The Mighty Storm (14 page)

People don
’
t work with me, Tru. They work for me.

Okay, so working for him
–
whatever. I hope he
’
s not as bad a person to work for as it
’
s claimed he can be.

“
You had that coffee yet?” he says before I get a chance to speak.

“
No, debido a las interrupciones constantes.
”

“
Tru, I haven
’
t got a fuckin
’
clue what you just said, but I
’
ll take the
‘
no
’
I caught out of that, as you haven
’
t.”

“
No, I haven
’
t,” I laugh.

“
Okay, well I
’
m not calling back again, so listen up. I
’
m picking you up for lunch because I want to go over with you what will happen on the tour.”

Do I get a choice?

“
Shouldn
’
t that be your assistant
’
s job to talk to me about that stuff?” I question.

“
Well if I wanted my assistant to have lunch with you then yeah it would be, but I don
’
t, so you
’
re getting me
–
okay?”

“
What if I already have plans?
”

“
Do you?”

“
Yes?”

Silence.

“
With?”

Do I detect a hint of jealously there, Jake?

“
Starbucks. I meet him every day at one for a coffee and blueberry muffin.”

I hear him exhale down the line.

“
Would you consider ditching him for me?” His voice has gone all seductive and flirty again.

“
I don
’
t know … it
’
s a pretty serious thing me and Starbucks have going on.”

“
I
’
ll make it worth your while.”

“
Go on?”

“
I
’
m talking cake, Tru, lots and lots of cake…”

“
Starbucks who?” I giggle

“
Cool, be outside your building at one.”

“
Sí, señor.
”

I hear him laugh before I hang up.

I feel absolutely full of glee. Jake is being lovely, and flirty, and I
’
m seeing him again in just a few hours.

But no, I need to calm myself down. I
’
m going to be working for Jake, so I need to keep myself professional.

He might be an old friend, an incredibly flirty old friend. But that
’
s Jake. That
’
s his MO.

And I need to remember that, and not confuse this into something it
’
s not.

The black Land Rover that Dave was following us around in last night is already parked outside my building when I go down at one.

Dave gets out of the car and walks around, opening the back passenger door for me.

“
Hello again,” he says.

“
Hi,” I whisper shyly.

I climb in the back and Jake is there waiting for me. Looking his gorgeous rock star self in light blue ripped jeans, a faded black Stone Roses ‘I Wanna Be Adored’ T-shirt, and the same Converses he wore last night.

“
Hey,” he says, his voice all rough, and smooth like honey, as Dave closes the door behind me.

“
Hey yourself,” I smile.

I can smell Jake
’
s scent across the car. Cigarettes and aftershave. It makes my tummy flutter.

Dave climbs back in the drivers
’
seat and pulls us away into the heavy lunchtime traffic.

“
So how
’
s your morning been?” Jake asks me.

“
Oh, you know, long.”

“
Much happen?”

I slide a look at him. “Apart from a famous rock star who also used to be my next door neighbour growing up calling me and offering me a job to write his bio on his upcoming tour? No, not much at all.” I shake my head, grinning.

“
Is that all I was
–
your next-door neighbour? I thought I earned the title best friend back then.”

His words make my tummy feel funny. Suddenly empty.

“
You did … and we were best friends.”

“
Were?”

“
Well it
’
s been a while, Jake. You don
’
t just get that status back after one dinner.” I smile again, trying to alleviate whatever this is.

“
I guess I
’
m going to have to work a little harder then to claim my title back,” his voice is low with meaning. He smiles at me, and my heart lurches out of my chest and whams straight into him once again.

“
So am I allowed to know where we
’
re going for lunch today, or is that a surprise too?” I give him a light-hearted look, trying to straighten out my erratic heart and shaky emotions.

“
Just back to the hotel. I hope that
’
s okay?”

“
Sure it is.”

I
’
d eat fish and chips in the backseat of a car if it meant being with you.

“
It
’
s just less hassle, means we won
’
t get bothered,” he adds, as though he has to explain why he
’
s taking me back to his suite.

“
Jake, it
’
s okay, I understand.” I touch his arm.

He looks down at my hand on his tattooed arm, then up at my face.

Something passes in the air between us.

I withdraw my hand, swallowing down, and shift in my seat.

“
You should have told me we were just staying at the hotel. I
woul
d’ve come over. It
’
s not too far of a walk.”

He gives me a stupid, but firm look. “I was picking you up, Tru.”

“
Okay Mr Bossy … I hope you
’
re not gonna be like this for the tour.”

“
What
–
bossy?”

“
Yes.”

“
Well when I know what I want I say it ... or take it.” He tilts his head to the side, staring at me for a long moment.

My legs start to tremble.

I press my knees together.

I flicker a nervous glance at Dave, but his eyes are focussed ahead on the road.

I keep mine ahead too.

And we ride in silence for the rest of the short ride to the hotel. I’m at a complete loss for words after that little exchange.

Dave pulls the car into the hotel
’
s parking lot and then I follow him and Jake through the lot into the hotel and to the lifts.

I ride up with them both in silence, and leaving Dave out in the hall, I follow Jake into his suite.

I can
’
t believe it was only yesterday that I was here to interview him and now I
’
m going to be working for him. It
’
s crazy.

As I follow him I see Stuart at the far side of the living room, sitting on the sofa reading a magazine. He closes the magazine, dropping it onto the coffee table and stands at our arrival.

“
Hi,” I say, feeling a little shy.

I wonder if he knows I
’
m going to be working for Jake. I
’
m sure he will, he
’
s Jake PA. He
’
ll know everything about him.

Probably some things I don
’
t want to know.

“
Hello again,” he smiles at me.

“
Is everything ready?” Jake asks him.

“
Yes.”

“
Thanks,” he says to Stuart.

Stuart gives him a brief nod, and then heads out of the room leaving us alone

“
Come on,” Jake says to me, taking hold of my hand, giving me a fire in my belly again, he leads me across the living room and out onto the terraced balcony.

The air is refreshing on my skin, not chilly at all, and as I step through the door and out from behind Jake, I see there
’
s a table set up, with two chairs, and it is filled with tiers of little mini cakes. So many different varieties, cupcakes, cream buns, éclairs, cheesecakes, and, oh my god, cream filled muffins, and some I can
’
t even identify.

I know he said there
’
d be cake, but I never expected anything like this. And there is also fresh coffee waiting.

In this moment I just love him. Not love him, love him
–
but love him, oh you know what I mean.

Jake turns seeing my open mouthed expression, and says, “Well you gave up a date with Starbucks for me, it was the least I could do.”

“
This is a little better than Starbucks though,” I say, my voice a little hoarse. “Is this birthday present number two?”

He squeezes my hand ever so slightly, and smiles, a mysterious smile and leads me over to the table to sit down.

In the last two days, Jake has done more thoughtful things for me than anyone has ever done in my whole entire life.

He pulls my chair out for me.

“
Why thank you kind sir,” I giggle.

He sits down across from me.

I feel all fuzzy and up in the clouds here on this penthouse balcony.

And I also feel like I
’
m on a date. Which of course I
’
m not, this is a business lunch, just with lots and lots of yummy scrummy cakes.

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…”