pocket and perch one between my lips. “Do you smoke?” I ask.
“No.”
“Good.” Nothing worse than a woman who smokes if you ask me. “You mind if I do?” I don’t normally ask anyone ever. I wanna smoke, I smoke, but for her it just seems appropriate to ask.
“No,” she says firmly.
So she does mind.
But I need a smoke so I’m taking advantage of her inbuilt politeness and am having one anyway.
Lighting up, I take a long drag, pulling back hard, enjoying the momentary relief the nicotine gives me.
I drop my smokes and lighter onto the table, and then I suddenly hear music.
Is that Adele? Where the fuck is that coming from? It better not be Stuart listening to his crap music again.
Tru scrabbles for her bag.
It’s coming from her cell. I’m surprised she’s got Adele as her ringtone. Doesn’t fit with the Tru I remember. But then a lot isn’t fitting with her right now.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, pulling her cell out, silencing it. “It might be my boss.”
I watch her face as she quickly reads the text. A small smile forms on her lips.
Boyfriend, maybe? I fucking hope not. But look at her. No, she’ll have a boyfriend, there is no way she’ll be single looking like she does.
I bet he’s a stuck up asshole.
I’ll find out who he is from her, and get Stuart to do some digging on him later.
I need to know what my competition is.
Anyone else, I’d just be able to take without an ounce of work, but not her.
If there’s anything of the Tru I remember still in there, and I’m pretty sure there is, then I know for sure that I have my work cut out for me to get her to be mine.
“Adele?” I grin, referring to her cell. I like to tease her. I always did.
“I like her.” She sounds defensive.
“Oh me too.” I nod, holding back the smile I can feel rising. “She’s a nice girl. I just figured from what I remember of you, I’d have been hearing the Stones playing on your cell.”
“Yeah, well I’ve changed a lot since you knew me.”
I’ll take that as the dig it was meant as. Wow, she really is harbouring a grudge against me.
Which means she still cares. I’m so totally in the game.
I watch her with interest as she puts her cell away. Oh, she’s pulling her notebook out. She wants to start the interview.
We haven’t seen each other for twelve fucking years and she wants to interview me. It stings more than I expected.
“So, I should get started with the interview – I’m sure you’re really busy and I don’t want to keep you for longer than necessary.”
I’m really in the mood to play now.
“You’re not keeping me.” I take a long, drag of my cigarette. “And I’m not busy today. My schedule is clear.”
“Oh. You haven’t got any other interviews after mine?” She looks surprised.
Stage one of getting her commences … now. Flattery.
“Well I did have … consider them cancelled.”
“No! Don’t do that on my account.” She practically squeals it at me.
Okay. So flattery isn’t going to swing it with her.
Fuck this is hard work already. Am I sure I’m cut out for this?
For her, Wethers, yes.
“I don’t mean I’m not happy to see you,” she starts babbling. “Of course I am, and would love to talk old times with you, but I don’t want others to miss out on a great opportunity because of me.”
She’s nervous again. Good sign.
“A great opportunity?” I give her another one of my panty dropping smiles.
She shrugs, looking abash. Her cheeks redden. “Oh, you know what I mean,” she says quietly.
Okay Wethers, now is the time for sensitive. Hit her with our history. Get her remembering the good old days. You’ve got thirty minutes to win her over before she walks out of that door, and you lose her again. Don’t fuck this up like you did the last time.
“Look Tru.” I move toward her, putting all my focus on her. Women love that. “I haven’t seen you for twelve years. The last thing I want to do right now is talk business with you, or anyone else for that matter. I want to know all about you – what you’ve been doing since I last saw you.”
She shrugs and looks down. “Not much.”
“I’m sure you’ve done a lot more than ‘not much’,” I urge, with a little force. I need to get her talking. Come on Tru.
She looks up at me with those beautiful brown eyes. I see a flicker of hurt in them.
It makes me feel like shit to know I once hurt her so bad to the point that she still feels it even now.
“What did I do after you left Manchester?” she shrugs. “I lived my life, I finished school.” She sounds bitter.
Fuck.
“How was it?” I keep my eyes on hers. I’m not letting her go anywhere.
“School? It was school. A little lonely after you left, but I got through it.”
“You still see anyone from school?”
She tucks her hair behind her ear. I have the urge to do just the same.
“No, I’m friends with a couple of people on Facebook but that’s about it. What about you?” she asks.
I laugh. Not fucking likely. The only person I ever wanted to keep in touch with was her, but I just couldn’t.
“No,” I reply. “Then what did you do after school?”
“Moved here to go to uni. I got my degree in journalism. Then I landed a job at Etiquette, the magazine I work for, and I’ve worked there ever since.”
“Cool.” I take another drag of my cigarette.
Let’s move this on now.
I’m itching to know if she has a boyfriend or not. I know she’s not married, but I also don’t want her knowing I checked for that already.
Play it cool
“You’re not married?” I let my eyes go to her left hand giving her the impression it’s the first time I’m checking for sign of a ring.
“No,” she says.
“Boyfriend?” I take one last drag on my smoke and stub it out.
There’s a long pause. I’m not sure if it’s a good or bad thing.
“Yes,” she finally replies.
Bad thing.
Even though I figured she’d have one, it still drives a jealously nail through me I didn’t know existed.
Holding my calm, I ask, “Live together?”
“No. I live with my flat mate Simone in Camden.”
She sounds a bit pissed that I’ve asked. I wonder why? Maybe she wants to live with him and he doesn’t.
What fucking idiot wouldn’t want to wake up to that beautiful face every single day?
One thing on my side is that it can’t be serious if they don’t live together. But then it also depends on how long they’ve been together.
“How long have you been with the boyfriend?”
“His name is Will, and we’ve been together for two years.”
Two years and not living together. Very good sign.
“And what does Will do for a living?”
“He’s an investment banker.”
Yep. He’s a prick. “Smart guy.”
“He is. He’s very smart – top of his class at uni and he’s climbing the ladder at work very quickly.” She sounds defensive over him, and it pisses me off.
I grab my smokes and light another one up.
Tru unclips her pen from her notebook, and opens it up. “It’s been really nice catching up with you Jake, but I really should get to the interview - especially if I want to keep my job.”
Oh, she’s back to that again. For fucks sake. What do I have to do to keep her interest in me and off this fucking interview?
I hate interviews at the best of times. Even more so, when all I want to do is figure out how to get her back into my life, and into my bed.
“You won’t get fired,” I state.
I’d ruin the fucking magazine if they ever even considered firing her.
“You sound pretty confident of that,” she laughs, it sounds forced.
Does she not think I have that kind of pull? I’ll show her just exactly what kind of pull I have, and also just what I have to offer her.
“I am.” Staring at her, I take another pull on my smoke.
She shifts in her seat. I like that I make her nervous. And I’m so going to use it to my advantage right now.
“You okay?” I probe. “You seem a little uncomfortable.”
“Of course I’m not uncomfortable,” she bites.
She so fucking is. And it’s so fucking hot.